Part One: Shadow, Reaper, and Dust
Fuck it was hot in here. She didn’t care, the energy in the room was intoxicating. The music pulsed within, her body moving in rhythm with those around her. Lights danced above them, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Every song was her fuckingsong, throwing up her hands and splashing her drink on the poor schmuck in her range. Tawny skinned and glistening, sticky from sweat and spilled drinks. She was the devil’s temptress, scantily clad in red latex and with hips that moved like she knew what the fuck she was doing.
She finished her drink, spilling the last bit onto herself. “Fuck.”
Just as if she had taken a misstep, Lucky fell into her Shadow as she stared into her empty glass. “Oh.”
Without much of a second thought, she appeared by the bar leaning against the bar and waving to get the bartender’s attention, motioning for him to pour another round. There would be no shortage of drinks tonight, she’d see to that. Soon she’d need something stronger, but she’d have to wait until Grim finished his shift. She threw back the shot her bartender brought her, grabbing her cocktail and throwing him a twenty dollar bill in an indication to keep the change. Just as quick as she appeared, she was gone, back on the dance floor in front of the stage where Grim was performing. Men and women alike gathered around him, enamored. Some of them threw money on his stage, begging for his attention.
“Oo, baby!” Lucky shouted out, giving a mischievous wink as she sipped her cocktail, her body unconsciously moving to the beat. She didn’t mind going to the club with Grim when he worked. She had a way with people, something in the way she moved or maybe it was the look she gave. She moved through the crowd as if everyone was her best friend. She’d always end up making friends with some people for the night. The best groups were always the groups of gay boys who she could dance up on without worrying about their dick getting hard. Sometimes it was a group of girls who just wanted to dance although truthfully most of the time it was some fuckboy who exchanged female company for drugs and alcohol. Hell, she wasn’t going to be the one to question them.
It was around 2am when she found herself back at the bar waiting for Grim, fumbling in her purse to pull out a crushed pack of cigarettes. Mumbling obscenities under her breath, she did her best to straighten out one of the cigarettes, roughly shoving the rest of the pack back into her purse.
“I’ve got better stuff anyway” Grim whispered into her ear as he slid his arms around her, leather covered palms gripping the padded curve of the bar. He’d changed after his shift- removed the black spandex boy shorts and tugged on equally tight black jeans. His chest was still slick with oil, so he’d just left his black button up undone instead. Silver necklaces dangled from his neck, things that meant little and he wore just to make people stare at his chest. Senses dulled from the ecstasy he took mid-way through his shift, Remedy was in a deep lull and made little effort to disagree with their clothes. He was always gone during work. Sometimes it made Grim’s mind ache, the vacancy, but he could always go digging and pull his brother out of the trenches of their mind. He was always there, the drugs just seemed to tug a sheet between them. Privacy, separation… anything to stop their memories from revolting back to six other siblings.
One of which was currently twisting around in his arms, devilishly clad in red. Grim almost wanted to tug Remedy forward, show him this fuckin’ beauty in front of them, but… Remedy meant an end to the fun tonight and Grim was ready to fuck shit up. Squealing with delight, Lucky’s arms snaked around Grim’s neck. Her shadow materialized as a thin barrier where their skin touch, like second nature for her after all these years.
“Babe! Oh my god, you were so f u c k i n g good.”
Grim hummed, smiling delightedly at her for her compliment and her amazing ability to get so close to him. That small space of shadow still drove him crazy, but at least he could feel the warmth of her skin, “Thank you beautiful” He mumbled, sliding a gloved hand from the bar to the curve of her back, “Are you trying to turn Rem on with this outfit? Your gonna give him a headache when he finally pays attention”
Lucky rolled her eyes, giving a knowing smile. Grim was never one for subtlety. She shrugged her shoulders, unable to mask her amusement. “What’s this about better stuff?” She asked, changing the subject and poking Grim’s side.
“Oh, oh.” He nodded, his sporadic concentration happy to focus on his favorite pastime, “Come with me.” Grim grabbed her hand, spinning to tug her back through the crowd he’d arrive from. At 2am, the club was packed, but as a dancer here he had access to the back rooms. Sometimes rented out for their more affluent clients, Grim knew they’d be empty tonight. Hence why he’d demanded a night out with his girl.
The dark hallway only had one couple making out in it, their bodies grinding to the loud music and obviously on their way to a quickie in the bathroom stall. Grim catcalled them as he passed and got no reply- to which he turned back and grinned at Lucky.
The private room was lavish in a fake rich sort of way. Too much red velvet, too much fake dark wood. There was a center circular stage with a pole and a bar to their left, but Grim beelined for the table tucked in the back corner. He stashed his shit underneath earlier- a backpack of really all he need to survive anymore. Remedy would never let them live out of a knapsack and travel the country, but sometimes Grim dreamed. Anyway, they had a loaf of a brother to take care of and the road was definitely not a place for Zombie Boy.
He released Lucky in favor of digging out his banged up jansport. He’d lost the zipper ages ago, so he had to tug the fly open awkwardly. Flinging himself onto the red plastic booth seats that wrapped around the table, Grim motioned for Lucky to get comfy next to him while he dumped his tools out. Lucky wasted no time making herself at home, launching herself into a rant before Grim could even sit down.
“Did I tell you about this bitch I ran into earlier?...” She took heavy drink as if she were preparing to tell the story of an epic saga, her hands motioning to set the scene. “I swear to G O D, Grim….people fucking test me. Every day - they think I won’t say shit….and normally I don’t. Whatever - fuck it. Anyways, here I am living my life just trying to get a pack of cigarettes-”
Grim handed Lucky a rolled up twenty, sliding a small mirror with four perfectly symmetrical lines across the table and raising his brow at her, “Fuck the ciggs, this is way better. And fuck that girl too”
Lucky exhaled, setting her drink down before cheerfully plucking the rolled bill from Grim. “But you know what she had the nerve to say to me?” She slid the mirror closer to her, eyes transfixed as she rambled on. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it over to one side as she leaned in. Lucky took her line, pausing for only a minute as she felt the chemical afterburn settle all the way down to her tongue. She slid the mirror back to Grim, handing him the bill carelessly as she tried to wash out the taste with vodka. “She said...you know it’s not attractive for girls to smoke. She said,” Lucky used finger quotes as she said the rest, spilling her drink some. “You’re a very pretty girl, you shouldn’t smoke if you want to find a husband to take care of you.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Can you fucking imagine? Being that fucking bold with someone you don’t even know? Man...I shit you not I kind-of wanted to scare the shit out of her just for fun.”
Grim nodded along as he spun the roll in his fingers, only turning his attention away briefly to ingest his own line and exhale roughly. Brain already smothered in a high from his night of working, he only felt another little kick to keep going. “You probably should have” He laughed, leaning back against the booth to point the twenty at her accusingly, “If someone's gonna shit talk you, shit talk them back. You’ve always been so nice” Grim gave her a devilish grin, aiming to provoke her a bit, “But, you know” He shrugged and leaned back forward, attention diverting right back to that mirror, “I always like you riled up like this anyway”
Lucky glared at him from the corner of his eye, as if she had an insult on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t, she never did. He had hit the nail on the fucking head. “Hey, I’m pretty fucking mean in my head...I just don’t want to have to whoop some ass, ya know. I’d much rather just rant about them later to you.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek fondly, shifting her weight against him. Lucky knew he was Grim but sometimes when he looked at her like that she fucking wished otherwise. Reaching out to run a hand through his hair, she smiled with deep affection. Grim had a way of making her feel like she didn’t have to try to be anything but herself around him. Things were never as easy with their other siblings, and rarely as fun.
“Let’s fuckinnng dancee - ” Lucky said suddenly, jostling his side with excitement. “Okay, so...game plan. We finish this shit off, I finish my drink….we dancedancedance. Then shawarma - I fucking need shawarma tonight or I might die…. T H E N we can hit this party these guys were just telling me about. It’s downtown where people have more money than they know what to do with. He said there’s literally going to be crystal bowls of blow and pills just sitting around like candy or sugar.” She spoke a mile a minute, gripping the fabric of Grim’s shirt like it was a lifeline.
‘She's gorgeous like that’ Rems voice was distant, sort of watery and faded like he was speaking through an old microphone. It used to bother them, but they grown used to the dampening effect of drugs on their thoughts. Honestly, Grim was surprised Rem had pried himself up to their consciousness right after two lines of blow. But Lucky's hold over him was dauntless and Remedy was constantly surprising his brother when it came to this girl.
‘You wanna talk?’ but Grim could already feel his brother fading back, that veil pulling between them like he hadn’t even been there. Grim sighed, scrubbing his face in an effort to not go looking for Remedy.
Throwing himself back into Lucky wasn’t hard. She was happy and warm and everything he wanted to be. The brothers had been following her around like puppy dogs since they could remember- Grim, cause he wanted to make Lucky laugh and go on grand adventures, and Remedy, cause he’d been born to love her.
Grim smooshed her face, laughing as he pushed her cheeks together and she glared around them. He handed her a little pink pill, taking one of his own, and practically dragged her back down the hall to the dance floor. She showed reluctance, but only for a moment. Lucky much preferred blow to hallucinogens, she’d seen enough shit in the shadows she didn’t need a pill to make her see more. She’d gotten better with age, or maybe just by doing it enough times. Besides, Grim was a seasoned vet - and they had the whole night ahead of them.
They wove through the dance floor, Lucky pressing herself against Grim as they made their way towards the center. The bass vibrated in her chest, a pleasant hum that made her catch her breath. The pill took its time to take effect, a crescendo that sliced her open and asked the world to come on in. Her fingertips brushed across his chest, steadying herself. Even in this state she could still create a shadow barrier under her touch. Every sensation was divine, even the air felt like fucking heaven - she looked up at Grim, eyes glittering. “Do you feel that?” Lucky hummed into his ear, her breath ragged.
“‘M fuck yeah” Grims eyes were half lidded as he look down at her, his body moving in time with the heavy thudding of the bass. He felt like every part of him was stuck in the rhythm of that music and Lucky was the only thing keeping him grounded, her body wrapped around d his like a tether. The room was full of living bodies- more alive than ever under the neon lights and music. Grim sometimes felt the tingling nerves of his power reminding him they were still there. To wake up, to touch some and feel them. But music, drugs, and Lucky drowned that all out, smothered it till it was only a minor itch in the back of his mind.
Grim bent himself over her, tugging her waist against him and sliding her along him. He was well aware of that other itch in his head responding, that crackle of other life slowly paying attention. Drugs usually gave Grim the upper hand, but…. he slid his eyes up Lucky’s throat, over her jaw, her lips…
The soft smile that shifted Splits face was all warmth, soaking in Lucky's face for a moment. His arms wrapped around her, hands splayed across her hips to tug that body closer. Remedy exhaled roughly, his gaze unwavering as he molded himself around her in the middle of a hundred different bodies.
“Hey” he had to lean in close, face pressed against her cheek as his lips brushed her ear.
Lucky could feel his shadow emerge, she didn’t need to see his face to know it was Remedy. Her barrier against his skin receded, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers. The shadows around her swirled, spinning as fast as her head. Fingers traced along his jawline, recognizing his smile. Eyes wide, pupils dilated - was he really there, or was it just that little pink pill Grim had given her? The room melted away, just background noise. All she could see was him, all she could feel was him. She pushed herself into him, looking at Remedy as if he were a dream.
“I was wondering when you’d show.” Lucky teased, leaning in, her breath hot on his neck. The blow had made her bold, running her tongue along his jaw. She could taste their sweat. Her hands slid under his shirt, grabbing at his sides as if that could keep him present. He could slip away at any moment, she knew that much, but that didn’t stop her from trying to hold on. She leaned in once more, lips grazing his skin. “...always keeping me waiting, aren’t you?”
Rem smiled, the tug of his lips obvious against her cheek. He shifted as her hands explored him, pressing his forehead to hers and breathing her in. “I was here” he mumbled softly, sliding a hand from her waist up into her hair, “Grim was hogging you”
While Grims mind took to the drugs like a match to fire, Remedy’s did the opposite. Like everything with them, nothing ever seemed to align for either of the brothers. He could feel Grims good mood, high and happy and blissfully able to ignore the controlling need of his powers. Remedy, on the other hand, always felt numb under his brothers drugs. Washed out, stripped bare, he had a hard time clinging to reality and often slipped away for days. It was equal parts terrifying and relieving, that void of their mind he fell into. But even with everything Grim had snorted and inhaled tonight, Remedy had crawled to the surface for this.
He twisted a handful of her dark hair in his hand, his other gripping almost roughly at her hip. The music- if you could call it that- was suffocatingly you loud and it was making it hard for him to keep hold. He focused on her and mimicked the flow of the bodies around them even though dancing really wasn’t his thing. He hasn’t felt her body against his in a long time- small but still incredibly strong, curved perfectly at the right angles. He wanted to curl her against him and never leave, throw a shield around them and ignore everyone else in the club.
“Fuck,” the word escaped her lips like a moan as he grabbed her, the sensation heightened from the drugs. His hand in her hair, she was breathless. His touch was intoxicating, reaching for her with a sort of hunger she recognized. Her hips moved in sync with his, grinding into Remedy. He felt so fucking divine.
“I -“ her words faltered, there were no words. Eyes barely open, room thick with smoke and heart beating so fast she thought it might just fall out of her chest then and there. His lips were just inches from hers, their foreheads still touching. She wondered if they still tasted the same, biting her own to stop herself. Did he ever wonder the same thing of her? Lucky cradled his face in her hand, something precious to behold. “I’ve really fucking missed you.” She said, leaving only centimeters between their lips.
The tug of Rems lips in a smile was faint, slow like bourbon cause he wasn’t really there. He gripped her hair one more time, a squeeze filled with yearning and apologies.
Grim leaned away, effectively cutting off whatever intensity had simmered between them. His stance wa slooser, like he was about to lean against any surface. Grims eyes were darker though, more shadowed and sunken. It made the blue of them stand out eerily, as opposed to the mellow sky blue of his brothers.
“Sorry to cock block ya sis, Rem gets sleepy fast nowadays” he tugged on her hand, putting enough distance between them that Lucky couldn’t hurt herself on his skin, “Let’s forget about that intense old man for the night, yeah? I wanna see you with the worst hangover tomorrow” Grim spun her, hoping the drugs would swallow up her brain at the movement. He loved them both to death but god were they the most dramatic things on the planet.
Lucky couldn’t express disappointment even if she wanted to, the sudden movement triggering a chemical reaction in her mind that made her see stars. She surrendered herself to the dance floor, letting the music wash over her. The sun would be up in a few hours, they had plenty of night left to fill. At a certain point, Lucky dragged Grim off the dance floor, rambling once again about the shawarma her life depended on. They found some dingy hole in the wall spot where she’d most assuredly end up getting food poisoning. She devoured it happily in silence, like a child who had gotten their own way. They snuck in another rail on the sink in the bathroom of the shawarma joint before heading to the party downtown.
“I think this is the place.” Lucky said as they reached the high rise, indicating for Grim to follow. A chimp dressed in a uniform opened the door for them with a smile that could blind you. When she asked if he knew what floor he party was on the pointed out the way. Lucky thanked him profusely as she tugged Grim along. As they entered the elevator she linked arms with him, smiling like a goon. She looked over at Grim, as if she were expecting praise for finding such a posh party for them to crash, giddy with excitement.
The elevator doors opened into a penthouse, filled with beautiful people and flooded with lights that flashed colors across the room along with the music. Everyone was dressed as if they had been at the Academy Awards, or something else equally pretentious and insufferable that Lucky didn’t have the stomach for. If they noticed the two club rats spilled in, they didn’t indicate as such. She gave a look to Grim as if to say, “Oops,” shrugging.
“Oh, shit - look.” She said, trying to inconspicuously point out a massive crystal bowl sitting at the end of the bar, overflowing with pills of every color in the rainbow.
Grim did a once over of the room, impressed and equally unimpressed. He was still in his tight leather black pants and black button up shirt that he hadn’t bothered to close all the way. He had a passing thought of maybe convincing one of these rich assholes to fuck him, just so he could fuck up their nice little outfits but…. Lucky had pointed out pills, and a shit ton of them. Pinprick blue eyes zeroed in on the glorious bowl like they’d found the holy grail and he beelined for it, grabbing two champagne flutes along the way.
If he carried a phone he would have taken a picture, but Grim was a little too forgetful for expensive technology. So he stood and stared at it, glanced at Lucky, and broke into the biggest shit eating grin. Then he dove both hands into the random of pastel colors and carried his stash over to a nearby empty couch. One of those couches with no legs, no arms, and a dumbass low back meant for zero comfort but looked cool as fuck. He slouched down, patted the seat next to him for his Luck, and just waved his hand at the pile.
“I’ve died and you’ve brought me to heaven. What am I supposed to do with this much shit?” He held up a bright green one with a four leaf clover on it to Lucky, quirking a brow, “Obviously you get first dibs as the savior of the night” She clapped her hands excitedly, sticking out her tongue like she were catching snowflakes, Grim pressed the pill to her tongue intently.
“Thank you, doctor.” Lucky said with a wink.
“What’s good for goose is good for the gander.” Lucky said in her best impression of their mom, picking out a purple pill shaped like the devil emoji, one side smirking the other scowling. “This one’s kind of like you guys.” She made airplane noises like mom used to, giggling as she fed it to him. Falling back into a fit of laughter, she had to prop herself up by her elbows to keep herself upright. Man, it had been a minute since she’d seen her….
Grim nodded, leaning back to enjoy the bliss washing through him and glance around the room. The party was full of wealthy people that had the money to look younger and way more beautiful than they probably should. He stared openly, running his eyes over every man in turn. Most of these men had the power and luxury to be openly gay- pink suits, some dude had a fucking flamingo tie. He wanted to laugh, but it also made his shopping trip way easier. Nothing was worse than trying to nail down a fellow ass fucker in a crowd of strangers. He caught a mans eye finally and smirked- huge, skin the color of chocolate, and definitely eye fucking him right back. Grim winked at him over his champagne flute and got a smile right back.
“Man….I fucking love mom.” Lucky said out of the blue, sitting up and shifting in her seat as she looked around for a bathroom. She tapped Grim’s leg to get his attention and leaning in to whisper, suddenly urgent. “I have to pee...right fucking now.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Within a blink she was gone. Grim watched her for a moment and then turned back, pleased to see the man setting down his drink and circling the crowd for his vacant couch.
“You’re alone” Oh, fuck yeah. And his voice sounded like that? Thick and deep, like some sort of commercial voice over. He sat uninvited, a tad closer than Grim was usually okay with but they were both fully clothed.
He smiled and leaned a bit away but angled his body to better face him, “Well not anymore. Thanks for that…”
Lucky had to try a few rooms before she found the bathroom, it was a big place with the strangest fucking shadows because someone wanted to have trendy modern design. Whoever lived here definitely had money, probably a drug dealer judging by the actual fuckton of drugs literally all over the place. Every room you went into there was a bowl of goodies, something for everyone. She took a bump and freshened herself up, wondering how many hours it had been since she slept or ate. At least she had showered that morning, so she had her priorities. When Lucky came back down to the bar, she could see Grim had already found someone to play with tonight, which meant she’d have to find herself a distraction.
“Hellooo - yes, can I get a gin and tonic, please? Actually - no, um...you know what, just vodka and water.” Lucky said to the bartender, all rather quickly and drumming her fingers across the bar. She felt like he was giving her a weird look as he made her drink, but that was probably the drugs talking. What she really needed was some fresh air, and a smoke. There was a massive patio that wrapped around half of the penthouse, with a pool on one side and a fire pit on another. There were some people outside, but they were mostly gathered around the pool. The fire seemed to have been put out hours ago, but it still let off heat. She sat down to rifle through her purse, yet again pulling out the disappointing crushed pack of cigarettes.
“Need a light?” said a voice, causing her to look up. He seemed attractive enough, probably. She couldn’t really tell because as soon as she saw his face she recognized his type. Entitled, cocky, a fucking dick. She shook her head, trying to mend one of her bent cigarettes.
“No, thank you though….I’ve just realized I’m out.”
“Oh, well - for a girl like you,” he offered his pack, “anything.”
Barf.
Lucky didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or gag. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, declining his cigarette. She knew better than to accept anything from his kind of guy. He gave her an incredulous look, stepping closer. God, was he really going to do this? Right now? Here? Ugh, she did not want to have to cause a scene. Huffing to herself, she forced a smile, shaking her head.
“Thanks, sorry - I feel bad stealing other people’s cigarettes.” She deflected, hoping that’d appease him by taking one of his cigarettes.
“Oh, but not their drugs?”
Lucky stared at him unblinkingly in disbelief for a few seconds before he laughed, taking a seat next to her and flickering his lighter for her to spark her cigarette. She sighed, thinking back to what Grim had said earlier that night. Yeah, she was definitely too fucking nice. She let him light her cigarette begrudgingly, staring into the fire pit to avoid eye contact.
“Sorry, it’s a joke...this is my home!” He said, throwing his hands up as if he wanted her to behold his kingdom, admire his reign. “So, obviously all the drinks and drugs are provided by me - which is why it was a joke.”
Lucky gave a stiff smile, nodding her head. “Oh, well - you have a lovely home.”
“And?....”
She blinked, offering no response.
“AND, thank you for the drugs!...and the cigarette….and your drink.” He fell back into his seat, scooting closer. “What’s your name?”
“Lucky.”
“Woo-oo, well that must be my name too because I am lucky to meet you.”
Ugh, so fucking cringe. She gave a dim smile, already having turned off the switch inside that paid attention. He started talking about himself, how much money he had, the types of parties he throws, the people he knows. She just smiled and nodded, because that’s all he wanted. It wasn’t worth the hassle to piss him off, and she could tell he was the type to get his ego bruised easily.
The first time he put his hand on her thigh, she crossed her legs and brushed him off, scooting away. The second time she didn’t move it, wondering how quickly she’d be able to find Grim and teleport out of there before the guy started screaming about how some girl had vanished into thim air. When he went to kiss her, she moved back, unable to keep herself from giggling. That….that really pissed him off. “What are you laughing at?” He fumed.
“Are you fucking serious?” Lucky laughed.
Grim was thoroughly wrapped up in his man of choice for the night when something itched at the back of his mind. Remedy, pulling himself out of wherever he went, bothering Grim even though they had rules against this. Grims smile strained as he tried to pay attention to the pearly white smile in front of him, way too close but so fucking hot he couldn’t pull back.
“So you’re a dancer?”
Grim nodded, finishing off the last of the drink the man- Geoffrey- had gotten for him, “Among other things, yeah. You should come by the club sometime… I could give you a private show”
‘Where’s Lucky?’ Grim almost audibly yelped at the sound of his brothers voice, loud and clear and awake in his head. He’d gotten so used to the silence it was a shock to hear him so loud all of a sudden.
“You alright?” Geoffrey look concerned, which made his handsome face look even more fuckable. God Grim hopped he was into some nasty shit, cause all he wanted to do was nasty shit with-
‘Grim’
‘What the fuck?!’ He stood from the couch, turning away from his conquest so he could screw his face up in annoyance at his brother.
‘While your mentally dry humping this jackass you’ve lost our Luck’
‘She’s a big fucking girl Rem’
‘Do it or I will’
“Fine!” He yelled accidentally, wide eyed and obviously pissed, “Hey, Geoffrey...could puke Judy. Stay still? Don’t move a beautiful fucking muscle. I gotta go check on my sister and then I’ll be right back to stare at you some more”
Geoffrey laughed and nodded, crossing his legs indication that he would stick around. Grim grinned and made sure his ass was visible as he made a round of the place.
She wasn’t at the bar and he was sure she wasn’t crammed in the bathroom this whole time. Grim glanced around, sure that Lucky would stand out in this crowd of overdressed asshats.
Outside, the air was fresh and actually sent a chill down his spine. A group of people stood around the pool, a few on the longue chairs….two over by the smoldering fire pit.
Lucky was sitting next to a man- Grim really didn’t care who she fucked but….. Remedy cared immensely.
Rem hadn’t tossed Grim so roughly from control in a while, storming across the tiled pool area for the fire pit. It was dark, the only lights coming from the illuminated pool and what streamed through the wall of glass behind him. But fucking hell he could see that man's hands on her. She looked caught- Rem knew she had the power to save herself but she’d never reveal it in a place like this.
He grabbed the back of the man's shirt collar and roughly yanked him from behind off of Lucky. The douchebag made a squeaking sort of scream, his tie yanking tight around his throat as Rem used it to hoist the man back towards him.
“S-stop! What’re you fucking doing?” He was clawing at Remedy’s hands, marks healing almost immediately. Rem glared down at him fiercely- his powers gave him no ability to harm, but fuck he really wished he could trade with Grim right now. Instead, he cocked his arm back and slammed his fist into man's nose, letting go of his tie so he would fall to the concrete ground. The crunch of nose bone breaking was satisfying, but also the whalling of the asshole as he tried to stop the blood.
The drugs delayed Lucky’s response time, Remedy had the man in his grip before she could say anything. The guy was sniveling like a child, obviously he wasn’t used to someone putting him in his place. Lucky couldn’t look away, she knew she should intervene, but she didn’t want to. It had been a long time since Remedy’s shadow had completely taken over. She always could still sense Grim lingering, but this was all Remedy. The guy fell onto the ground like a sack of flour after Remedy’s first punch, she would have laughed if she wasn’t wondering what the fuck Remedy was planning to do from here. I mean the guy had it coming, but if she had wanted to rough the guy up, she’d have done so herself - no problem. But damn, if Remedy didn’t look fine as hell right now….
The asshole scrambled back as Remedy crouched down. His hand was covering his nose and mouth, blood covering the bottom half of his face. Which made his cursing and babbling nonsense. “What was that prick?” Remedy asked, reaching for the guys red stained collar. His suit was expensive- and ruined. There was no way he was getting blood out of that velvet baby blue fabric. Remedy almost laughed as they guy tried to answer him, only managing to make out “ass hole” before he dragged him closer and punched him in the face again. Grim was cackling inside of him- Remedy’s uncharacteristic anger always seemed to rile his brother into fits of laughter.
Vaguely, Remedy was aware of people yelling. He glanced up to see a forming crowd, onlookers had their phones out and were whispering behind martini glasses. No one was rushing forward to help the asshole out, so Remedy stood and delivered a swift kick to his ribs. While the man screamed and coughed, Remedy turned around to Lucky.
“Are you okay?”
Lucky looked between Remedy and the bloodied piece of shit laying on the ground beneath him, nodding her head. “I’m fine Remedy...I had it under control.” She said, trying not to sound like she was passing judgement, only concern.
“Didn’t look like it. If you’d disappeared there would have been an even bigger problem” Rem took a step forward, reaching out for her arm slowly, “He was a prick and deserved it. We should-” Rem paused and glanced back, hearing louder noises from inside the party, “We should probably get going”
Just as he turned to make a swift exit- they could use Lucky's powers, but they still had a crowd of assholes and cameras pointed at them- when two officers pushed their way through the crowd.
Shit.
Part Nine: The Long Road To (Not Quite) Home
Gavin doesn't even remember the last time he saw Reginald. It was days before he had completely left home, but the event itself was as unmemorable and bleak as every other memory of his 'father' happened to be. What he does remember though is saying bye to Mom, eating one last breakfast that she had made. Gavin always understood that Mom wasn’t...as real as he imagined her to be. But a part of him always believed that Mom could truly feel things for them. Having mechanical parts and wiring instead of blood and bones didn't make her any less his Mom and it hurt in ways that he couldn't explain when he thought about the last time he hugged her goodbye. Despite that, Pogo had been tougher, because he knew that Gavin wasn't coming back. There would be no pop in visits, no calls, not even a postcard. He was going off on his own, and nobody would know where he was (except for Lucky, because none of them could hide from her.) And that made it that much harder to look Pogo in the eyes as he left.
Some memories are better left in the past, distant echoes shut away from the world. But sometimes it wasn't that simple. Couldn't be. It was unfair, but that was life. And Gavin knew that he couldn’t hide himself away this time. No, this time he would need to face things head on. Take the salt straight to his wounds.
Gavin’s race (home) has slowed to a regretful crawl. Each mile gained another lost to comfort and peace of mind. Living in the middle of nowhere has its advantages right up until it doesn't - one of them being that it takes a solid eternity (and a small fortune in gas) to get anywhere. And he wonders why he’s doing this anyways. What could he possibly owe to the old man that would make him bother to go through the trouble of returning. He’s sure that nobody would have blamed him for staying away. Just as he wouldn’t blame them for doing the same.
Oh well, he’s stuck in the thick of it now.
No going back.
Being around anyone but himself right now feels like a bad idea but halfway through his journey the gaslight turns on and he's forced to pull off the highway and into a busted down old station that's seen better days. The windows are covered in filth but there's a neon open sign signaling that it's not as defunct as it looks. That's good enough for Gavin.
He pulls into the first pump, cuts the engine, and takes a moment to gather himself before hopping out and heading towards the unwelcoming front doors. There's a fine layer of dust on everything, including the teenager sitting with his feet propped up on the counter. The kid barely takes a second to glance at him before returning to the phone in his hands. Gavin is surprised that there's even a signal out here at all.
They must be close enough to the city then. Gavin digs his phone out of his pocket, frowning down at the cracked screen as he powers it back on. Almost immediately there's a barrage of texts and missed calls from Kate. He ignores them With a heavy heart, knowing that he can't do anything about that right now (he can’t focus on the idea of this driving a wedge between them, when everything is already so hard to deal with.) His focus instead landing on the most recent message that wasn't from Kate.
"Hey, phones been dead. Just found out. Here now. U coming?"
Lucky.
Of course she'd be the only one to properly contact him. Too little too late as usual. But he knows better than to read into the message - that's always what led them to their fights. A misunderstanding of intention when all either of them wanted was to find solid ground. He doesn't reply to the text because he doesn't want to admit that this frenzied journey is taking him right back to the one place he doesn't want to be.
"Dude are you going to buy anything or what?" The monotone drawl of the teenager brings him back to the real world. The tension in his body melting away just enough to let him unclench his aching jaw. Gavin doesn't waste his breath on the kid, just pays for the gas and goes along on his way. Wishing with everything in him that this didn't feel like the slow march towards insanity.
He fiddles with the watch on his wrist, and though it doesn't work it's still a solid and comforting weight that keeps him from floating too far up into his own mind. Especially now with miles of road stretching before him, simultaneously too long and too short. It isn't long before familiar landmarks start cropping up. He's never liked driving in traffic, especially the kind that came with heavy doses of anxiety. The inner city slows his pace to a crawl and that's much worse than being on the fast track.
By the time he arrives he’s barely functioning above autopilot. His clunky old truck sputtering and protesting when he finally pulls into that familiar drive. Nails tapping out a maddening rhythm against the steering wheel as he cuts the engine and leans forward to peer through the windshield. For the longest time, he sits there, unsure of exactly what it is he’s waiting for. The place he once - a very long time ago - lived in taunts him with its looming visage.
No time like the present.
The solid ground beneath him has a calming effect on his nerves. Allows him to let that mask of uncertainty slide right off his face. It’s obvious that he isn’t the first to arrive, not that he expected to be anyways. They didn’t all run as far away as they could the moment they had the chance, or at least, they didn’t disappear into the middle of nowhere.
Seeing Lucky feels like taking the first breath of fresh air after struggling in the vast ocean of his own overworked brain. He almost doesn't recognize the other person standing with her, has to double take because it's been so long since he last saw Santino. Probably longer than most since they weren't exactly the best of buddies - no, that was more Lucky and Grim than him. Gavin always liked to shelter himself away, even when he didn't have to.
"Hey ...you made it.”
"Hey, yeah…" He nods, hands in his pockets to hide his nerves. "I guess I did." he doesn’t quite believe it himself really. He also doesn’t want want to linger here for too long.
“I’m gonna head in,” he says to Lucky, excusing himself from any further awkward conversation. “Good seeing ya man.“ He offers the smallest of waves towards Santino.
What Gavin really wants to do is crawl out of his skin, but he stows that feeling away for the time being.
He’s gotta pull himself together.
Part Eight: Homecoming
Fingers with nails bitten down to stubs ran along the wooden walls as Pogo led her down the hall, pausing over the illustrations they had pinned along the corridor. Other kids got coloring books - they got colorful drawings of combat techniques that taught them how to gouge someone’s eyes out. The air was stale, an eerie silence that had haunted the house since Luther’s “death”. Anyone who ever called this place home had left years ago.
It was more of a museum than house these days. The only family portraits they had growing up was ones with them in masks, large oil paintings with daunting expressions. They weren’t a family after all, they were a team; an experiment. Their father took every opportunity to remind them of that. She could still feel his presence, ever haunting in the back of her mind. Her fingers twitched, itching to hold something - a drink, a joint, a cigarette. Anything.
“Have you heard from any of the other’s?” Pogo asked from beside her, snapping her out of her trance. Sleep deprived and still high, Lucky felt a rush of paranoia. She exhaled roughly, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head - trying to act casual and sure she was failing.
“I just heard about it a couple hours ago and came straight here…” She said, letting Pogo walk ahead of her down the stairs. Lucky reached for her phone in her back pocket, realizing she hadn’t charged it since the night before. It had been dead for hours, if anyone had tried to get ahold of her she had missed it. “Who knows if they’ve all seen it yet. Gavin lives in the middle of nowhere. I can text them but I’ve gotta charge my phone.”
“I believe the charging dock in the kitchen is still functional. There’s no rush. We’ll just get you a nice cup of tea and you can have a rest, I’m sure they’ll come.” His words were laced with paternal concern. Her eyes were rimmed in dark circles, her cheeks gaunt from poor diet and binge drug use - her skin, hair and eyes all dulled. Her paranoia ebbed away, sinking into a guilt. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Rina and Israel called. Rina is on tour in Japan, she says she can’t cancel any of her shows.”
Lucky and him shared a knowing look. Rina was better off not coming around. This place triggered too many bad memories, she had been through enough. She didn’t owe the old man a damn thing. Lucky could relate. Pogo went on, “Israel said he’d be here for any sort of services, but his son has some sort of infection so he’d prefer to stay with him in the meantime.”
“Yeah, okay. I mean I think he can run here from Brazil in minutes. That’s where they live now, right?” Lucky asked as they rounded into the kitchen, Pogo nodding his head in response as he took Lucky’s phone from her to place on the charger. Grace had her back turned when they entered the room, hair perfectly combed and apron tied around her petite waist and humming a familiar tune. When she turned to face them, a smile split across her face - just as stunning as ever.
“Camila, you’re home!” Grace’s sing-song voice cooed over the baking sheet she held in her hands, little chocolate speckled perfect circles of dough laid out in neat rows. “I’m making cookies, chocolate chip!”
She placed the trays inside the oven, twisting an egg shaped timer on the counter before rounding the counter to cross the room. Lucky welcomed her mother’s embrace, burying herself into her golden tresses as she fought back tears. Grace’s fingers ran through her hair, soothing Lucky. “Oh my, you’ve lost weight. We need to get some food into you. The cookies are for tea at noon, but I can make you breakfast. Would you like pancakes, or oatmeal? Anything you’d like.”
Lucky laughed, wiping away her tears as she leaned away. “No, I’m not hungry - but thanks. Can I actually just get a cup of coffee? I haven’t had much sleep.”
“Of course, I’ll get that going right now.” Grace took Lucky’s face into her palm, her thumb brushing across Lucky’s tear stained cheeks. She gave Grace a weak smile and a shrug, wiping her nose with the cuff of her jacket. “Have a seat, are you hungry? I can make you anything you’d like. Pancakes, waffles….”
Lucky blinked, certain she had already answered that question. She slid into a seat slowly, searching Grace’s features as she answered. “No...just coffee.”
“Oh,” Grace said, pausing for a moment before she turned on her heel back to the cabinets. Lucky furrowed her brow, looking to Pogo with confusion and concern. His eyes were looking past Grace, his mind deep in thought. Fraught silence settled between them, Lucky burying her face into her hands as she exhaled. They already thought she looked like a mess, she didn’t see the point it pretending otherwise.
Her mother set the french press beside Lucky, alongside a dainty sugar bowl and creamer. Lucky gave a weak smile in thanks, pouring the coffee into her mug as is and pulling it into her embrace. She could feel herself fading, coffee alone wouldn’t do the trick. She looked over her mug to Pogo and her mother.
“Sorry, like I said - I haven’t had much sleep. Sort of out of it…” Lucky said with a weak smile. Tucking her hair behind her ears she shifted awkwardly in her seat. It was like she had forgotten how to act in front of them. So much had changed since the last cup of coffee at this table.
Her phone lit up from the charging dock atop the kitchen island like a beacon, pulling her over. Leaning across the counter with her mug in hand Lucky watched as her phone connected to the network, waiting for a text from someone - anyone.
A sole text from Israel, “Got ur number from pogo. thought u should have mine. Call if need anything”
Lucky couldn’t help but smile, Israel always had his way of doing that. Somehow in the shitshow they called a childhood he managed to hold on to some of that light that had extinguished in the rest of them years ago. Suddenly flushed with emotion, tears filled her eyes. Blinking them back she wiped at her eyes with the cuff of her jacket.
“I’m sorry, I just need some fresh air.” Lucky gave an apologetic look to Pogo and Grace, stepping out to the courtyard with her phone and coffee in tow. The sky was dark, a storm approaching. Scrolling through her contacts, Lucky stopped at one. Her fingers danced across her screen with a sense of urgency.
They were all so caught up in the fact that no one had texted or called them, none of them had texted each other. Well, except for Israel. Though he only really did it so she’d have his number when she eventually lost control of the situation and they needed Izzy to add some levity. She sat back after a moment, rereading her drafted text to Gavin as she sipped her coffee.
Hey, phones been dead. Just found out. Here now. U coming?
She let the words sit there for a moment, so many unspoken. Lucky had learned to stop over analyzing every little thing with Gavin, it only made it worse when she’d inevitably fail. It was all going to be shit after tonight anyhow, Lucky could make it until then. She hit send then shoved her phone back into her pocket.
Movement from inside the house caught her eye, two figures moving in the stained windows. Crossing the courtyard she rested a hand over the ivy covered brick, closing her eyes as she searched the shadows within. As expected she could sense Grim. She could recognize Riley just by the posture of his shadow, shoulders always slumped from that chip he carried around on them. There was another shadow standing at their door, arms full and stuck in between deciding to leave the bags and go ...or to ring the doorbell.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were if I were you,” Lucky said from behind Santino just as his finger poised over the doorbell. She appeared from the shadows gracefully set atop the stone banister. She sipped her coffee casually, watching as he turned around slowly to face her. Lucky bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to distract herself from the sinking feeling of guilt and embarrassment.
Santino's eyes were lit with amusement, should have expected this he guessed. Though - truthfully, he didn’t think her father's death would be the moment she decided to grow a set of balls. He really should have known better, but he had always struggled to understand the Hargreeves’ relationship with their father. Setting down the box carefully, Santi couldn’t help but grin.
He had expected to see Lucky, but he never expected to see that look on her face.
“Oh, so we talking now?” He said bluntly, sitting on the stoop and clasping his hands together. He’d never been the type to mince words. Lucky felt herself smile, her immediate reaction when being embarrassed was to laugh. Her tongue traced from the corner of her lips to the inside of her cheek, lips pursing to suppress her inappropriate giddiness. Santi’s eyebrows raised, watching her discomfort with mild delight.
Lucky rolled her eyes, lowering herself from the banister to side beside Santi. When he scooted over to make more room she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile. She had that effect on others, Lucky was hard to stay mad at. Santi licked his lips, wiping his chin and rubbing his hands together with anticipation waiting for her to speak.
“Alright, you don’t have to get yourself all worked up like a pig in shit.” Lucky joked, bumping her shoulder against his.
“I didn’t say shi-it.” He laughed, holding his arms up in weak protest.
“Yeah, yeah. You didn’t have to. You say it with your eyes. You can’t wait to see me grovel.”
“Nah,” The sincerity in his voice made her stop cold, like she knew what was coming next. He was going to be the good guy he always was and she was going to feel like shit. Santi sighed, draping his arm across her shoulders and pulling her in, “Just glad you’re here.”
She smiled softly, “Yeah ...me too.”
They waited like that for a moment, bathing in the sun on the stoop. It almost felt like it did before, when they were younger and still so full of dreams. Even after years of unwarranted exile, he still a friend to her when she needed one. Lucky rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes with contentment. It had been so long since she’d had such a simple moment of affection, every one she’d spend time with the last several years either knew her by a false identity or had the burden of a secret between them. Lucky had almost forgotten what it felt like to just be able to be in the moment and not have to worry about pretenses or dead brothers.
“Hey,” She finally spoke again, breaking their silence. “I’m sorry ...for everything. I don’t have an excuse or anything. I’m just sorry.”
He let her words settle between them, digesting each one carefully. She was still beside him, holding her breath waiting for his reaction. Her stomach was twisting itself into knots, rising into her chest. Just when she thought she’d might scream, she felt a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.
“Thank you, that means a lot.” He finally spoke, wrapping his other arm around her to pull her into a gentle embrace and holding her for a moment. It was the first hug she’d had that day where she didn’t feel like she was the one holding the other person up. Lucky sunk into his arms a little deeper, Santino squeezed a little harder. After a moment he released her, resting his hands on her shoulder and holding her at arm's length.
“Now, I hope you know the only reason I was ever mad at you is because you ghosted me over some drunk bullshit you knew I wouldn’t hold against you.” He smiled wide, dimples growing deep into either cheek. It was always so disarming, his smile.
“Shut up.” She said with a sheepish expression, biting the inside of her cheek. Lucky wiped away at the tears before they could fall, squinting to pretend that it was because the sun was bothering them. He bumped his shoulder into hers playfully, reaching behind them into the box he had brought over and pulling out a tinned vodka soda.
“Fresh out the cooler,” He said, offering one to Lucky. She accepted the can greedily, setting aside her coffee mug.
“You wouldn’t happen to have -” he cut her off by procuring a pack of cherry cigarettes, already unwrapping the cellophane around it. Lucky squealed with excitement, giving Santino another hug before plucking the pack from his hand. She balanced her drink between her legs, fishing through the fabric of her jacket to pull out a lighter.
“Santi you are an absolute saint,” Lucky inhaled the cherry cigarette deeply, pausing before exhaling and taking a sip from her vodka soda. Santino shrugged modestly, reaching into the box and pulling out a beer for himself. Lucky smashed her drink into his, spilling a little bit of both their drinks onto the cement steps. She giggled, “Oops, my bad.”
“Salud.” He said with a grin and a swig, leaning back against the banister. They sat like that for a moment, just two old friends sharing a drink on a familiar stoop. Lucky had almost forgotten the circumstances that brought them there, the hell that waited inside. It was around half way through her drink when reality decided her time was up.
A familiar shadow approached the steps, Lucky pausing with her drink to her lips. Santino sensing the shift watched her with caution, brow furrowed. She set her drink down carefully, lighting another cigarette as the shadow reached the gate. He walked towards the Academy with a familiar reluctance, Lucky straightened herself as he neared them. Her face twisted into a sad smile, either hand holding onto the drink in front of her.
"Hey ...you made it.” Wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.
Part Seven: White Lines White Lies
Where number five’s life had been a splash Riley’s was barely a blip, each and every event predicated on a turn of fifty-two cards and the hope that maybe something good would come out on top. At night that hope rested on nerves twisted into knots and eyes blown to hell while the sky slipped into violet shades; in the morning, the quiet acceptance that life was suffering and even if there weren’t any winners, that didn’t mean you had to lose. Relentless, how the days pass with their heels in the dirt and arms around your neck.
But being number five wasn’t so much a story as it was a life sentence; a constant ringing in Riley’s ear reminding him of where he was in relation to where he wanted to be. In a different space, another body, some other life. Old habits always win out in the end, slipping on like a shirt long since outgrown and seeping in between all those synapses usually reserved for better judgement. Number five’s was a life so rarely chosen by more than the admittedly lost, but the things that attract us more often than not reveal what was wrong with us in the first place.
That’s not a life Riley thinks about often even if he can still feel it in weird ways; the trepidation that consolidates under his skin when a crowd gets too large, the warm satisfaction when he thinks he’s found someone like himself, a spark of hope whenever the villain loses. Home. His siblings. Hargreeves. All souvenirs lost in transit, as far as Riley was concerned. He’d spent the better part of his freedom separating fact from fantasy, coasting off easy smiles and using his own powers to spin reality in which ever way he saw fit.
However, given the circumstances, Riley's not really sure what he knows anymore. What’s absolute and what’s only alive in theory, the things you can’t know past their absence. Hargreeves; absolute, definitely. His acceptance? Sometimes the memories don't even feel right in Riley's head. Like the narrative had been cut and spliced and superimposed so many times that the plot didn't make sense anymore. Did he even care? For his father? That he was dead? Yes feels inadequate; no says Riley's far more capable than he'd ever give himself credit for.
His siblings are easier to sort into manageable pieces. A mix just as likely to maim as it is to feel good. Riley still had memories of light spilling in from the tiniest crack in candy pink clouds, fourth of july fireworks, sneaking out and around, the high that comes with powers that kill. Then again, they’re all tinged black at the edges when he thinks too hard; rooms dark like burnt tires, the ringing in his ears, the inevitable flinch when he can’t get something right, the darkness in his chest when sides are chosen and lines are drawn. Maybe that’s just life, though. A culmination of less than ideal contingencies. Some people get more and some get less, but you glide through it because you don’t know any better. Or, in Riley’s case, you do everything that was off limits as a child and hope hedonistic salvation isn’t as heavy-handed as the parental kind.
He’s alone, though, so there’s no need to be honest about any of that. No need to admit that he couldn't think of a single thing he'd ever said to Hargreeves that didn't put him one word further from where his father was. The words escape him now but he remembers the feeling the way kids remember touching hot stoves. An endless expanse of sentences stacked up like brick walls between them. And Riley never bothered to climb, just settled for sprinting the distance between the two of them and never barked once when his father moved the finish line.
If glittered linings could speak Riley thinks they’d never cease, maybe that’s why Hargreaves made such a good mouthpiece for all things silver and gold, all the things most people would never be able to touch. Pictures and old videos run across the tv mounted behind the glass waffle house windows. A constant symphony of b-roll and ‘extras’ he’d rather not see, yet here he is, standing outside, watching reporters and fans piece together a life that belonged to so many people except the seven that mattered. He understood why people ate it up, at least. There was something cool about being let into a world you’d only seen in comic books and movies. Luckily no one really notices Riley in spite of the play-by-play overhead.
Or maybe no one cares enough to openly stare. The patrons filtering in and out don’t seem like the type to get weepy over old bastards and Riley turns away from the window to lean back against the brick wall, the thin material of his shirt catching every sharp edge when he shifts. If he's reminded of anything, it's that death is impartial. He’s always known it, but the thought's been on his mind lately. The smell of damp leaves creeps in with a sangria haze while gravel creaks under his feet, and to his left a cook takes hard drags off of his cigarette and sighs everytime it looks like a car might pull into the parking lot. Riley kinda wishes he had something to do with his hands. Watches every time the cook rolls out his shoulders or shifts on the hard concrete. He’d hoped that the compressed setting would do something for him. Either offer him an excuse to feel something for his late father or a distraction to quiet down the noise altogether. Instead, he just gets that familiar feeling gnawing away at his insides, telling him that home is that way and sending the cook into cardiac arrest wouldn’t feel any different than the first time. He hates it. Fuck, he does, but when he listens hard enough he can hear his own sinews knot up at the ends, pining and desperate to answer back.
Riley’s not sure how much time he lost, but the sound of footsteps grabs his attention before a noncommittal, “are you hungry?” cuts through the silence. The cook’s standing in front of him. cigarette burned down to the filter and hanging loosely between two fingers as he waits for a response. Riley racks his brain for an answer. Finds a hundred new words for longing that weren’t there last night and tries to ignore the easy alignment of the cook’s joints, how the nerves weave in and out. That’s not really something you tell people, though, so Riley tilts his head to the side, barely shakes no. tries not to look so pressed. “Hmm,” is all the cook says, something between a hum and a snort when he looks Riley over and nods, “suit yourself. sorry about your dad, by the way. seemed like a cool guy.”
His chest splits. Riley says thank you anyway.
His muscles remember home instantly and if that's not proof of how demons persevere Riley's not sure what is. Instantly hit with a dozen memories of days spent running, fighting, training; always gunning for a nicer cage, it seemed. His eyebrows furrowed together in pettiness, but the feeling fades as soon as he makes it to the door and spots the umbrella logo in the smooth glass, his reflection just barely reflected in the surface. For a flight-risk years in the making, he’d never actually reclaimed his life. Just made movement his preferred anesthetic and did his best to push number five to the back of his mind.
The house looks exactly as he remembered it, cleaned and polished to the nines despite how few individuals actually lived in it. In the background he can hear voices. The nearest one is decidedly split, which means lucky can’t be too far away and moving away from her presence isn’t even a conscience decision at this point. Misplaced animals and an open bottle of whisky on the bar only confirms his suspicions; grim’s side had a considerable lack of personal responsibility and wouldn’t be feeding into the voice in Riley’s head any time soon. Guess some things don’t get duller with age, he thinks, eyeing the joints rolled and ready to go. Riley smiles despite himself and the action feels awkward after going so long without it. “Huh. I would’ve brought something if I’d known we were skipping the funeral and heading straight to the after party."
Part Six: Glass Eyes and Cocaine
It took Grim all of ten minutes to set up shop in the living room. Cocaine streaked across the dark mahogany of the bar, a bottle of some expensive ass whiskey open on the counter, joints lined up like little soldiers. He’d prepared three shots for himself, Lucky, and Luther, but those two had disappeared upstairs and he supposed it was for the better. He did take a moment to imagine what it would look like if he was knocking back shots with their long dead brother with the rest of the Hargreeves showed up, but Lucky was (as always) smart in taking Zombie Luther away.
The liquor cured is raging headache, soothing that beast of a hangover that had slowly made itself present. He wasn’t sure if it was purely from their night last night or just simply from the stress of the morning, but Grim was ready to bury himself in his illicit addictions and it was only 10 am.
Rem, of course, was simmering just barely under the cloud of drugs, aware enough to have a foggy sort of presence on Grim’s thoughts but nothing more. Their body was still high from last night, still coasting on those colorful pills, blow, and whatever else he'd found.
Remedy had never done well with drugs. Since they were kids, Grim's side of their brain had latched on like a gasping fish while Rem’s had suffocated under their effects. Santino had given them their first hit, just weed at first, but it soon became obvious that the brothers had very different tolerances. Remedy detested having his brain fucked with and Grim could never have enough.
It was different now, of course. Old Rem would have never let his brother display his addiction out in the open like this in their sacred family home. But this new version of his clerical brother was barely a flicker of who Remedy had been- Grim assumed it would work itself out eventually, when they fixed all the shit they had broken.
Making one more line disappear under a straw he’d dug out of their fathers bar, Grim threw himself into a barstool he dragged around to the back, situating himself in full view of the sitting room to greet whatever sibling returned first.
‘You know Lucks going to want our help. She specifically asked for it’
Grim nodded as he leaned back on two legs of the stool, his boots leaving mud on the glass shelves of the bar, both agreeing and not agreeing with his brother, "You know she can handle it”
‘It’s literally out fault. You can't leave this on her’
“Rem, listen man. Lucky is going to explain the situation and everyone will see she did nothing wrong” Grim paused and started lining up another line, the antagonistic presence of his brother making him feel sobriety loom ahead, “and your going to bitch off to fuck knows where and leave me to deal with it. So I can at least be high when I tell our siblings we turned our brother into one of my zombie minions”
‘You being high is going to piss them off even more’
“Me being high is going to seem normal!” The stool almost toppled backwards as he wildy gestured at the empty room, so he kicked the dawn thing out of his barspace and leaded heavily against the blow covered wood as he continued to play with his already neat line, “And who knows! They lost a dad today, maybe gaining their brother back will even shit out? It's sort of a win-win if you look at it right!"
Grim waited a beat for a reply, but Rem had done his fucking off thing midway through his little rant. He was good at sliding in with his nagging comments and disappearing as soon as Grim started making sense. That, or the sluggish comfort of that first line that was making their body feel all sorts of good had finally tidal waved Remedy into a corner of their mind that was deep and dark and quiet. Somewhere where he could make nagging comments to himself and leave Grim the hell alone with the real world.
At first the silence had been intoxicating. They shared a body, a mind, sometimes even the same thoughts. When Remedy had lost the battle to Grims addictions and let his brother do whatever he wanted with their shared existence, Grim had gone insane. He’d fucked anyone he could find (well, anyone that was okay with zero skin to skin contact, which meant some weird ass people), relishing in the ability to have sex without his brothers presence. He’d taken any drug offered, ended up in the hospital, and gone right back out the experience it again. The whole ‘unleashing of Grim Hargreeves’ had lasted about a week before he was sober enough to realize the vacant part of his brain was actually a big fat fucking hole. A void where Remedy had been that he was no longer filling.
And then he’d gone insane. Called Lucky crying, hysterically screaming that he’d lost Remedy. He panicked and admitted himself to a psych-ward, tried explaining that he lost his brother that was actually just in his head, and had to have Lucky break him out. The whole experience gave his body enough time to calm down from his week long rager for Grim to realize Remedy was just tucked deep down and sleeping, calm and not the high strung ball of anxiety he’d been since they’d accidentally resurrected Luther.
So shit like today was normal for them- Rem fucking off when things got problematic, wallowing in his self pity for royally messing up as Team Healer. Leaving his weird fetishy brother with a drug problem to sort through taking care of their body and making sure Zombie Luther doesn't fall apart or get caught.
Grim poured himself another shot and down it, slamming the glass down a little too hard. He glared into the living room like it had personally offended him- it had, on numerous occasions, actually pissed him the fuck off. Their dad had a sick sense of humour with all this dead shit everywhere- skulls in glass cases, mummified bodies in poses of natural beauty displayed on top of dusty bookshelves. Antlers and eyeballs and butterflies pinned in frames. Dead shit glaring down at Grim like he’d been the one to suck the life out of them. He kind of itched to touch them, see if any real presence of life existed in the commercialised aesthetic of Dead. Tug on that string and see if anything answered on the other side…
He rounded the bar and grabbed the discarded stool off the ground, using it to reach a bobcat that was stuffed in a crouching pose on top of the nearest bookshelf. The sad thing was covered in more dust then the books, probably hadn’t been touched since it had been placed their ages ago. Vacant glass eyes looked back at him, a poor mockery of what they should have been. The cats body was hollow, its brain not existent- the only thing semi real or tangible was its dust covered spotted fur.
Grim put the sad thing down on the coffee table and went around collecting all the dead shit, arranging them in a display amongst his drugs and alcohol. He dragged the stool from the bookshelf to a spot in front, plucking a joint from underneath a petrified monitor lizard and lighting up as he perched in front of his creation.
“Rem” Grim exhaled a plume of weed, not really expecting his brother to answer but too high to really care, “I made a fucking masterpiece you should look”
He got a resounding silence in return, but continued staring into the vacant of the fake-but-dead animals in front of him as he waited for family to return. Maybe they'd be okay with Luther if they did a line, sat down with him, and starred into these weird glassy eyes too.
Part Five: Guilt Trips are a Bitch
The taxi was where they had left it, a hunk of dingy yellow metal on the concrete horizon. Hanging from the mirror like a beacon were those fuzzy pink dice, cigar smoke curling in the sunlight. With jaws and fists clenched, a tense silence followed the siblings into the cab. Lucky squeezed between her brothers, propping her elbows up on her knees to bury her face into her hands. The taxi driver hollered over his shoulder, radio blaring. “Where next?”
“The Umbrella Academy.” She spoke through slender hands, gritting her teeth at the static trickling through the radio. Lucky spread her fingers into her hair, trying to push against the pressure that had been building against her temples since she’d woken up.
"Trying to get a glimpse of the kids or something?” He said with a laugh.
“Just go.” Lucky responded before anyone else could. She didn’t have the patience for bullshit right now, for this fucking guy. They needed to get there before the others and they couldn’t afford any further delays and there weren’t many cabs making pick-ups at the police station. Every time Lucky closed her eyes she imagined what her sibling’s faces might be when they saw Luther, when they would realize the secret they’ve kept; every time she looked up she was reminded how much more difficult this was for Luther, Grim and Remedy. There was a weight pushing against her chest that made it difficult to swallow. Tears started to well in her eyes though she fought against them. She wiped them away but only ended up smearing them across her cheeks.
Lucky looked at Grim out of the corner of her eye leaning against the door with his arms folded, hating herself for wishing he was Remedy right now. Lucky never had to really carry the burden of being a leader. She wasn’t a follower but she definitely wasn’t going to start leading the pack any time soon. Luther had always done it with Remedy at his side. Now Luther was literally falling apart and Remedy was nowhere to be found. She had thought he would have at least showed up made an appearance when she told them about their dad but she had barely sensed even a glimmer of his shadow in Grim’s since leaving the police station.
Lucky knew if she really asked, Remedy would come. All she had to do was say his name and he’d be there, always. But all of their childhood Grim spent being told he was the toxic half of Remedy….Lucky felt like she was telling Grim that all over again by calling on Remedy, it broke her heart to do it. She couldn’t look at Grim, afraid to see the hurt in his expression. Her voice cracked when she spoke, a guilt twisting inside. “Remedy….I need you.”
Cold, ice blue eyes turned to his sister next to him. Something like pain twisted up his stomach, but Grim simply swallowed and shoved it down. Remedy was there, of course, instantly tearing himself forward despite their mutual high.
Grim held Lucky's gaze for a long minute, his expression blank but eyes revealing. Cold- even with all his words of love and carefree nature, Grim Hargreeves still carries the power to rip the life from anyone he touches. He wouldn’t touch her...never… but having her look at him like that and while calling out to Rem sent a smear of something through him that only his brother would ever know. A dark ink that stained as it went, painted Grim a darker shade than Remedy.
But Grim smiles, crooked and carefree, erasing that thawing that icy glare just as fast as it had appeared. Lucky had enough to deal with without his inner demons.
Grim didn’t fight Remedy as he took control, their posture shifting to envelop the heavy weight that always weighed the quieter brother down. He moved forward, carding a hand through Lucky's hair in a soft but urgent way, “It was going to happen eventually Luck.”
There was a pain in Lucky’s chest as she watched Grim slip away, leaving a wound between them. She bit her lip, wishing already she could take it back - but she needed Remedy. Lucky wanted to tell him that she couldn’t do this without him, wanted to ask him to stay but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead she buried her face into his shoulder, her tears falling freely not even trying to stop them now.
“I know,” Lucky wiped her eyes, trying to push her hair from her face. Stray hairs clung to her wet cheeks, tears clinging to her lashes and face red from the blood rushing to her cheeks - she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I don’t know what to do - I can’t….I can’t do it…” alone. The word faltered on her lips, she had already stabbed Grim in the gut once- she didn’t need to twist the dagger in deeper. She knew Grim would have her back but between the two of them she always had to play the role of the more responsible type, if you could even call it that. What they needed was a leader, but she couldn’t be that person. She looked at Remedy with pleading eyes, “Please...tell me what to do.”
Remedy exhaled shakily and leaned back, his hand still lingering on her arm for comfort- for him or her, he wasn’t sure. “I don’t really know” he looked away, blue eyes darkening as he stared at the ground, “I never really planned for any of this and we’ve just been coasting on pure luck ever since. Grim- being who he is- is the only reason no one came looking. Luther isn’t exactly easy to hide” Luther snorted from his seat but kept quiet, his focus lost out the window.
“This isn’t me, I am not him” Remedy gestured at their bigger brother, “and once they find out what I did they won’t even pretend to listen to me”
Lucky exhaled as she leaned back, looking over at Luther as she spoke. “So what you’re saying is that we’re fucked.”
“Luck, you don’t need to say you know” Remedy turned his gaze to her, hating her crumpled posture, “Blame us”
“No,” Lucky said tersely, looking at him with absolute resolution in her eyes. “I’m not letting you guys go through this alone. I’m just as guilty...I’m not lying anymore. All or nothing.”
He nodded, but averted his eyes immediately, “Sure, we’ll see how it goes. I can’t promise anything though. I’m not... I might not be…. I get tired.” They didn’t ever talk about his disappearances, one of those taboo subjects skirted around whenever they neared it. Remedy look back at her after a moment, “I don’t know if I can be there.”
Lucky felt a familiar sinking feeling in her chest, that ache that always made it impossible to stick around longer than a few days. Then came the flicker, a flame deep within that she kept suffocated: Anger. It was always there, something she continuously snuffed out to protect the people around her only to reignite over and over again. She’d have thought by the time they had to deal with all of this Remedy would have figured his shit out already - but no one could have predicted the sudden death of The Monocle. Amber pools filled with a sad sort of a reluctant understanding, swallowing the words she wanted to say - there were too many and his time was running out.
“Yeah, okay.” Lucky sighed, her emotions creating complicated knots in her chest. All she wanted was to get through to him, but he made it so damn hard. Maybe things would never be like they used to and she just had to accept that, and with that take on the burden of the responsibility. There were so many things she almost said; some kind, some petty….She didn’t trust herself to speak, unsure what might come out. Instead Lucky reached for his hand, squeezing it gently as she looked out the window - the cab rolling to a stop.
Remedy squeezed her hand back, that contact tying his chest in knots.
‘There isn’t anything else you can do’ Grim voiced what he knew was true, though hearing it from his brother made it much more real. Revealing Luther was inevitable and well overdue, he just wished they’d had time to get somewhere. Luther was still the exact same as when Split had raised him from the dead- they’d figured out nothing. Maybe Dad dying meant they never would- the asshole did known how to fuck with their powers the best. Remedy closed his eyes from the stress, the soft cloud of his brothers drugs enveloping him before he could give Lucky any real help. They’d fucked up, now they had to deal with it.
Grim pulled his hand free instantly, severing that contact before Lucky could feel the seeping coldness of his powers. He freed himself from the confines of the cab, narrowly avoiding a car speeding past, and turned to glare up at their childhood home. Dark, foreboding, but blissfully empty of the single entity that still gave him nightmares. Maybe he’d learn to love this house now that Dr. Frankenstein was gone.
Lucky wiped away the tears and snot with her jacket sleeve lingering in the cab, her heart heavy. It would never change. Remedy would come and go leaving her with more questions than answers. All she had accomplished was wounding Grim and herself just a little bit more before than they already were because of her selfishness.
“I get tired Luck.” Rem’s words repeated in her head, stirring that familiar ache in her chest. Any time she had wanted to ask Remedy about his absences Lucky had fallen short, too afraid what the answer would be. She had thought up so many excuses she wondered if she believed any of them anymore. He showed up less and less over time. Lucky told herself the drugs couldn’t help but even if that were true she knew it wasn’t just the drugs. There was a part of Remedy that didn’t want to be around so he didn’t mind giving Grim the wheel and, that was the part that Lucky was afraid of.
The street was quiet, which wasn’t unusual but she had expected at least a couple of local news channels to set up a camera or two - there had been some live video in front of the Umbrella Academy that morning. With any luck they were already on to the next story but Lucky found that unlikely. She had to circle around the cab to help Luther out, struggling to unfold himself from the low-riding cab, his limbs stiffened. Lucky linked her arms through Luther’s, following behind Grim as they approached the mansion doors. The Umbrella design that branded their flesh was mirrored on the glass paneled and iron wrought doors to the mansion. She laid her hand atop the shaded portion of the stoop, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She could sense Pogo and their mother inside, but no one else. They were in the clear….for now.
Even with his back turned to her, Lucky could read Grim just by the way his shoulders settled. She opened her mouth to speak when Luther tugged at her arm gently: or rather, gently for him. She was thrown off balance for a moment but he pushed her back upright apologetically. He was right, Lucky had done enough damage for now. She needed to get Luther off the street before someone spotted them.
“Just mom and Pogo inside….Mom’s in the kitchen, Pogo’s in the library.” Her voice was heavy, unspoken apologies weighing her down. Grim deserved a minute to whatever poison he desired to get him through this shit show and Lucky wasn’t about to make this all about herself - at least not any more than she already had. She gave another glance down the street, catching a regretful glimpse into the bodega across the street. Lucky couldn’t see behind the counter from where she stood but she recognized the tattooed hands that reached across the counter to hand back change.
Fuck. Lucky hadn’t even given a thought to Santino the entire morning, obviously preoccupied with other matters. Her fingers twitched for a cigarette, her fresh pack now in Grim’s clutches within her bag. She could have laughed, the world seemed to be conspiring against her today. “We better get inside….I’ll meet you in there.” She said softly, taking Luther’s hand and giving Grim one last apologetic look before stepping into the shadow beneath her feet taking Luther with.
The passed through the doors and walls, Lucky gripping Luther's hand tight so he remained merged with her. She had long grown used to the shadows, the hazy vignette over your vision and your breath halted. Luther squirmed beneath her hold, Lucky could sense his discomfort. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as she led him up the stairs.
Grim watched them disappear- dark shapes melding into the even darker shapes around them. He stood outside a moment longer, torn between splitting or doing the right thing and following them inside. It would be so easy to just turn down the sidewalk, ignore this issue, let Lucky deal with their shit and forget about it. Distantly he felt a humorless chuckle from Rem- of course they’d never do that, but he could dream right?
“Yo! Hargreeves!” Grim slapped on a smile and turned to face the street. Santino stood with his foot propping the store door open, hand raised in greeting and surprise, “Hey man, you guys alright’?”
“Oh, yeah. Best day of our lives.” Santino crosses his arms in a ‘look’ but Grim went on, “I’ll bring some booze and party favors over to celebrate later maybe? All provided by the old man?” He winked and turned to head towards the gate, giving Santino no chance to deny or call him on his bullshit. He needed alcohol, preferably a shot of that expensive ass whiskey dad kept in the cabinet. Maybe he’d be drunk enough that by the time shit went down, no one could harass him.
If only.
Lucky decided to take Luther to her room so that she could bolt the door and not rouse suspicion. She locked the door before she did anything else, pausing to double check no one else but Mom or Pogo was in the house. They were both still in their perspective rooms, Mom cooking and Pogo hunched over a desk in the library. Her room was immaculately kept, even the floor was polished. The only indication that no one lived there anymore were the white linens drawn over the furniture to protect it from dust since the last time she was there. If you stayed away long enough it all built up.
“You want to sit down?” Lucky asked Luther as she folded the white linen spread across her bed to clear a space for Luther. She went around the room to uncover the rest of her furniture, looking around with bitter nostalgia. Her room was small, at least compared to Luther's. He had gotten one of the larger room at the end of the hall. Lucky’s room was just beside his, sharing a wall. His was filled with books and records, a model airplane hanging from above. Lucky’s room had always been sparse - only whatever Hargreeves or mom filled it with.
The only evidence that Lucky had ever been there before were the walls. They were covered in old photographs, smiles long forgotten worn by faces none of them had worn in years. A monument to an era. Luther leaned over her vanity to inspect the ones she had lodged between the corners of the frame of her mirror. Most of them were her and Grim or her and Santino, or the three of them off on some adventure. There were some candid's of the siblings - though candid isn't something they did well with each other.
Luther plucked a Polaroid that had been carefully leaning against the mirror. It was slightly faded but otherwise in good condition. Lucky leaned her head against Luther’s arm, looking down to the photo in his hands. Lucky remembered the day it was taken. She held the baby’s breath to the lens, showing off the flower Remedy had plucked for her. Through the cluster of petals you could make out Lucky looking up to the camera with Remedy’s arms wrapped across her from behind. It seemed like a lifetime ago, she barely recognized the faces she glimpsed through the blossoms.
“He’s going to be okay, Luck.” Luther placed his hand on hers, his voice low and scratchy from lack of use. He didn’t speak often and usually only in monosyllabic responses. When he did speak he made sure his words would count. Lucky gave him a reassuring smile and a squeeze. Luther couldn’t help but to look out for them, even now.
“I know.” Lucky said, wondering if she believed it.
Lucky turned her back to Luther, carefully dropping to her knees and gripping at the floorboards. A shadow pushed from beneath, dislodging a floorboard for her to grab ahold of and pull. Lucky had been keeping anything worth anything hidden in her room ever since her father confiscated sweets Santino would bring over for them as kids. After she, Grim and Remedy had ran away she had created a go-bag. Anything worth keeping was in that bag, something that she could take and run the second they were free. Funny how you spend so long imagining something then it turns out completely different.
“What - looking for?” Luther sputtered, his voice failing him. His fists clenched with frustration, no matter how hard he tried Luther was endlessly reminded of his condition….constantly deteriorating.
Lucky looked over with concern, able to sense her siblings’ emotions like her own. She had spent their entire childhood and adolescence looking after all of them, Lucky could recognize her siblings emotions just with a look. Luther turned his back to Lucky, staring out the window with dull eyes and a clenched jaw. He didn’t need her coddling or pitying him. He was supposed to be the one fixing things.
“Luther, don’t be like that.” Lucky said from behind him, her voice vibrating with equal parts of frustration and concern. He could hear her rummaging through her bag behind him, looking with a purpose too distracted to push him further. She unpacked some of the bags contents onto the bed, digging underneath the layers of packed clothes and shoes to pull out a folded stack of cash bound by rubber bands. Relief washed over her expression, a brief escape from current circumstances.
As she counted out the bills, the burden slowly pressed further and further into her chest until the brief relief was long forgotten. It was enough to last a week of two, maybe more if she actually paid attention to the money she was spending. Either way Lucky would have to come up with more soon if she planned to stick around longer. Lucky twirled the gold chains that adorned her neck, twisted the golden rings on her fingers. She could always sell them but she preferred to leave them for Grim to pawn for some extra cash. Not that it mattered….
Maybe it was easier to think about problems she could solve than face reality. She reached into the front pocket of the bag, pulling out an oversized ziploc bag with prominent signs of wear from being stuffed into a too-small pocket. Within were a couple candy colored treats, undoubtedly Grim's and, a wrinkled pack of cherry cigarettes. They still smelled as fresh as the day Santino gave them to her, the sweet aroma of the tobacco making her mouth water. He found her broken glaring up at the Academy, unable to enter. He took lured her into his bodega with the promise of cherry cigarettes and Thai food, picking up the pieces and putting her back together until she felt like herself again.
Then Lucky fucked up and left without another word and didn’t say shit to him again for just about five years now. So she had that fun little gem to unpack on top of everything….
She twirled the pack in her hands, tracing the blossoms designed on the pack. Back then the only reason she smoked them in the first place was because of the delicate pink flowers printed on them. The idea of chain smoking them made her stomach turn, but Lucky still enjoyed them as a treat from time to time. She didn't bother opening a window, lighting her cigarette and falling back across her bed.
“Shouldn’t do that.” Luther mumbled.
“I think I get a pass on Dead Dad Day.” Lucky droned, rolling over to ash carelessly on the floor. The smoke filled the small room quickly, prompting Luther to crack open the window. It was the first time she had ever smoked in her room, she licked her lips to savor the taste. There was a window upstairs she had been fond of hanging out of to smoke back in the day. That or she’d sneak out to smoke behind the bodega across the way. She and Grim would send light signals to Santi from their room, always off on their own adventures with Santino their personal guide to the real world. She closed her eyes and let her head hang over the side of the bed, her hair draping over to dust across the floors.
Luther remained in the window, looking out. The sunlight coming through the window pane contrasted against his ashen skin, the dead were meant to be buried not left out in the light. Lucky clenched the fabric under her fingers, intrusive thoughts daunting her wonted sunny disposition.
“Hey,” Lucky propped herself up, calling softly to Luther. She could see the weight of his burden by the slump of his shoulders. He didn’t respond right away, considering ignoring her. They wanted him to hide away and let them take on all the responsibility, like he was some invalid that needed protection. Luck’s voice interrupted his spiral of self-loathing. “Hey, stop that. Don’t you dare put this all on yourself.”
He turned to her, dull blue eyes imbued with a sense of despondence. For so long he had been their leader and now he had to sit back and watch them flounder without him like he wasn’t there, when he was. Lit cigarette hanging from her lips, Lucky closed the distance between them in two paces, hands raking through his hair to cradle his head. Her eyes were filled with concern while her voice conveyed the weight of their situation. “We will handle this, stop worrying about us. Let us take care of it.”
Lucky knew her assurances wouldn’t make a difference for Luther, but she hoped it provided some comfort. She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could, careful not to burn him. When his body gave no give she squeezed him as best she could, grunting with the effort. “Hey, I love you.” She added, feeling him finally soften underneath her embrace.
“Love you too, Luck.”
Lucky could still sense his reluctance to sit idly by, but a flicker in the shadow’s down the hall diverted her attention. Her hands clasped on either shoulder, pushing him out at arms length with a sense of urgency. Luther recognized her expression, amber eyes searching the shadows around them. She pursed her lips, gesturing for him to be quiet.
“I’ll be back, please stay here. I promise it won’t be much longer.” Lucky whispered, giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze and tossing the cigarette out the window before teleporting out the other side of the door. She appeared just before Pogo as he reached the end of the hall, leaning against the wall with a guilty expression. “I know, I know - no smoking in the house. I put it out - scout’s honor.”
“Camila, it’s great to see you.” She had never seen Pogo so sad, his knowing eyes wilted - she wondered if he cried like humans did. Lucky couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen Pogo cry, or any other chimp for that matter - at least not tears. More just wailing sounds of anguish. Lucky smiled fondly, trying to stop her heart from pounding against her chest. “Your mother will be happy to see you, she’s -”
“In the kitchen, yeah. Want to come with?” Lucky wondered if she was being too friendly, like she was hiding something. Wondered if he knew that she didn’t want to leave him here alone with Luther standing only feet away. If Pogo had his suspicions he displayed none, smiling softly as an acceptance to Lucky’s invitation. Lucky smiled, feeling that glimmer of paternal comfort Pogo had always provided - the closest thing to a loving father they’d ever have. “Great, because I do not know how to get around here on foot.”
Part Four: Poolside and Panic
“They don’t make monsters anymore.” Saints either, Riley realizes. But the thought still persists when he pulls his shoes off and dips his feet into the pool. No more phantoms looking over your shoulder, faint screams giving way to dead air, a platter for wolves masquerading as a church. That mix of blacks and whites not quite adding up to shades of grey when they hold their own against every terrestrial god. Against you. “Everything is a remake.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s been done before.”
“For the old people maybe,” Madi grins, taking a seat right beside him. She looks over just in time to catch the look he gives her and pushes on unbothered. “For all the young people out there, a new villain is the only one. My little cousin hadn’t even heard of the predator until the new one came out.”
“Mikey?”
“Yeah. You know he’s the only one who’ll sit still long enough for something like that.”
“Isn’t he like four?”
Madi snorts, rolls out her shoulders with an audible pop. “He’ll be fine. It’s not murder if you sprinkle in some laughs. A soundtrack you can dab to. Kid shit.”
Riley’s not sure if they’re remembering that movie the same way but shrugs it off. “Still lazy,” He says. Supposes the kids need their own version of the demons underneath his bed, even as he sits unconvinced, listening to the water lap against the concrete every time he kicks his feet. “Nothing’s really scary either, not since-”
“Now you’re just trying to get on my nerves,” Madi laughs between gritted teeth. Riley doesn't have to look at her to know there's a shoestring caught between two rows of teeth. Guesses that's the difference between the two of them. Routine didn't help him anymore, only grated nerves that Riley hadn't quite learned to deaden. Not Madi, though. Her veins praised monotony like the second coming of Christ. Madi's eyes flick from her arm to him and back, waiting for a response, always a sucker for an audience, and it'd be a lie to say Riley didn't have a morbid curiosity for the way death burrowed into her chest and made a home. How easily it illuminated the empty space in her life as much as any light could.
Sometimes he wants to ask the obvious questions. Was it worth it? carved into translucent skin every time a comedown loomed over the horizon, when a genuine disposition warped into a volatile mixture of envy, anger, and things better left unsaid. A mix tailor made to get him bent, but Riley didn't really know how to hold onto hate for longer than a second. Kind of liked it when people said his name like a choke chain; every syllable meant to bite, not charm. You'd lie and say it was, Riley thinks. Exchanging Marlboro lights and firecrackers for black tar and peaked teeth was the wrong bargain to make, but we can’t all change for the better and she’s tired of explaining herself. Especially to him. Riley supposes it’s fine. Everything passes for holy against the backdrop of a red sky, motel lights shining like stained glass when they pulled up not too long ago.
It was nice.
Proclivities aside, they always found common ground come sundown; him, shuddering at her feet after nights spent chasing streetlights and glittery fascinations. She, quietly captured by the way grass withers under every step he takes. She kissed Riley first when they met all those years ago. Like his monster came to find him. No tats, no tracks, just wrapped both arms around his neck and licked her way inside his mouth in a mess of desperation and confidence. When Riley came up for air he wasn’t sure who the sharp smell of Newport ashes was coming from; her or him.
Madi sighs and Riley can hear something hit the ground with a click. A needle, most likely. Then she leans over and presses her cheek to his shoulder and he wraps an arm around her. Feels the way her muscles relax almost instantly. Nights like these always run too long. Too heavy. There's not much left once the adrenaline fades, but Riley wasn't sick enough to go that far. She makes him wonder, though. Like a dog that's been kept in the yard for too long; sometimes you wanna run into the street just to hear your own neck snap.
"That's all you wanted to say?"
“Yeah, I guess,” Riley thinks out loud, "you want me to leave?" Tilts his head just enough to see her face, but she's staring out at the water with that glossy, vacant look. This was usually the end, anyway. The back cover to a story they'd written too many times to count. If you know, you know.
Madi barely shrugs. “Yeah.”
The word feels heavy when it reaches his ear, but that’s nothing new. She once said the best thing to come out of his mouth lately was his tongue and Riley’s been staring off bridges ever since, utterly perplexed that the colors he’d been dreaming in didn’t seem to match the blinding technicolor of reality. Never thoughts of safe keeping, though. Riley wasn't a hero. But you don't walk through this life without picking up a few attachments, helpful or otherwise. She just happened to be one that never fell off when the wind blew. Too laced to bother, it seemed. "You mean it, or you just don't care?"
All she does is smile. A concession. Riley knows all Madi really wants is to be high, but ignorance always feels better when he's laid out, poolside. Pining. For dangerous maledictions turned into something palpable. He may not have acquired a taste for everything, but he had his own habits that kept him busy.
"You know," she mumbles, motions at nothing. Or maybe it's something only she can see. "You used to scare me, Riley."
Guess that makes two of them.
“I just wanna know what your secret is.”
“What makes you think there’s a secret?” Riley grins, something between a scoff and a laugh trapped in his throat. It’s the wrong sound. Too carefree to be happenstance. Does absolutely nothing to dismay his new friend’s curiosity, but Riley was used to that after all these years. Offers up a noncommittal shrug as they leave the bar, cool air ripping through his hair and ghosting through his jacket with an eagerness he’s really not okay with.
“C’mon, dude,” Jay huffs. Riley can see the embers of his cigarette glowing bright red against the dark, and when he offers one up Riley doesn’t reach for it, just takes the opportunity to stroll closer, the taste of salt still on his tongue. "It's gonna kill me," Jay insists.
"Doesn't bother me."
“Who am I gonna tell?”
“A rock, I bet. If you could get it to listen.”
“Strongly disagree,” Jay blows out the smoke and watches it float off. "Besides, rocks don’t cheat.”
That’s why they’ll never win. Riley buries his hands in his pockets and resigns not to give an answer deeper than the smirk he wears. Seems his deck’s been coming up awfully short these days. Well, metaphorically anyway. The money in his pocket didn’t exactly scream down on his luck as much as it shouted i’ve got spades in spades. Still, it would benefit him to lose more often. Knows at some point using his power to sway the betting odds in his favor would have to stop. Didn't miss the way people at the bar got all tight when his luck shifted from uncanny to impossible, and the old 'basketball's a dangerous sport; sometimes people just get hurt' line was bound to lose it's charm at one point or another.
Riley kinda likes it, though. The way the world bends like a menagerie of his own creation, every creature possessing its own thoughts and feelings but never completely out of his reach. Out of his control.
Jay runs a hand through his hair, still confused as they make their way down the street. "It just doesn't make any sense."
"It's only crazy 'cause you lost."
"There was no fucking reason," Jay insist, going on and on about stats and line ups and plays. Truth be told, Riley didn't know much about sports. Only learned enough to keep up, enough to answer questions and place his bets. There just wasn't any reason to bother when you could knock the whole team to it's knees whenever it suited you.
"I don't really have anywhere to be," Riley interrupts, speed walking ahead until he's directly in front of Jay. "Wanna play another game?"
"What kind of game?"
Riley squares up. Anticipation looming greater than the apathy he thinks he's imposing. "Hit me and see."
"Aw, but how would you cheat?"
"So you don't wanna play?"
"That's not what I said."
"You should've ducked."
Riley knows. Waves away the hands that reach down to help him up from the ground he's laying on.
Despite his insistence that he’s fine Jay doesn't really think Riley should be left alone when he slides to his feet. Takes in the line of blood slowly dripping down his nose, the way his hair sticks to his forehead, that raw, searching look to his eyes. If mossy greens could turn black, surely, he's done it.
It isn't slow and warm, creeping in like the quiet noise in the back of a room. Pain stakes a claim like an unwelcome invader. A direct hit. There's not much for Riley to remember past the static of reds and whites dancing behind his eyelids - then nothing.
Life rolls back around like a blade against his neck. Too sharp. Too contrasting against the sea of nothingness he'd found himself lost in seconds before. But all it takes is a thought. The briefest flex and the feeling's gone, the only reminder left of his request slowly dripping down his chin.
"If I wanted to duck," Riley beams, his calm demeanor betrayed by the rattling in his bones, "then i would've."
"Sure you don't want one?" Jay offers once again.
"I'm good."
Jay whistles low, smile wide enough to reflect the soft yellow of the street lights, sated from the obligation burning in his arteries. "Of all vices, smoking is where you draw the line."
Riley shrugs, watches Jay take lazy drags off the one he just refused. "Cigarettes fuck you up."
"Says the guy with a deviated septum."
Instantly Riley's hands go up to his face, lukewarm realization making the space feel too small all of a sudden. "Fuck," he breathes, "is my shit really crooked?"
"Nah," Jay tilts his head like he just saw a strange animal, "not really."
Somewhere someone's listening to music and Riley can feel the beat in his chest like a tour guide. They follow the noise until dusty brick makes its last stand underneath white lights and Prussian blues. Stoic, like if it could just crumble into dust and disintegrate everything would be okay.
"This is it right here."
"Sounds like they started the party without you," Riley jokes, turns to look at Jay, all sharp edges and glossy eyes. There's not a hint of surprise when he just nods and says, "they usually do."
Riley's immediately checkered in lights and shadows when they walk in. Smells something decidedly caustic beside the note of weed and tobacco in the air and wonders if he'll get lost enough to see halos in hospital bracelets when morning rolls around.
Faces pile in amid various degrees of intoxication and the kitchen offers solace in the form of liquor, bottles lined and littered, a small crowd throwing back shots. There's a sore spot in Riley's cheek from smiling. From grasping for clues after he meets the third 'Nikki' and can't tell them apart anymore. If glittered linings could talk. Riley thinks they'd never cease. But Jay slings an arm around him anyway and gives him the tour, twenty-questions all inclusive; where'd you go to school? any new goals? last person you dated? are they in the room? Wants to know why he's got a junkie's withered whims for pain, but that's a road littered with the grime of a thousand feet and no foreseeable end in sight.
"It's fun," Riley says once they find an empty bathroom. Turns the water on and washes the blood off his face, away from his neck, leaves peach colored drops along the counter while Jay stands perched in the doorway. "Like watching a scary movie."
"Noo, fuck that."
"What?"
"Scary movies," Jay answers, "Too much suspense. The anxiety. The music. Nope."
"But you know the scare is coming. The anticipation is the best part."
"Okay, but i'm already nervous just waiting for the ball to drop. Fear's not thrilling when you're already afraid."
A glimmer of something dicey flushes through Riley's veins when he cuts in with, "movies aren't even that scary anyway."
"Okay, asshole."
"They aren't," Riley laughs, persistent as he drys his hands on his shirt. "I could scare you right now and it'd be more terrifying than any movie you've seen."
Jay pauses for a second, suddenly dulled like scissors that don't bite back, eyes locked on Riley for any kind of recognition before he responds. "That kinda night, huh?"
"You have no idea."
Jay presses his face into Riley's neck and laughs, loud and haunted, climbing right into Riley's lap after they make it upstairs. You gonna show me or what? Jay slurs it into the shell of his ear with bites hard enough to make Riley tense, and when he starts to jerk away Jay only buries his hands in his hair and holds him in place. Every bit the hounded animal Riley wanted in the first place.
Pain comes easy to him nowadays. Just a matter of grabbing hold and not letting go. Pressing in and easing up. He can see the lines forming on Jay's forehead when he finds a nerve, so Riley mumbles something encouraging, pleased in that slow, sick, unpredictable way. And there's something almost savage about it, the way the arc of his throat fits in Riley's hands when Jay starts to falter and needs someone to prop him up. Breath slowly hitching from lack of defense. Lack of awareness. Black spots slowly fading in as if they lived for that nanosecond of violence accented by vodka prose and top forty hits drumming against the wall. "Riley," he breathes, barely get's the word out, but there it is. The chain biting into Riley's neck. Jay's pulse thrums almost painfully against Riley's thumb when he let's up. Lays back against the pillows. Slack jawed and blurry eyed and surprisingly disappointed when Jays rolls off of him and says he has to think about it.
"What's it feel like? Doing that to somebody?"
Rapport wasn't necessarily something Riley had in bounds; Synonymous, mostly, with cliffhangers and missed opportunities. He never really had to come up with names for the skeletons laying in wait in his closet when it was just him, his siblings, Hargreeves. Madi, sometimes. When she had a free moment. For the most part, Riley's always been surrounded by people who at least knew, even if understanding came in various shades. People that he wouldn't call strangers, necessarily; just wouldn't call. "Not really sure, to be honest," Riley finally answers, "not everything feels like something else."
"C'mon, dude," Jay shifts around on the mattress, that thin sheen of sweat on his forehead finally evaporating into nothing. There's not much to be sorry for, but Riley feels kinda bad all the same. "I thought I was having a heart attack or something."
"All those damn cigarettes."
"Oh my- I could literally strangle the shit out of you," Jay laughs, but the sound is off, and he cuts Riley off before he can respond with let's be real, you wouldn't get the chance. "As a normal person, I just wanna know what it's like to have that kind of ability or whatever. You know, do you enjoy it? Is it fun?"
"Not in this moment, since you wimped out," Riley teases, feels the rush of air just in time to dodge the hand flying towards his face. "I mean, I enjoy it regardless, but I'd prefer if the other person was into it, too."
"In general, though," Jay presses on, sitting up straighter and looking down at Riley, "that's not something regular people can do. You super-people -- I don't know what they call you, shit -- yall just wake up with that kind of ability. That's crazy."
Riley doesn't respond and the pointed look Jay shoots him only makes his silence worth it. "I figured it out, by the way. How you cheated back at the bar."
"Well then unless you wanna see the city throw my head on a spike, we gotta keep that one between you and me."
Jay let's him crash for the night, but his roommates don't ax the party until hours later and Riley ends up far more exhausted than he would've been just walking back to his apartment. Squeezes in what feels like only a few minutes worth of sleep. When he finally wakes up the light slipping in from the blinds nearly blinds him and somewhere, someone's alarm is screeching for dear life.
It takes him a minute to find his rhythm. Slipping as quietly as possible across a wooden floor befit with a creak for every crack. Jay's sound asleep, has the slackness in his cheeks that tends to signal a heavy sleeper. Must be nice, Riley thinks. Finds his shoes and his keys. Hears his phone vibrating somewhere and pulls it out from underneath the bed just in time to catch the call. "Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"At a friends place. Why?" Riley moves around the house without much fanfare, stopping to grab a water out of the fridge before he goes outside and sits on the steps. She's awfully silent on the other end save for the rustling sounds that say she's busy with something. "Kind of early for you, Mads."
"Yeah, I just woke up. Figured you woulda already seen it, though."
"Seen what."
"The news. Or a headline, at least. You haven't checked your phone?"
"No," Riley yawns, twisting the cap off of his drink. "What's going on?"
"Mr -- fuck. Sir Hargreeves died. I always forget he's a sir, whatever that's supposed to mean," she drones, but Riley's already pulled the phone away from his ear and scrolled through his notifications. Dozens of headlines. From every major news publication. All saying just about the same thing; founder of the Umbrella Academy, inventor of the Televator, Levitator. Olympic gold medalist and Nobel prize winner Sir Reginald Hargreeves was found dead in his home last night.
"What?" is all he says, all he can manage. There's a scream lodged so deep in his chest it hurts, but for what, he's not so sure. Riley never considered the idea that Hargreeves would just up and die, permanently closing a chapter Riley had simply skipped over.
"Yeah, who would've thought, huh? That old bastard? After all those years and accomplishments? Gets taken out by natural causes -- they don't suspect foul play, I don't know if you knew that."
"Didn't even know he was dead," he says, perhaps a little harder than necessary because Madi goes quiet on the other end and he knows how time bends like a razor blade against his neck when she get's riled. There's no space in his mind for her, though. Not now. Just gnaws on his bottom lip nervously, something seven years too late shuffling around inside of him.
The moment passes like a gap between heartbeats and he’s relieved, yeah. Spent his more recent years chasing just about anything that'd return his childhood to the dust. But then he's fucking sick because who does that? Knows compassion is a ghost he could write back to life and then chooses not to because of memories? On account of a slain childhood stuck between dust bitten pages? As much as Riley can dig for faults in the old man, he can't ever say the guy didn't hand him a life line. Didn't mold Riley into the best version of himself that he saw fit at the time. After all, it's always easy to take highlighters to past in retrospect; but there's got to be some kind of reprieve for goodness sake. Riley's got to be better than that, and if he's not, then he at least has to be numb to the feelings that come flying back.
"You gonna go home?" she's the first to break the silence, and Riley considers it. Knows it's not something he really wants to do. Isn't sure how he feels about only seeing his siblings on account of their dad's passing, doesn't like what it says about himself.
"That's the normal thing, I guess."
"You could ditch," she says, "who's to say anyone else is even going?"
"I'd have to carry that weight around, regardless," he huffs, running a hand through his hair. He can feel it coming back, even now. The nagging voice in his head that tells him to consider what Hargreeves would think before he even takes a breath. Starts with after all he's done for you and ends with Riley dragging himself off the steps. "I gotta go home."
There's a pause, and then a breath, but Riley hangs up before she can start in. Calls for a cab. Waits for it while the condensation runs down each knuckle in a neat line before pooling to the ground. The ride back to his apartment is even less eventful. A robotic series of shower-eat-clothes-pack-go that feels alarmingly not himself until he get's into his own car, turns the keys, and holds the horn down for so long somebody has the knock on the window just to check on him.
This isn't the way it should be.
But this is the way it is.
Part Three: Bar Brawls and Nightmares
Soft music filtered through crackling speakers, aged by the buildup of cigarette smoke and dust from years of not cleaning. The entire bar smelled faintly of smoke, overpowered by the booze and musk of unwashed bodies. It seemed as if half the population of the town were milling about inside. Posted up at the bar, crowding the two available pool tables, or simply laid out at random on and around the booths sporadically decorating the walls. The entire building looked and felt old, from the creak of its wooden floorboards to the way every window rattled at the slightest hint of wind.
Gavin practically lives here most days, basks in the usually friendly atmosphere. He’s early in that night though, and for good reason, the suns not even gone down and half the townies are still out and about doing their own things before it comes time to hit the bottle. But it isn’t the lack of people, rather, it’s the addition of one particular person.
Kate Owens.
The bartender-slash-waitress, because Sheyenne Lake wasn’t big enough to support as many jobs as there were people. And the bar was small enough that more than a couple staff members at a time just didn’t work out. Kate worked afternoons into night without fail every single day, often bringing in her kids with her at least for the first few hours. Life around here depended on steady income, and if that didn’t come from the town – as it often didn’t – than it came from the nearby city.
So Gavin showed up early most days, arriving at just about the same time as Kate and her kids. Watched with absolutely no subtlety from a distance. Beer in one hand, pool stick in the other. Bodie Carter and his buddie Stevie goading him good naturedly about the hearts in his eyes. The way he seemed to watch for Kate even when she disappeared to the stockrooms and out of sight.
Buncha nosy dicks around these parts.
And for the last few nights it has been tense anyways, trouble on the menu with no discernible cause…Except maybe for Jacob Ross and his wandering hand continuously being placed where it don’t fucking belong.
“Jake, I’d watch that hand if I were you,” Kate slaps away the offending appendage as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. Gavin tries not to stare, he really does, even as Bodie racks up another game. Money exchanging hand to hand, Gavins own pile growing ever less as the day rolled onward. But he hardly notices anyhow.
“Yeah man, Gav over here is brewin’ up a storm in that stare!” Bodie crowed. Loud and obnoxious and drawing attention in the worst of ways.
“Aw shiiit, pretty boy couldn’t kill a fly.” Jacob sneered, all mouth and no brain. Dirty as a stray dog that’s been left to eat scraps out of garbage cans. His hand moves again, reaches for a cheek.
“Stop it Jake” Kate warned once more. Moving out of range, the pitcher of beer in her hands tipping dangerously but not falling. Gavin grits his teeth, feels the pulse of anger all the way down to his toes as it breaks out as sweat on his forehead.
“Naw I’m bein serious, right Gavin, aint got no spine in ya? Didn’t fight me last time, won’ fight me this time. Pussy.” Gavin moved before he even knew what he was doing. They were toe to toe. Gavin could have gagged on the stale stench of beer and extreme halitosis wafting from the other man.
“Aw come on now man cut it the fuck out.” Bodie crossed the short distance between them, circled away from Gavin and around Jacob – perhaps sensing him to be the lesser of two evils. The tension in the bar so high they were all choking on it. Jacob slammed his elbow back, the air rushing out of Bodie as it impacted with his stomach. The injured man quickly extracted himself to a safer distance, holding his stomach and breathing hard. Fuck.
“Jacob I swear to god if you start fighting in my bar again - “Kate began, face gone completely red.
“This aint your fuckin Bar Katelyn.” That was it. That was enough for him. Gavins fists came up, fluttering for a moment. He didn’t know if he wanted to knock this assholes lights out or strangle him to death.
Maybe both.
Definitely both.
Instead his hands fisted in the lapels of the stupid fucking jacket the other wore and pushed him into the wall with a thud. Knocking Jacobs head against the aged wooden paneling with a sick crack. Gavin wasn’t the strongest, he didn’t fight like he used to. But damn, he was more than ready to knock this guy’s teeth out if it got him to shut the hell up and stop starting fights in the town’s sanctuary. One of the few places Gavin calls home.
“Let ‘im go Gavin.” If the voice didn’t stop him than the wizened hand, wrinkled with age forcibly pulling his arm down did. Gavin took a deep breath, reigned in that deep, flustered anger and took a step back and away. Allowing Jacob to move off the wall, face screwed up into a scowling half grin. Rows of jagged yellowed teeth lit up under the bars dim lighting like a rabid dog.
Jones; the owner of the bar stood between them, staring the two of them down like a man choosing which chicken to slaughter.
“Get the fuck out of here Jacob before I call your mother and tell her what you been up to,” He had grown just as tired of these antics as everybody else. A little drama in a town where nothing happened wasn’t so bad, but once the young’uns started throwing punches – well, he didn’t want no more holes in the walls.
“And don’t come back till you’ve sobered up!” Jones called as Jacob began to slink away, hunched up like a kicked dog.
“Keep your hands to yourself Gavin or you’ll be the next one out on your ass.” Jones warned, the fight seeming to leave him as suddenly as it came. Leaning heavily now onto the cane at his side, hobbling back behind the bar where he could keep a vigilant eye on his establishment.
Gavin counted to ten in his head, breathing fast and hard as if he’d run a mile. The anger drained away, leaving behind only a neutral coldness that he never could shake out.
“Gavin getcher ass over here.” At least until Kate scares it out of him that is. Gavin did as she asked, trying his best to plaster innocence into his expression. He knew he was failing miserably by the way she smiled, one hand coming up to the neckline of his shirt. He could smell her perfume this close up, flowery and bright as the smile she wore for him when he did something that pissed her off. “Now you listen to me, I don’t need nobody defending my honor ya hear?”
There really was no arguing with her. Not on this. Besides, they weren’t…dating. Not officially at least. Not even unofficially really. He didn’t know what it would even look like to date her, probably equal parts amazing and terrifying – they were so close now. He could lean forward, just a scant few inches and kiss her if he really wanted to get her fired up.
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted instead, matching her grin for grin, and she let go. Though he immediately missed the closeness.
“Good….now how bout a drink?” She swept towards the bar with him at her heels. He glanced over his shoulder, Bodie and Stevie had already gotten back to the game that had already started. Gavin chose to ignore them waving him over, both looking annoyed as he shrugged and turned away.
“Nah, already at my limit tonight Kate, maybe tomorrow?” He pressed, sliding into one of the available bar stools. His eyes never leaving her as she moved around the shelves of liquor. Already working on another round of orders.
“At the game?” She replies, throwing a look at him over her shoulder.
Gavin blanked for a moment, unsure of what she meant.
And then he remembered with sudden clarity, two nights ago, sitting in almost this same place at the bar promising Kate's son that he would check out his next soccer game. Fuck.
“Aw shit, the game…” Gavin winced.
“uh huh, the game. Don’t tell me you forgot.” She looked disappointed – Gavin could not handle disappointment.
“No, no, of course not - just didn’t realize it was so soon.” It had really slipped his mind. Days here blended together. A steady stream of reality stacked up into hours that he spends mindlessly moving along. He loves the town, the wilderness, and this bar – but some days it ate away at him. The boredom, the silence, a deep and unsettling feeling that he didn’t belong always pervading his mind at the very back. Taunting him with needle sharp words.
“Yeah well, you promised.” She had started to move down the line of patrons at the bar, filling cups and handing out new beverages.
“I know, I know that Kate, I’ll be there.” He wouldn’t let her down. He wouldn’t let her son down.
“Good, great - then yeah, we can get drinks.” That smile was back, less annoyed and more genuine.
“Great!” He laughed. “Its a date.”
“A date.” She teased, without missing a single beat. She could be downright vicious when she wanted to be.
“Oh uh, well yeah I mean…” He faltered, face flushing deep red. It was worse on him, he was so damn pale. Had always had a hard time hiding his embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it Gav, better get along now If ya aint ordering nothing, I got work to do.”
“Playin with fire man.” Bodie shook his head, lining up another shot. Even half drunk and mostly blind he could sink some of the most impossible shots. They were down to the last couple of balls, and by the way the night was going there wouldn’t be too many games left in any of them.
“Not this shit again.” Stevie groaned. All three of them shifting around the table. Hands of a clock.
“What? Mark Owens is a mean sonuvabitch, he finds out our city boy been hitting on his wife…” Bodie was right. Mark had a temper worse than anyone Gavin had ever met – and he had met some straight up murderous people in his lifetime. It didn’t compare to the way Mark Owens stomped around town, always high on something, fists ready to crack a few skulls. There were horror stories from damn near every local about that man and then some.
“Ex-wife.” Gavin mumbled.
“Oh buddy, aint no Ex in the title till those papers are signed.” And they weren’t signed. He didn’t even know if those papers existed. He and Kate never spoke of it, they had no reason to. Once again, Gavin had to remind himself that they weren’t dating. Kate didn’t even seem to show much interest in him physically beyond playful teasing every now and again – which she did with everyone. They were friends, good friends even, and he was close with her kids – but beyond that…
“Which neither of them seem to want to do, whats it been Gav, three, four years since those two ‘split’?” They were down to the eight ball, Stevie cursing up a storm as the cue sailed passed it and just barely made it away from the corner pocket without scratching.
“Longer n’ that Bodie.” Stevie supplied. Sighing as he watched the other sink it. Another exchange of money going between them. Gavin rolled his eyes, and went to gather the balls back up and re-rack for a new game.
“Longer n’ that and Ol’ Ruby still gossips at the shop about how many nights a week she see’s Mark stumble in drunk and spend the night with Kate.” Bodie jabbed Gavin in the ribs with his elbow. The other attempting not to let that old anger rise up in him again. It was just talk. Bar talk between two loud idiots and their easy to pick on friend.
“Are you two gonna play or fuckin what?” Gavin snaps. “Mark is in the city, Kate is here, and its not Jacob fucking Ross hasn’t said anything about it to him, that mans practically stuck up Marks ass.”
“That he is.” Stevie relented.
“Fuckin hopeless fools you are, 100 on the table. Rounds on me.” Bodie waved a hand in the air. Knowing that Kate could see them, even if she couldn’t hear them discussing her love life or lack there of. She nodded her head and Bodie started towards the bar.
“Nothing for me!” Gavin reminded.
“Yeah, he only drinks with mysterious strangers and other mens wives!” Stevie’s words lancing him in a different way. It seemed to be shit on Gavin night.
“Christ, all of you suck.” He spat.
“But it’s the kinda suck you love, wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Bodie said, as he reappeared with a pitcher and glasses. He grinned, and poured on for Gavin anyway.
“Fuck you.” Gavin replied. Downing the beer because he could, and at least it wasn’t hard liquor.
“Just name a time and place.” Bodie’s hulking form shook with laughter, already wiping the floor with the two of them.
Fuck. Time to go bankrupt.
By the time last call rolled along and the three had played themselves into a stupor the night had grown incredibly cold. Gavin had walked to the bar, despite it being some distance from his own home. He found it easier not to bother with a car. Parking was limited at the bar and he’d be lectured for days on end if he drove home drunk. There wouldn’t be any way of hiding it either, everyone round here knew each other’s business.
The walk isn’t horrible though, the crisp night air helps him to breathe. Cool down and think for a little while. Even lose himself in the sounds around him, there was so much sound out here. Different from the city, with its constant electrical hum. Car engines, planes, sirens in the night. Even voices sometimes.
Out here it was almost nothing. Birdsong in the morning, the whistle of wind through the trees at night.
His home sat in the dead middle of nowhere, a cabin built from the ground up. Had spent ages getting it right, planning every detail down to the overhanging porch. He had wanted something as far away from the reminders of home as possible. All wooden angles, but not polished, sharp and jagged like himself. Natural down to the very foundation. With windows on windows that looked out over the rippling lake.
Exhaustion overtook him the instant he stepped over the threshold. It had been a long few weeks, a stutter in the usual calm, but it would return soon enough. Nothing stayed the same forever, and the moods of the town, the environment itself could be a fickle thing.
Gavin barely had the time to shuck his boots off into one corner of his room before he planted face first into the bed. The blankets enveloping him like a cocoon of warmth.
He didn’t dream that night.
He rarely dreamed at all.
Gavin woke the next morning feeling and looking like shit. His alarm blared louder than any siren he’d ever heard in his life. A constant ringing in his ears that would surely, somewhere along the line give him a severe case of tinnitus. He slammed a hand down on the offending object. Groaning as the aches and pains began to race through his muscles. He felt ancient sometimes, like an old man in a young body.
He didn’t even realize he had fallen back asleep until the ringing started again. He slapped the clock once more, and groaned when the noise did not stop. His hand hit it twice more, but still it continued. He cracked open one eye, the sunlight glaring in harshly from the windows. He could see every bit of dust floating around in each beam of light.
The ringing did not stop.
“Phone.” He mumbled to himself, stretching each limb outwards. Hearing the crackle of his joints as they adjusted to being used. He suddenly sat up, the change from horizontal to vertical flip flopping his stomach for a moment.
The phone still rang, tormenting him with its ceaselessness.
He found the cell phone in the folds of the sheets, it had somehow shimmied out of his pockets as he slept.
“Hello?” His voice was laden with sleep, groggy and slurred.
“Well if it isn’t The Copy Cat.” On the other end came silky, sultry words. Spoken with such deliberate pronunciation that they felt almost songlike. He instantly awoke fully, teetering on the edge of paranoia for just a moment. It was rare to get a call from a past life, even rarer for it to be the past life that existed in between the Academy and this Town.
“Carla? How the hell –“
"Oh honey, I’ve been keeping tabs on all my kids since we all split from that shithole. You know Brynn and Jill got back together? Destined to fail of course.” Carla barreled over him, always one to yammer on and on about things that really didn’t matter in the slightest.
“Carla.”
“And Morris is still working cheap labor jobs. Poor chimp, nobody respects them you know, some people just hate progression.”
“Car-la.”
“How have I been? Oh well, still floating city to city. Got my heart set on France but I hear the Eiffel Tower isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – I mean the damn thing did go on a murd-“
“I’m going to hang up.” He considered it, he really did. His finger hovered over the red end-call button with real intent.
“Okay okay, you always were the serious one. “ She laughed, seeming more amused than annoyed with his brash tone. Of all the roommates he ever had in his life she really was one of the ones he liked the most. Even if she was tipping 70 and had a real grandmother complex about her.
“You disappeared on us, so I can only assume that you calling means something.” He prompts, hoping that she can get to the of the call point before he dies of old age.
“Watched the news lately?”
“Carla I swear to god.”
“Don’t swear at him, he’s done you a favor.” She clapped her hands on the other end, he could hear the snap of it over the line and had no idea to do with what she was saying.
“I don’t watch TV. Don’t pay attention to the news all the much. Why?” He had a TV but didn’t much like to use it. He spent most of his time in town, and when he was home he spent his time…doing other things.
“Well honey, better pop some champagne and turn to whatever channel plays the news in that Podunk town of yours.” She sing-songs, and he imagines her on the other end. Twirling around in whatever ankle length dress she has on. Hair pinned up to perfection, makeup done like a movie star. She always had a way about her.
“I didn’t miss the headache you know.” He points out, though hes up now. Off the bed and at the TV. He fumbles with the remote, shifting through various channels till he finally finds the news.
“They never do dear.” She replies. He can hear the smile in her voice.
“Founder of the Umbrella Academy, inventor of the Televator, Levitator. Olympic gold medalist and nobel prize winner Sir Reginald Hargreeves was found dead in his home last night…” His stomach drops, stunned to silence. He doesn’t even notice the fine tremors that are shaking his hands till the remote clatters to the floor. Too loud against the wood. Too much at the moment. He sinks into the couch, legs jelly beneath him. His mouth opens and closes, he feels like a fish laid out in the open air. Choking on the air.
“Nobody told me.” He whispers to himself. Forgets that Carla is on the other side of the line. How did she know first? Why was it she was the one calling him? Sure he had laid out his life story to her once during a drunken spiel, but for fucks sake.
“Don’t discredit them too much, it just happened after all. If half your brothers and sisters ran away the same way you did then its likely not circulated to them yet.” She reasons, but there’s no reassurance in her tone.
“That doesn’t make it better.” He can’t tell if the stone lodged in his gut is grief or relief.
“I’m not arguing. We’re way past the days where I play therapist to you.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He drops the phone, watches the screen shatter into a million spider webbing lines on impact. His entire body tenses, he grabs the nearest pillow and for a moment thinks that its going to be a scream that’s trying to tear out of his body.
But then he laughs. And he can’t stop laughing. Can’t stop choking on the near hysterical laughter bubbling past his lips. Doubles over, clutching at his sides and stomach as cramps roll through from the effort of it all. Nothing is funny, nothing at all.
So why can’t he stop laughing.
He has to go home.
If the Academy can even be called a home. Its been so long since he was last there. Ages really, since Luther died and everyone else trickled out one after another. A stream of messed up young adults seeking something beyond the walls of their youthful prison. Gavin didn’t know whether he wanted to go back for the funeral, for his family, or just to be sure the old man really did bite the dust. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to go back yet.
But he had to.
It didn’t take long to pack his bag. He kept it simple, he didn’t plan on staying long.
He was on the road before he remembered the fucking Soccer game. Another series of expletives burst forth. He jerked the wheel, sliding onto the shoulder of the road and began to thumb through the broken – but thankfully still working phone for her cell number. He didn’t know what to say. Every ring that she didn’t pick up felt like hell. It finally beeped, turning over to voicemail and somehow that was a relief. At least she couldn’t yell at him personally now.
“Hey uh…Kate I don’t know…don’t know how to say this.” What does one say when they’ve never divulged a single detail of their life before. Never even hinted at having a family somewhere. Gavin was the stranger that rolled into town with too much money and a chip on his shoulder. Sure, they knew he had to come from somewhere but this…
No, keep it simple. Keep it vague.
“I’m going to be gone for a while, something came up…something with my family…Something I can’t run from this time. Please tell Danny – Tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the game. I know I promised, and I’m an assho – I really suck, for breaking that promise.” He concluded, feeling lower than dirt for it.
He really was sorry, even if he didn’t actually have an obligation to her. He ended the call, wiped the sweat from his forehead and attempted to hang on to what little patience he had left. It wasn’t a horribly long drive, but it was plenty long enough for the memories to start sinking back in.
This was going to be a nightmare.
Part Two: Dead Dads and Cops
Lucky watched as the cop stuffed Split into the back of his car, standing from the curb, smoking from the pack of cigarettes she had nicked from the dick upstairs. What the fuck had he been thinking? Lucky was more than capable of handling herself. She flicked the cigarette out onto the street, crushing it under her heel. Menthols, I fucking hate menthols. Lucky teleported through the streets back to her brothers’ apartment, going to the edge of her range to step into the next shadow and do it all over again. Adrenaline had burned off most of her high at this point she was crashing. It’d be a couple hours until they’d be processed, then she could bail them out. She wanted to be angry, but it really wasn’t worth the effort and she was fucking exhausted. When she finally reached their flat, she teleported right into their bedroom, crawling into their bed fully clothed and shoes on. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. She woke up what felt like only moments later, Luther shaking her awake and shouting her name over and over at full volume, sunlight filling the room. “Jesus fucking Christ, Luther. I’m up, I’m up…Grim and Rem okay I just have to go bail them ou – “ “Lucky, it’s not that – dad’s dead.” The world seemed broken for a moment, like there was a glitch that caused her to mishear Luther. Then she realized she must be dreaming, wiping the sleep from her eyes and trying to will herself awake. She had taken a lot of drugs last night, maybe she was still hallucinating. It was the only explanation because there was no way – “Did you hear me? Dad’s dea-“ “What do you mean he’s dead?” Lucky snapped, sitting upright. So - it wasn’t a dream, and she felt too sober to be hearing shit. Maybe Luther was just wrong. “It’s all over the news, they found him last night….they’re saying he died in his sleep.” Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. What? How? Why? Lucky was never prepared for this, Hargreeves had always been immortal in her mind. Too insidious to just be wiped away. She felt a twinge of guilt, as if he didn’t deserve exactly what he got. When she had thought about this moment, she always expected to be much sadder. Sure, Lucky felt the burden of all the words left unsaid between them….She had always told herself and the others that Hargreeves loved them in his own way. Maybe she had just been peddling the dream she thought they deserved. Luther clasped a hand on her shoulder, searching her expression. She could see the sadness in his eyes, and the need he still had to comfort her despite his own pain. Lucky never pretended to understand the relationship Luther and Dad had, Luther had always been his favorite but that too came with a price. “Are you okay?” He asked, eyes filled with concern. “Yeah…you?” “Yeah.” They wrapped one another in a hug, not letting go until the other was ready. Hargreeves was a dick but he was their dad, and they were the only ones who would be able to understand that. Did this mean there’d be a funeral, would the others be coming? It had been at least 7 years since they all had last been together, around the time that Luther…. Lucky looked over at her brother who had started down the hall, his movement stiff from joints that didn’t bend like they used to. Was he thinking the same thing as she was? They couldn’t keep Luther a secret anymore. The only thing that had been stopping them had been protecting Luther from dad. Hargreeves had inflicted enough pain on the others knowing they felt it, they couldn’t stomach the thought what he’d do with one of them who couldn’t feel any at all. Waiting any longer to tell them would only make it all so much worse. She grabbed her purse and a change of clothes, still wondering if she’d wake up at any moment and it’d all be a nightmare. “Luther I’m taking a shower and then we’re going, be ready in 30.” Lucky shouted from the bathroom, reminding herself of their mother for the second time that day. She started the shower and shut the door, unstrapping her shoes with one hand while rummaging around her purse with the other. It was a crumpled mess of multi colored pills, wrinkled bills and loose tobacco from her broken cigarettes. At some point at the party, she had made herself a dime bag out of the plastic wrap from her crushed cigarettes. She finally threw the destroyed pack out, lighting one more of the menthol's before throwing away the rest of those too. She counted out her bills, cutting herself two neat lines of the coke; one for before the shower, one for after. She had enough to bail out Grim and Remedy, but Lucky would need more money soon. She rolled her crispest twenty so that it resembled a straw, fidgeting with it as she looked herself in the mirror, trying to figure out where to go from here. She’d once heard some theory that when you were really overwhelmed with a task, you should break it up into a bunch of smaller tasks. They could grab cigs at the bodega on the corner and catch a cab from there to scoop up Grim and Remedy….try to get to the house before the others and….tell them about Luther. She snorted up her line with desperation, the only thing that was keeping her upright. She showered quickly, changing into a pair of jeans and a tank top. Nothing was going to get rid of the dark circles that had developed after 36 hours of nonstop drug use, but she had some makeup that could mask it well enough. Her mind was running scenario after scenario on how things could go, all of them ended up with her, Grim and Remedy as the bad guys. She thought about the pain she felt when she realized they had let her mourn Luther for months – over a year,blaming herself for not being there. Lucky clenched her jaw, checking herself in the mirror before taking the last line. Maybe they could tell them after the funeral? No, they couldn’t do that with Luther. Hiding him was one thing but making him mourn their father all alone while the rest of them were together at the house….It was too cruel. “Are you ready?” Lucky shouted from the bathroom as she rubbed the last of the fine powder on her gums, washing the rest of the remnants from the sink. Luther made a grunt that she took as a yes. She pulled on her shoes and grabbed her purse and jacket, running out with Luther behind her. Lucky ran into the bodega to buy her cigarettes and a coffee, asking Luther to flag down a cab. He was still trying when she came back out, he was big enough for them to see him but his reaction time was so slow he couldn’t get their attention quickly enough. “I’ve got it.” Lucky asserted, sensing his frustration. She waved a hand at a yellow taxi that had just turned the bend, fuzzy pink dice hanging from it’s mirror. The driver was a chimp who had an old school newsboy cap on, chewing on a lit cigar and playing the news on the radio so loud she could make out the words as he was swerved the car over to the curb by Luther and her.
“…founder of the Umbrella Academy, inventor of the Televator, Levitator. Olympic gold medalist and nobel prize winner Sir Reginald Hargreeves was found dead in his home last night. Officials are claiming there is no evidence of foul pla-”
“15th precinct please…and can you turn that off?”
The driver muttered something under his breath, turning the volume low enough that she couldn’t hear it, only a buzzing noise through the Plexiglas that divided the cab. The last thing Lucky or Luther needed was to be reminded by the rest of the world how great their father was. They rode in silence, Lucky lighting one cigarette after the next. Last night felt like ages ago. She thought back to when Remedy had ripped the guy off of her. Lucky shook her head, she should have known better than to have let that guy grab her like that. When you looked like she did and spent as much time as she did in clubs and casinos, assholes were just a part of daily life. If she beat up every guy who was a dick to her she’d never have a night’s rest. Most of the time she didn’t even mind when guys like him getting handsy with her because it’d gave her a chance to snag their wallet. She wasn’t one for stealing, but when someone was asking for it like that, she couldn’t help herself.
“Here we are, the 15th.” Said their driver gruffly, turning his radio back up. Lucky gave him a fifty to keep the meter running, bringing Luther along. When she asked to pay the bond for Joseph Hargreeves at the counter, she gave the clerk her name to process the payment. Recognizing their names, the clerk offered her condolences. She wanted to laugh instead Lucky gave a weak thanks, unsure of what you said when you weren’t sure if you were happy or sad that your dad died. She waited for the clerk to process ‘Joseph Hargreeves’ release, tapping her foot impatiently and chewing her nails in place for a cigarette.
Grim was used to the cells at the 15th precinct. And they were used to him. Quickly after being dumped in the police car, Remedy had slid away- mentally exhausted and ignoring any of Grim's jabs at getting them arrested. He wasn’t actually angry, just excited to be able to make fun of his brother for being the troublemaker for once. Normal protocol from then on - the cops knew Joseph Hargreeves well enough by now to know he wouldn’t cause a problem and just needed to sleep off whatever he had taken on a cold metal slab.
Lucky usually bailed him out so he wasn’t remotely surprised when she was there, bright and early and with enough cash to set him free. He was very surprised to see Luther in tow, hulking form dwarfing their sister as he stood statue still behind her. They needed to work on that- Luther tended to forget that humans fidget, shift, move constantly.
“Goooooood morning family!” He clapped Lucky and Luther on the shoulder after the cops released him and waited for them to retrieve his few belongings, “What brings you both here today?”
Lucky was twisting her hands, jittery from a combination of nerves and coke. She couldn’t quite get the words out, looking at Luther for help but he didn’t pick up on the social cue. “Grim….um,” Lucky stammered, she did horribly with confrontation. Even when she wanted to break up with someone, most of the time she’d just leave. Better to rip it off like a band-aid, wasn’t that something people said?
“So….dad’s dead?”
Grim blinked, his smile remaining just as wide as he stared at Lucky, then looked up to Luther. Both looked just a morbid, just as sad…. slowly he dropped his hands and cocked his head, controlled laughter in his voice, “As in the extraordinary Sir Reginald Hargreeves? That dad?”
“Grim,” Lucky said in a firm tone, glancing at Luther. “This is serious….we have to go home. All of us.” She felt as though she might be sick, just the thought of it was enough to twist her stomach into knots.
Grim's smile slowly faded, replaced by a look of reproachful disdain. Not at Lucky, but the idea of everyone else in one place just because that old asshole decided to finally die. Slowly, he looked away from her and up to Luther.
“You okay big guy?”
Luther nodded, though he looked far from it.
“You okay with seeing everyone again now?”
And there it was - that was the thing they been putting off for years knowing someday their decision would backfire. Hargreeves dying hadn’t even been a possibility in any of their heads. He was an alien, a fucking diabolical genius, surely he would have figured out some way to live forever? Which was exactly why they had kept Luther from him. Luther being alive meant more than just an experimental puppet for their asshole of a father to play with- it also meant that Grim and Remedy did have the ability to work together.
Hargreeves being dead meant they didn’t have to worry about becoming lab rats again… but it also meant that what they had done was going to finally have consequences.
Grim didn’t like consequences.
“Nope” He looked back towards the cops bulletproof window as they passed paper work, his lighter, and wallet through the hole. Drugs confiscated, sadly. He signed his name, stuffed his crap in his back pocket, and looked back at Lucky, “No fucking way are we going. Come on Luther.” Grim turned to leave and Luther followed, his body on autopilot. It made Grim's chest ache at the immediate response, but they would talk about it later. Luther had to agree that this was a bad idea. Lucky pursed her lips, watching them as they walked out. She had expected Grim to dig in his heels, but this was non-negotiable. Lucky waited until she knew no one was looking, teleporting outside in Grim’s path, arms folded. She wanted to be patient, but it wasn’t her strong suit. “Grim….Luther deserves to go home. You can’t keep hiding him in some homeless shelter!” Her frustration was evident, scrawled across her expression.
Grim rolled his eyes, not even phased by her appearance, “Look, I need some coke or something. I’ve got a killer headache and I do not want the first thing I see this morning to be that goddamn mansion-jail. Luther-” He pointed back at the large guardian behind him, “Has to stick with me”
Lucky’s fist clenched, eyes smoldering with a quiet anger that made her seem twice her size looming over Grim. “Grim….I agreed to keep Luther a secret for one reason and one reason only. To protect H I M. You made me promise - no, you made me complicit to all of the years of grief and loss that they’ve experienced….and now you’re telling me you don’t want to tell them because you have a fucking headache?” She shoved her purse into his chest, her face twisted in a combination of anger and disgust. “Here, take it all. Drugs, cigarettes, even money for more drugs. I don’t give a fuck - but we are going home and we are taking Luther with us and that’s that.”
‘She’s right’
Grim grabbed at the bag, eyes wide and expression shocked. He swallowed, ignoring Remedy’s little whispered jab and shakily glanced back at Luther. The big guy gave him a thin lipped smile. Grim spent a second longer looking at Luther's skin, sallow and grey, eyes shadowed with dark rings and glazed over. His hair was the dull color of wheat, not the bright blonde it had once been. There was no fucking way they could cover up what they’d done… but Lucky was right. Luther deserved to go back, and Split would always be responsible for him.
“Fuck”