Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts with a car on fire.

 It’s not Diego’s muscle car, or the sleek thing Allison’s been photographed driving in all the popular magazines, thankfully. Vanya doesn’t know why her thoughts immediately go to the two of her siblings who can drive when she sees the flames licking at the roof of the car, but they do. She shakes the cloud of guilt and loneliness that always accompanies thinking about her family away and stares at the wreck.

She’s half a city block from her apartment building. Vanya had been waiting for the light at the crosswalk to change when the truck had T-boned the powder-blue sedan right in the middle of the intersection. While the truck had been relatively undamaged- she’d seen the driver staggering away, having climbed out the passenger side door- the sedan was less lucky. She and a dozen other pedestrians had watched, gasping and screaming, as the compact car had flipped, once, twice, three times. It had landed upside down, tires still turning, smoking and looking not unlike an overturned beetle on its back.

Then the engine or whatever had burst into flames. 

Vanya’s heart catches in her throat as the passenger side of the sedan opens and a man fumbles his way out. The glass of the windshield and the front two windows explodes outward in the next moment, having caved to the heat of the fire.

The driver still doesn’t emerge.

Vanya’s seen wrecks like this on the news before, in movies and on t.v. She’s not sure how much of what she’s seen  is true, if the car will go up in a pillar of flame soon or if it takes more time, the destruction more subtle- but she knows there’s not much time. 

The sirens have already begun to reach her ears but the driver isn’t moving (she can see her long blonde hair spilling over the ground as her body hangs in place upside-down thanks to her seatbelt) and Vanya knows they won’t make it in time.

People have begun to move around her- some run from the sight, like the group of frightened teenagers on her right, who take off down the alley behind them. She can't find it in her heart to blame them. Some start forward but are warned off from approaching by the heat and the screech of melting metal. The fender detaches from the sedan and falls to the pavement with a dull thunk and a hiss.

No one wants to approach the vehicle and risk their own necks. Vanya looks around, sending a glare to the much more capable looking gym rat whom she knows was staring at her ass five minutes ago; he’s cowering back from the wreck now, eyes glued to the car but body unmoving. He blanches at her stare and takes several large steps back. Then she makes up her mind.

If no one else is gonna step up, it might as well be her.

Vanya abandons her violin case on the curb, taking a precious moment to shuck her overcoat before dashing into the street. Thankfully all traffic has stopped in the face of this disaster so she doesn’t get hit by a passing car. The gravel crunches underfoot and Vanya can feel the air getting hotter and hotter, until her hair curls from it. A breeze sends a flurry of sparks at her face but Vanya raises an arm to protect her eyes and continues on.

She can hear several voices shouting at her to stay back, that she’s an idiot who’s going to get herself killed, that it was a lost cause anyway. Vanya ignores them and skids to a halt next to the vehicle.

Unsure of what to do now that she’s here, Vanya starts by crouching down to check on the driver. The middle-aged woman blinks at her; she looks out of it, and Vanya guesses she’s probably at least concussed. There’s blood coming from a nasty looking gash in her forehead. Ash is already collecting on her skin.

“Help me?” Her voice is soft and high like a frightened child’s. Vanya is reminded of some of her more timid students, the ones who are afraid to ask for help but who know they need it desperately. 

So she does the same thing she does for her students and smiles kindly. She tries to keep the fear and anxiety that threaten to choke her out of her eyes. Vanya’s fingers twitch for another pill (it would make the fourth this morning, double her daily recommended dose) but she has more important things to worry about than her own feelings right now, and besides she left the bottle in her coat pocket.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says instead, trying for soothing and probably ending up somewhere around hysterical. “You’re going to be okay.”

The door handle burns her so badly when she touches it that Vanya can see a layer of her skin peel off when she yanks her hand away. Her stomach flips but Vanya swallows the bile.

“Help,” the woman gasps; she tries to move but just ends up flopping around like a dying fish. The smoke is getting thick and Vanya can see flames licking at the dashboard. “Please help me.”

“I will. I am. You’re okay.”

Reaching through the broken glass, Vanya ignores the stinging, tearing pain in her arm and manually unlocks the door. The rubber at the top (bottom?) of the frame is marginally cooler than the metal so she tugs at it until the door swings open with a scream of metal. More sparks fly into her face, singing her hair and burning her, but Vanya can’t stop now.

She’s just gotten the woman’s belt unlatched (she tumbles to the roof of the car and lays there moaning for help) when the flames reach them. They lick up Vanya’s wrist, trailing a line of heat to her elbow. She wonders if she should be feeling pain right now but suspects it’s the adrenaline that keeps it at bay. Vanya shakes her sleeve which results in some scraps of still burning cloth detaching, hopes that will be enough for now, and latches onto the woman’s shoulders. She gets a good enough grip on her sweater collar and hauls her none-too gently from the cab. There’s the crunch of broken glass and Vanya winces, but after a moment the woman’s legs are free of the vehicle and Vanya shuffles them both back and back and back, never once slowing down-

The sedan goes up in a fireball about five seconds later.

Vanya backs them up to the curb, doesn’t stop until her knees give out and she collapses in a heap beside the woman whose car just blew up. 

“Thank you,” the woman sobs. Her hand finds Vanya’s and Vanya doesn’t have the heart to pull away even as pain stabs through her palm. It’s the hand that she burned. After a few minutes she can’t stand the burning sting and she extracts her fingers from the woman’s grip rather ungracefully. She pats out the lingering flames on her sleeves and smiles shakily. The woman is still crying. People are beginning to gather around them. Vanya thinks maybe a camera flashes.

“You just saved my life,” the woman cries. She seems to find her strength (wouldn’t have that been helpful earlier) and sits up to press her teary face into Vanya’s shoulder. “I could’ve died . Thank you so much.”

“Uh, yeah,” Vanya stutters. This is the most physical contact she’s had in- well, a long time. Unsure, she drapes her uninjured arm around the woman, careful of the singes in her clothing. She’s starting to realize that all her muscles feel like water, she’s trembling and she can faintly taste vomit at the back of her throat courtesy of the smoke inhalation. “Um, sure. Don’t- worry about it?”

Then tires are screeching to a halt and a fire truck is there and the police complete with the flashing lights and screaming sirens and Vanya’s head is pounding-

“Vanya?”

What the-

Vanya turns, arms still wrapped around the stranger, and looks up into her brother’s eyes for the first time in years. She swallows. “Uh. Hey, Diego.”

Number Two gapes at her, glances at the on-fire wreckage just across the road, and takes in her singed appearance. Vanya is never going to be able to wear this shirt again, that’s for sure- one sleeve is almost completely burned away, revealing the tender pink of burned flesh, and there’s a myriad of holes from where the sparks landed. Vanya inhales fast, trying to find the words to explain her situation, and ends up choking on ash.

“What the fuck, Vanya,” Diego says. He sounds like he’s very far away, like he can’t believe what just happened. Vanya doesn't blame him- she’s having a hard enough time wrapping her head around it and she’s the one who did it.

“I don’t know,” she answers him honestly. Something in her tone makes his eyes go hard and flinty, his back ramrod straight. He puts his hands on his belt (he’s wearing his police uniform, Vanya’s never seen him in it) and scowls at her. Back to business, then.

“You could’ve been killed.”

Vanya shrugs. “She couldn’t get out on her own.” She looks up at the paramedics who have made their way over and releases the other woman into their waiting arms. She tries to smile when the stranger looks back but she doesn’t know how comforting she looks, all burned out and small on the sidewalk. 

“That was really fucking stupid, Seven.” He’s rattled- that’s the only time he ever slips up with their names. “You’re hurt- you could have been hurt worse.”

Something strong and angry flares in her chest then- maybe it’s the residual adrenaline, maybe it’s shock. Or maybe it’s the fact that she just went through something she’s gonna have nightmares about for weeks to come and he can’t even offer her a fucking hand up.

“I wasn't hurt worse. And she wasn’t either. You were too slow and she was trapped so I did something about it.”

“You’re not a hero,” he snarls at her. “Stop acting like one.” Vanya knows somewhere deep down that he’s scared, lashing out because he doesn’t want to see her hurt, especially when she has no powers to help her- but at the same time-

“Well you weren’t around, were you?” Vanya snaps. She hauls herself to her feet, batting away the hand he offers belatedly. His expression shutters. “I was and she was hurt and gonna be hurt worse and no one was doing anything about it. So I did your job.”

She stalks off before Diego can reply and spends the entire time the paramedics are checking her over resolutely ignoring the eyes boring into the back of her skull.

~

It’s three in the morning when Vanya wakes up to the sound of the window in her living room sliding open. 

Should’ve locked it, she chastises herself. There’s a baseball bat in her closet- why hadn’t she put it any closer to the bed?

Shaking her head, she slips from her covers and retrieves the bat with only minimal stumbling. Her lungs feel too small because of the smoke earlier, and her arm throbs beneath the layers of gauze. Her palms are sweating, the bandaged right one stinging from the second degree burn she inflicted upon herself, and she can’t hold the bat right. 

She steps out into the hallway anyway. 

There’s a figure in dark clothes slipping in through the window. Vanya curses to herself and adjusts her grip on the bat. Should she hide instead? Run for the phone?

Instead, Vanya flips on the light, hoping to disorientate him and rushes forward. Only the familiar scar on his face and her brother’s scowl draw her up short, making her swing much slower than it would usually be. 

The bat is about five inches from the side of his head when Diego throws up a hand and catches it. “Jesus, Vanya! What the hell are you thinking?”

“ Me? ” She yelps, pulling away. “What the hell are you thinking? You’re breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, because you left the window unlocked! You’re in the middle of the city, Vanya, and rapists can climb!”

“That is so not the issue right now!”

Diego huffs and glares. After a second of awkward staring, Vanya steps back and heaves a sigh, gesturing for him to enter the room. He pulls himself the rest of the way through and only grumbles a little.

It’s only then that she sees what he’s holding. Diego notices her surprise and, strangely shyly, hands her violin case over. She looks up at him, eyes wide, and he scruffs the back of his neck. Her coat is folded over the other arm. 

“You left them at the scene,” Diego informs her unnecessarily. He holds out her coat and when Vanya takes it, fishes her pills from his pocket and hands those over, too. “I didn’t want them to fall out.”

“Thank you,” Vanya breathes, relief flooding her at the mere sight of her prescription. She hadn’t even noticed it was missing, she’d been so tired and mixed up. She clutches them to her chest, looking up at her brother as if she’s never seen him before. Maybe she hasn’t- not this version, at least.

“About today-” he stops, and Vanya shuffles back a little.

“I know it was a bad idea, okay?” She’s so tired. She’s always so tired. She doesn’t remember a time she wasn’t tired. “I know I shouldn’t have gone in without thinking like that but she was gonna die, Diego. No one else was gonna do anything.”

“That’s not-” Diego starts off harsh but reigns himself in when he looks at her face. “I wasn’t going to say that. I think i-it was-”

He stops, carding a hand through his hair. Vanya remembers this frustration from their childhood and waits instead of prodding him to continue. Finally Diego exhales, looks her in the eye and says, “I-I think it w-was re-really brave of you. You s-saved her li-ife.”

“Oh.” Vanya says blankly. Then the words set in. “Oh! Uh, I mean, I guess. I just- did what I  would want someone else to do for me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you,” Diego tells her seriously. Even though warmth spreads through her chest, Vanya smiles thinly and shakes her head. 

“You’re not always around, Diego.” Maybe it’s not the best time to bring up their separation, the way their family has drifted apart, but if not now then when? 

Diego flinches as if she just struck him and Vanya thinks about taking her words back. But again, she’s not wrong and really, all she meant was that no one could be everywhere to save everyone and sometimes you had to rely on the kindness of strangers. She just wishes if that happened to her that someone would go get her out of the burning wreck.

You’re not important enough.

She shakes the thought away just as Diego’s face clears. There’s something like resolve in his eyes. “I will be,” he says, conviction lacing his tone. “I’ll keep you safe. I p-promise.”

Vanya smiles wanly again and offers him the couch. 

He’s still there when she wakes up in the morning. He’s there the next night, too.

Vanya puts a throw blanket on the couch, exchanges the pillows for better ones, and says nothing.

~

The reporters are camped out in front of her building the next day. Vanya is rushing to rehearsal, having woken up late because an unapologetic Diego had sabotaged her loud alarm in the name of sleep. As such, she's busy fiddling with her hair and checking her bag and almost barrels the pretty brunette over before a microphone is thrust in her face.

“Uh,” Vanya says. “What?”

“Ms. Vanya Hargreeves, how does it feel to be a hero?”

“What?” Vanya repeats. Oh God. That’s a big camera. Are they on television right now?

The newscaster smiles with too many teeth. “You saved a woman- a working mother of two small children- from a burning car yesterday. We have photos- so how does it feel to be a hero?”

“I-she-” She guesses she should have expected this. Should she have? “I’m not a hero. It was just the right thing to do. I mean... The car was on fire.”

“Oh, such modesty! But really, what made you put aside your fear for your own well-being for a complete stranger?”

Vanya stares at her. “The car was on fire.”

The other woman looks a little upset now, glancing at the camera and then Vanya with a certain amount of strain in her jaw. “Yes, we saw the footage. But you have to have some words of wisdom as to why you would risk your life for someone else?”

“The car was on fire,” Vanya enunciates every word carefully. “I just didn’t want that woman to be on fire too. That’s not heroic.”

Hastily, she excuses herself and runs for the next cab she can spot. It’s only moments later, in the cloying darkness of the back of the car that she realizes what a bad idea it was to take one to work. She spends the rest of the ride quietly hyperventilating and trying not to pass out.

After rehearsal she calls Diego.

“You still at band practice?”

She rolls her eyes at her brother but can’t help the twitch in her lips. “Just finished. You still staying for tonight? I’ve got stuff for pasta.”

“I might hang around,” Diego replies casually, like he hasn't spent three nights at her apartment this week. “You going home now? Take a taxi- I don’t like the part of town your theater is in.”

Vanya’s going to have to table the way her heart swells at that for now. Just thinking about being inside a car right now is making her sick. “I I- don’t really feel up to cars right now. I’ll hustle on my walk home, it’ll be fine. I just wanted to give you a heads-up if I’m a little later. The spare key is under my mat.”

“Stay there. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Diego walks her home every night after that. It’s not as awkward as Vanya would have thought, even though he knows next to nothing about classical music and she couldn’t tell you a thing about law enforcement. His scowling, looming figure is also great at scaring off any stray reporters.

~

She thinks maybe that will be the end of it; the reporters will wander off looking for a new story, Diego will feel he's fulfilled his role as big brother for the next few years and split and Vanya will get these bandages off and go on living.

You call this living? Pathetic.

Then a night comes, only two weeks later, when Diego had called the theater with an apology that he was called out last minute and couldn't walk her home (he begged her to get a cab- she'd evaded answering) and Vanya finds herself walking home in the dark. She's a few streets from her apartment this time, maybe a little over a mile, when she hears it. Someone is getting jumped in the alley to her right.

Don't do it. How could you possibly help them anyway?

For a second it seems so easy to listen to the voice in her head, to turn and go back to her walk home; she's in a not so great part of town and she's alone and she's five feet of no muscle whatsoever and really, she's done her good deed for, like, a century already. Then a soft cry goes up, much higher than the muffled thumping and cursing she can just catch at the mouth of the little lane where she stands frozen, and it sounds- it sounds-

It sounds like Klaus.

Vanya turns and sprints down the alley.

Chapter Text

There are two people about halfway down the lane, hunched over and kicking at a lump on the ground. Vanya can just pick up soft crying over the muffled thumps and the crack of what can only be bone against brick.

“Get away!”

It’s about the moment both of the men turn towards her that Vanya realizes how stupid she really is. She swings her violin case up into the first man’s jaw anyway. 

She’s used to carrying the thing around all day for most of her life, which means that for her it barely weighs anything. But the case is solid enough and the violin inside heavy enough that when she swings it hard his head snaps back and he goes reeling.

As the first man stumbles away, the second gives an incoherent shout and flings himself bodily at Vanya. They both go crashing to the ground; Vanya can hear something creaking ominously in her ankle as it bends almost to the breaking point. She grits her teeth and ignores the pain, rolling with the tackle enough that she can get one arm free and starts punching at the body above her.  Her case goes flying off to the side, the latch popping open and her violin and bow spilling out across the concrete.

“You better hope you didn’t break that!” She shouts, half-mad with pain and adrenaline. The man pinning her down rears back when she lands a fist in his eye socket, cursing; it’s enough of a distraction that Vanya is able to grasp about on the ground with her other hand, keeping one braced against the man’s chest to keep him from leaning over her again. Her fingers clasp around her bow.

Sucking in a deep breath, Vanya whips her arm upwards in a graceful arc. The bow sings as it slices through the air; the sound when it hits the man’s shoulder and neck is a wet ‘thwack.’ It’s not dissimilar to a riding crop hitting a horse. The man yells in pain and Vanya brings the bow down on the other shoulder, harder this time. His shirt tears and Vanya can feel something hot and wet splatter across her cheek.

He scrambles away from her. As Vanya hauls herself to unsteady feet she sees his friend has grabbed him by the shoulders and is helping him to his own. One of them is looking back at the person they were attacking and Vanya can barely see a sneer curling his lip in the dim moonlight.

White hot indignation floods her throat. Vanya steps forward, brandishing her bow. Her burns are throbbing, she’s probably gotten gravel embedded in her arm and her cheek is all busted to hell. Her ankle screams and she can only hold the bow in one hand as her right is still recovering from the car fire. And none of it, absolutely none of it, matters. All that matters is the person whimpering into their hands in the dirt. She's felt that low before; she is not about to stand by and let it happen to someone else.

“You’d better get the hell out of here.” Vanya says in a very level voice. 

“You think you can take us both little girl?”

“I think I just did.”

The men glare at her for a second before huffing and taking off; she waits until their figures disappear around the corner before dropping her bow. Her shoulders sag. Vanya has to take three deep breaths before she’s moving again, stumbling and kneeling at the victim’s side.

“Oh, thank God,” she mutters, feeling for a pulse and finding it. “Oh, I was so scared. You’re going to be okay.”

~

It’s not actually Klaus she saves. The man is little more than a boy, nineteen at most. He cowers like a frightened rabbit even when Vanya has him settled on her couch, a fire roaring in the hearth. It makes her twitch, sweat pops out on her forehead and her intact palm is clammy, but she has to get him warm. He doesn’t have a coat. Vanya gets the first aid kit, patches them both up as best she can, and calls Diego.

“Don’t be mad,” Vanya blurts when he picks up.

“I’m coming over,” is all Diego replies with. He hangs up; she winces. The boy in her living room flinches too.

“Are you gonna turn me in?” His voice is thin and reedy and she wonders if they kicked him in the throat. She doesn’t have enough first aid to fix that here.

“Let me guess.” Vanya pushes her tangles out of her face with a sigh. “They were your dealers? Exchange went south?”

The ragged character on her couch shifts and mumbles an affirmative. He curls up even tighter, knees to his chest, and Vanya can’t help but reach out and run her fingers through his dirty mop of hair. She tells herself she’s checking for a head wound but something in her chest breaks as he leans into her palm. “Most people want to call the cops on addicts.”

“No. I’d have to turn in my own brother if I was gonna do that.”

Maybe it’s her connection (tenuous as it is) to another addict, maybe it’s the warmth of the fire. Maybe it’s her gentle handling, maybe it’s the fact that she’s pretty sure those men were going to kill the kid. Whatever the reason, he relaxes under her touch and when she pulls away, the boy grabs her hand and twines their fingers.

~

Diego is equal parts pissed and impressed when she whispers the story to him later.

“I thought you were gonna stay away from the hero business, Van,” he mutters, side-eyeing the sleeping figure in her living room. Vanya shrugs.

“It's not heroics, I barely knew what I was doing. And it was the wrong place, wrong time, I guess.”

“Or the right one.” Diego surveys her seriously. “You remember to pick up your violin this time?”

Vanya nods, then gestures to her bow, which rests on a clean towel on her kitchen counter. “It’s got their blood on it- I thought you might want it. Do I- should I give a statement or…?”

“Tomorrow,” her brother sighs. Some of her worry must show on her face, or he catches her hands twitching for a pill, because Diego rests a heavy hand on her uninjured shoulder and ducks his head to meet her eyes. “Hey. I’ll take care of it. Just...at least try to stay safe, alright? For-for m-me?”

“I’m not looking out for trouble,” she reminds him, but she squeezes his hand all the same.

~

It all works out much easier than she expects; when Diego takes the bow in for examination early the next morning, he calls (“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Diego, what the hell?”) to say that the blood matches that of a known dealer they’ve been chasing for a while. She’s not going to be charged.

The kid stays the night and Vanya asks if he’d like to stay another (he’s much too young to be out on his own and he was so cold and frightened when they got home last night) but he declines. “Nah, I’ve got friends I gotta check in with.” At Vanya’s curious look he shrugs, ducking his head. She’d let him use her shower and his hair is still damp, water dripping onto the tip of his nose. She brushes his fringe off his forehead gently. The boy smiles a little bashfully. “We take care of each other out there. We gotta; no one else will.”

Vanya makes a sad little sound at the back of her throat and he considers her for a long pause. Vanya waits, willing to listen. “At least, I thought no one else cared…” He trails off. “You know, you remind me of this guy on the street I know; he’s always sticking up for us when he can. When he’s a little sober, at least.”

Her heart beats a tempo in her throat. “Is...is his name K-Klaus?”

The kid’s eyes widen. “You know him?”

Vanya smiles tremulously. “Yeah. Could you- if you see him...Tell him Vanya says hi. I hope he’s okay.”

~

Several strange things happen after that incident. For one, Diego is living almost full time at her apartment now, citing the fact that she can’t be trusted not to pick fights without a security detail around to back her up. (“And you still leave the windows unlocked, Van!” “Well now I do it so you can get in, don’t I? Why do you even do that, you have a key!”)

It’s- nice, having her brother around. She thought for weeks that he would move on soon, but he’s sticking around and it’s-it’s nice. He’s louder than her neighbors would like and they argue a lot but it’s over things siblings should argue about- who used the last of the hot water, who had the remote control, what they should have for dinner. Once, when her bandages from the car accident finally come off and she comes bouncing out of the doctor’s office grinning, he actually hugs her. She never tells him it makes her feel safe. That waking up to hearing his tremendous snoring from the other room makes her feel safe. That she can’t remember the last time anything made her feel safe.

Another strange thing that happens is that even on the nights Diego can’t pick her up from practice- few and far between now, he’s keeping an annoyingly close eye on her- Vanya has managed to pick up an entourage. 

The first to come up to her is a tall, willowy girl of maybe sixteen. Her dreadlocks and her clothes have seen better days, but her eyes are sharp and her hands are surprisingly strong as she offers a handshake Vanya is too surprised to refuse. “You helped Eddie out last week, yeah? With the assholes who wanted to jump him?”

“Eddie,” Vanya murmurs, wide-eyed. “Is that- tall, thin, doesn’t have a coat? He never told me his name.”

“That’s him.” The girl grins and motions behind her. Two other shadows detach themselves from the darkness outside the theater and Vanya’s heart beat hard in her chest for a moment before she realizes that they’re just kids. One is a girl younger than their leader, maybe fourteen. The other is a boy about Eddie’s age with a crooked grin and a chipped left incisor. 

“Um,” Vanya states.

“We’re gonna walk you home, Ms. Violin,” The girl says, tone brokering no argument. “I’m Cate by the way. That’s Zoey and Jean.”

Well. Okay then. “You guys want some hot chocolate when we get there?”

Cate’s grin softens at the edges and Vanya is acutely aware of how young they all are.

 There’s at least a couple of them following her around after that; sometimes Cate is there, sometimes Jean. Very rarely she can see Zoey on the edge of her vision, trailing along silently until she reaches her apartment. Eddie comes running up to say hello once a week or so.  There are more too, kids she doesn’t know and a couple of times grown men and women who give Vanya a heart attack right up until they smile with Eddie’s name on their lips. They always follow her from rehearsal to her apartment on the nights she’s alone, disappearing before she can ask them why.

It’s strange and a little smothering and Vanya isn’t sure what to do about it. But they seem to harbor no ill will, and really it’s comforting to know that someone has her back at night in this city, so Vanya lets it be.

The final and strangest thing that happens is Klaus showing up on her doorstep one night a week after the incident.

“Klaus?”

“Long time no see, sis.” Klaus grins at her before flouncing his way in. Vanya steps back, gapes for a minute, and closes the door behind him. She stands dumbstruck as Klaus leaps over the back of her couch and settles there as if he belongs. He turns and grins at her over the back of it. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks,” Vanya answers automatically and then, for lack of something better, offers coffee.

“Only with lots of cream and sugar,” Klaus sing-songs. He waits until she’s brewed and served it before looking her up and down. “So, how’s the hero business these days? Taking over the family mantle, I see.”

Her heart sinks; she’s had more than a few lectures on personal safety from one overbearing brother, she doesn’t need more. “You heard about the car accident.”

At that Klaus’s eyebrows shoot up. “What car accident? What are you talking about?”

Vanya narrows her eyes and clutches her mug closer. “What are you talking about?”

“The tag on the side of your building, of course. Everyone’s talking about it. Eddie says you’re quite the dynamo with a violin, so I see why they picked it.”

Now she’s thoroughly confused. “What tag?”

Klaus blinks at her and grins. “Oh, you’ve got to see this. You have your very own Bat-signal, Vanya!”

It isn’t until Klaus grabs her hand and drags her outside (“Klaus! It’s freezing and I’m only in my socks!”) that she understands a word of what he’s saying. There, on the back wall of her apartment building, about level with her fire escape, is a bit of graffiti. If it hadn’t been pointed out to her, Vanya probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Only those who looked up would see it. She supposes that’s the point.

A crude representation of a violin inside a circle is drawn next to her bedroom window. It’s done in several layers of white spray paint, bright enough to glow against the darkness. 

“What does it mean?”

“Cate and Eddie made it up,” Klaus says. His tone is softer now, and when Vanya looks up his eyes are kinder than she’s ever seen them. Something in her heart wriggles uncomfortably, but warmly. “Said it was for protection- yours and theirs. Whatever you did, Vanya, you earned a lot of respect out here. That’s a tough thing to do.”

“I almost didn’t do anything,” Vanya confesses, eyes drawn back to the violin. “And I just- I just smacked at them until they ran. It’s not like, like you guys were. I just did what I’d want someone else to do for me.”

You’re a fool and an idiot if you think anyone would do this for you.

“They’re calling you the White Violin,” Klaus tells her. He’s yet to drop her hand and Vanya finds herself thankful for that; she’s swaying on her feet, a little lightheaded. “I’m so proud; my baby sister has her first street name!”

“It was a bow,” she corrects absently. “I hit them with the bow, not the violin. Could you imagine what Dad would say?”

Klaus crows, slinging an arm around her shoulders. He’s warmer than she is. Vanya leans into it. “Who cares about musty old Dad? At least you’re actually helping people.”

Something must come over her then, some stupid impulse she should restrain but Vanya can’t fight her tongue as she bursts out with, “I thought he was you.”

Klaus goggles at her.

“It-It was selfish, when I ran in like that,” Vanya speaks to her hands, dreading when her brother’s fingers will fall from where they are playing with the ends of her hair. “I did it because I thought it was you they were hurting. But then I saw it wasn’t you and I was so angry that they’d do that to a kid and I just- if it were me, I’d want someone to come. But-but I probably would’ve been too scared if. If. Um, if I hadn’t thought it was you. So. Yeah.”

What follows is the single longest silence of her life. Vanya’s throat is closing, her eyesight tunnels and water leaks down her cheeks, freezing her skin. She wishes for her pills again. When was the last time she took them? She’s been so mixed up after the car accident and the doctor visits and then Eddie and Diego being there…

The rain just begins to patter down when soft lips meet Vanya’s temple. She sags a little further against Klaus, lets him lean his head against hers even though his nose is too sharp where it digs into her scalp and his elbow is locked just a little too tightly around the nape of her neck. “Oh, Vanya,” her brother whispers. “Oh, my sister. My little sister.”

She shivers then and Klaus lets go of her shoulders; for a moment her heart sinks, preparing for his flourishing goodbye. Instead Klaus grabs her hand again and tugs her towards the door, muttering something about the coffee getting cold.

“You’re not- you’re staying?”

She hopes he doesn’t hear how her voice cracks from longing. Klaus turns, holding the door open for her, and flashes a brilliant grin. “Of course! I wanna see how this plays out, White Violin.”

Chapter Text

“You did what? ”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Vanya mutters into her glass. They’re settled in her living room after dinner; Klaus and Diego take up pretty much all the space on the couch and although they offer to squeeze her in, Vanya opts for sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. She has her back to the fireplace; even all these months later, she can’t really stand the sight of flames yet.

Klaus sputters for a moment, eyes bulging before he throws his hands up in mock surrender. Diego has to lean back into the couch pillows to avoid being smacked in the face. “Oh, yeah, it’s no big deal that you set yourself on fire for a stranger!”

“I did not set myself on fire,” she protests. “I pulled her from the car which happened to be on fire. And then my sleeve caught on fire and I shook it off. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Klaus informs her, voice a little too high. 

“That’s what I said.”

“Shut up, Diego.”

“Make me, half-pint.” He grins at her and Vanya never thought she’d have the courage to smile back like she is.

“Can you believe this shit,” Klaus is mumbling to the air behind his left shoulder. Vanya and Diego politely ignore him. “Un-be-liev-a-ble.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Vanya repeats. “It’s not like it’ll happen again.”

Her brothers exchange glances and Vanya can’t help the sinking feeling that she shares in their disbelief. Ah, well. There are worse things to be than stupid enough to try to help people.

~

She’s proven wrong pretty much immediately, when Zoey rushes up to her on the street one Tuesday afternoon. Vanya is standing outside with one of her students, waiting for their mother with them- if there’s one thing all this craziness has taught her it’s that the streets near her apartment are a lot more dangerous than she originally would have estimated. It does her no harm to make sure the minors in her care get home safe. 

Zoey has not spoken to Vanya once in the entire time she’s known Klaus’s merry band of homeless teenagers. (He refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s taken them under his wing, but the way they all clamor around him when he walks her to rehearsal most mornings is enough to wipe out any argument.) She’s not nervous, per se, and Vanya doesn’t blame her- Vanya knows she doesn’t cut a very intimidating figure. But Zoey seems the wary sort, preferring to hang back a block or two when watching Vanya’s treks through the city (still very weird, still sort of touching) and disappearing any time Vanya tries to approach. She’s only a child.

So it’s surprising, then, when she speeds up the sidewalk towards her, startling Vanya and scaring her student badly enough they drops their sheet music. Zoey coughs, braces her hands on her knees, and breathes deeply for a second.

“Zoey? Are you alright?”

“Come quick,” the girl gasps. When she looks up, Vanya’s heart catches in her mouth; Zoey is crying, a thin sheen of tears coursing down her cheeks. “He’s gonna jump.”

~

“Who is it,” Vanya asks as they skid to a halt on the corner of Seventeenth and Thirty-Fourth. It’s a long trek; she’s surprised she can even get the words out, especially with how her breath leaves her at the sight before them.

At the top of an old parking structure, at least ten stories up, is a lone figure, black against the grey sky. A crowd is already gathering around them, and Vanya vaguely recognizes some of them as the homeless who follow her at night. Kai -her student- had insisted on tagging along and now watches, horrified, as the man steps closer to the edge. Vanya has the strong urge to reach out and cover their eyes with her hands. She’s so distracted, eyes glued to the unmoving man above them, that she almost misses Zoey’s answer.

“I dunno,” the girl says. When Vanya glances at her, bewildered, she shrugs. “I saw him and thought you could help.”

“Wha- me? ”

“Yeah.” She shrugs again, then gestures at the potential jumper. “You help people. So what are you gonna do about him?”

How could you help someone find themselves again? You can barely help yourself.

Vanya swallows the protests that push to the tip of her tongue, stares at the figure for another long moment and sets her jaw. “Stay here.”

She’s never more aware of her diminutive stature as when she is trying to push through the crowd to get to the stairwell entrance. But Vanya finds that after throwing a couple of sharp elbows, people are much less resistant to her harried ‘excuse me’s. Still, the crowd is thick and every second counts as she fights to get through; even as she squeezes between onlookers, Vanya is losing time.

She looks back to see Zoey, forehead creased in worry, cup her hands around her mouth and shout, “Everybody back the hell up, it’s the White Violin!”

Vanya’s not sure how that’s supposed to help.

(She doesn’t even have her violin with her this time, although she is wearing the sweatshirt she bought at the New York Philharmonic years ago.)

But surprisingly more than a few people, most she recognizes as the homeless or pedestrians who have watched her back ever since Eddie, part for her. It gives Vanya enough space to burst out of the crowd and haul herself up the stairs double time. All this physical activity in the past few months has made her realize how often she doesn’t exercise. Stairs, especially, are a challenge; what can she say, she’s got short legs.

By the time she makes it to the roof, Vanya is wheezing. The door creaks open on rusted hinges and the man on the edge of the building looks around wildly. 

“Don’t come any closer!”

He’s been crying; the light of the fading sun catches on the moisture present on his cheeks. He heaves a sob, wrapping his arms around himself as Vanya raises her own to shoulder height. Trying desperately to get her breathing under control, she offers him a shaky smile. 

“What- what do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Vanya replies, suddenly realizing she has no plan for this. The other times seemed pretty straight forward; get the lady out of the car. Get the men away from Eddie. How the hell does she think she can do this? What does she think she’s doing? “I want to talk to you.”

He shakes his head. The man is about her age, maybe a little older; he wears a t-shirt too thin for the weather, as if he doesn’t care about being cold. His lips are starting to turn blue with the wind up here and Vanya feels the gale pick up, nipping at the end of her nose. She lowers her hands slowly when he doesn't back away to the edge. 

“You’re not going to change my mind. I’m doing- doing it.”

“Why?” Vanya asks. Her throat feels too tight. “If-if you’re going to do this, at least tell me why?”

“Why do you care?” He’s suspicious, frightened, angry. He’s afraid she might change his mind.

“Because I’ve been this low before.” The admission stings. She’s never told anyone- not her brothers, not her therapist, sure as hell not her father- about that night four years ago. “And- and if you feel the same as I did back then- then I get it. I get it.”

The man stares before it morphs into a glare. Vanya steps forward, holding her hands up when he winces. Slowly, she makes her way to the ledge, stopping about a yard away. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Vanya looks up at him, lets him see how open and honest she is. The wind rips tears from her eyes.  “I’m really not.”

“What happened?”

Vanya sighs and points to the ledge by his feet. “It’s a long story. I’m gonna sit down.” When he makes to refuse she shakes her head. “I’m not asking you to come down. Just let me come up.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and Vanya boosts herself onto the chilly concrete, crossing her legs and patting the space next to her. It takes a moment before he kneels down. Not wanting to spook him, Vanya rests her hands in her lap and sighs, looking out over the skyline. It really is a great view. “So, I have depression and anxiety. The anxiety, it’s really bad, right? Like, ‘take meds all your life’ bad.”

“I didn't know that was a thing,” he says quietly. Vanya flashes him a thin smile. 

“Most people don’t. Anyway. I grew up in a big family, right? But they- we- it’s complicated, but basically we weren’t all that close. When I moved out I didn’t hear from them for years. I thought maybe that was a good thing; I could be independent, I didn’t have our father breathing down my neck. I didn’t have anybody’s expectations to live up to. But- I realized, all at once, years later, how alone I was. And I was so, so alone.”

She looks up and he’s got his eyes on only her, arms wrapped around his bent knees. Neither of them look out at the crowd below. “You know that loneliness, huh? How it sneaks up on you and tries to choke the life out of you?”

“It’s always there,” he whispers. His shoulders are shaking. “I can’t- can’t stop feeling it.”

After a second, Vanya holds out her hand, praying harder than she ever has. The pause is so long she stops breathing. Then trembling fingers slide in between hers and Vanya curls her own, breathing out less steadily than she’d like. “I know; it’s like the loneliness is your only friend sometimes.”

There’s some quiet; Vanya wishes she knew just what to say, some pithy remark and a smile to send him on his way healthier than before. Is she making this all about her? Should she? 

In the end, all she has is the truth.

“So there I was, feeling alone and realizing I had- nobody, you know? I hadn’t for years. I thought- I- what’s the point, right? Why stick around if I was always anxious and always lonely and always depressed. I thought, I was sure that I would never get better. So why bother trying?

“So I had all my pills- the anxiety meds I told you about, right?- I had all of them in my hand, like three months supply, and I had a big old bottle of Jack, and I was gonna do it. I was sitting there on my fire escape all alone in the world, looking down on the people passing by like ants and getting ready to stop feeling so lonely ever again. Sound familiar?”

The man huffs. His hand is tight around hers. Vanya squeezes gently, lets the corners of her lips turn upward when he glances at her. He’s crying but it’s gentle now. Vanya reaches out and swipes at the tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. They don’t acknowledge the shouting from below. “What changed your mind?”

“It was the neighbor’s cat.” He reels back a bit, eyes wide. Vanya smiles this time. “It’s okay, you can laugh.” And he does. It’s warmer than the wind whipping through their hair. He nudges her shoulder to continue and Vanya turns her eyes to the sky again.

“So I’m ready to do it, right, and suddenly my bottle gets knocked over- goes all the way down, and I’m on the sixth floor, I don’t know how it didn’t kill somebody. And the neighbor’s cat is there, pawing at my hand and trying to get at my pills, to eat them, right? I threw them away so fast, you don’t even know.”

The man holding her hand laughs again, a strangled, wet sound. 

“Hey, don’t laugh at me, that old lady is the meanest person I’ve ever met and there is no way she wouldn’t have, like, cursed my soul to eternal damnation if I killed her cat.” He’s leaning on her now and Vanya squeezes his hand again. “So I threw the pills away and saved the cat and I took him inside and gave him back to his owner and I realized, I did have someone who needed me.”

“The cat?” He sounds disbelieving. “That’s your big tactic- don’t kill yourself because your neighbor’s cat might want in?”

“I only needed one person to need me,” Vanya tells him. “For me, yeah, I was pathetic enough that it was my neighbor’s cat. And you know what? I love that stupid cat. That stupid cat saved my life.”

He’s quiet now, staring at her face with an intensity that Vanya matches. “So tell me. Who is your cat? Who needs you even at your worst? Who’s innocent in your life?”

“It’s- she’s… my daughter.” He’s wreaked now, covering his face with his free hand. Vanya risks looping her other arm around his shoulders, tugs him close and lets him cry into her tangled hair. “I- she- I love her so much. But I’m so messed up- how could she need me?”

“You may think it’s better for her if you leave, but it’s not.” Vanya speaks this truth directly into his ear. “How do you think she’d feel coming home to hear what you’ve done? You can’t know what she’d go through. The only thing you can know is what you do for her, right now. The only thing you can know is that, right now, you have a choice. You can leave your daughter to pick up the pieces. Or you can fight for her. Live for her. It’s your choice, and I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, but you’re the one who has to make it.” 

It takes him a long time to stop sobbing into her sweatshirt. When he does, she slides from the ledge and holds out a hand she refuses to admit shakes.

He takes it. "You're going to be okay," she informs him as he comes down, and she means it.

“I’m- my name is Dennis,” he tells her. Vanya smiles.

“Hey, Dennis. I’m Vanya. What’s your daughter’s name?”

~

She hasn’t taken her pills in at least a week, and by the time Vanya gets home that night, exhausted and drained, she’s developed the shakes. Diego had insisted on driving her home when he’d pulled up as she and Dennis came out of the parking structure. Vanya guesses she must look pretty terrible.

“Withdrawal is a bitch,” Klaus says wisely as soon as she gets in the door. “Where are your meds?”

“I don’t know if I want to keep taking them.” Her brother blinks in surprise and cocks his head. He waits as Vanya shrugs off her sweatshirt, dumping the salt-water logged fabric in the hamper. She pads back to the living room in her undershirt and sweatpants and resolutely plops herself down in front of the fire. It’s time to stop being afraid. “After today- I think I’m hiding from myself, you know? The drugs numb me, make me not care about stuff as much. If I’d been taking them when Dennis threatened to jump, I don’t think they would’ve let me feel enough.”

“I think I can relate to that.” Klaus is uncharacteristically solemn, but he still smiles at her when she takes his hand. The phone rings before either of them can say anything else. Vanya groans, but gets to her feet anyway, wondering if it could be Diego calling to talk about Dennis.

“Vanya, why the hell are you on the news as a superhero?”

Vanya gapes at the receiver. “Allison?”

“Yeah. Why am I seeing you put yourself into a dangerous situation with no regard for your own safety?”

“Uh,” Vanya replies with her usual dignity. “Which time?”

“I’m coming over.”

Chapter Text

“-And then , she jumps up on the ledge and sits there, ten stories up, for almost an hour!”

Vanya winces and motions for Diego to keep his voice down. They’ve gotten three noise complaints in the last month; one more and she might be facing her landlord with an eviction notice if she isn’t careful. Diego sees her and has the decency to wait until Allison’s back is turned before he sticks his tongue out at her. Vanya pulls a face back at him but drops it quickly when Allison turns to her. 

“I know,” Allison says, exasperated and overtired. Her hair is stringy where it is usually luscious, her make-up is smudged and she smells like an airport. Their brothers had hardly let her in the door to Vanya’s apartment before they started shouting over each other. Allison, to her credit, had not looked terribly surprised. “I saw the footage. You made headline news, Vanya.”

“Oh.” Vanya gulps. “Yay.”

“Don’t worry, they don’t know who you are yet.” Allison smiles faintly and shuffles her bags to the side so she can step towards her. Her sister takes her hands between her own and stares at Vanya’s face for a moment longer than necessary. “Are you alright?”

Oh God, did they somehow hear what Vanya said up there? Vanya fidgets and tries to push back the anxiety pulsing at the base of her throat. Outside, rain starts to pour down. Weird, it was supposed to be sunny today.

“Uh, sure. Why- I mean, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” Allison hesitates, glancing at Diego and Klaus. Klaus, from his perch on the back of Vanya’s couch, frowns, obviously confused, and shrugs. Diego shifts on his feet and says nothing. “It’s just that you’re...not…”

Ah. She’s been waiting for this; she’s actually sort of surprised Diego isn’t joining in, but he may have already given up on a lost cause. “Not powered?” 

Allison winces in sympathetic pain and Vanya-  Vanya is so tired of how weak they think she is. 

“It’s not that I don't admire what you’re doing,” Allison is quick to reassure her, “but, Vanya, you’re taking really big risks.”

“Oh, so like you did when you were nine?” Vanya steps back, crosses her arms and leans against her dinner table. She holds up a hand when Allison goes to speak. “Look, I know that wasn’t your choice so much as Dad’s, but you were still in danger all the time and I let you do it. I didn’t say a word because I knew that while you didn’t want to go looking for trouble, trouble found you. And I knew you were helping people- saving people. So I did what I could to help most of the time and shut up the rest.”

“That’s not fair.” Her sister flushes. She turns back to the others but still finds no help from them. “It’s different. We’re able to protect ourselves when things go wrong- you don’t have that luxury. It’s not safe; I know that you had it hard when we grew up, but that’s no reason to put yourself in danger just to get recognition.”

Vanya wants to be angry, wants to flare up and burn her sister with her ire. She wants to scream and rant and rage. But she’s old enough to recognize her father’s words in her sister’s mouth when she hears them. They just make her sigh.

 The ceiling lamp swings above her. “I don't want to be a hero, Allison. I saw what it did to you and I don’t want that.”

She looks taken aback. “Then why are you doing this?”

And of course her brothers and sister wouldn't understand why else she would do this, not at first at least. Klaus doesn’t want any part of anybody's business that isn’t his, understandably so; when you have such a hard time saving yourself it’s a little too much to think of other people all the time. Diego, he might see it now- why Vanya can’t turn her back on others, why it hurts so much to see others hurting. He’s seen it enough in the police academy that their father’s need to gain renown and prestige through the Umbrella Academy could have worn off. He could see, maybe, the real reason they should have been saving people all those years ago. 

But Allison, for all that she hated how their father used to treat them, was his second favorite. If anyone was as indoctrinated as Number One was, it was her. And look where it had gotten her; she had had a need to see her name up in silver lights, to be in all the best fashion and talked about in all the press, and Allison had gotten what she needed without ever talking to her family about why she needed it. She’d just known she did.

Vanya can see a long road ahead of them if Allison insists on sticking around to understand why Vanya can’t leave well enough alone. But maybe, just maybe, it could all work out for the best; after all, the Allison from years ago might not have even called.

Vanya draws herself up, spine cracking, and ignores how the ceiling light stills above her. She looks directly at Allison. “I did what I did because they were helpless, and frightened, and desperate. And I know how it feels to be all of those things, Allison. I’m not going to let others feel like that when I have a chance to help them. That’s not being a hero, that’s being a decent person.”

“But I-”

“Leave it, Allison,” Diego advises. Vanya and Allison both blink at him in surprise. He shuffles over and hovers uncertainly for a minute before gingerly resting a hand on Vanya’s shoulder. He looks up at their sister and Vanya is shocked at how soft his eyes are. “She’s not going to change her mind. Believe me, I’ve already run through this with her. The most we can do is- be here, I guess.”

There’s a beat. Then Klaus grins, throws up his arms and crows, “Aw, big brother Diego wants happy family bonding time! Get over here, you big lug!”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Diego warns, dropping his hand from Vanya’s shoulder to put his fists up mockingly. “Don’t even try it.”

“You punch me and I’m suing for police brutality.” Klaus threatens, grinning. A scuffle quickly ensues and Vanya doesn’t even yell when they knock her music stand over. Klaus takes a moment to toss her sheet music out of the disaster zone to preserve it before promptly being tackled. He cackles as he goes down.

Vanya cuts her eyes to Allison, who has a suspiciously fond look on her face. She bumps their shoulders. “Enough serious stuff; tell me about Claire.”

Allison smiles brilliantly.

~

Allison has been there a week when the knocking at her door starts around two A.M. With Klaus and Diego sprawled across her armchair and couch (they switch off every other night, if one of them hasn’t disappeared to wherever they’re actually supposed to be living), Allison had crawled in under the covers with Vanya with little complaint. She’s never been this glad she splurged on a queen size before; Allison has the tendency to starfish and Vanya has already been slapped in the head twice. (Vanya steals all the blankets though, so she sees it as a fair trade.)

The banging pulls Vanya free from a dream involving oatmeal and broken glass, so she can’t be too angry as she wriggles out from under Allison’s heavy arm and slips from the room. Her sister muffles a groan into Vanya’s favorite pillow- which it took her no less than five minutes to steal- and doesn’t move again. A crash comes from the living room and Vanya picks up the pace.

Diego has two knives in his hand by the time Vanya makes it down the hall. She frowns at him and waves them away. Klaus’s head pops up from behind the armchair, which is overturned. She's found the source of the crash.

“No one just knocks on the door in the middle of the night,” Diego hisses.

“Mr. Puddles might be missing again,” Vanya responds, trying to be reasonable. “You’re gonna open the door and threaten to stab Mrs. Kowalski? You’ll give her a heart attack.”

Diego grumbles but steps away to let Vanya get to the peephole. He’s standing so close behind her she can feel his nervous energy thrumming through him as she leans back. “It’s some girl.”

“Don’t open it.”

“I’m opening it.”

The girl turns out to be a woman. She’s standing at a slant, shoulder jammed up against Vanya’s doorway. It takes Vanya a second to realize that her heels are uneven; she’s broken one of them. That paired with her running eyeliner and the tears on her shirt make Vanya throw the door open wider. 

The woman heaves in air like she’s going to be sick. Her eyes are so wide.  “He’s following me,” she says in a voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Come inside,” Vanya orders.

Her heart twists in her chest at the frantic look on the stranger’s face. Diego slides the deadbolt for her.

~

“I was walking home from work,” the woman, Sherry, tells her finally. She’s been quiet ever since Vanya let her in. They’re in the bathroom, Vanya dabbing at her face with a washcloth as Sherry perches stiffly on the edge of the bathtub. She’d offered her shower but Sherry had refused, eyes darting to Diego and Klaus distrustfully. 

Vanya had shooed them away. She thinks Diego is standing guard out in the hallway in front of her apartment; she can hear Klaus talking to himself as he makes tea in the kitchen. He's having a one-sided argument over the best kind to make for calming someone down.

“Okay.” Vanya keeps her voice as soft as she can get it. She sets the cloth aside and offers her hands, palms up. After some hesitation, Sherry takes them. Her grip is just this side of bruising. Vanya doesn’t react and lets her take her time.

“I’ve been getting these notes from- an anonymous sender, you know?” Vanya nods. Sherry still won’t meet her eyes. “At first I thought it was a prank from one of my friends. They would all say how beautiful I was that day, or that they loved me or something. But then- then it was pictures of me at work. I’m a wait-waitress, did I already tell you that?”

“No,” Vanya murmurs. “You didn’t. Late shift?”

“Yeah.” Sherry releases a shaky sigh. “So these pictures were always from across the street or outside or something. And then the- the notes kept getting worse. Really dark shit, like how this asshole wanted to beat me up for not noticing him and shit.”

“I’m so sorry, Sherry.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have needed to be until tonight. I locked up alone and I was walking home- I’m only like a block away from here- when he tried to grab me. I heard him coming up from behind me.” Sherry’s eyes are hard, her grip tightening even more. “He didn’t think I would fight. But I did. I did.”

“You did,” Vanya agrees. “You did really good, Sherry. You got away. You should be proud.”

In the ensuing silence Sherry stares at her. Vanya doesn’t look away even as her eyes fill with tears. When the other woman gasps, lurching forward, Vanya is there to wrap her arm around her shoulders and brush her hair out of her face.

“I- I was so scared. I was so scared.”

“I know, I know.” Her throat is too tight. Her eyes water. Sometimes she hates this city. Outside the wind howls and the lightbulb in her hallway flickers erratically until Vanya takes a deep breath. 

She needs to let her own emotions go; this is about Sherry. “Here.” Vanya leans back and takes one of Sherry’s hands, guiding her to rest it on Vanya’s chest. She guides the other to her ribcage. “You’re experiencing a panic attack. Focus on my breathing and try to match it.”

Sherry, on the verge of hyperventilating, nods as best she can. Vanya starts a count to five. “Good, now let it go, two, three, four, five. In, two, three, four, five. You’re doing great. You’re going to be okay.”

“How? How is it going to be okay,” she asks as her breathing slows down. Vanya leans close, enough to be felt but not overbearingly so. She knows she doesn't like to be smothered when she has panic attacks, but others feel the need to have someone else close by, so she compromises by sliding in against the bathtub next to Sherry. “Okay, here’s my plan. I’m gonna walk home with you and my brother- the scowly guy from my living room, Diego- he’s gonna come with us. He’s gonna hang back so you don’t get uncomfortable, but he’s a police officer in training or whatever, so he can protect us, okay? With me so far?”

Sherry nods, wide-eyed. “Good. Tomorrow you’re gonna head down to the precinct and give a statement to him; I can get him to pick you up if you need it. Do you know who it might have been?”

“I-I didn’t see much,” Sherry hedges. Vanya waits. Finally the woman breathes out heavily, scrubbing her hand across her mouth. “I- these patches on the guy’s jacket, they looked like one of my regulars'. And he was about the same height…”

“Okay, that’s good, that’s really good.” Vanya sighs. She’s just so tired. “I’m gonna be honest, Sherry, this is a bad situation for you. But you got away, you got a suspect, and you’re mostly unharmed. You’re going to be okay, you hear me?”

Sherry swallows, nods. Vanya smiles shakily. “Okay, good. Now one more thing- that blood under your nails, that’s not yours is it?”

“No, I-I scratched him, a little bit.”

“That’s good, Sherry. Diego can help you with that. You should take some of my clothes too, put yours in a plastic bag and give them to the cops. I think that’s how it’s done, anyway.”

“It’s how all the cop shows do it,” Sherry offers. With a plan spelled out for her, she doesn’t seem quite so nervous. Vanya softens her smile a bit more. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Now, one more important question: how do you take your tea?”

Sherry smiles back tentatively and the knot in Vanya’s chest eases just a little.

~

Sherry calls three days later and starts babbling before Vanya even has the chance to ask how she got her number.

“I got a restraining order on him,” Sherry states firmly. She sounds giddy. “They have his blood just like you told me they’d want it and they took my clothes for prints or DNA or what-the-fuck-ever and I told them what I told you and they found out he has a record and I got a restraining order on him. I mean, it’s in the process, but it’ll be done tomorrow.”

“That’s great, Sherry,” Vanya hooks the phone under her chin and sets her violin down on the table. Allison, who is rifling nosily through Vanya’s library, perks up with interest. She still hasn’t quite gotten over the fact she missed all the action. Her pouting has been ridiculous.  “I’m so happy for you. You were really brave.”

“I called because I wanted to say thank you.” Vanya blinks rapidly for a minute before Sherry continues. “You didn’t have to let me in, or take care of me, or get your brother to help or do any of the things you did for me. You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and not answered the door.”

“No, I couldn’t have. You were hurt and scared. Nobody would’ve turned you away.”

There’s a smile in her voice now. “I think you think there’s a lot of good in the world, Vanya Hargreeves. I’m glad you do; we need more people like you.”

“I’m just ordinary,” Vanya tells her. This whole conversation is rankling her; she’s never been comfortable with praise and the fact that she doesn’t deserve it now is twisting her stomach into knots. “You don’t have to thank me for being a decent human being.”

“No.” Sherry draws the word out into two syllables. “But I do need to thank you for being a hero.”

Vanya is shaking a little when she hangs up. Allison looks at her very carefully. “How did she know to come here, anyway?”

“Some of the kids who follow me sometimes,” Vanya replies absently, picking up her violin. Maybe if she plays she'll feel more at ease. She’s felt better about her music recently, like she can connect with it more now that she’s not taking her meds as often. “They stop in for the discounted pastries. Apparently there’s been some chatter about that thing with Eddie.”

“Seems like more and more people know to find the White Violin for help.”

She tries not to bristle, she really does, but years of childhood rivalry and upset raise their head. Vanya can feel her shoulders rising towards her ears by reflex and tries to relax. The overhead fan creaks as it sways. “I know you don’t approve, but I’m really not looking for a fight, Allison. Not from you and not from anybody else. I just want to do the right thing.”

“I know.” When Vanya whips her head around in surprise, her sister’s face is gentle and open for perhaps the first time Vanya can remember. Allison tilts her head, considering. “And maybe you are. Doing the right thing, that is.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks and Vanya can’t help her grin. The fan stops swaying as Allison returns it.

~

The next knock at her door arrives at four P.M. the next day. Vanya still isn't ready for it, but at least it's less jarring. She stands from where she'd been polishing her violin and wipes her hands on a rag. No one else is home right now- and isn't that strange, thinking of her siblings coming back to her apartment every night and calling it home? Klaus has taken Allison out to his favorite haunts and Diego has an afternoon shift today. 

So who is at the door?

"Did you forget the key I gave you Klaus- Oh!" Vanya blinks up at the man standing outside. "You're not Klaus."

The man laughs and holds up a shabby violin. "No, I'm Leonard Peabody. I'm your four o'clock?"

Chapter Text

The first phone call comes one morning a few days later just as Vanya is slipping on her gloves. It snowed last night and she isn’t looking forward to walking on the icy sidewalk. There are about fifty-fifty odds that Diego or Allison will be the one to call her out on the fact that none of her boots have good enough tread for the winter. 

Vanya fumbles the phone off of its dock with one hand, pulling off one cotton glove for a better grip before answering, slightly more breathless than she means to be. “Hello?”

“Miss Vanya?”

Dread drops like a brick of ice into the pit of her stomach. “Pogo?”

“Yes. It’s lovely to hear from you, Miss Vanya. Are you well?”

“Why are you calling?” She blanches after a short silence. “Oh, I mean, I’m well. Sorry, it’s just- why are you calling?”

There’s a long enough pause that Vanya imagines he may have hung up on her for her rudeness. Then Pogo sighs and states in a very careful voice, “your father wishes to speak with you.”

“Uh,” Vanya says. Then she hangs up.

She stares at the receiver hanging on her wall for so long her eyes start to prickle from dryness. Then she pulls on her glove, blinks at the phone uncertainly and swallows hard.

“Yep,” she nods to herself. “Yep. Okay. So there’s that.”

Then she goes to work.

~

“Do I have to?” Klaus whines as she sets the ginger root in their basket. They’re at the late night grocery store near her apartment and have been arguing in relative peace for the past twenty minutes. Vanya is always glad of how deserted this place gets after seven o’clock, and she especially appreciates it now. Klaus is never quiet.

“You wanted to do this right,” Vanya reminds him, tone a little more indulgent than she means it to be. “The ginger will help settle our stomachs, and the carrots and celery and potatoes will go well in some broth. We can at least make this a little better on ourselves if we’re gonna do this.”

“I’ve never eaten so many green things in my life.”

“That’s not an accomplishment. Here, bananas and apples are good for detoxing too. Should we get more water bottles? I feel like we should get more water bottles.”

Klaus scrubs at the back of his head for the fortieth time since they got here and Vanya sighs. Shifting her basket to her other arm she takes a minute to find his hand and squeeze it in hers. Klaus is reluctant to meet her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this with me?”

“Can you do this without me?” He replies and doesn’t that just knock her for a loop. Vanya considers it and is not surprised but- pleased, she supposes, at the fact that he lets her have some quiet. His eyes are so much sharper than she ever remembered. His palm is clammy but soft under her fingers. Touching is easier with him than it is with their other siblings.

“I’m really scared, but I want to do this,” she tells him. They’ve talked about it for hours these last few weeks but they were both too shy and skittish to get right out with it until tonight. Klaus’s suggestion to 'just go cold turkey' came out of the blue the second they stepped into this store. Vanya is just...going with it. “I don’t want to be who Dad made me be anymore, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughs and it comes so close to breaking her heart. Klaus’s eyes dart to the side and he pauses, listening. Vanya waits him out. Finally his lips pull up to one side and he nods at the air over her right shoulder. Then his eyes are back on her. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

“Me neither.” Vanya tightens her fingers again before dropping his hand. “I’m glad you’re the one here with me, Klaus.”

He grins and doesn’t even complain when she hands him a bunch of bananas. 

It’s at the point now that sometimes people at the orchestra or the grocery store or, hell, on the bus come up to her or point or stare for a minute and say (entirely too loudly, every time) something along the lines of “Hey, aren’t you the White Violin?” That thing with the car and the other thing with Dennis got a lot more T.V. coverage than she'd thought they did, apparently.

This time it's a woman who is definitely old enough to be her grandmother. Vanya blinks at the older woman balancing her grocery basket in the crook of her arm, weathered face lifted into a smile. The hope in those cloudy blue eyes unsettles her. “Oh, no, I-”

“Hell yeah she is!” Klaus half flops against Vanya’s shoulder, causing her to grunt as she takes his weight. He has a tendency to act like a ragdoll at the most inconvenient of times, but usually Diego is there to take the brunt of it. 

“Klaus!”

Her brother grins and ruffles her hair with one hand, waving at the elderly woman with the other. “This little lady has been saving the day left and right.”

“No I haven’t,” Vanya mutters.

“I wanted to thank you,” the woman says. Vanya shifts her feet and starts looking for potential exits. Her stomach roils; she hates socializing at the best of times, but about this? Now? No one is supposed to know- to care- that she's doing this White Violin stuff. “Because of you, my grandkids feel safer going out on the street.”

“They- they should really still look after themselves." Vanya tries. She’s cut off quickly by the sound of gunshots.

“Down.” Her brother’s voice is hard, and she can almost see him slipping back into what little training he hasn’t repressed. Klaus grabs her arm, she grabs the old woman, and all three drop to their knees. Vanya tries to cushion the fall as much as she can for her, but the old woman still groans and clutches at her knees. Her groceries and those that Klaus had been helping Vanya collect scatter across the tiles, the old woman’s cans bursting in a colorful array of juices and mixing with Vanya’s produce. Klaus’s arm catches on the cart of apples they had been inspecting on the way down and a whole stack of them rain down on their heads.

“Ow,” Vanya yelps as one catches her right above her eyebrow. Klaus has his arms over his head but reaches out to cover the back of her scalp with one hand. He presses her down further and Vanya realizes he’s trying to make sure her head isn’t visible above the apple cart. She scrambles to do the same for the old woman. 

There’s yelling coming from up near the cash register. Vanya looks at Klaus. His mouth is set in a grim line. “Stick up,” he murmurs, gesturing up to the corner of the produce aisle. Vanya’s mind is blank for a moment, searching for what he’s pointing out. Then she sees it: a security mirror, it’s dome allowing them a fairly unobstructed view down the cereal aisle to the registers. She can see a tiny figure waving its arms in the air to the tune of the yelling up front. It seems like there’s only one man.

“Nobody moves and nobody gets hurt!” Vanya catches through the roaring in her ears. She could just stay here, with her brother, where it's safe. But there's only one employee up there and he must be so scared...

“Stay here,” she whispers. Klaus’s hand tightens on the back of her head in response and for a second she thinks he may try to hold her down. 

“Vanya, don’t,” he hisses furiously as she pulls away, crouching at the edge of the cart to get a better view around the corner. “He has a gun, Vanya, this is not the time to be a hero.”

“Good thing I’m not a hero, then.” She sprints for the end of the cereal aisle before he can retort. 

The few customers who were straggling are scattered about, some kneeling with their hands up, some flat on the floor. Vanya almost trips on a little girl and her mother huddled on the floor in the cereal aisle. Their cart has rolled to the end of the lane, and Vanya will have to move it to get passed. The gunman’s shouting is much louder here.

“What are you doing?” The woman whispers harshly. She clutches at her daughter, who can’t be more than seven. Tears are streaming down both their faces, but the woman is scowling. Vanya creeps a few steps forward, glances back and tries to smile. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she tells them, more for the girl’s sake than anything else. Her thoughts are racing and her own pulse sounds so loud in her ears. Klaus is right; she’s never taken on firearms before. What can she do? She can’t lift the man above her head and throw him through the glass door. She can’t rumor him to put the gun down and turn himself in. She can’t throw a knife into his shoulder or teleport behind him and knock him out or call ghosts to help her or unleash monsters on him. She’s just Vanya.

I’m afraid there’s just nothing special about you.

Something inside turns to steel. 

She’s all that she’s got, right now. She has to be enough.

Thankfully her sneakers, while unsteady on snow, are very worn in and practically silent on the tile floors. Vanya hurries forward on relatively fleet feet. Beyond the shopping cart in her way, she can see the cashier, hands up and brow sweaty. Before him, with his back to her, a man waves a gun erratically. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. If there is more yelling Vanya can’t hear it; all her hearing seems to be focused on her own heartbeat.  She pauses for only a moment, waiting until the gun is pointing at the ceiling, probably ready to fire more warning shots. Then she charges.

Vanya hits the shopping cart with all her bodily strength, shoving it the last few yards between them and ramming it aggressively into the backs of the man’s knees. Her anxiety or fight-or-flight reflex or something must be really kicking in because for a second Vanya’s vision goes a sort of filmy white. The cart almost explodes forward out of her hands and the man’s knees crumple from the force. He goes down with a cut off scream and the gun skitters across the floor.

Without thinking, Vanya hauls herself forward, knocking the cart out of her way, and curls her hands around the magazine stand which resides beside the cash register. Even though something in the back of her head tells her that she’s not going to be strong enough to pull it down, Vanya puts her back into it anyway.

The sound of her heart is so loud. It’s overtaking everything. The white is so bright before her eyes. Her hands feel stronger than they ever have, her grip like iron. She feels like she can bend metal in her fingers like Luther used to.

The magazine rack comes toppling down atop the gunman. It cracks across his back with a dull sound, booklets and merchandise sliding in a glossy avalanche to the floor. He doesn’t move for a second but when he starts struggling weakly underneath the damage Vanya has caused, the cashier has the presence of mind to leap for the pistol lying innocently about a yard away. He's little more than a teenager, face still full of baby fat, and he doesn’t seem to want to touch the weapon more than he has to. Wordlessly, he shoves it at her.

Vanya feels the swelling sensation that was taking place in her chest slowly deflate. Her eyesight is slowly returning to normal as she hefts the gun in her hands and kicks the man’s shin.

“Don’t move,” she tells him, hoping her voice doesn’t shake too much. Then to the cashier, “call the cops. Ask for Diego Hargreeves.”

His eyes are wide, but he nods and scurries away. Vanya tries desperately to remember all the times Diego has cleaned his own service weapon at her apartment, lazily going through all the bits and bobs for her when she asked. He always made it seem far lighter than it actually is when the gun sits in her palms. 

Oh well. The simple fact that she has it trained on him and he’s on the floor seems to be enough for the guy to know when he’s beat. 

Later, when Vanya is sitting on the edge of the ambulance she told Diego she really didn’t need, with a shock blanket she let him wrap around her shoulders with only light grumbling (“Humor me you big idiot, you just rushed into a hostage situation-” “It was not a hostage situation, Diego, relax.” “Oh, I know you didn’t just tell me to relax!”), the cashier comes to shake her hand.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you in action,” he says much too excitedly.

“What?” The kid grins at her, his hand pumping hers vigorously.

“The White Violin! I can’t wait til I tell my little brother I got saved by the White Violin. He loves you! I liked the contacts, by the way; do you put those on to fight crime?” 

“Wait, but I’m not-” But he’s gone before she can properly deny it, waving at her over his shoulder and compliantly following more paramedics to another ambulance. He’s probably going to get his own shock blanket.

Klaus slides into the space next to her. Sometimes she wonders how he fits all those gangly limbs into small spaces. For now, he wraps one arm around her back and Vanya lets herself curl into his side. She’s so tired; ever since that strange instance with the white vision her eyes have felt heavy and she’s been yawning uncontrollably. The paramedics chalked it up to shock. Big surprise. “The White Violin, indeed.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of her head.

Vanya hums, feeling contented for once in her life. After a few minutes, she feels another figure shuffle up to her other side; Diego must be done with the police business. 

His fingers are gentle when they run through her hair. “You’re gonna have to make a statement in the morning,” Diego explains softly. “I’ll get them to go easy on you.”

Vanya hums again and leans into the comfort he offers. She can hear the grin in his voice. “Come on, let’s get you home. You guys look dead on your feet.”

“Hey!” Klaus exclaims. “I resemble that remark.”

~

“Everything is terrible and I am in hell.” Klaus falls back against her couch, limbs splayed dramatically. His antics do not take away from the pallor of his skin or the layer of sweat shining on his face. He looks gaunt and tired and worn thin.

Vanya isn’t feeling much better. “I swear to God if you don’t stop complaining I’m gonna slit your throat.”

“Whoa, okay, I know you’re a hero and all, Vanya, but violence is not always the answer.”

“Shut up and drink your herbal tea.”

God, but does Vanya wish for a damn cup of coffee. She knew she shouldn’t have told Allison and Diego about her pact with Klaus to get clean this week. They’re always over dramatic and this time is no different; they cleaned her apartment of anything resembling something close to unhealthy foods, and they’ve been plying the two with water and cold compresses and blankets and soothing words and Vanya is about ready to commit homicide in her own home. Klaus doesn’t seem like he’d stop her at this point.

The vomiting and fever have gone down (just this morning Vanya was able to hold down a whole piece of toast, although she’s reluctant to push herself far beyond that) and she hopes that the shaking will conclude in a day or two. It’s been something of a competition between herself and Klaus to see who gets clean first; although Klaus has been taking more variety and quantity of drugs than her, Vanya has got him beat on the length of time she’s been under the influence.

Still, that first night when they’d had a party flushing their remaining stash down the drain was something to remember. Vanya doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the sight of those pills washing away. Some great weight lifted off her chest that night.

The phone has been a constant source of irritation for both of their headaches, though. It’s been ringing off the hook every morning at exactly nine o’clock, then the afternoon at three o’clock, and in the evening at six o’clock. Vanya’s got a pretty good idea who could be that punctual every day. Klaus and Allison both suggested just breaking the thing and Diego looked like he might cut the cord last night. 

So when it rings again for the second time today, Vanya thinks nothing of the fact that it’s only two o’clock and she isn’t expecting Pogo to call for another hour yet. It’s just that her headache is so bad today- the shrillness pierces through her temple like a hot pickaxe. 

“ What .” She snaps violently. Her hand feels close to crushing the device.  Her head throbs.

“Did I call at a bad time?”

“Wh-oh!” Vanya clears her throat. She can feel Klaus’s eyes on her as she turns her face away from him. “Uh, hi, Leonard. I didn’t, um. I didn't know it was you. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His laugh is warm. Her headache doesn’t seem as bad now. “I was wondering… That lesson went really well the other day, and I- that is, if you’d like- I was wondering if you’d like to go for coffee? To, uh, get to know each other?”

The warmth spreads through her fingertips, up her arm, and settles somewhere beneath her ribs. “Yeah. Yes. I mean, I’d like that.”

He sounds like he lights up like a Christmas tree. It’s frankly adorable. “Great! Say, Tuesday at eight?”

She winces; that will only be about eight days into her detox. “How about next Sunday? Maybe ten?” She’ll be fine by then. Probably. 

“Of course. Oh, this is great! I’ll see you then.”

Klaus wiggles his eyebrows at her when she hangs up. Vanya makes a face at him, wipes the sweat from her forehead as her nausea rolls in her stomach and swears when the phone rings again.

“I swear to God-” she mutters and then pastes on a fake cheerfulness. “Hello, Vanya Hargreeves.” If it’s Pogo again she’s going to scream.

“Vanya? It’s Luther.”

Chapter Text

Talking with Luther is...awkward. It’s awkward. There’s a lot of long pauses and unnecessary small talk and shared, unspoken history. Vanya is practically choking on how awkward it is. But Luther is nothing if not dependable; two o’clock, every other afternoon, she picks up the phone and every time hears a hesitant, “Vanya? It’s Luther. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

And maybe it’s the distance or the years or the softness of his voice or the tightness of her throat or the thought of him all alone in that big, dark house with only their father and a robot and a monkey for company, but Vanya always answers, “Of course not, Luther. Of course not. What’s up?”

Luther, thankfully, does not ask her to come back. She asked him once, after four other phone calls, why Pogo is the one saddled with that particular task.

“I mean, no offense, but if you’re trying to, I don’t know, lull me into a false sense of security before asking, I wanna know.”

“No, no, I-” Luther stops, sighs. “Okay, Dad did give me your number because he wanted me to report on how you’re doing.”

Vanya’s blood runs cold, and whatever expression is on her face, it’s enough for Allison to get up from the couch where she’s writing to Claire and squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. Vanya doesn’t really feel it. “He sent you to spy on me.”

It’s not quite a question and she can hear him wincing over the line. Before her body can go through the motions of hanging up on him, Luther stops her. “Wait, wait, just- yeah, I guess he did want me to check up on you- for your own safety-”

“Don’t. Don’t ever try to convince me he cares about my safety. About any of our safety. Look what he had children doing, Luther. You were kids.”

“We were powered.”

“You were children!” Her voice is high enough to shatter glass. Are they having an earthquake? The table seems to be vibrating underneath her fingertips.

“Okay,” Luther concedes after a short, angry silence. “But that’s not what I wanted to say. I just- it’s good to hear from you Vanya- from. From someone.”

And just like that, Vanya’s not angry anymore. Something too close to grief wells up in her throat. Her brother, all alone in that big house. Would their brave leader ever find the guts to leave?

“Okay,” Vanya says, wondering almost idly if it will ever, in fact, be okay. “Alright. Just- no recording conversations like he used to, alright? And tell him to go to hell from me.”

She’s surprised when that manages to make him laugh.

~

After coffee, Leonard takes her on a walk through the Bricktown Municipal Park. It’s a grey day, but the snow isn’t slated until later this week and Allison’s insistence on a shopping spree left Vanya with a snazzy new winter coat to try out. Leonard reaches out, gently fingers the sheepskin collar of her lapel, and smiles softly. Vanya’s heart beats staccato against her ribs. 

“Beautiful,” Leonard murmurs. He takes her hand and doesn’t specify if he meant her or the coat. “So tell me about you.”

“Oh, um,” Vanya stutters. She’s not used to dates, or walking in parks or talking about herself. Her stomach has been doing backflips for the last two hours. “There’s not much to tell, really. I play the violin. I teach the violin. I have a big family.”

“Lucky,” Leonard chuckles. Everything about him is gentle and soft and nice- it’s like wrapping herself in a fleece blanket at the end of a long winter’s night. Vanya basks in it. “I was an only child.”

“Oh, it's not that great, believe me.” Vanya grins too, lets herself not think too much about Leonard playing with her fingers as they round a bend. The entrance to the park is on their right, letting out to the street, and she sees couples passing- they must look just like those people, she realizes with a warm flush- and single men and women hurrying to work or to family. Sundays are not too busy in the park, fortunately, and they pretty much have the place to themselves. She does, however, recognize Cate and Jean loitering near the frozen pond. Leonard tries to steer her clear but Vanya waves and Cate nods at her. Jean grins, cracked tooth gleaming in the low sunlight. “It wasn’t all sunshine and roses. We fought pretty badly growing up.”

“Oh? Were you a troublemaker?”

Vanya laughs. “No, not me, so much. But we- our father was a difficult man. It made growing up- well, harder than it had to be. And I was sort of- sickly as a kid. Had to take medicine, couldn’t go out like the others. It wasn’t fun.”

“That must have been rough,” Leonard sounds sympathetic. But Vanya’s shoulders tense under her new coat anyway; she hates this. She’s never been good at talking about family and if he knew who they were- who she was… “They must not have been very good to you.”

“What?” Vanya jerks her head up, startled. Leonard shrugs.

“I mean, kids can be kinda cruel to those that are different from them. And if there were a lot of you, you must have felt left out when you couldn’t play and stuff, right?”

“Right.” Vanya agrees stiffly. She pulls her hand out of his and stuffs it in her pocket. “I don’t think I want to talk about my family anymore.”

Leonard’s eyes are wide, his mouth hangs open. She knows that in the next second he’s going to reach out, to soothe and smooth things over. Vanya is already sure she’s butchered this and she can’t do anything right, she knows he didn’t mean it that way-

A yell goes up near the entrance to the park. They both turn to see a woman waving her arms and shrieking as she chases a man running towards the couple. The man is in dark clothes and a hood. He’s holding a white leather bag in his arms.

Vanya already knows what’s happening before the woman cries out, “He’s got my purse!”

“Vanya, run!” Leonard takes several steps back, hands up around his shoulders, completely submissive. He sounds just like the voice that taunts her in her own psyche sometimes . Run, Vanya. You can’t help them.

Vanya does run. She sprints forward, bends low, and goes for the thief’s knees, just like Diego taught her to. He tries to swerve around her but she hooks an arm out, catches him around the leg and throws all her weight forward.

The pair land on the ground. Instead of wrestling him for the purse, Vanya scrambles to sit up and hauls herself atop his chest. He’s struggling and Vanya gets punches twice in the side of the head and kicked once in the kidney for her efforts. But in the end, he's slightly overweight and winded and she’s quick and wiry and when she rabbit punches him in the nose (another lesson, this one from Allison) it’s over.

“Don’t get up,” Vanya warns, tearing the bag from his grip.

The man’s eyes go wide behind the broken nose and he whines. “White Violin.”

Oh, well. This is her life now, she guesses. “And don’t you forget it.”

By the time Leonard is done fussing at her and the woman gathers her belongings, thanking Vanya profusely, the thief has scrambled away. But that’s okay. She can leave the actual crime fighting to Diego. And Luther, she guesses.

“Where did you learn that?” Leonard asks, bewildered.

Vanya smiles. “My family taught me.”

~

Luther breaks routine to call her that night at eleven o’clock. Allison blinks at her in disgust but allows Vanya to slip out of bed to pad to the phone. She does follow this time, though; can't miss any of the action after sitting out last time. On the couch, Klaus mutters in his sleep and rolls over. But Diego is still awake, leaning on her windowsill and looking out at the street. She thinks he may go to his own apartment tonight; he tends to leave late and come back to hers after his morning shifts on Mondays, just to check in. She and Diego are the only ones with any real job schedule, after all.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Vanya.”

That’s all it takes for her to know that something is very wrong. She has never heard Luther sound so congested, so wet and sad and- and broken . He’s crying .

“Luther? What’s wrong?” Oh God. Is it Dad? Is it Mom? Pogo? Did something happen?

“I- sorry, it’s late. Shit, I didn’t even think.” He sniffles a little.

“Luther, tell me what’s wrong,” Vanya orders firmly. Allison grips her shoulders from behind and Vanya lifts her hand to her sister’s. It’s grounding.

“I just c-called to-” He has to cut himself off and clear his voice, “to say goodbye.”

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t tell you what happened to make me start calling, not really. I- I was in a bad accident a few months ago, Vanya. It was a chemical thing, it- it burned me, pretty bad. I wound up in a coma. I almost died.”

Her throat is too tight, airways collapsing. She can’t do anything but listen. 

“Dad- he- it was an experimental treatment. It worked but I’m not...me. Anymore.”

“What did he do to you?” She can’t make it pass her lips with any more strength than a whisper. Diego has sensed something is wrong by now and has risen from his seat. She watches, unseeing, as he shakes Klaus awake, holds a finger to his lips, and mouths ‘Luther’ to him. Klaus glances at her quizzically and Vanya cannot answer him.

“He saved my life,” Luther tells her honestly. He’s still crying. “It changed me. It was Pogo’s blood.”

“Pogo’s- oh, God. Oh God, Luther .”

“But that’s not what I called for. I’m going away for awhile, Vanya. A long time. Dad- he thinks the apocalypse is coming soon and he wants me to do research for him. On the- on the moon.”

“What?”

Luther rushes ahead, like he can’t get it all out fast enough. Vanya is reeling. “It’ll be a long time. Four years. But it’ll be alright. It’ll be alright. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He just wants to know someone out there cares enough to say goodbye to him.

No. No. She’s not letting this happen.

“You’re not going.”

“I have to, Vanya. Dad-”

“After what he did to you, you’re really going to stand up and tell me he has the right to tell you to go to the fucking moon for four years? No. You’re not going, Luther. I’m not letting you.”

There’s a pause and Vanya knows she’s winning. It’s a hollow victory. 

“Luther,” Vanya says very carefully. “You come here. Right now.”

Her brother struggles for a moment in which her heart is too loud in her head and then admits, “I don’t think I can drive like this.”

“Diego is going to get you. Allison will help.” Vanya tells him, and flaps her hand at Diego’s disgruntled face. Their sister is already a whirlwind, pulling on a coat, grabbing her keys. “ Now. I want you to wait out in the courtyard for him. Be quiet about it, okay? Don’t tell anyone you’re going.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Oh, but how it breaks her heart to hear the great Number One’s voice sound so small. Without Reginald Hargreeves, who was he, after all?

Her brother, that’s who. Luther will still be her brother at the end of the world. “I’m sure. You get ready, you meet Diego, and you come home, you hear me, Luther?”

“Okay. Okay.”

It tears something in her chest when she has to hang up. She hopes Diego is quick about it.

~

She is so angry she could punch a hole in the drywall. 

“What are we going to do?” Even though Klaus is speaking relatively calmly (for Klaus), his voice grates at Vanya’s ears. It’s worse than a week ago, when they were in the middle of detox and every creak of the floorboards sent her head pounding. Now her ears are ringing. It’s her mind playing tricks on her, but she keeps hearing the sound of her phone’s chime, and what if it really is ringing and she’ll pick up and it’ll be Luther saying, no, actually he changed his mind and, really, Dad is right, and he’s heard the moon is lovely this time of year. She keeps hearing her brother’s sad, broken little voice. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright.”

“I’m going to kill our father,” Vanya seethes. Klaus presses a hand to his chest, looking torn between genuine shock and giggling. 

“Are you sure that is the correct course of action, sister dear? I mean, I’ve heard patricide is a bit gauche these days.”

“He has no right!” Vanya whirls around, pounds her fist on the counter so hard the dishes in her drying rack rattle dangerously. The sharp sound soothes something hot and cloying in her chest and she does it again. “No right! How dare he?”

Klaus puts his hands up, any trace of humor gone from his face. “Okay, Vanya. Okay, just calm down.”

Vanya doesn’t listen. The pure, harsh instinct to give in to that rage inside her chest is too tempting. “After all he did to us all our lives, he thinks he has, has the right to do this to Luther now? Can you imagine what that must have been like, waking up after months with a whole new body? And Dad, Dad-” she has to pause to laugh, she has to, because violence is fast becoming the only rational response here and she doesn’t want to lash out at Klaus. 

“Vanya…”

“Dad just wants to immediately ship him off to the goddamn moon, Klaus. The moon! The fucking gall of it all, it, it astounds me.”

“Vanya.”

She pounds her fist down again, again, a third time. The dishes crash together, her coffee mug slides to the floor with a clatter and Vanya doesn’t care. “He screwed us all up so bad. He isolated me; I was so lonely, all my life Klaus, you have no idea. And- and now he’s trying to do that to Luther.”

“Vanya!”

Her eyes are clouding over, her breathing is coming too fast, she’s taking great whooping breaths and her hands are trembling when she punches them down again. “We didn’t even know he almost died! I’m not letting this happen, I’m not, I’m not-”

“Vanya, for God's sake, shut up and look!”

“What!” Vanya screams at her brother, whipping back around to glare at him.

And then she sees it.

Three plates, an assortment of butter knives and forks and glasses and mugs and the entire drying rack itself are all hovering three feet off the counter. Vanya gapes at the contents of her cupboards hanging gently in the air and the shock snuffs out her anger like a candle flame. 

The dishes go crashing down. Vanya utters an embarrassing little whimper, shying away from the imminent destruction and Klaus yelps, throwing out his hands as if to catch it all from across her living room and are his hands glowing blue-

 A transparent, blue figure shutters into being and dives to catch a glass and two plates before they shatter on her kitchen floor. The rest of the dishes, unfortunately, are entirely out of reach and the resulting crash will surely earn her that last dreaded noise complaint.

Vanya gets one glimpse of a familiar, startled face wavering transparent about a foot in front of her before the figure winks back out of existence. The rescued plates and glass fall too, but only a few inches. The glass rolls across her tiles and bumps against Vanya’s toes.

Vanya stares at Klaus. Klaus stares at Vanya.

“What the fuck was that?” Vanya asks very carefully.

Klaus laughs wildly, a little deranged and says, “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Chapter Text

“Holy shit,” Klaus says, with feeling. “Holy shit. ”

It’s fine.” Vanya infuses her voice with more firm knowledge than she has ever actually felt. “It’s alright.”

“It’s- it’s not- holy shit -”

“It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!” Klaus flails his hands at the mess on her kitchen floor. He makes an aborted whine when she bends down and starts picking up the larger shards of porcelain. “You just- and I just- holy shit, Vanya, you have powers!”

“No.”

“Wh- no? ”

Vanya shakes her head. “Nope.”

Her brother stifles a hysterical giggle. “You can’t just- just deny the fact you have powers, Van. Believe me, I would know.”

“Well, maybe that levitation stuff was you. Maybe you did it.”

Truth is, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to think if it turns out that was her. All this time, all her life, she’s spent all of it telling herself that she’s fine with being ordinary. She’d made peace with not being special a long time ago; hell, this whole ‘hero’ thing did more for her self-worth issues than finding latent superpowers ever could. And now she’s just, what? Supposed to roll with it? Go back on everything she worked so hard to accept? Change her entire world view because of a freak accident that lasted all of five minutes?

No. It’s just not going to happen. 

But Klaus was all too incisive when high; now Vanya can feel those sharp eyes flaying her open. “No, I don’t think so. That blue ghost? Yeah, that was me. That floaty-floaty-boom-crash thing? All you, baby sis.”

“How do you know? You haven’t been sober since we were thirteen, you don’t really know what you can do.”

His head tilts, expression too calculating for her liking. “Yeah, but you’ve been drugged longer than I have, haven’t you? Maybe you don’t know what you’re capable of.”

Vanya doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

~

They get the mess cleaned up pretty quickly, although Klaus does cut himself on some glass and Vanya has to dig out the first-aid kit. He proves to be a very fidgety patient.

Just before she hears Diego’s key turning in the lock, Vanya plucks up her courage and raises her eyes to Klaus’s. He’s sitting on the counter, swinging his legs and humming idly as she bandages his hand. There’s even more nervous energy in him now that he’s clean and his jostling has cost them half a roll of medical tape in the last ten minutes. But he stills at her question.

“The man who caught the dishes…” Vanya’s mouth has never been drier. “Was that…?”

A pause. “Yeah,” Klaus tells her hoarsely. “He says hi.”

Vanya doesn’t get time to do more than blink away the wetness in her eyes before the door opens and there’s suddenly enough commotion in her living room to wake the whole apartment building.

“Duck your head,” Allison is advising.

At the same time she can hear Diego berating someone to “Walk in sideways, you idiot, you’re too wide to fit!”

Luther’s familiar voice, less tinny now that she’s finally hearing him without a landline in the way, is saying, “Guys, I know how to use a door -”

“It is the middle of the night and this is still my apartment, you guys,” Vanya reminds them. She turns the corner, Klaus on her heels, and resists the urge to put her hands on her hips. “So that means I get to tell you when to shut up. Like right about-”

Oh. Wow. 

Luther is…. big . A lot bigger than she remembers. His clothes (the overcoat and gloves are okay right now, but is he planning on wearing those in the summer?) can barely contain him. Vanya can’t help but think that it looks like his muscles have swelled to monstrous size. She feels like punching herself in the face right after the thought floats through her mind, though. Her brother could never be a monster.

“Now,” Vanya trails off. Is her voice too high? It feels like her voice is too high. 

Diego snorts, scuttling out from behind Luther where their once leader has stopped just inside the room. Number One looks uncomfortable and larger than life and unreal. Number Two just looks tired. Well, that and pissed off, but Vanya’s pretty sure that’s just his face. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how we reacted.”

“Diego!” Allison glares but Diego just waves her off, sighing and slouching into Vanya’s armchair.

“Welcome to the party, big guy!” Luther looks a little overwhelmed at Klaus’s bubbly entrance, but he does consent to his brother wrapping an arm around his shoulder. (It as far as Klaus can actually reach.) Vanya doesn’t miss how gently he rests one hand against Klaus’s skinny back. “Don’t worry, we have snacks.”

“So what now?” Diego sounds bored but Vanya can read him better than that after months of his overprotectiveness forcing them into the same household again. His gaze is sharp in his tired face and he won’t meet anyone’s eyes. Allison isn’t much better; Vanya can remember many a time her sister had started messing with her curls when she was flustered.

“Now it’s almost one in the morning,” Vanya tells them. “And some of us actually have work in the morning. Luther, let me get you some blankets and a pillow; you’ll have to take the floor tonight, but I think I might have an air mattress we can dig out in the morning. And we can all talk about anything bothering us later,” she adds with a pointed look in Klaus's direction. Her brother shrugs her off for the most part but gives her a slight nod. That's one good thing about Klaus; he always at least knows when someone's secrets are theirs to tell. Now she just has to make sure he doesn't blab without thinking. 

Luther smiles sheepishly and steps forward. Even as she takes his hand in hers, Vanya is intensely reminded how small she really is compared to him. It doesn’t stop her from looking up at him and seeing that little boy who didn’t want to admit he was afraid of thunderstorms when they were eight. 

“Hey,” she greets softly. The faint, pinched wrinkles between her brother’s eyes smooth over almost immediately. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? You’re home now.”

“Thank you,” her brother says and Vanya wishes she never had reason to hear that grateful tone in his voice.

It takes a lot of shuffling and grumbling and Allison eventually retreats to Vanya’s bedroom, ostensibly to keep out of the way (but Vanya can tell when someone is running away from doing the hard work, Allison ), but they finally get Luther more or less comfortably situated in front of the fireplace with a nest of all the blankets in Vanya’s linen closet. They have to move both her music stand and the coffee table to a corner, but it works. It’s only when she gets back into bed that Vanya allows herself to feel how tired she really is.

“I’m gonna need a bigger apartment,” she says to the ceiling. Allison throws an arm around her and buries her face into Vanya’s pillow.

~

She’s more tired than she’s ever been the next day. Allison has been kind enough to take over looking for a new apartment at least.

“I’m a grown woman, you know,” Vanya had reminded her mildly when her sister had all but ripped away the real estate listings that morning. “I can look for a place to live on my own.”

“You’re also only one person.” Allison had pulled her hair back and uncapped a pen, all business. “And you have two jobs, and three to four people mooching off of you at any given time, and, apparently, a boyfriend that no one but Klaus knows about- we’re gonna have a conversation about that later- so I think even you'd agree that you could use a little help.”

Vanya had sighed but Allison had gotten this soft, fragile look in her eyes and she’d held her tongue.

“Let me do this,” Allison told her. “I want to help you.”

Vanya had been very careful not to ask when she was returning home to Claire and Patrick, and had simply left for the orchestra instead. 

Which brings her to now, stepping out on the snowy, ice slicked street and wanting not for the first time that day to simply return to bed. Her mood picks up considerably, however, when a familiar voice calls her name.

“Leonard!” She can feel her cheeks stretching in a smile before she even thinks about it. Something that's been bothering her since they first met niggles at the back of her mind, though. "How do you know where I live?”

Her boyf- frien- person grins and offers his hand. Vanya takes it and sighs at the extra warmth. “Are you kidding me? Everybody knows where the White Violin lives. You’re all over the news, you know.”

“Ugh, you saw that?” She smacks her other palm to her face. It feels hot under her fingertips. What is he going to say? Is this why he even liked her in the first place? Will he hate her?

“Hey, I think it’s pretty amazing. Not everybody can say they’re dating a superhero.”

They stop at a crosswalk on the corner and Vanya risks a glance at his face. Leonard’s eyes are so kind and open it makes Vanya’s heart go all gooey and hot in her chest. There’s a moment where warmth is flooding her veins and her heart is beating so loudly in her head that Vanya almost misses the honking of horns and the screeching of tires.

“Kid!”

“Get out of the road!”

“Oh, my God! ”

Vanya is ripping away from Leonard and jumping down off the curb before she can even think about it. Her foot gets lodged in the dirty slush masquerading as a snowbank in the gutter but she tears free and leaves a boot behind. She doesn’t even look at him when she shoves her violin case into Leonard’s arms.

Because there’s a kid in the middle of the street and the light above them has just turned green. 

The child can’t be much more that seven or eight; Vanya can see his round, fat cheeks from where he kneels in the road, clutching his knee. He’s skinny and small, and reminds her all too painfully of Ben when they were young. His hair is dark against the winter wonderland around them. He is wailing, and a trail of blood slips down his right shin. He might have skinned a knee crossing the street.

There are headlights coming towards him at breakneck speed.

For a moment time slows around her. She can barely feel the gravel and road salt cutting into her stockinged foot as she bounds down the crosswalk towards him. Light swirls around her, there’s the screaming of metal, but Vanya’s eyes are only on the child and oh, god, what if she doesn’t get there in time-

The car is coming on fast, a truck of some sort, and Vanya has never hated cars more than this moment. But she’s there now, her arms are wrapping around the boy’s thin shoulders. She wants to throw them both out of the way, but the car is going too fast. Even as she sees the figure in the driver’s seat lunging for the handbrake she knows it is too late; with all this ice on the road the car can’t hope to stop in time.

Without thinking, Vanya throws her hand out, as if to stop it with just a gesture. She holds the child more firmly against her with the other arm, making sure to hide his eyes. He doesn’t deserve to see his end coming is the only frantic thought in her head.

Then the car just stops. 

Or, more accurately, the front of the car is pulled down by an invisible power, one that forces the front wheels to skid to a halt. Some great weight dents the hood and Vanya can see that the  back wheels are still turning. The rear of the car is almost lifting off the ground from the force of the inertia that no longer has anywhere to go. After a long moment, the wheels slow to a gentle spin and the back of the car lowers onto the pavement again. 

Vanya lowers her hand, blinking stupidly at the driver. The driver blinks back. 

The front of the car lifts as her hand drops, springing back into its original shape and height. The car slides forward a few feet before the driver stomps on the brakes again.

There is no movement, no sound, just her breathing and the wind.

Then the street explodes. People are running forward, there is shouting, Vanya sees the unmistakable flash of cameras. The kid in her arms brings his own up suddenly and Vanya doesn’t have time to startle before she gets a lapful of terrified child.

“Please don’t let me die,” he sobs into her shoulder and Vanya tightens her grip, bringing up one hand to ruffle his hair.

“It’s okay now,” she tells him, using the same voice she uses on her students when they are scared of a performance. “It’s okay. You’re alright. I won’t let you get hurt, okay?” 

She hugs him for a long time. Vanya thinks maybe she needs it more than the kid does at the moment. Thoughts swirl around her head without answer: what was that? Was that her? How could it have been? Did anyone else see that?

It’s only afterwards, when the boy’s mother is shaking her hand, tears on her face, and the driver is gasping for breath from residual fright, that Vanya feels an arm wrap around her shoulders and looks up to find Leonard by her side. Her violin case rests at his feet and in one hand he carries her forgotten boot. Vanya remembers her own foot now and winces at the cold dampness spread throughout her wool sock. She mumbles in gratitude when he hands her her shoe back.

“Yeah, I was right,” Leonard says conversationally. He smiles when she raises a brow at him. “Pretty amazing.”

His words are so sweet and his voice so kind that Vanya can almost convince herself there isn’t a shadow in his eyes, if only for a second.

Chapter Text

There’s a larger group of kids waiting for her after her rehearsal than usual that evening. Vanya takes one look at their face- hopeful, awed, some distrustful and a few simply bored- and groans. She has to fight the urge to drop her head in her hands when Cate congratulates her on being a hero.

“Heard there were some theatrics today,” Jean says, sidling up beside her. The night is freezing but the kids seem to be pretty well off in the clothes department; Vanya’s pretty sure she doesn’t want to know where they’ve scavenged all those winter coats from. “Eli was down the street followin’ ya when it happened- said you ‘bout near gave him a heart attack. That ain’t cool, Miss Violin; Eli’s a pretty old guy.”

“I don’t really understand what I did just yet,” Vanya tells them honestly. Cate bumps their shoulders and she gathers the strength to give them all a weak smile. Next comes the question that's been whirling around her head all day, the one that's had an endless pit of dread opening in her stomach since the near crash. “Do you think anybody saw that?”

“Miss Violin, hate to break it to ya, but literally everyone saw that.”

“I heard there were pictures taken!” Says a voice that sounds like it could be Kyle, a kid who couldn’t be more than twelve and the biggest beneficiary of Vanya’s meger mothering instincts. That boy has weaseled her out of so much coco.

“ I heard T.V. crews were pulling up,” Zoey puts in. Vanya grimaces at her smirk. “Think they’ll make comic books about you?”

“All right, that’s enough, go on, shoo.” Cate waves them off; she must have gotten a look at the despair on Vanya’s face. She waits until they've cleared off and it's only the two of them to brush a light, consoling hand against Vanya's elbow. “It’s not really that bad, you know.”

She sighs, runs a hand through her hair and curses quietly when her bun slowly starts to fall apart. The wind blows strands of hair into her eyes, her mouth. Her cheeks feel frostbitten. But it's the world around her that puts her more ill at ease than her own bodily discomfort; the snow is falling pretty constantly now, and the street back to her place seems deserted. It’s like everything has been soundproofed. The only things she can hear are her and Cate’s shoes tromping through the icy slush and her own heartbeat. It seems so loud in her head.

“How, exactly,” Vanya asks, “is it not that bad? I literally gained surprise superpowers overnight and now the entire world knows before I can even come to terms with it.”

“Okay, yeah, when you say it like that it sounds pretty bad. But most people would kill to be in your position, Vanya.”

There’s quiet for a moment between them. Vanya glances over at Cate. In all the months she’s followed Vanya home she's rarely actually stepped inside the apartment. Vanya’s grown used to making out her features under a streetlamp; the orange glow on her cheeks, the shadows sharpening under her eyes. It’s easy to think of Cate as older than she actually is, as someone worldly. God knows she’s at least only half as naive as Vanya is. And yet, in this moment, talking about superpowers, she looks distinctly her age, and something in Vanya cracks, just a little.

“I think I would have been ecstatic if this happened to me when I was your age,” Vanya murmurs; the honesty burns on the way up. “Hell, I would have loved this if it happened to me last year. But now…”

Cate tips her head towards her but keeps her eyes on their boots. She’s got remarkably good balance- better than Vanya’s at any rate.

“Now I think- well, I don’t know what to think. I think this could turn out really bad for me.”

“How so?”

“You know who I am, right? Who my family is?” 

“‘Course- there aren’t that many Hargreeves in New York and we always do our research.”

Vanya lets her mouth morph into a smile she knows doesn’t reach her eyes. “Smart girl. Anyway, being who I am, it means that I’ve- well, I’ve seen this all before, right? I’ve seen the discovering new powers, and the learning to control them, and the wanting to help people with them.

“But I’ve also seen how easy it is for someone to control you. How easily you can give up yourself- and your power- to someone else without even meaning to. How easily people like- like me, I guess, can be slipped underneath someone’s thumb even when we fight so hard to get away. My family, they always thought they were so strong, so untouchable; but one wrong word, one sharp look from my father had them all- all of them, even the most defiant ones- falling all over themselves to make it right. And you know why?”

She barely even needs Cate’s prompting “why?” to continue. It feels like some dam has broken in her brain, something that kept back all the flood of hot, vile words she’s needed to say for so long. It’s all pouring out of her, and even though Vanya feels a faint disgust at herself for unloading this on poor unsuspecting Cate, another, bigger part of her is glad that it's all spilling out into this silent, dark world of snow and loneliness. No one else needs to hear this, no one else needs to know. Better to let all this vitriol she’s pent up for years on end die a starving, cold death out here than to let it fester in her own home.

“Because they’re all so human. I’m human. And we all just want the people we love to love us back. Even if that means giving all of us to someone who doesn’t deserve it. The worst thing is, I think having powers just amplifies that need.”

I’m afraid there’s just nothing special about you.

Yeah, I was right. Pretty amazing.

Bile rises. She forces it back down.

“Do you think that’s what’s going to happen to you?” Cate asks finally. They’re nearing her building. Vanya wonders where Cate is planning to sleep tonight. Her eyes glitter, sharp and focused when she looks up at Vanya. “You’re going to give all of you to someone who doesn’t deserve it? Who uses you like your family got used?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Vanya shrugs. “I don’t want my powers to be who I am to the people I love. Because if that happens, I don’t know how anyone will love me instead of my powers.” 

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Cate prods. 

Oh, what the hell. Kid already knew way more personal information than Vanya has given her own family in recent years- in ever, really. “I don’t want this to be the only thing I love about me either.”

It’s so very quiet. Her heart is beating so hard it feels close to breaking her ribs. “I know- I know how messed up I am because of what my father did to me. I can see it when I look at my family; it’s like looking into a broken mirror. All the same parts are there, just matched up to the edges just a little wrong. We’re all so fucked up and I- I could barely keep myself together without powers. Now I’ve got this stupid, all important responsibility to keep them in check hanging over my head and I- I just want to be okay, you know? I just want to be okay. And I was almost okay being normal.”

Cate stops walking and it takes Vanya a few steps to realize. She looks around- they’re at her apartment building. Should she ask Cate to come inside? It’s really the least she can do after Cate withstood all that ranting from her. Kid probably thinks she’s a nutcase.

But Cate shakes her head as soon as Vanya’s mouth opens. “For the record, I think you’re wrong.”

“Wh-what?”

“I think you’re wrong,” Cate repeats. “You started all this hero stuff before you had powers, Vanya. And I’m pretty sure that if you lost those powers tomorrow you’d still jump in front of any speeding car for any stupid kid. You may have thought you were struggling, you may have thought you couldn't- or wouldn't- be loved when you were normal, but you were a hero to the rest of us a long time ago. And I think that’s what people love about you, not any stupid Jedi mind tricks you can pull.”

Vanya blinks; it's the only thing she can think to do. For a second the girl looks a little shocked at what just came out of her own mouth, too. But then their eyes meet and she seems to steel herself, snapping her jaw shut and nodding once. She turns to go before Vanya’s even done catching flies.

The teenager offers a lazy salute and pulls her jacket closer around herself. Vanya knows from experience that she’ll be gone in a moment, disappearing into the shadows and blending so well she’ll have a snowflake’s chance in hell of watching Cate walk away.  Vanya nods back and offers a little wave of her own numb fingers. Then she faces the doors.

Time to face the music.

“Oh, but wait.” She turns back. Vanya lets herself lean forward a little, because her escort is just on the edge of the lamplight. Her figure is hard to make out from here, all soft fuzzy lines and dark colors against the black. Cate steps forward, shifts on her feet. For the first time in maybe the entire time Vanya has known her Cate won’t meet her eyes. Vanya waits as she scuffs her toe into the dirty snow on the pavement. 

“Yes?  What is it, Cate?”

“That guy you were with- the one I saw you holding hands with in the park. Who was he?”

“Oh, Leonard? He’s just- well, he’s a friend, I suppose.”

Cate’s expression shifts, becomes characteristically shrewd. “Uh-huh. So have you slept with him yet?”

“ Cate! ” Vanya yelps, scandalized. “That’s- why would you- I’m not going to talk about this with a teenager! ”

“So you haven’t then,” Cate clarifies. At Vanya’s high, confused noise she nods, looking satisfied. “Good. Don’t. You should drop him.”

That brings Vanya up short. “What? Why?”

Cate shrugs, shuffling her feet again. Her eyes lock on Vanya’s, dart to the left, dart to the right, lock on Vanya’s again. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like him? Cate, you don’t like Diego but you’re fine with him hanging around all the time.”

Cate huffs. “This is different. Diego’s your family. This guy’s a stranger. And I just- something’s off about him. Can’t you tell?”

Something sharp and hungry in his eyes when he looks down at her. A sly smile, an arm around her waist. Questions about her family being bullies. Yeah, I was right. Pretty amazing.

But- but no. It’s not- he’s not- that’s not what this is. That’s not who Leonard is. He’s sweet and soft and kind to her. Vanya’s never met someone so kind, so willing to listen and be supportive. Leonard loves her music, he wants her to be first chair. He’s willing to listen to her complain about her family, he doesn’t get upset when she’s tired or sad or not good enough.

Leonard liked her when Vanya was normal.

Yeah, I was right. Pretty amazing.

No, no, no. He liked her when she was normal. Now- now-

“I don’t know,” Vanya says. The words feel like poison when they slip passed numb lips. “I don’t- I just don’t know.”

Cate tips her head, smiles wanly and steps back. Shrouded in darkness, her teeth gleam. “I think you do, Miss Violin. And I’m sorry, but if you’re scared of bein’ under someone else’s control with all those fancy new mind powers? I’d drop him now. Something’s not right about that guy.”

And Cate leaves Vanya standing by her front door in the snow with more questions than she woke up with this morning.

Chapter Text

Vanya knows she’s not getting any sleep that night before she even turns the key in the lock. There are raised voices- Klaus’s is so high he’s nearly squeaking- which quiet as the first tumbler clicks into place. Vanya winces, bites her lip, and straightens her spine.

It’s no use running now. 

She’s spent all day trying not to think about this moment and it’s only now that it’s waiting on the other side of the door that she realizes the error of her ways- she’s done nothing to prepare for this.

Crap.

Vanya’s thoughts go straight to their father- what would Reginald Hargreeves do in this situation? She quickly dismisses the thought, though- he’d puff up in anger and reject any idea that he was in the wrong for hiding something this big from his family. Besides, if he were in their position- which she guesses he is , kind of- he’d probably put her through some kind of horrible test for her new powers.

No thanks.

What would Five do? Probably bluster just like their father, if she’s being honest with herself. Five was always a lot more like their father than she’d ever told him and way more than Five would be comfortable with. Both incredibly intelligent, both powerful in their own right- and both prone to anger when others questioned their motives.

Vanya loves her lost brother, she always will, but she will not become him.

What would Ben do?

Now there’s one she might just get the answer to.

I can’t control how they react, Vanya has to remind herself. Breathing is already hard but she forces her lungs to expand, to hold in at least a little oxygen. She releases it slowly, counts to five, and opens the door. I can only control my own actions.

Allison’s worried eyes meet hers from across the room- she’s standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine in one hand and her other on her hip. She looks about ready to give a lecture, or to drain her glass. Klaus is standing by the end of the couch and he turns to stare at Vanya, arms still raised in what was probably an extravagant gesture. Luther is sitting at her kitchen table, head in his hands- god she needs more space in this apartment.

Diego is standing closest to the door. He looks her in the eye and doesn’t blink. 

Vanya stares right back, swallows and says, “Uh...hi?”

Ouch . Okay, so she’s not the best with confrontation. She can admit that.

“Hello, sister dear,” Klaus jumps in before anyone else can even open their mouths. “Dear sister, Vanya. Vanya who is our dear sister and very nice and is letting us live in her apartment rent free and who saved a couple of our lives already-”

“Dear sister Vanya who has unexpected superpowers and is probably freaking you guys out right now?” Vanya offers. She can feel her lips twisting in a sardonic expression what’s so reminiscent of Five she feels her heart clench. 

She steps in, lets the door swing shut behind her, and takes off her jacket. She’s dripping on the carpet. Oh well. She’s probably lost the security deposit by now anyway. When Vanya turns back around, Diego is about three inches from her.

“Jesus, Diego,” she mutters. But she still lets him take her arm and pull her further in- and when exactly did he get so comfortable in her apartment?

About the same time he started sleeping on the couch, I guess.

“Did you know,” he asks lowly. He ducks his head, but she can’t make herself meet his eyes. Not now. Not just now. “Before you started all this, did you know-”

“No,” Vanya starts, at the same time as Klaus says, “Oh no, she just found out a little while ago.”

Silence descends before the fallout.

“How the hell would you know?” Diego demands and Allison makes an inarticulate, vaguely distressed noise in the back of her throat before tipping her head back and draining her wine glass and Luther is glaring at their brother and saying, “For once I agree with Number Two, what the hell Number Four-”

“Hey now stop yelling at me, just because she trusts me more-”

“Oh yeah? Who was the first one who lived here with her?”

“This is insane, what the hell has been going on since you guys left home-”

“I swear to God I will rumor you all to jump out the window if you don’t shut up in the next five seconds.”

“Okay, enough!” 

Vanya’s pretty sure the sheer novelty of her raising her voice at her siblings is what shuts them up. She takes the momentary stunned silence to reach out and pry the wine glass from her sister’s hand. Nudging her out of the way and toward the couch, Vanya steps around Klaus- and hip checks him gently towards the couch too- before she plunks the glass down on her table. She drops into the chair across from Luther and reaches down to untie her boots.

But eventually she has to stop pretending she’s not avoiding the issue, and so Vanya sits up and pushes her hair out of her face.

“Okay, new rule,” she holds up a hand when both Luther and Diego open their mouths, “no calling each other by number while in my apartment. Also, Allison, I will kick you out if you rumor anybody.”

Vanya pauses. “Actually, scratch that, if anybody uses their powers in here they’re getting kicked out. I know we’re looking for a bigger place but in the meantime I can’t pay for any damages, guys.”

“Seriously,” Diego splutters. “That’s what you’re focused on right now?”

There’s a beat where Vanya meets his eyes, deadpan. He’s scowling. It’s not unfamiliar.

“Oh come on,” Klaus whines finally. “No powers at all? Not all of us are all destructive and stuff.”

Vanya thinks about it and nods. “Okay, Klaus can use his powers but only because I'm pretty sure you can’t actually stop at any given moment.”

“Can we please talk about you using superpowers on the news tonight?” Allison asks. She’s rubbing her temples. Vanya pushes the wine glass- she’s pretty sure Allison went out and bought it today, because Vanya has not owned a single wine glass in her life- behind her elbow when her sister glances at it longingly. 

“It’s on the news?” Ugh.

“Of course it’s on the news Vanya! You freaking stopped a car with your mind,” Diego explodes. “And now you’re telling us that you didn’t know about your powers before all this hero business but you found out about them and told Klaus?”

“Hey, what’s so weird about her telling me first? I can be trustworthy.”

“I found out about my abilities the night Luther came home.” Vanya glances at him, but Luther is staring at his hands- at the hair on his hands, she realizes. Without thinking about it too much, she reaches across the table and slips her hand around one of his. She looks back at Diego before Luther can lift his head; she finds her insides are all sort of trembly and watery at the thought of what expression might be on his face. “And I didn’t- take it well.”

Klaus snorts. “She didn’t believe it was her. Kept saying I did it.”

“You made a ghost catch my dishes,” Vanya reminds, a little more sharply that she means to. He only blows a raspberry at her though, so the barb must not sting.

Allison’s head jerks around. “Made a ghost-”

“Stay on target.” Diego snaps. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Vanya’s face. She tries to will her cheeks not to warm, her breath not to quicken, her heart not to lodge in her throat- and fails miserably. 

“Anyway. I made all these dishes float around because I was pissed at Dad for what he did to Luther-” the fingers under hers twitch and she squeezes gently, “and when Klaus- did what he did, I thought maybe it was just him. But he said it wasn’t. And I couldn’t- I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I pretended it wasn’t happening.”

“Why wouldn’t you come to us?” Vanya can hear what Allison really wants to say: why didn’t you come to me?

“What would you have done, Allison?” Vanya glances around at them. Luther is looking down at their joined hands so intensely she almost lets go. Diego’s eyes still bore holes into the side of her head but when Vanya meets them, his shoulders relax just a little. Allison is fiddling with her hair again, irritation clear in her jerky movements and Klaus is perched like a bird on the back of her couch, face more open and alert than she’s seen it in years. “What would any of you have done if I came to you out of the blue and told you I had powers?”

“We would have helped you,” Luther mutters. He turns his hand beneath Vanya’s, wraps his fingers around hers. Vanya smiles warmly but shakes her head even as Allison agrees.

“No you wouldn’t have. I’m sorry, but let’s be honest- you would have laughed in my face.”

“ Hey -”

“I’m not saying you’d do it out of, like, malice or something, Diego.” Vanya rushes onward. “But- look, we can all agree that Dad fucked us up, right? We can establish that?”

There’s a few nods and murmurs, and even though Luther looks close to disagreeing, he doesn’t let go of her hand. “Okay, good. So keeping that in mind, what would you do if I, the ‘ordinary’ one, came up to you and asked for help with my cool new superpowers?”

Allison opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I…”

Vanya waits her out. “Yeah, exactly. You wouldn’t have believed me. You would've felt bad for poor little Vanya who’s deluding herself into thinking she can play hero.

“And that’s not all on you guys- hell, if we’re being honest here, most of it is on Dad. Pretty much all of it, really; if he hadn’t been such an asshole, we all could’ve been more well-adjusted to deal with this. And before you say anything, Luther, let’s remember who tried to send you to the moon because you turned out different than he wanted.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Luther tells her, a little tightly. “I was going to say I get it.”

“Oh.” Her mouth is filled with sand. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Luther still doesn’t look up. His grip tightens just a little, but he’s still so gentle- so afraid of hurting her. “I don’t like it, but I get it. Dad- we followed his lead. I followed his lead. Every time, in everything. Especially when it came to you, because he told us you were fragile. And he-”

“Never wanted you around,” Diego finishes when Luther seems to lose his words. And yeah, Vanya’s known how her father has felt about her for a long time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. Diego loses some of the lines in his face at her pinched expression. “So maybe we wouldn't have been very...understanding. But Klaus? ”

“Hey! I hate Dad more than probably anyone else in this room, I am the perfect candidate to talk to about something that’ll piss him off as much as this will.”

“...Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“So…” Allison runs her fingers through her hair once more, catches herself, and stops. She blows out a big breath. “So what now? How do we move on from this? Can we move on from this?”

And doesn’t that one just cut deep? Is this what wreaks the fragile peace- the happiness- she’s found with her ragged little family? These new powers Vanya isn’t even sure she wants?

But then she catches Allison looking at her, and Vanya’s not sure what’s one her own face right now, but whatever it is, it makes Allison’s expression crumple. Her sister is up and over to her in a second, hesitating only briefly before kneeling and sliding her arms around Vanya’s shoulders. Vanya lets Allison lean her head against her temple and breaths in the faint scent of her perfume. Her heartbeat slows for what feels like the first time in days.

“Let’s recap, shall we,” Klaus asks, gleefully ticking things off with his fingers. “Vanya‘s a hero, she just got some super mind powers, we’re all living in her apartment, and we’re actually talking things out without trying to kill one another. I’d say the next step on the list is to tell Dad about this and see how fast he turns purple.”

Diego snorts and finally drops onto the couch. He jostles Klaus who only just barely manages to maintain his balance. “I’d pay to see that.”

And so then of course the phone has to ring.

The shrill tone jolts through Vanya like an electric bolt, and she finds herself staring wildly at Diego.

“I’m not answering that phone,” she blurts before anyone else can speak. Allison pulls back and frowns at the receiver.

“It’s probably not even him; it’s pretty late. Maybe a robo call-”

“Oh, come on, are you kidding me, Allison? It’s like eleven o’clock and I was just on the news with telekinesis or whatever. There’s no way that’s not him.”

Luther’s tone is very carefully reasonable. “Well it’s not like you can’t answer-”

“Oh yes I can. Watch, it’ll be easy. I’ll just sit here.”

The shrill ringing dies down after a few long moments and Vanya almost has time to sigh in relief before it starts again.

“Oh God he’s gonna try all night,” Diego groans, face in his hands. “You’d better just answer it, it’ll be more painless.”

“Excuse you, are you the one who has to deal with their tyrant father realizing that you’re a goldmine of psychic ability years after he abused all of us into thinking you’re worthless? No, I don’t think you are.”

“Hell yeah, run from your problems.” Klaus grins. He has to raise his voice over the ringing. It’s like it’s drilling into her brain. There’s no way Mrs. Kowalski can’t hear it, even as deaf as she is. “That always works for me.”

“This is ridiculous. Vanya, just answer the phone.”

“No. You answer it.”

She and Luther glare at each other, but neither of them let go of their hand holding. Is it weird to hold your brother’s hand this long? Vanya’s not sure if she’s ever even touched him for more than a few seconds before tonight. That’s a weird thought, seeing as they’re almost thirty. Depressing, really. 

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Allison says. “I’ll tell him you’re asleep.”

“I swear to God if that’s him you’re paying my phone bill.” Vanya hisses at Diego. He shrugs mildly.

Vanya almost tells Allison to stop, but her sister is already speaking into the receiver before she can blink. 

“Vanya Hargreeves residence- hello, Father.” She winces for what feels like the hundredth time that night- Allison never sounds that formal. Oh, but she forgot how much she hated being under their father’s thumb.

From the look on her brothers’ faces, they’re thinking something along the same lines.

“No,” Allison speaks quickly and concisely into the phone. “I’m sorry, Father, but Vanya is sleeping- no I can’t, she’s very tired after what happened. Yes, I know it’s important, but you can’t just expect-”

“This is not going to go well,” Diego mutters. Vanya shushes him but can’t help but agree. God she wishes she were actually in bed and asleep right now.

What is she going to do about Dad? What outcome will make him not hate her? For that matter, how can she bring herself not to hate him when this is all over?

... Should she hate him?

Don’t be ridiculous, Vanya snaps at herself. He’s still your father.

“No-no-” Allison is saying; she doesn’t even seem to realize she’s raising her voice. “No you can’t- how could Pogo even get here? Or Mom?”

“Uh-oh,” Vanya hears Klaus say. He’s not as sing-song and carefree as he usually is.

It really sounds like Allison is upset now, and for the first time, she turns to face them all. She’s sucked her bottom lip up under her teeth, and sweat is prickling on her brow. But her eyes spit fire. “Why would you even need to come get her, Dad? She’s fine.”

“Hang up.” Klaus advises, and something in his tone makes Vanya pause. Even Diego and Luther, who had been watching all the happenings pretty much raptly, turn to stare at Klaus. 

His face is harder than Vanya has ever seen it. “Hang up right now.”

“Klaus-”

But Allison is already turning half-away. Her brow furrows and her tone becomes a little more shrill. “What- she doesn’t need to be- what- containment? ”

Vanya’s veins flood with ice. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Diego jack-knifing upright, an arm stretched out to brush fingers over her shoulder. Luther’s hand turns in her loose grip, fingers tightening on her wrist. And Klaus-

Klaus has started to faintly glow blue.

“Hang up, hang up,” Klaus stumbles to his feet, eyes wide and face pale even for him. Vanya reaches out, half-blindly, to catch and steady him. “Hang up right now, Allison .”

The blue is spreading up his arms from his fingertips, and he stretches out a hand to their sister, imploring-

A figure, the same man Vanya caught a glimpse of kneeling on her kitchen tiles, materializes just behind Allison’s right shoulder. He hooks a hand over her shoulder and around the receiver, tugs it from her grip, and slams it back on the dock. It makes an almighty clatter as it lands, but the figure just shoots a quick thumbs up at Klaus and as simply as he arrived, vanishes.

They all stand or sit frozen for a moment, but Vanya knows the peace can’t last. Not with this family.

“Thanks, Ben.” Klaus breathes out.

“ What? ” Luther yelps, finally letting go of Vanya’s arm.

Diego pulls away too, on his feet in a flash. “What the hell did you just-”

“Ben?” Allison is still looking wildly around for the person who stole the phone from her but she turns bright eyes on their brother.

Klaus looks to Vanya. Vanya sighs, and glares pointedly. “Seriously, you couldn’t be less of a drama queen for one day?”

Klaus, still with a hint of deer-in-the-headlights lingering around his eyes, offers her a shaky smirk. “Sorry to steal your spotlight, White Violin.”

Chapter Text

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Vanya tells her brother. She hefts the bowling ball in her hands anyway.

“This is the stupidest thing you’ve done?” Echoes Klaus. He’s standing on the far side of her living room. They’ve cleared away the couch and the nest they made for Luther to the edges of the room and Vanya would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little worried of Klaus falling out her window. Klaus plants his feet and rubs his hands together. “Lame.”

“You took all the stupid with you when you left home.”

“You wound me. Now stop stalling and throw the freaking ball.”

Vanya takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She closes her eyes. In the soft darkness inside her head, it’s like the volume of the world is turned up to eleven. She can hear the traffic outside, the slow shh-ing of Diego sharpening his knives at her kitchen counter behind her. Her breathing slows. She can just make out the taptaptap of Allison’s pen behind her closed bedroom door. Someone walks down the hallway outside her front door. Mrs. Kowalski’s cat meows on the fire escape.

She focuses on Diego’s knives for now, lets the scrapingsmoothingmetallicclang rush through her. And then Vanya lifts the bowling ball.

It rises from her palms but she doesn’t open her eyes until she gives it an experimental push. When she does open her eyes, Vanya finds she’s stronger than she realized; the ball flies away from her. Oh God, she knew this was a bad idea-

And it is caught between ghostly blue hands. The image of her dead brother wobbles a little, but Ben grips the ball enough to slow it down. His grin is blinding.

“Hi, Ben!” Vanya says quickly, unwilling to let him slip from her sight again without some kind of acknowledgement. His smile stretches further.

“Hey,” Diego croaks from over her shoulder, but Vanya doesn’t turn to see what must be the most fantastic disgruntled expression her brother has ever worn.

Ben opens his mouth, still smiling, and promptly disappears. Klaus, who has been up to this point holding out his hands and contorting his face with exertion, drops his arms, looking put out. 

The bowling ball falls with a heavy enough thud to the floor that Vanya winces. She really is never going to get that security deposit back. She wonders what the neighbors must think of her and winces again.

Klaus sighs. “Sorry, guys. I just can’t hold it for very long yet.” 

“Hey, it’s okay." Vanya crosses the room to put a hand on his arm and ducks in close to meet his eyes. “You’re trying, that’s the important thing. You’ll get stronger day by day. We both will.”

“Yeah,” Klaus agrees with a small smile. “You’re right. Thanks, Van.”

“Hey,” Diego calls to them. “How come you guys get to break the ‘no powers in the apartment’ rule?”

Vanya barely restrains herself from flipping him the bird. Klaus doesn’t even try to hold back.

~

It’s a whole new world with her newfound ‘superhero status.’ Luther has been quite the help with the reporters scrounging for information at her doorstep, though. One look at a man that large scowling had most of them scampering off with their tails between their legs. Diego still insists on driving her to work, though.

“I am a big girl, Diego,” Vanya tells him, but her heart still warms when he grunts and motions for her to put her seatbelt on. “I think after last week I proved I very much can take care of myself.”

“Not you I’m worried about,” Diego says. 

Vanya can feel her face falling. Is he- is Diego afraid of her? That’s the last thing she wants, but she’d understand it. New powers for the one person in their family who had no training and now she’s just out in the world, running around without supervision. Anything can happen. Vanya knows she’s a little afraid of herself. Her new powers don’t seem to be hitting any kind of ceiling in regards to how much she can do. It’s a certain kind of terrifying. 

But Diego glances at her out of the corner of his eye and sighs. He flaps a hand in her face as they turn out into the main street and Vanya jerks away, wrinkling her nose and blinking. “Stop thinking, you’re too loud this early in the morning.”

“I’m never loud.”

“Clearly you don’t listen to yourself when you and Allison debate kitchen appliances for your new apartment.” They pull up to a stoplight but Vanya stares out the window, unwilling to look at him now.

“Oh, shut up.”

Diego smirks, keeping his eyes on the road. His hands are relaxed around the wheel and Vanya feels her own shoulders loosening just a little. “So are you gonna come out and say what’s bothering you, or do I have to get Klaus to annoy you?”

It hurts to say it but part of Vanya is simply surprised into it. She didn’t realize her brother knew her well enough to tell something was wrong. “Are you- are you afraid?” When he furrows his brow, she rushes to add, “Of me? Of what I can do? Is that why-”

She cuts herself off, unwilling to go on, but gestures vaguely between them and the windshield. 

It’s hard to see his face from this angle, but as they pull up to the orchestra, Diego parks and turns to face her. His expression goes through a strange series of emotions; anger, worry, sadness, maybe something like affection. He sighs.

“No, Van, I’m not scared of you,” Diego says finally. When he meets her eyes, his are dark and bottomless and truthful. “I’m scared for you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Dad is gonna keep calling,” he says lowly. “And at some point, I don’t think he’s gonna take no for an answer.”

Ice water floods her stomach, but Vanya tries for a brave face. “It’s not like he’ll hurt me, Diego.”

“If you think that’s true, you weren’t paying attention our entire childhood,” Diego snaps. When she shrinks back a little, he holds up a hand. His fingers are shaking just slightly. He runs them over his nearly-shaved scalp. “Look, just- you gotta be careful now, Vanya. More than you were before.”

“It’ll be okay.” She can’t stand that look on her brother’s face- scared, uncertain, a little defeated. Nothing has even happened to her yet. With her family around, Vanya doesn’t think anything will. She casts around frantically, trying to come up with a distraction. What would Klaus say right now?  “Hey, do you think we’ll ever do, like, a vigilante team-up? The whole family could join in!” 

Diego looks disgusted and shoves at her shoulder gently. “Get out of my car.”

Vanya grins and unbuckles her seatbelt.

~

Sometimes it’s good to get back to the basics, Vanya thinks while staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“Seriously,” she asks, unimpressed. The would-be mugging victim behind her whimpers and she reaches back instinctively, fumbling for her. Her hand is cold and clammy and Vanya grips it tight anyway. She squeezes back. 

Her flippancy seems to put off the attacker. He tilts his head, shoulders rounding a little, but it’s hard to tell what his expression is under the ski mask. “Get out of the way, little girl.”

“Oh man, I’ve always wanted to say this,” Vanya says, trying for false bravado. “Don’t you know who I am?”

He readjusts his grip on the gun and starts to ask, ‘Wh-” and that’s when she strikes.

Thank God for Diego’s self-defense lessons, not that she’d ever let the man himself know that. He’s overzealous at best and a drill sergeant at worst, but her brother’s teachings these past few weeks have paid off because Vanya lets go of the other woman’s hand to reach up and knock the gun away. The barrel is pointing at the sky now, and the woman behind her is sobbing a little and Vanya lets the sound flow through her just enough to concentrate on the gun and yank.

The weapon goes flying but Vanya doesn’t wait to see where it lands. She throws herself forward, shoulder down and head tucked towards her chest. She catches him squarely in the solar plexus. He gasps, staggering, and Vanya pulls away before turning back to slam her knee up into his groin. She lands one last kick to his knee as the man tries to stumble away and he goes down, landing with a heavy thud in a puddle. Dirty water splashes onto her pants.

Once she’s sure he’s not getting back up any time soon, Vanya reaches out and hauls the woman to her feet. 

“You just- you just-”

“I know,” Vanya says. “Now let’s go, we gotta call the police. Come on.” She hooks an arm around her back and hurries her down the alley. The knots in her stomach ease up a little as they get to the light of the street and Vanya looks around, finally spotting an open coffee shop. “Come on, they’ll probably have a phone. Do you have anybody you can call?”

“Ye-yeah. My si-sister. She’s babysitting for me-”

Vanya reaches out and pushes the door open for the other woman, nodding in what she hopes is a soothing manner. “Good, that’s good. Look, I can call the cops for you if you want, but you can call your sister before that, so you can calm down a little, okay? My brother is on shift at the precinct tonight, he’ll come get us and take you home, but you’ll have to make a statement.”

She still looks more than a little shaken, but the woman shakes her head, studying Vanya. “I- I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

Great, her least favorite part. “Oh, probably not, I’m very forgettable.”

The woman shakes her head again. “No, no, I do! You’re that- that new hero! The White Violin, they’re calling you on the radio!”

The radio too?

“I just got saved by the White Violin,” the lady says very loudly, and Vanya puts a hand on her shoulder. She’s trembling and Vanya chafes her hand over her arm to generate some warmth. She’s probably going to go into shock soon.

“Listen, just go call your sister, okay?”

The woman, looking a little lost, nods, still muttering under her breath, and goes to the counter to ask for the phone. Vanya sighs, feeling like her chest can finally expand fully for the first time since she heard the scream from the alley on her walk back from work. (She’d called Diego and told him the kids would walk her back tonight and then turned around and told the kids her brother was picking her up. There’s no telling if there weren’t some of them still following her tonight, but sometimes a girl needs her alone time.)  

“Heroism is hard work, huh?”

Vanya goes rigid. It takes a lot more strength than it should to turn her head. 

Leonard’s smile is as open and friendly as it always is. “Long time no see, Vanya. How’ve you been?”

Chapter Text

“Sorry I haven’t called,” Vanya says. Her nerves are on edge. Her hands shake. The air is frozen against her chapped cheeks but her heart beats hot in her throat.

Leonard smiles, soft and sweet, and offers her his arm. Vanya can’t find a good enough reason to say no.

Diego will get to the cafe soon. She’ll tell him you left with Leonard. He’ll come looking.

She tries to reassure herself, but that voice that’s always in the back of her head, the one that sounds so much like her father that it chokes her, pipes up with, do you really think he’ll get here in time to help you?

Doesn’t matter, Vanya argues with herself. I can take care of myself.

Can you?

 Leonard is looking at her quizzically. He’s said something to her. She’s taken too long to respond.

“Sorry,” Vanya apologizes again. She blinks hard, turning her head away. A few raindrops splatter the concrete in front of her shoes. One lands on the tip of her nose. “Sorry, there’s just been a lot going on these past few days.”

“Oh, of course,” Leonard assures her. “I completely understand.”

She’s really starting to regret accepting his offer to walk her home, but what was she supposed to say? Oh, sorry, you looked at me sideways a couple times and my teenage friend told me you were weird so, you know, thanks but no thanks?

It’s nothing. He’s fine. She’s just imagining things, and Cate’s never even met Leonard. 

“After all,” he continues, squeezing her close as she shivers. The rain is getting harder now, and while Vanya has a downy jacket on, her hair is already damp. Shouldn’t this rain be snow, now? Where did this storm even come from? Leonard has to raise his voice a little over the rising wind. “Dating a superhero means more than the usual scheduling conflicts.”

It’s as lame a joke as it gets, but it still makes the knot in her stomach loosen just a little. Not enough, but some.

“I’m sure I can squeeze you in sometime next Tuesday.”

He laughs, nodding, and Vanya doesn't know why she was so worried in the first place. But there's a little niggle at the back of her mind; how did he keep showing up? How did he know just where to find her?

They’re taking a while to get back to her apartment; the rain is impeding their progress, but it’s also because Vanya had slowed them to a sedate pace, wanting to give Diego time to happen upon them. Just in case. Not that there was anything to happen upon, because Leonard is fine and Cate doesn’t know him and Vanya is just overreacting. 

Leonard points them between two buildings, bending close to be heard clearly. She shivers and knows it’s not from the warmth of his breath on her ear. “Shortcut?”

It’s a trap.

But he’s right, after all. The path he’s pointed out, while a bit more dimly lit than the main street, is a shortcut Vanya’s taken by herself a dozen times. It’s not even that dangerous; it’s far from the dingy alley she almost got shot in earlier this evening, anyway.

The rain is intensifying and there’s awnings down the path he pointed out. Vanya casts one last longing glance around for Diego’s stupidly flamboyant car, and agrees.

“You know, I never really thought you’d say yes when I asked you out."

“Oh?” There’s something weird in his voice Vanya doesn’t like. But she can’t say for sure what it is; hell, she’s been jumpy since that fight in the alley, she might just be hearing things she wants to hear.

“Yeah.” His arm tightens around Vanya’s own, and she taps her fingers on his forearm as Leonard pulls her close to avoid a couple passing in the opposite direction. Her fingers tingle as they lose circulation. He doesn’t let go once they’re alone.

The silence between them is loud and long. Vanya’s breathing is getting louder in her ears and she can just glimpse white filming over the edges of her vision. She has to force it back as rain pelts down on the awnings above.

“Why wouldn’t I say yes?” She prompts. “Leonard, loosen up a little, you’re hurting me.”

“I didn’t think I’d have a chance with you, miss big hero. You’re all over the place these days, I don’t know if you really realize how much. You’re all anyone talks about; your name is on everyone’s lips. Vanya Hargreeves, superhero extraordinaire.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over Vanya’s head. His voice is so cold. She really should have listened to her instincts.

Breathing harshly, Vanya fights to remain calm. Her powers lick at her insides, wanting out, but Leonard is only a man and from what Vanya has felt, she’s the dangerous one here. No need to let the force of an atomic bomb loose on a weird creep just because he’s a little pushy.

“Leonard, let me go.”

“Vanya Hargreeves,” Leonard continues, like he hasn’t heard her. They’ve stopped walking now, and she tries to gently disengage, but he’s not budging. There’s something about his eyes that’s worrying. Something that's been bothering her since that day with the almost car crash. Like there’s something not quite there behind his pupils. “The woman who outshone her entire family of extraordinary children."

His grip is tight around her forearm and Vanya curses inwardly. She’s not sure what’s happening, or what he wants but Leonard’s just taken a turn from slightly off-putting to full on deranged. She’s not interested in finding out what comes next.

“Leonard,” Vanya says slowly, clearly, “you need to let me go now. You’re hurting me, and I’m not going to let you do that.”

"I really didn't think it would be this easy to get to you."

She doesn't even give herself time to think. Vanya cocks back her hand and strikes him square in the face. His head jerks back and his grip loosens a little, but when she tries to turn and flee, a hand wraps tight in her hair and she's jerked back with a cry. He pulls her around to face him again and Vanya's neck is strain with how far back he's bending her head. But she refuses to cry or scream or, God forbid, beg. She's a Hargreeves, goddamn it. Instead, when their eyes lock, Vanya glares and lets the white start to build in her eyes.

His face twists, and Leonard goes to say something as Vanya steels her spine. He’s trying to reel her in, grip on her hair bruising, but she plants her feet and hears Diego’s voice telling her she has to get some distance between them.

You can’t do anything right, can you? First guy you pick turns out to be some weirdo stalker.

She’s just getting ready to put a hand on his chest and shove him back, Leonard is just starting to raise his voice, and the rain is showering down when they’re unceremoniously interrupted.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to get your hands off my sister,” says a voice Vanya hasn’t heard in years.

“Ben?” 

Vanya barely has time to breathe before a knife thunks heavily into the wall behind Leonard’s head.

“You heard him,” Diego growls. “Back the fuck off.”

Her siblings- Two through Four with a ghostly Six glowering over Klaus’s shoulder- prowl like wild animals towards them.

Before Vanya can open her mouth again, try to inject some sense into this situation, Leonard hauls her against his chest and starts raving.

“You can’t have her,” he hisses. “Not when I’m so close.”

“Wow, that’s gross,” Klaus comments, casual. His hands are glowing blue. He isn’t smiling. Ben’s chest is moving in unnatural ways underneath his thin tee-shirt. Allison and Diego fan out, trying to flank them, but Vanya can feel Leonard backing them away as something cold presses to her temple. “Whoa, okay, not the way you’re supposed to treat a lady, buddy.”

Everything is happening so fast and she was ready, willing to do what it took to get herself out of this situation, but now- now her family is here. Now they can see her. Now there’s a gun and Diego is the only one wearing Kevlar and how fast can Vanya react to a gunshot? How fast can Allison speak? What can Ben and Klaus do against bullets, and can Diego throw a knife quick enough to knock the gun out of Leonard’s hand?

What good is being a hero if you can’t save the ones you love?

Vanya can hear Leonard's sneer. Her heart, which has been in her throat, seems to drop into her stomach at his words. “You don’t know what I can do with power like this. You don’t know what you’re capable of, Vanya. But I can show you.”

You don’t know. You don’t know anything.

But I do.

There’s simply nothing special about you, Number Seven.

And like a switch has flipped white covers her vision. 

“Oh, fuck this,” Vanya mutters, and lets go of the thin thread of her control. It snaps.

As the wave of energy pulses through her, spreading in a wave of white light from her chest, it’s as if all her nerves, all her fear and anger and sorrow flow out of her with it. There’s a serenity in the silence her power leaves in her brain. For a long moment, Vanya’s brain whites out; she can’t hear anything but her own heartbeat, she can’t see anything but blinding light. Her breathing slows. Time seems to stand still. She’s alone in the eye of a storm.

Then Vanya blinks and turns around. Leonard has been thrown away from her; she can just barely make out a moaning, slumped figure. As the film over her eyes recedes, Vanya blinks again and turns to her family.

They’re staring. This is the first time she’s used her powers for something really violent.

Of course you had to do it in front of them. What will they think of you?

“That was awesome ,” Ben says, before wavering and flickering out.

“Oops, sorry Ben.” Klaus shakes out his hands. He winks. “It was pretty cool though. Your boyfriend sucks, by the way.”

“How did you guys find me?” Vanya asks instead of what she really wants to know, which is if they’re afraid of her now.

Allison hurries forward, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and starts gently steering Vanya away. They have to make their way through some debris. Vanya’s display of power has wreaked no small amount of havoc; trash is strewn across the ground, a dumpster is overturned, chairs and boxes and old bits of furniture have been flung into walls and broken apart. The railings of the fire escape above are hanging off their hinges and in the main street car alarms are going off. She thinks she can see some bent lamp posts over Diego’s shoulder, too. Vanya finds she doesn’t really want to think about it.

“Ben told us,” Klaus supplies cheerfully. He reaches out, attempting to ruffle her hair, and lets out a disappointed noise when she ducks away. He’s not acting all that different, which floods her gut with relief, but then his words catch up to her brain and what the hell.

 Vanya turns and cocks an eyebrow, barely restraining herself from tapping her foot.

“Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

Klaus throws his hands in the air. “Oh, what, so a bunch of street kids can do it but your dear sweet brother Klaus isn’t allowed to get a little worried? You wound me, Vanya.”

“I don’t want Cate and the rest of them to do it either!” Vanya has to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Why do none of you think I can take care of myself?”

“The first time I saw you in years, you were on fire,” Diego points out, still concentrated on checking her over for nonexistent wounds. His brows jut out as he scowls, but his eyes are a little softer now, and his shoulders aren’t as tense, thrown back. “Also we just saved your ass, so, you know. Case in point.”

"Pretty sure I did the hard work, but okay."

There’s a slight scuffle behind them. Vanya whirls, nearly loses her balance, and lets Klaus catch her by the elbow. He steadies them both. Before Vanya looks up, there’s running footsteps and then there’s a crack, a yelp, and a thud.

Allison has one of Leonard’s arms twisted behind him and she shoves his elbow up into a dangerous position. Her other arm is wrapped around his throat. 

“You have terrible taste in men,” she tells Vanya, barely out of breath. Leonard lets out a wheeze and struggles halfheartedly. Allison tugs him back and throws him into the brick wall behind them with ease.

“Stop manhandling him, we’ve gotta call the cops to come get him,” Vanya says, trying for some levity.

“I am the cops.”

“Well then do something about it!”

“I did. I threw a knife at his head.”

“I don’t think that’s standard procedure,” Klaus mutters in an aside to thin air. He pauses, listening, and chuckles at nothing.

“Stop encouraging him, Ben.” Vanya snaps. Klaus stifles a snicker.

“So what do we do with him?” Allison sounds bored, but Vanya can see how sharp her eyes are.

“We’re not gonna kill him,” Vanya hastens to say. Diego has been looking like he’s going to start fingering something sharp any second. Her brother tries valiantly not to pout, but he nods eventually.

“I’ll call it in. Not like the guys at the precinct aren’t used to me calling in weird shit by now.”

He steps away, presumably to find a payphone, but Vanya jerks towards him, hand outstretched. Diego stops, looks down at her, and arches an eyebrow.

“When you- when you ask him why-”

He understands in moments, and her brother’s fingers curl, steady and strong, around hers. Vanya feels tension bleed out of her. “I’ll call you, pull some strings. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Vanya says, quietly, and lets go. As Diego leaves, wiping rain out of his eyes, she turns back to Klaus and asks after Luther.

“Big guy came with when we went to coffeehouse your latest rescued damsel called from. We figured we could like, do some late night family bonding and shit. But the lady said you took off, which wasn’t like you, so Diego bolted.” Klaus shrugs. “Then Ben went to check it out and came back yelling about some guy grabbing you and dragging you into an alley, so Allison took off too, and it’s not like I’m gonna miss the action, so I told Luther to help the nice scared lady, so I guess he’s still back there. Big guy’s good in a fight, but he ain’t very fast.”

 Vanya nods. Her eyes find Leonard’s prone form and she feels them glaze over a little. She’s very tired. It’s been a long day and her bed is calling to her from streets away. “What are the chances Diego remembers to pick him up and we don’t have to?”

“Slim to none.”

Vanya groans and her brother hums in reply.  The beginnings of a headache pound at her temples and Vanya tilts her head back, squeezes her eyes closed and opens them slowly, breathing deeply.

The rain is almost cleared now, which is why she’s able to catch sight of it; if it weren’t for the clearing of the storm, she wouldn’t have noticed the light show.

“Hey, hey.” Tired, bewildered, and a bit lost for words, Vanya resorts to smacking her brother on the shoulder. He turns from where he’s been kicking pebbles at Leonard’s unconscious face and opens his mouth. The question dies on his lips when he spots it. “Hey, uh, hey.”

“What the fuck?”

“What is that?” Allison articulates for all of them.

Blue light dances across fast-gathering clouds. A new storm is brewing, close to the ground and not too far from them. A couple neighborhoods away, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s big and it is decidedly not normal.

Vanya looks at her siblings. Her siblings look at Vanya. She shrugs. “That’s not me.”

“Hey,” Allison says slowly. “How far away are we from home?”

“My apartment's like five blocks away.”

“No, I mean home . The Academy.”

“Oh.” Vanya says, not tearing her eyes away from the strange storm. “Oh, shit.”

Chapter Text

As her feet pound against concrete, Vanya reflects that she’s become much faster than she used to be. Even a month ago, she almost lost Dennis because she couldn’t run up a staircase fast enough. Now, the impact of her footfalls sends reverberations up her legs, through her torso, rattle her skull in her head. She keeps moving, breath huffing out steadily. Diego’s voice echoes in her head, reminding her to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Vanya can faintly hear Klaus puffing away at her elbow. She spares a thought to be worried for him; he definitely wasn’t in the best shape before they got clean and even now he hasn’t been exactly keen on exercising. But her brother and sister keep up well enough (although Vanya suspects Allison actually slows down to match their speed).

And anyway, most of Vanya’s attention is taken up by the huge fucking storm that’s localizing in her old backyard. The clouds have darkened, blue electricity wreathing them in eerie light, and they’ve thickened intensely. It has been about five minutes since the storm had started to gather.

Vanya estimates it’ll probably take their ragtag group maybe another five to reach the Umbrella Academy. 

By then it’ll be too late. You can’t do anything.

Allison peels off, veering to the left as they round a corner- she must be going to get Luther. Smart. Vanya wishes fervently Diego hadn’t taken the car off to take care of Leonard for a second, trips on a curb, and focuses back on the task at hand. She and Klaus hustle down a side street and burst out into the frigid night air. They’ve reached their old neighborhood; it looks exactly as it used to.

For the first time in her life, Vanya breathes a sigh of relief when the gates of her old home come into view.  Her breath shoots out of her lungs, and she is suddenly very aware of how her muscles twitch from exertion, how her chest burns from lack of oxygen, how her head is still pounding. Her scalp still prickles where Leonard grabbed her by the hair.

But in the face of whatever is happening, that all seems so small.

The storm is flickering, crackling with power and is- is that a hole in the middle of it?

Whatever it is, it’s a dense, unwavering patch of inky, pure blackness in the center of the rushing wind and sparking energy. Something is not right here.

Where’s Dad? Mom, and Pogo? We never should have left them here alone.

Vanya starts forward, planning on ramming herself bodily through the gate if she has to, when Klaus snatches her arm.  Vanya wheels, stumbling, and her brother has to grip her by the shoulder before she flails out into the street.

“Klaus! What-”

“You shouldn’t go in there,” her brother rushes out before she can finish her thought. Something in his face is too sharp; he looks starved. It’s like she’s looking at a trapped animal, the way his eyes dart around like he can see threats in the dark. Klaus’s fingers are too tight against her skin; she can feel his grip bruising her through her thick winter coat. Vanya feels her breath catch and is sharply reminded of all those weeks ago after Dad's phone call, when Klaus stuck extra close and refused to say why.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s- you’re not- it’s not safe for you here.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m getting that,” Vanya points out. She throws a hand out towards the storm that is not a storm and shakes her hair out of her face. Impatience burns up her throat. 

We don’t have time for this.

But no one has ever had time for Klaus’s pain, Vanya reminds herself, and forces her limbs to still, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest with every second they waste. Klaus eyes their childhood home like it’s about to swallow them both whole.

“Stay out here,” he croaks after too long. His throat bobs. “I’ll go check it out, just stay here.”

Something hot and angry and ugly crawls up Vanya’s spine and she’s snapping out at him before she even realizes her mouth is open. “Are you serious? I’m not a child, Klaus!”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“I can take care of myself, or did you forget how I almost killed a man tonight?”

Her brother shakes his head, imploring. There’s something she doesn’t like in his eyes, a hesitation or- or-

Fear. It’s fear. You made him afraid.

“It’s not about you, goddammit, Vanya!” His voice is shockingly loud. She’s never heard him this serious. It makes Vanya jolt, but Klaus keeps hold of her. He shakes her so hard her teeth rattle.  “Get your head out of your ass for just one second, will you? If you go in there, Dad’s going to get to you.”

And just like that, the anger muffles, smothers, dies a horrible, sinking little death in her gut.

“You gotta be careful now, Vanya. More than you were before.”

“Klaus, it’ll be okay, but we just don’t have time-” She tries to break away but her brother shakes his head; his eyes are wide, frantic, a little hysterical. It’s the most frightening thing she’s seen in ages, and Vanya was almost kidnapped at gunpoint tonight.

“Allison said containment, Van. You don’t want to see what containment is. You have to stay away from Dad.”

“What- but how would you know-”

“It’s not like he’ll hurt me, Diego.”

“If you think that’s true, you weren’t paying attention our entire childhood.”

Oh, God.

It’s so tempting, in that moment, to take her brother’s hand and let him lead her away from this. Vanya's always thought she knew how horrid her childhood was but there were lots of locked doors in the Umbrella Academy and Reginald Hargreeves was exceptionally good at keeping her out of the loop.

But even so…

“Mom and Pogo are in there,” she says, apologetic. “We have to go, Klaus.”

He looks like he’s about to protest but then the wind picks up. The gate rattles violently, surging back and forth on its posts until one half is ripped up into the vortex spinning in their yard and swallowed unceremoniously. 

Vanya tears away, catches Klaus’s hand in hers, and hauls them both forward. 

He grips her so tight she swears she can feel his heartbeat through their connected palms.

~

They take the side yard that leads around the house, bypassing the front door altogether. Vanya can’t disguise the relief that floods her when Klaus points the way out to her; she’s not planning to set foot inside the Academy for a few hundred years yet.

They get to the backyard and it seems deserted. She can only hope Pogo and Mom have had the sense to stay inside.

The vortex swirls, yawning in the sky.

“I’m going to try to close it.” She shouts over the wind. Klaus leans in and shouts back.

“How?”

“I dunno. With my mind, I guess.”

 “Ben says that’s a horrible idea.”

“Ben,” Vanya points out, taking a step forward, “is not the boss of me.”

How are you going to take this on alone?

Allison and Luther are on their way; Diego is probably speeding here now. Klaus is still holding her hand and talking to Ben. Vanya is not alone.

She doesn’t know how not alone she is until a minute later, though, when the vortex rips open even wider and a face appears in its center. It looks like an old man, if only for a second. She registers a suit, tie flapping over a bony shoulder, wispy hair being blown this way and that. His mouth is open, his hands are claws; he looks like he’s screaming. 

Then it’s as if he changes right before Vanya’s eyes; blue light surges around him, spitting out of the hole in the sky so close it almost singes her. His face turns younger and younger and then he falls.

Whoever it is lands with an almighty thump on the grass and lays there as if stunned. The hole in the world closes up and disappears. In seconds, it’s as if it was never there in the first place.

“Uh,” Klaus says behind her. “Is it just me, or are you seeing a little Number Five too?”

He’s right, Vanya realizes just as her missing brother sits up. Her thoughts are too muddled- confusion, fear, hope, desperate hope she never did manage to quench all the way, they all flood through Vanya and she is left blinking rapidly and trying to adjust as the planet tilts on its axis. She feels like she’s lost all equilibrium.

“Five,” Vanya says, and suddenly she’s on her knees at his side. She doesn’t remember getting there. Klaus’s hand squeezes her shoulder. “Five. How did- how are you- how? ”

But if she’s expecting a heartfelt reunion Vanya suspects she’s just forgotten exactly which brother she’s talking to.

“How did you do it?” Five asks, sounding almost accusatory. He heaves himself to his feet, smacking her hands away when Vanya reaches out to help, and brushes the too large suit jacket off. His brow pinches, he’s scowling, there’s a smudge of dirt on the end of his nose. “Which one of you did it?”

He’s the same old Number Five.

“Who did what,” Vanya asks through numb lips, scrambling up too. “Five, you’re not making any sense.”

“Which one of you stopped the apocalypse?”

Klaus titters nervously behind her and Vanya can’t blame him; as for herself, she can feel her hair prickling off her neck as their brother stares at them impatiently. The wind is picking up again and raindrops are spattering down into the mud again. 

(Distractedly, Vanya realizes that this- this might be her. She’s doing this, creating a storm. Just one more thing to add to the pile of shit she’s not dealing with right now.)

Five doesn’t move, doesn’t laugh. He huffs, glares and shoves his sleeves up past his hands.

“Oh, God, you’re not joking are you?” Klaus says, his giggles dying. Vanya swallows and her throat scrapes like sandpaper.

“No, he is not joking, Number Four.”

Vanya isn’t sure how she could have missed the tread of that familiar cane. Still, she supposes she should give herself some slack; it’s been a long night. She had a couple more important things to deal with.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves comes to a halt several feet from her and looks down his nose at Vanya. His gaze is still as severe as she remembers it being.

“Hello, Number Seven. Welcome home.”

The rain comes down in torrents.

Chapter Text

“Your eyes are white.”

“What?” Startled, Vanya raises her eyes from the mug of coffee Grace had pushed into her hands- she doesn’t know how long ago. In her defense, there’s a lot happening right now.

Her brother’s eyes are a deep, dark brown. They bore into her own and seem so very sharp.

Vanya does not look away. Five’s lips quirk at the edges.

“Your eyes are white. That’s new.” 

He steals her coffee. She lets him. “Are they?”

When she looks around at him, Klaus nods rapidly. He looks a little like a bobble-head. “Yep.”

“Well,” Vanya shrugs. “I’m trying something new.”

“If we could get back to the point.”

No matter how often her memories threaten to overwhelm her, no matter how many breathing exercises Allison has taught her or how many times she’s been to see a fucking therapist in her not all that long life, her father’s voice never fails to send a chill right to Vanya’s heart. 

Vanya had only ever had one panic attack in the time since her family began piecing itself back together. As she shudders, the weight of her father’s unseen gaze on her shoulders, she can distinctly remember how her breath shortened, how her fingers became claws, how her heartbeat seemed both too loud and too far away. 

She’d fallen to her knees beside her violin stand, gasping. Her sight had been getting spotty and the fear clouded her mind so much that she didn’t even know she’d been making her music sheets float until they fell around her like snow.

Allison’s hands had been so soft when they closed over hers. Vanya had clutched at her sister like a lifeline. Allison had let her. She’d tried to get her breath, failed, tried again. She’d tried and tried and thought she was going to pass out and then tried again. Finally, oxygen got passed the blockade in her throat by sheer force of will.  When Vanya had come back to herself, her sister was rocking them both gently; she’d been stroking Vanya’s hair away from her face with sure fingers but the tremble in her voice told Vanya she wasn’t even close to as calm as she appeared. Vanya could relate.

“I’m okay now,” Vanya had said. She pushed away from Allison and almost instantly missed her warmth. Allison had refused to let go of her hand. Vanya felt equal parts annoyed and touched.”I’m okay, really. I just- it’s a lot, sometimes. Every- everything is so- loud, these days. You know. Without my pills.”

She remembers the exact placement of the wrinkle in Allison’s brow. “Do you think you went off them too fast? I’ve heard it can mess with you, if you’ve been on them for so long.”

Vanya had shrugged. “Probably wasn’t the best idea. But I just have to be someone Dad didn’t make me be, you know?”

The last of her papers had dropped around them at that point, and she’d smiled furtively. “Guess that worked out better than I thought, huh?”

Allison had taken a deep, deep breath and looked her in the eyes. She hadn’t mentioned anything about them being white.

“Number Seven.”

Vanya jumps, coming back to herself. The rain continues to pound down, wind howling against the house. She wonders where Diego and Allison and Luther are. It’s so strange to be alone in such a large house.

“If you could pay attention, we have much to discuss.”

Well. Not all alone.

“I don't know what you could mean by that, Father,” Klaus chirps. He’s bedraggled and tense, the line of his shoulders rigid under the waterlogged feathers of his jacket. Still, he gestures around the kitchen table, pretending at his usually natural bravado. “I can’t see anything wrong with this picture.”

“So the idiotic sarcasm is still a thing,” Five mutters into Vanya’s coffee. “That’s a relief.”

“You learn to find it charming.” Vanya murmurs in return and something about it makes Five shoot her a smirk. She smiles back and feels some of the ice that had cloaked her at their father’s entrance start to thaw. The white haze leaves her vision after a long moment and she blinks, a little disoriented.

Sir Reginald’s cane strikes the ground with such a resounding thump Vanya jumps again, fear like an electric jolt to her veins. It stings somewhere deep to know he can still affect her like this.

I’m not who I used to be, damn it. Chin up.

“Enough. ”

And like toy soldiers, they fall in line. Vanya feels her jaw snap shut so fast she nearly bites her own tongue off. Klaus’s expression tells her he’s not in a much better spot. Five just looks angry, but from what Vanya can remember, that’s pretty normal; he’s a lot like Diego in that regard.

“What exactly did you think you were doing out there, Number Seven?”

“Out-” She starts. For the first time, Vanya is able to raise her eyes to his and Reginald’s face is so familiar, so haunting, she nearly vomits. “Sorry- out where?”

“Playing hero is a good way to get civilians killed. I would think you’d understand that by now.”

And the pounding of her heart is getting louder again and her hands are turning to claws where she’s squeezing them together in her lap and she’s thirteen again, Five sitting beside her with his head down, trying not to look at her as their father reminds her how worthless she is.

I am not who I was.

She fights to impulse to apologize again when he levers a glare over his spectacles at her. In the background, their mother hums quietly at the sink. She doesn’t know where Pogo is. When Vanya speaks, her voice sounds young even to her own ears. “I’m not trying to be a hero-”

Reginald Hargreeves’s eyes widen slightly and Vanya suddenly recalls she’s never once spoken back to him. They all had at least once, even Luther. All but her.

All but the ordinary one.

Her protests- her defense- crumbles to dust in her mouth when his lips thin to a tight line and she can see his knuckles whitened on the head of his cane. Grace pauses in her humming, stock-still with her back to them, head tilted just a little. The air is tense, thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Instinctively, Vanya lowers her eyes, shying away from her inevitable punishment. Their father had never hurt them- at least not in the traditional sense- but there was always a first for everything.

“Uh, hello,” Klaus suddenly interjects. He flails his hands in Five’s direction and adds, “not to derail the conversation or whatever, but Five is literally back from the dead, do we not wanna focus on that right now?” 

“I do feel a little left out,” Five says. His tone is blithe but there’s an undercurrent there of something so dark she raises her gaze to his face. Her brother- he’s so young - is staring at their father with an expression Vanya isn’t sure she’ll ever understand. It’s sharp and cold and almost alien.

What happened to you?

It’s only when Five looks at her and his face softens that Vanya realizes she said that out loud. She doesn’t dare glance at her father for support in her inquiry; no doubt he’s pissed at her for changing the subject in the middle of her tongue-lashing. 

“I time traveled,” Five ignores Klaus’s scoff of “well, duh ,” and sips his commandeered drink. Vanya swallows and the acrid taste of the coffee burns the back of her throat.She hasn’t drunk the stuff in a while- it’s not good for anxiety, or so Luther claims- and she’s gotten unused to the bitterness. Maybe she’s better off staying away from it.

“And where did you go?” Reginald seems to have moved on for the time being and Vanya tentatively releases her shoulders from up around her ears.

The others will be here soon. They’ll be here soon.

She’s not sure how that will make the situation better, exactly, but it can’t get much worse. If nothing else Diego might just drag her bodily from the house. She certainly wouldn’t fight him.

Klaus and Diego’s warnings ring in her head. Allison had asked what containment meant. Her thoughts swirl in a confusing dance but Vanya clenches her eyes shut and focuses on her brother’s answer.

“I went to the end of the world.”

The silence rings.

“But you said someone stopped it.” Vanya’s not brave enough to open her eyes yet but she can tell Klaus is wringing his hands. She can still see his imprint on her eyelids, the way he perches in his chair like some overly large bird, leaning away from their father at the head of the table. He’d sat across from Vanya, most likely in an attempt to make Five take the chair next to hers in some misguided attempt at protection or comfort. Not that that had done him any good, since Five had simply slipped into the chair across from their father at the foot of the table- too confrontational not to look him dead in the eye- and Vanya was left alone and isolated across from Klaus. “In the yard, you asked who stopped the apocalypse-”

“How would you know the apocalypse really was stopped?”

Open your eyes. You can’t hide forever. 

Five meets Reginald’s glare head-on and Vanya has never felt more respect for someone in her life. 

“I found a book.”

“A book?” Vanya finally asks, unable to keep her silence.

Five nods. “Your book, actually.”

“You wrote a book?”

“I wrote a book?”

“You will write a book, “ Five corrects, looking decidedly more put-upon than he really has the right to be. “Or, I guess, you would have written a book. I don't think you will anymore. Surprise.”

“Okay, I’m confused. Is anyone else confused? Mom?”

“Whatever you like, dear.”

“I’m confused," Vanya volunteers. She can’t help but wonder why their father hasn’t spoken up by now but she’s too much of a coward to turn her head to check his expression.

“At the end of the world, you know what I found?” Five looks around at them all.

“Nothing.”

Five nods at Reginald. “Nothing. There was no one left but me and I couldn’t get back. Guess you were right about that one, old man.”

Vanya winces but Reginald does not rise to the bait. “Evidently.”

“But I did find this book- your book, Vanya. It was an autobiography.”

“Why would I write an autobiography? I’m-”

Just ordinary.

Vanya shakes her head and tries not to look too closely at the fact that the voice in her head sounds like Leonard.

“You told the world about the Umbrella Academy,” Five says, and when Vanya whips her eyes up, horrified, he’s looking at their father. His smirk is wider than she remembers. “Pretty scathing stuff, actually. It was good.”

Klaus jerks in his seat. He won’t meet Vanya’s eyes. 

This is all- it’s too much. She’s panicking and overtired and she got assaulted not more than an hour ago and her brother is back from the dead. Vanya leans halfway across the kitchen table, reaches for Klaus. “Klaus, I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

The lines around his eyes crinkle uncertainly- and then release. His hands are cold and Vanya sags with some type of relief. 

“You won’t.”

When she sits up, Vanya feels a little better. She still avoids looking at her father but her panic is suppressed, at least for now. Her bones are aching, her head pounds. She’s so tired. 

Come to think of it, Five and Klaus don’t look much better.

“I won’t?”

“The book disappeared.”

“You cannot base your assumption that the world does not end on something as silly as a misplaced book, Number Five.”

When Five speaks, it’s easy to hear his gritted teeth. “I took the book with me when I- I went looking for a way to stop the apocalypse. I wrote my equations in it, theories on how to get back here- but last week, I opened it and the pages were blank.”

There’s a beat. Klaus shrugs, letting go of Vanya’s hand to drag his own over his eyes. “I don’t get it.”

“They were disappearing,” Five explains impatiently. He looks like he’s running out of steam though, bending lower and lower over his mug. He’s slurring. Klaus isn’t much better and Vanya wonders how long it’s been since any of them slept. “The pages were dissipating right in front of my eyes, like they never existed in the first place. Then the whole thing just up and vanished. I was lucky enough to have memorized the sequences I needed to get back here.”

“So because something you took from the apocalypse vanished,” Vanya says slowly. She has to interrupt herself with a yawn. “You think that the world won’t end?”

“What about the rest of every- everything,” Klaus slurs. When he waves his hand, it’s limply. “Like, everything else in the world? Was it all, like, normal again?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Five says. Vanya can see he’s blinking hard now, trying not to drop face first into his coffee. “I wasn’t… there. But if the book disappeared, the...reality it was in disappeared too..so, no end of the world. And I...have no idea how it…”

His head makes a tiny thunk when it hits the table. Klaus tries to stand, reaching over to shake their brother awake, but he ends up flipping his own mug off the table by accident. Coffee splatter across the tiles and Grace tuts goodnaturedly.

“Careful dear,” she admonishes with characteristic gentleness. She turns and steps neatly over the mess, pressing Klaus back into his chair insistently. “You need to sit down before you hurt yourself. The dosage may be a smidge too high for you.”

Vanya doesn’t know when her legs turned to jelly, but when she tries to stand they immediately betray her. She falls back into her seat as the panic tries to rise in her chest. But her eyes are so heavy .

A cold, familiar hand clamps down on her shoulder. As her vision blurs, Vanya’s last sight in her father’s stern, disappointed face. 

“The drug was only ever meant for you, Number Seven.” His voice is muffled in her ears, only just louder than Klaus’s squawking protests somewhere very far away. “You shouldn’t have put others at risk for your own selfish desire to play the hero. When will you learn?”

Vanya’s eyes slip closed and she can almost pretend it’s Allison’s calming hands on her instead.

Chapter Text

The ground beneath Vanya’s back is freezing; the cold sinks like ice into her blood. When she tries to move her arms, her legs, her back, it’s with such stiffness that she has to lie still and breathe through it for a moment. 

She cracks open her eyes and is almost surprised not to see steam rising from her lips. Although considering how dark it is, she might just not be able to see it in the gloom.

It strikes her as a little strange, really, when she blinks at the room she finds herself in, that she’s not more surprised to find herself here. 

Dad did always like to shove you into dark corners.

Whatever he drugged her with, it’s still in her veins; Vanya has a hard time propping herself up on her elbows. The walls, strangely coated in spongy foam cones, waver before her eyes as if she’s looking at them through smoke.

Some small voice in the back of her head asks why she’s so calm about this.

Not like I can feel much of anything right now, Vanya thinks muzzily. The world spins around her as she tries to lift herself up. One hand slips, fingers numb and uncoordinated, and Vanya falls heavily to one elbow. She winces, hissing, and the sound reverberates back at her. 

She’d seen something like this room on some weird historical documentary she’d watched with Klaus and Diego while she detoxed; it’s a silent room. Like an isolation chamber; no sound comes in and no sound gets out. 

Suddenly the quiet is oppressive, almost buzzing in her ears now that she’s noticed it. Her head clears a little. Her heart beats hard in her chest.

The drugs are burning off.

“Okay,” Vanya whispers, but breaks off when the word echoes back at her, okay, okay, okay . “This is okay. You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Her father has drugged her brothers and locked her in a cage.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re alive, aren’t you?” The walls ask her, aren’t you? Aren’t you? Aren’t you?

Yes, she is. But for how long?

Stop it. Crying’s not going to help anyone, you useless thing.

Allison’s always telling her she’s got to be kinder to herself. Vanya rolls her eyes, dashes the tears away with a hand still clumsy with sedatives, and sits up again. This time her core balance holds, more or less, and she catches sight of the small square of light in the large metal door across the room from her resting place.

This whole room-- the cones, the darkness, the small window out into the world-- it is all disgustingly familiar. As Vanya stretches her legs out, testing her knees, she stares at that sliver of light. A wisp of a memory tickles at her, there one second and gone the next.

It takes too long for her legs to get with the program. Her right ankle gives out on Vanya when she stands and she finds that the cones lining the walls aren’t nearly as soft as they’d seemed upon first glance. She dashes more tears away, vaguely aware she might be hyperventilating, and staggers her way to the door. Her body slumps without Vanya’s permission, the thud reverberating sickeningly in the unnatural stillness. Vomit tickles the back of her throat. Vanya clamps down on it and thinks her father might have underestimated how quickly she can burn off sedatives after so many years. That niggling in the back of her mind gets worse. 

The room beyond Vanya’s cell--oh, God, she’s a prisoner, Klaus told her this would happen and she didn’t listen why didn’t she listen she promised she’d listen to Klaus--is blank and plain and grey. 

Her face is reflected back at her in the glass. The tear tracks and her unkempt hair make Vanya look so young, even to herself. She’s not even thirty. For a second, her own childhood face replaces the image, a reflection she left in the far past. 

You’re in here because he’s scared of you.

Movement beyond the glass catches her attention and Vanya tears her gaze away from furious brown eyes. 

Vanya wants to beat at the glass as her father strides toward her on sure feet, loose-limbed and comfortable in this prison. She wants to rage to spit to scream, but the rest of the sedative makes her fingers weak as they scratch at the barrier, her mouth slow and her brain stupid. 

In the end she can only manage to glare. Sir Reginald-- he’s never really been your father, has he?-- crosses the room and stands in front of her and Vanya wants to seethe at how far she has to look up at him. But she has to meet his eyes. She has to. He reaches out and presses at something on the wall she can’t see--some sort of intercom, apparently, because her silent room is suddenly erupting into harsh static and Vanya has to cover her ears and lean heavily on the door to keep upright. 

“I have always known it would come to this,” Reginald’s voice is bland, but she can hear that fucking smug undercurrent threaded through it. He just always has to be right, doesn’t he? Her dear father. Vanya’s stomach rolls. “I have planned for you to return here for years, to make sure the apocalypse is averted.”

“You--you--” Her mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, her tongue too thick behind her lips. The tears haven't stopped coming and she curses her weakness. Vanya shakes her head. “You knew the world would end?”

Her father’s face is lined with distinct disdain. “The Umbrella Academy has served no other purpose than the prevention of the apocalypse. I have made sure that contingencies,” he gestures widely, grandly, at her cage and Vanya swallows stomach acid, “are in place. Five’s return tonight just proves that my decision to return you to confinement was the correct choice.”

Vanya has braced her hands against the door, fingers trying for purchase where the thick steel denies them. The icy cold of her cell is sinking into her bones. The world is spinning, she feels like she may be sick or maybe she’ll faint. But--

Sir Reginald sounds so fucking self-satisfied. He thinks his big plan has come to fruition. He thinks he’s got her right where he’s always wanted her, right under his thumb like she never even left. And yeah, maybe he does, maybe he deserves to be a bit self-congratulatory because his biggest dreams have been realized but he’s waiting for her to ask that perfect question, the one that will seal his victory over Vanya. 

What do you mean, return me to this place?

Vanya raises her head. Allison’s hands had been so gentle when she’d run them through her hair after that panic attack. She’d looked into Vanya’s face and she’d told her a rumor.

They’re all afraid of your power.

“You think I don’t remember what you did to me, Dad?” She asks. A thread of steel straightens her spine and she feels fire racing in her veins. Her own reflection overlays her father’s surprised expression and her eyes spark and spit heat like she’s never seen. The rest of whatever drugs are left in her system are still dampening her powers but a breeze still picks up in her cell, lifting her hair in a halo.

All that time ago, sitting among the remnants of her panic attack, Allison had pulled back and looked into Vanya’s white eyes and told her, “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” Her fingers had curled unconsciously in Allison’s sleeve and Vanya had wondered when she’d gotten so clingy. She used to be fine on her own; then again, back then she’d only had herself to rely on. “I gotta say, you handled the whole panic attack thing pretty well. One time while you guys were out I cried at a movie and Luther looked like he was gonna jump out the window. He threw a bunch of blankets at me and bolted.”

“Vanya, I’ve got to tell you something,” Allison had said. Something in her voice made the air leave Vanya’s lungs and she’d blinked, hard, because Allison had tears in her eyes. “I’ve got to tell you something absolutely terrible I did to you that I only just remembered when I--when I started thinking about moving out here with you, and I just--I want to say, before everything, that I’m so so sorry and I didn’t know what I was doing and I love you, Vanya.”

“Whoa, hey.”

Allison had stopped and taken a breath when Vanya exaggerated her own breathing. Her sister’s hand was cold in her own. Vanya laced their fingers anyway. “Take your time. What’s this about?”

Allison's eyes had fastened on their linked hands. Her voice was so small Vanya had to lean in to hear. “When we were four, Dad took me to the basement.”

It took a long time for the story to unravel. Several of Vanya’s decorations were smashed. Allison didn’t let go of her hand.

After it was over, Vanya had closed her eyes for a long time. They were scratchy and dry and overused. She had opened them and looked at Allison.

“I love you,” she’d said. “And I’m sorry too.”

You could show them your power.

The rage wants to fill her lungs as Vanya stares her father down. “Sorry to burst your bubble,” she says, wry, “but Allison told me months ago about what you made her do when we were four. You’re an absolute son of a bitch, you know that Dad?”

You could end it all now, the small voice in her head reminds her as Sir Reginald wheels on his heel and gets as close to sprinting away as his dignity will allow. But the sedatives are still working at her and Vanya hasn’t slept in who knows how long and she got assaulted last night and her family is scattered to the wind, so she turns away and leans against the door. It’s as cold at her back as the floor was. 

Vanya blinks slowly, an unnatural stillness clouding her mind and sighs as she surveys her old hell. “He couldn’t have left the bed?”

Chapter Text

Vanya doesn’t even bother being surprised when Pogo appears at the window some unknown amount of time later. She thinks maybe it hasn’t been more than a few hours, but her head feels light and floaty and as the sedatives wear off she’s been having trouble breathing. Keeping track of reality is hard in here.

She’s curled up with her back against the door. There was only so long Vanya could stand meeting her own eyes in the glass and what she saw there--well, she’s been frightened of herself for a while now. It’s nothing new.

There are memories trying to surface in her brain, things trying to catch her attention but Vanya can’t do it. If she has a flashback, if she remembers her time in here the first time, or how it felt coming down here and not going back upstairs, or seeing the door close behind her, or taking the drugs for the first time, or God forbid, Allison rumoring her at four fucking years old --

This situation is bad enough for her nerves. She doesn’t need any more help tipping her off the edge. Vanya clutches her head in her hands and considers screaming, just screaming, letting it reverberate around her for a while. Fill this room with her pain and hear it echoed back to her. But that would just hurt more, she thinks, so she stays quiet. She’s always been good at staying quiet. Diego would tell her she was probably too good. Vanya is inclined to agree at this point.

She feels his footsteps vibrate through the floor and up into the door at her back. Vanya leaps to her feet, steeling herself to fight with her father again. It’s strangely deflating to see Pogo’s diminutive figure instead.

“Pogo.” Vanya leans against the wall again. Getting upright so fast makes her feel even more lightheaded now. She can feel how weak her hands are, shaking from adrenaline, maybe, or low blood pressure. She can’t remember when she last had natural sleep, when she last ate--time is blurry in here and she’s scared. Her legs don’t feel like they’re strong enough to support her.

“Miss Vanya.” Pogo has always looked so grave. “I’m sorry to see you again like this.”

Again. Again .

But the hope has already flooded her chest and she can’t let go of it. Not yet. Not now. “Pogo, please, you have to let me out. Dad-- Dad drugged us, he locked me in here.”

“Vanya.”

The words come rushing up her throat and Vanya is powerless to stop them, even when her nails catch on the ridges of the door, dragging catlike down the glass of the windowpane. The screech that produces reverberates around the room and she winces but does not stop. “Please, you have to let me out, you have to find the others! Five is back, he’s back Pogo, and he and Klaus were drugged too and I don’t know where they are, they could be hurt --”

But Pogo’s face does not change. He looks so tired. “Vanya.”

No. No. Anyone but Pogo. 

Vanya ignores the tears when they spill over her eyelids but she can’t do much to hide the hitch in her breathing or how small her voice is. “Please Pogo. Let me out.”

Pogo shifts his weight. It is quiet for some time. Vanya still can’t breathe.

“You knew, didn’t you?” She asks tiredly. When will the secrets end? Will they ever? 

Pogo rests his weight on the pommel of his cane, leaning on it harder than necessary. “Sir Hargreeves is a difficult man.”

Something hot flares in Vanya’s chest and she scoffs. “Oh, cut the crap, Pogo. That’s not what I asked.”

Pogo says nothing. Vanya can’t stand the silence. It’s all around her now, has been for hours or days or maybe weeks --

It hasn’t been weeks. Only a couple hours at most. You’re overreacting.

Vanya tries to take a breath but her lungs are too small. Have they always been so small?

Tell me,” she says but it comes out as more of a wheeze. The grey walls beyond her cell swirl before her eyes and her vision is tunneling, focused solely on the person she thought was her only friend in this big old house for so long. “Tell me the truth, for once in your life, Pogo. Please. Did you know?”

Pogo pauses, considers, and nods very slowly.

The world comes crashing down around Vanya’s ears.

She can’t speak, can’t see, can barely focus on getting air past the pinhole her windpipe has become. Everything is hazy and indistinct and frightening and Vanya feels the part of her that’s her, her very core, shrink down. Darkness licks at the edges of her vision. The tears are coming faster now, carving hot furrows in her cheeks, they burn and scald like acid and she can’t feel her hands enough to wipe them away.

This is really happening , is all she can think. This is happening. I’m trapped and no one can help me. 

I’m going to die here, Vanya thinks.

Will anyone miss me when I'm gone? Vanya thinks.

The world comes back into half-focus when the intercom scares her as it clicks on. Vanya stumbles back, wobbling, and blinks. Everything is still fuzzy around the edges. She thinks she can hear herself whooping for air but she can’t be sure.

Pogo looks alarmed now. He leans hard on his cane, coming forward a step or two. Vanya can see the whites of his eyes through the glass. “Miss Vanya, now is not the time to behave irrationally--”

“I am not behaving irrationally!” Vanya screams. It tears at her throat, her head, her heart. “I am having a panic attack because I’m in a cage and you put me here!”

One of those awful tugging memories hits her then and Vanya is powerless to stop it: Pogo, standing with a hand on the open cell door, face grave. Her feet had felt like lead as her father’s hand guided her inside, but what could be wrong with that door if Pogo was the one holding it open?

Vanya takes a breath once, twice, three times, sobs, and then she screams. 

“Miss Vanya, you must calm down. It’s too dangerous for you to--”

Her hair is in her eyes, not that she can really see anyway, and it feels greasy and thick in her hands as she clutches at her head desperately. “There was never a chance for me was there, Pogo? You’ll choose him over us any time.”

He shifts, looking uncomfortable. Oh, Vanya feels so bad for making him uncomfortable. She’ll have to write him an apology letter sometime. “You must understand, he has the world’s best interests at heart.”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit,” Vanya snaps, shrill. “You’re keeping me locked in the fucking basement , Pogo, I don’t give a shit what Dad’s thought process is.”

“I know you can’t see it now, but he’s doing this for a reason. Your powers were too volatile when you were young. You couldn’t control them; you’ve killed people for the simple act of taking care of you, Vanya.”

She doesn’t remember that. It can’t be her. Please don’t let it be her, except--

Oatmeal. A tea kettle whistling, burrowing into her mind. Glass shattering.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, a line of glasses in front of him, a tuning fork, thunder, broken glass, blood on his cheek.

Vision swimming, Vanya dry heaves, head hanging between her shoulders. “I was a kid,” she pleads, “I was only a kid.”

“You were dangerous.”

“So I deserve this? I don’t want to hurt anyone--and--and you--you--” But the panic has spread to her speech now and Vanya chokes. She can’t stand this. She wants to die. Maybe she already is. 

She tries to scream again, wanting it out of her, to get all of this out of her. If she could reach into her core and rip this power out of her own chest she’d do it in a heartbeat. As it happens, she only manages to make a high-pitched whine and sag against the wall. 

“You helped him ruin me.” Vanya gets out. Pogo raises a hand to the window and she reels away.

There’s some kind of interference with the intercom then, a slight crackling sound that has Vanya falling away from the door finally. She stumbles, tries to catch herself, and falls on her back. She lays there for a minute, gasping. When she looks up, Pogo has taken his hand from the intercom control and is looking at the ceiling.

She can’t hear him anymore, and she doesn’t know if he can hear her, but Vanya sneers through her tears anyway. “Looks like you’ve got something better to deal with than the girl you tortured for years, Pogo.”

From his stricken expression, Vanya hopes her words landed. Pogo, like her father before him, turns and hurries away from her cell.

Chapter Text

The Hargreeves family, Cate has long since decided, are an absolute mess. The fact that Miss Violin nearly got herself killed bum rushing two fully grown men when Eddie’s deal went south really should have been her first clue, but what can Cate say? She’s always been an optimist.

Or at least she thought she was an optimist until she’d seen Vanya in action; the woman could put tiny, tiny children to shame with her wide-eyed naivete. It gives Cate heart palpitations just thinking about her out there on her own. She’d be dead within a week, fancy Jedi mind tricks or not, if Cate hadn’t stepped in so soon.

So it is with little surprise but a whole lot of exasperation that Cate growls at the approaching rain clouds. The low light in the twisting alleyways was bad enough in the dusk, and the collecting shadows and Vanya's boytoy’s fast pace meant they’d lost the couple in record time. Her pride prickles. She’s usually much better than this.

“C’mon Cate,” Lee mutters, panting a little at her side. He leans against the brick at his back and Cate suppresses a snort; he’ll have to get a lot faster if he’s going to run with her and Jean now. Zoey’d flatten him in a footrace. “We lost them. There’s no way we’re gonna find them again. Let’s just go home.”

“We promised Miss Violin we’d be there.” Cate insists. She tries to ignore the pit that her gut opens up into every time she sees Vanya with her boyfriend, but it’s getting harder and harder to do. She’d told the woman to drop him. She’d told her. Behind her, Lee scoffs and catches his breath through clenched teeth. Cate bristles but doesn’t rise to the bait. 

She knows why he’s upset with her; any other time, any other person, Cate would drop this like a rock. So the lady didn’t listen to Cate’s expert advice. So she’d gotten herself wrapped up in a guy she should’ve steered clear of. So what? No skin off their backs. They could be holed up with Zoey and Eddie and Liam by now, safe and warm, not letting rain soak into their threadbare jackets. 

But this one--Vanya Hargreeves-- she’s different. Cate knew it a long time before the news told the world the same thing. 

“No,” Cate says, and starts forward again. Jean huffs and picks himself up from where he’d knelt to re-tie his boots. (Cate’s gonna have to figure out where to get him a new pair soon--the guy’s three years older than her and still growing like a weed.) Lee jogs to catch up. “No, we don’t stop until the White Violin gets home. Things have been-- off lately. Can’t you feel it?”

Lee’s face screws up and Cate has to remind herself the kid’s only thirteen; he’s got no street sense yet. But Jean’s eyes are as sharp as ever, and his spine is steely when she chances a glance his way. He nods. She nods back. “Best to stay on guard. I don’t know what’s happening around here, but the air is strange now. We gotta make sure we’re all safe.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t understand what we’re doing out here!” Lee cries. Rain splatters down on the tip of his nose and Cate absentmindedly wipes it off with her sweater sleeve. “You’ve got us following some lady around for hours at a time and now the second we lose her you wanna go out and canvas the streets in the middle of a snowstorm!”

“It’s not a snowstorm,” Cate replies mildly. She raises a hand when Lee’s mouth drops open again and he shuts up quick. “You weren’t with us when Eddie came back from getting his ass kicked to hell and back, alright? You didn’t see what could’ve happened to him if the White Violin wasn’t there, but I have. I’ve seen it happen to guys twice Eddie’s size and to guys three times as old as me. I've seen it happen to kids like you, too. Trust me,” She grabs his shoulder, takes the time to shake it a little even though the rain is getting harder now and his face is fuzzy, “Vanya Hargreeves is one of us now, just like you. And what do we do for one of us?”

“We protect our own.” Lee’s voice is small, but no less steely than Jean’s spine. Cate grins. 

“Damn straight we do.” She lets go, puts her hands on her hips, and surveys the intersection they’ve come to. There’s three directions to choose from: right, leading out into a main street, straight, which is unlikely since it will probably dead end at some point--although no one says Vanya’s boyfriend couldn’t just be looking for an alleyway hook-up-- or left, which leads around a bend and into more shadowy passageways only kids like them frequent. 

The rain is whipping up big time now, and Cate stuffs her hands in her pockets, shoulders up around her ears against the wind. At least her dreadlocks are long enough to provide her neck with some cover. At the thought she reaches over and yanks Lee’s hood up for him. She does all this while eyeing the way forward and tries not to let her throat close up with unbidden, unexpected anxiety. Something is wrong, has been wrong for a while, and she can feel it. Something big is coming, something that has to do with the goddamn Hargreeves idiots, and Cate can’t stop it. 

But she has to. She made Miss Violin a promise to walk her home every night, and by God, Cate Owasinda keeps her fucking promises. 

A hand clasps her shoulder and Cate looks up into Jean’s strange, swirling grey eyes. He nods. Cate nods back. Her throat loosens. Even the rain seems to be lightening up. 

“So how do we find her?” Lee asks, only a little sullen. He’s a good kid.

 “It’s a grid system,” she says to both of them, gesturing to the streets before them. “We’ll split up and cover more ground. How hard can it be?”

Extremely fucking hard, of course, because this is Vanya Hargreeves, and nothing is ever easy with Vanya Hargreeves. Cate honestly doesn’t know what she was expecting. Not a bunch of cop cars and her would-be paramour huddled up on the sidewalk, bruised and bleeding, that’s for sure. Maybe she should’ve thought of it though, in hindsight. Guy’s a creep. 

Miss Violin’s brother is there too, helping to load the guy into the back of one of the cruisers, but it’s the brother Cate doesn’t like, so she hangs back and gets ready to yell for Jean to grab Lee and head home. Whatever happened here, they’ve missed the party, and as long as her charge is safe and sound in her apartment Cate can sleep well tonight. 

There’s no sign of Miss Violin though, so Cate grumbles and waits til the cruiser pulls away from the curb before stepping out of the dark. Vanya’s brother doesn’t even have the decency to seem surprised when she catches him at his car, the bastard. 

“Where is she?”

Diego, at least, does have an aptitude for not beating around the bush, unlike his brother. It’s the only thing Cate’s ever really disliked about Klaus. Diego's also not as obtuse as Vanya can be, which Cate can also appreciate. 

He’s also a cop, which Cate does not appreciate. 

“She should be headed back home with the others now.” The words bring relief, welling up and filling that pit in her stomach. Cate nods, releasing the driver’s side door where she’d caught it before he could get in and close it. 

“She okay? What happened?”

Diego looks like he’s gonna tell her to piss off any second but doesn’t close his door or start his engine. He glares though, silent and dark and frightening. He’s trying so hard to scare her off.

She smirks right back up at him, lip curling. Cate can wait him out. She’s very good at waiting. 

Her pocket buzzes then, and Cate ignores Diego’s annoyed frown to answer her walkie-talkie. Can’t have Knife Boy’s ego go getting too big now. 

The radio was a gift from Lee and a good idea too; it’s helped them all keep in touch around the city a lot over the past year or so.

It’s from Lee, of course. “The Academy. Freaky shit. White Violin disappeared inside. Get here.” 

Ice floods Cate’s veins. “When you said home, I didn’t really think you meant the fucking Umbrella Academy,” she snaps at Diego.

Knife Boy goes pale and immediately fumbles for his keys, and Cate curses before throwing herself bodily across the front of his car. She lands gracefully, as light on her feet as the day she started out, and yanks open the passenger door.

“What the fuck?” Diego snarls as she scrambles inside.

“Just drive, Knife Boy.”

“What the fuck,” Diego repeats, and throws the car into gear. 

~

The intercom is off now, but Vanya can’t tell if that’s good or bad. It means there’s no old man telling her her life is a danger to the world and that she has to be trapped in a torture chamber for the good of humanity. It also means the oppressive silence is back, assaulting her brain until it feels like ants are crawling under her skin. Vanya curls up against her door and wants to wail but that makes everything worse, everything she does makes everything worse she can’t get out please let her out--

She clutches at her ears and tries not to scream. Screaming makes it worse. Screaming reverberates around the room, closing in on her like a pack of hungry wolves. Screaming makes the dark thoughts ooze out of the corners of her mind like slime, makes her think crazy things, things she thought she’d dealt with a long time ago.

They’re all so afraid of you now.

You have the power to stop this. You have the power to take them all to their knees.

You can have everything you want, now. All you have to do is reach out and take it. 

They never loved you.

No one is coming to save you. You’re just not worth it.

Vanya’s fingers have become claws when she wasn’t looking; blood trickles down her earlobe. Her scalp stings. She’s pulled some of her own hair out; it wraps around her fingers like greasy, gossamer strands of disgusting silk. 

Vanya tries not to scream.

~

They stop at a coffeehouse to pick up the largest man Cate has ever seen. She does not give up the front seat. 

“How do you know Vanya’s at the Academy?” Big and Brawny asks urgently when Diego had finished introductions and an explanation Cate hadn’t bothered to listen to. Cate waves her radio at him as Diego takes a corner way too fast. They’re all thrown violently to the side, but Cate braces herself and focuses on the road. One of them has to and the way Knife Boy’s gone non-verbal and weird, it ain’t gonna be him.

“I live and breathe the streets of New York, big guy,” Cate says. “Try to keep up. On that note, are you trying to kill us before we rescue your sister, Knife Boy?”

Diego snarls at her again and Cate can’t help but snicker as the tires squeal. 

~

There’s a scratching at her door. At first Vanya thought she was imagining it. Wishful thinking of a dying mind or something poetic like that. But then the scratching turned to knocking and the knocking turned to pounding, and her back shook with it. So. Maybe not all in her head, then. 

She’s weak now, as weak as a newborn kitten. This always happens with her panic attacks; she can barely function afterwards. She’s been freaking out for--for a long time, she thinks. She isn’t sure how long but. Pogo never came back so it has to have been a while. At this point they don’t even need to readminister whatever sedative knocked her out in the first place. Vanya can barely find the strength to clench her fists. Her breath keeps hitching in her chest. 

The pounding slows to a knock on the glass. Once, twice, three times. Vanya can barely turn her head to see a tuft of dark hair and wild eyes lined with kohl peeking at her from above. 

“Klaus,” she rasps, but her eyelids are so heavy. Klaus doesn’t look much better from what little she can see. His eyes are glazed over and Vanya has the sudden urge to laugh; it looks like both their sobriety is fucked now. 

~

A woman nearly runs them down before they get to the Academy. Cate swears as Diego has to throw the emergency break to slow down and swerve around the stranger and swears again when the woman climbs unceremoniously into the backseat. It must be getting crowded back there. Cate cannot really find it in herself to particularly care.

“There’s something going on at the Academy,” the woman says, breathless, as Diego steers the car back on the road. They’re lucky this storm seems to be getting worse and sensible people have taken shelter; they’d never make it through New York traffic otherwise. 

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Cate says.

“Who are you?”

“Your lord and savior.” Cate snaps back drily. The woman looks around at the other occupants of the car, bewildered. Diego snarls again and Big and Brawny shrugs. “Say, Knife Boy, you got any more hitchhikers to pick up, or can we get this show on the road? Unlike you guys I’m not from the fucking circus and this don’t look like a clown car to me.”

Knife Boy is really all too easy to rile up.

~

Klaus keeps pulling at the door. Vanya can feel the vibrations through her thin sweater where she’s pressed her back against it. She cannot find the will to move away. It’s the only thing reminding her she isn’t all alone now.

She wishes she could make her legs take her weight, that she could stand and push that door off its hinges, that she could take Klaus’s hand and haul herself from this hellhole. But she’s so very tired. She just wants to rest. Ever since all of this started, she’s only ever wanted to rest. Just for a little while.

But Klaus is out there, tugging ineffectually at the door. She must do this. She has to do this.

You can’t.

I have to, Vanya tells herself, and hauls herself halfway up. She can only really get into a kneeling position like this, limp and drained as she is, but Klaus sees.

He told you this would happen and you didn’t listen.

“Go,” Vanya says. Klaus just looks at her and Vanya repeats herself, exaggerating her facial motions as much as she can with numbness spreading through her. Her voice rings in her own ears. “Go!”

Klaus shakes his head, eyes wide. He goes back to the door handle. For a second, Vanya thinks he might be summoning Ben; she can see his fists where he’d rested them against the glass, clenched and shaking. But whatever is in their systems is affecting him just the same as her, and Klaus looks like he might start crying.

“Please go,” Vanya whispers, even though her brother is not looking anymore. “I can’t get you hurt too.”

~

The gates to the Umbrella Academy are not half as ostentatious as they look in the magazines, Cate is somewhat deflated to note. The rest of her is internally screaming that they’re going too slow to really take in anymore of the decor. 

She externally screams when Diego fishtails the car again. She can feel the woman’s--Vanya’s sister? Cate thinks maybe she’s seen her around the apartment building before, but she’s stopped accepting Vanya’s invitations into her home after realizing there were way too many siblings sleeping on the floor there to be comfortable-- knees go jabbing into her lower back as they go spinning. Cate throws up one hand to grip the back of Diego’s seat and braces her other forearm against the side of the door. Big and Brawny yells some very choice curse words Cate’s going to have to commit to memory.

The car skids, sending up sparks and shrieking as the metal rims slide across the curb, only to land in a perfect parallel park right in front of the Umbrella Academy.

They all scramble to exit Diego’s death trap. Cate isn’t the least bit surprised when Jean’s hand comes out of nowhere to steady her when her legs shake.

Took you long enough, says the tilt of his head, and Cate scowls at him. “I came here as fast as I could, okay?” she snipes back. Jean’s lips twitch. Then his face sags again, worry etched in the lines at the corners of his eyes, and he jerks his thumb to the building behind them. 

Whatever storm there was before, it’s gone now. The silence is eerie. Cate tastes strangeness on the air again and quirks a brow at Jean. Lee comes up and huddles under Jean’s other arm. He’s biting his lip. “Freaky shit, huh?”

“Blue lightning,” Lee reports as the Hargreeves finally get their act together and crowd around them. They all look up at the building. Cate thinks she maybe saw it in a horror movie once, a long time ago. “Some kid fell out of the sky.”

“A kid?” Vanya’s sister asks sharply. “What kid? What did he look like?”

Lee shrinks further into Jean’s side and Cate levels a glare at Vanya’s sister. “We didn’t wanna get too close.” He hazards a glance around their weird group and then looks back up at Cate. He’s so very young. “They went inside, but Klaus didn’t wanna go. We heard him shouting at Miss Violin.”

“What are you waiting for?” Cate says, looking up at them all. Her eyes find Knife Boy’s real fast. He’s scared; they all are. Cate can feel it, the same way she can feel the danger in the very oxygen she’s breathing. “Sounds like you guys need to go be big damn heroes.”

“What about you?”

“We’re not heroes,” Cate says tiredly. “We’re witnesses. Now get going. We’ll be waiting to make sure you get out okay.”

Cate’s honestly not sure what they’ll be able to do if the Hargreeves idiots don’t make it out okay. But she’ll think of something. She always does.

~

Klaus has just managed to ring his hands in blue, a thin, wavery light spilling into the semi-darkness, when Vanya spies movement behind him. She’s managed to prop herself up again, all her weight on the door, and she scrabbles at the glass with broken nails to get his attention.

“Klaus, they’re back, Dad’s back, you gotta go--”

It’s not their father. 

Ben’s blue hands wrap around Klaus’s on the door’s circular handle and they pull. It takes Vanya a second to realize what’s happening, and by the time she does, her support is gone and her center of gravity is rushing to meet the floor. 

Sound crashes back into her and Vanya has missed it. Klaus yelps, catching her shoulders as Vanya trips out of the cell, and her hip and elbow make a dull thud against the concrete. There’s distant clattering that sounds vaguely like an elevator coming to a rest, but Klaus’s hands are warm, and she can feel a slight pressure on her elbow and her back, like maybe a second person--Ben, Ben-- is trying to help her up too. The door is swinging, creaking on its hinges, and there are footsteps coming towards them, loud and frantic babbling in her ears and it’s all so much Vanya has to fight not to clamp her hands over her ears again. Her breath speeds up, still hitching in her lungs, and her vision blurs, spotting. She loses track of the world for a while. 

She comes back to her body violently when she feels arms too strong to be Klaus and too real to be Ben wrap under her back and knees. She lets out a strangled shout, fingers turning to claws in an instant. She thrashes, all thoughts of her powers, of her newfound ability to defend herself forgotten. She feels rough and animalistic, just fighting to survive. She has to get away.

Vanya’s hair is in her face but she knows, she knows it has to be Pogo, trying to drag her back inside and her breathing goes wonky again but she’s still so weak and she’s fighting, snarling, trying to twist out of the hold on her, she can’t go back inside--

“Vanya! Vanya, it’s me!”

Another set of hands pushes her hair out of her face and hold her head still and Vanya wants to twist out of that hold too but she’s losing her fight and her strength fast and then her eyes meet blue and oh. Pogo’s eyes aren’t blue.

“Luther,” she gasps. He smiles, tremulous, and nods. “W-What--I don’t--”

“Allison and Diego are running interference,” Luther says. It all sounds nonsensical, but Vanya’s world is spinning still and not much has made sense all day anyway. “We think Dad is in his study, but I didn’t see him on the way down here, I just saw the elevator doors first--”

“I left them open,” Klaus mutters. He’s still stroking her hair out of her face and God. Vanya had thought she'd never feel a friendly touch again. “I--I think Mom didn’t realize how much tolerance I have now, I woke up before they thought I would. It’s not hard to sneak around here anymore and I just had to avoid that fourth stair on the left side and Dad left the key in the elevator anyway so I just--just--”

“Klaus.” Luther interrupts. He shifts Vanya’s weight in his arms like he’s getting ready to move and Vanya will have to remember to thank him later. She can’t really feel her legs right now. “We gotta go--”

“Five, we have to get Five,” Vanya says, gripping her brother’s sweater with shaking fingers. “He’s back, I don’t know where they took him--I--”

As if on cue, there is a sharp crack followed by cursing somewhere behind Luther’s right shoulder. Someone stumbles around and then Five’s voice, slurring, snaps, “What the fuck is this place?”

“It’s Dad’s torture chamber a la Silence of the Lambs,” Klaus says. He’s stopped glowing blue now. Ben isn’t pressing at her back anymore. 

Luther’s face twists, like he knows he is losing control of the situation rapidly, and Vanya is struck with sudden giggles. Five snorts and mutters and comes to lean against Luther’s back, peering at her.

“You look like shit,” he tells her.

“So do you,” Vanya replies. “I’d very much like to leave now.”

“Amen to that,” Five says, and staggers away. Klaus catches him and they leave her range of vision for a moment. Luther sighs in relief and stands up, lifting her like she weighs nothing at all.

They get all of four steps down the hallway before the elevator opens. Vanya has her face pressed into Luther’s overcoat but her body goes rigid and her bones liquify at the sound of Sir Reginald’s voice.

“Number One. I am so disappointed in you.”

She tries to turn in Luther’s arms, to see more than a sliver of their father’s shadowy form over her brother’s great arms, but Luther holds her tight and says nothing. 

“Get out of the way, Dad.”

He ignores Klaus, as he always has. “I thought you of all of my children would understand that we must do what needs to be done to protect the world.”

Luther doesn’t move. Vanya has stopped breathing. 

“God, I forgot how much I hated your sanctimonious bullshit,” Five mutters from somewhere to her left.

“If you want to be the leader, the hero I know you have the potential to be, you will return Number Seven to the cage immediately, Number One.” Sir Reginald shifts, tapping his cane loudly on the concrete floor for emphasis. His face is lined with determination, knowledge, grave foreboding. There is no other option. Luther only left a month ago. “If you want to protect the helpless, you will do this.”

Vanya’s heart has stopped beating. She squeezes her eyes shut. It’s no use fighting. Maybe this is what she deserves, after all. She hopes Luther can forgive himself for it eventually.

“I do want to protect the helpless,” Luther says slowly. His hands are still careful where they curl into Vanya’s clothes. He’s not squeezing her enough to break, only enough to make sure she doesn’t fall. “And that's what I’m doing right now.”

There’s silence.

Luther steps forward. “She’s my sister, Dad.” He says lowly. “I’m gonna have to ask you to get out of our way.”

“If you will not do what needs to be done, Number One,” their father says with great gravity, “I will be forced to do it myself.”

“No, you really won’t.”

Diego’s knife glints in the low light. Vanya’s shoulders relax on their own.

Sir Reginald opens his mouth, but Allison’s voice comes from somewhere behind him that Vanya can’t quite see from her vantage point.

“I heard a rumor,” Allison says, all soft and silky and dangerous, “that you let us leave without putting up a fight and you never contacted us again.”

They walk out of there with their father’s eyes burning into the back of their heads and Vanya doesn’t start breathing again until the front door closes behind them.

~

Cate pulls open the door to the backseat before Diego can even step off the curb. He’s supporting a kid in an oversized suit who looks like he’s gone ten rounds in a prize fight and definitely lost. Diego dips a nod at her and Cate steps back to give them room to maneuver the kid into the car. He’s complaining in a slurred, angry voice that he has to finish his calculations before sunrise. 

God, this family is weird. 

Behind Diego and his weird kid brother--probably? -- comes the Mouthy Sister, who has an arm around Klaus. He tips a sloppy salute her way and Cate returns it with a genuine smile. Jean shifts a little behind her, like he’s thinking about going to help, but then Big and Brawny comes barreling up the sidewalk with the White Violin collapsed in his arms and Cate loses track of what everyone else is doing.

“What happened? Are you okay?” She doesn’t register moving, but she’s at his side now, craning her neck to see Vanya’s face. She knew something bad was gonna happen. She knew it. The pit in her gut that’s been eating away at her yawns even wider and Cate’s hands flex, curling into fists. She wants to punch something.

She made a promise Vanya would be safe on her walks home at night. Cate failed.

Cate Owasinda never fails.

Vanya seems out of it, but she turns her head enough to register Cate’s presence. Her eyes are cloudy and her breathing is irregular. She’s too pale but then Miss Violin has always been too pale. Scrawny, too. Cate should’ve known something like this was going to happen.

But then Miss Violin’s face clears and her eyes sharpen. “Cate?” she asks, bewildered. 

“Are you okay?” Cate stresses, not to be deterred. Someone’s hand is on her shoulder, trying to wrench her away, but Cate digs her heels into the gravel and reaches out to push some of Vanya’s hair from her face, gentler than she’d known she was capbable of being. “Are you alright? I didn’t--we couldn’t find you. I--I thought--”

Vanya reaches up and folds her hands weakly around Cate’s own where it rests against Vanya’s face and Cate suddenly feels all of her very short sixteen years old. But the White Violin smiles. “I’m okay Cate. I’m okay.”

Cate grips her fingers back and, impulsive, leans over Big and Brawny’s bicep to press a hard, short kiss to Miss Violin’s forehead. “You’d better be,” she husks, and Vanya closes her eyes and smiles, just a little. 

Heat pushes at the backs of her eyes but Cate lets Jean guide her back a step with one last nod to Vanya. They watch, silent and staring, as the family loads the last of their injured into the car. It’s a tight fit and Cate thinks hysterically that maybe she was wrong; maybe that is a clown car.

Just as he goes to get into the car, Diego turns back and meets Cate’s eyes. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

She could say no. She could get them all holed up in Vanya’s tiny-ass apartment, wrapped in fleece blankets and mooching off her hot chocolate. There’d probably be tiny marshmallows. She could give into this fear that just won’t dissipate even after Vanya said she’d be alright. She could be a kid again, just for a little while. Let the actual adults worry about things for a bit.

“We’ll survive,” Cate says. Knife Boy eyes her for another moment and something like respect blooms. He nods and then he gets in the car and the Hargreeves drive away.

Lee wraps his arms around Cate’s middle. Jean’s a warm line of defense at her back. Miss Violin is going home, warm and safe in her own right.

Family really is everything.

“Let’s go, boys.” Cate murmurs into the night air. It doesn’t taste as dangerous now. “It’s getting late.” 

Chapter Text

Vanya wakes up in her cramped little bedroom with her family crowded around her. Allison gets top billing, as always, with Vanya’s head in her lap where she’s resting against the headboard. Vanya can feel a heavy weight on her thigh, and by pushing her chin to her chest and blinking in the dim morning light, she can just make out a mess of wild curls. Klaus is fast asleep, curled up against her knees. There’s a couple of huge, shadowy lumps braced against the side of her bed too; Luther is gripping her hand between both of his from where he’s fallen asleep leaning against her mattress. Diego is sprawled out next to him, his snores shaking the mattress just a little on each exhale. Vanya stifles a laugh.

“You should be asleep,” says a soft, slightly annoyed voice. Vanya cranes her neck again and catches sight of Five-- Five! --sitting on her windowsill. The sun isn’t up just yet, but the first rays are turning the sky behind his head pink and orange, lighting his hair on fire. The city glints in the distance, already awake. 

“So should you.” Vanya whispers. “I don’t know what time travel and switching back to your young body does to a person but it’s probably not good. Just saying.”

“I’ve got coffee,” Five replies dryly, which is not an answer or a solution and how did he even know where to get coffee, she threw all hers out after she and Klaus detoxed--

“You’re weird.”

“So are you.”

“That’s fair,” Vanya concedes sensibly. She shifts to get a better look at him, trying to see if there’s anything she should worry about-- why is he up, is he hurt and not saying anything, did those sedatives do something to him she didn’t notice before --but stops when Allison huffs and Klaus mumbles something into her sheets and Diego’s hand curls gently around her ankle. She’s gonna be lucky if her bed frame doesn’t break before they all wake up.

“Go back to sleep,” Five insists, turning back to look out the window. He’s balanced his coffee mug on one knee. His other foot kicks the wall gently, a thumping rhythm that soothes some of Vanya’s nerves. “I’ll keep watch.”

Vanya means to ask exactly what he’s watching out for, but she falls asleep before she can.

~

Dear Pogo,

I bet you didn’t see this letter coming, huh? 

~

It’s strange, but nowadays people know who Vanya is and she’s getting sort of used to it. She still doesn’t get stopped on the street very often, thank God, but that’s mostly due to Cate’s people always hanging around. The power of homelessness really puts most on-lookers off from associating. It’s a sad truth when Vanya realizes it, and she forces more warm drinks and clothing onto her kids as a result. Lee takes a while to come around, but in the end he and Zoey seem to enjoy it. Vanya’s started knitting recently--it helps with anxiety and keeps her hands busy when she isn’t playing the violin and it reminds her of Mom in a sweet way that hurts, just a little bit-- and Lee was really excited when she was finally able to make him a pair of dark blue gloves with stars spangling his palms. She gets a hug for that one.

The next time Vanya throws herself into a stranger’s life in a totally not heroic way, it’s a return to the basics. There’s an accident. It’s a motorcycle this time. 

“Ow ow ow,” She hisses. The metal isn’t on fire like the car was, but she’d seen the man go skidding when he took the turn too sharp, and there’d been more than a few sparks. She adjusts her grip, hears bystanders calling the cops, and the sound of yelling. She drowns it all out, sweat stinging her eyes and she pulls ineffectually. Her mind had gone a strange, familiar blank when she’d seen it happen and she’s not thinking too clearly. The man underneath the bike groans and curses. Vanya shares his sentiment.

“Listen, you look like you do push-ups,” she huffs at him, “so get your hands under this thing and when I pull you push--yeah just like that, super good job--”

The veil of fog drops over her vision then, and with his help, she pulls the twisted skeleton of his once probably pretty glorious bike off of him. He rolls over and vomits into the gravel as soon as his chest is done being compressed.

“Oh that’s--that’s normal, that’s probably fine.” Vanya crouches down and pats his back gently, ears twitching at the sound of sirens. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

He winces under her fingertips, but catches her hand in his, squeezing when she draws away in concern. She smiles weakly and squeezes back. “You’re gonna be okay.”

~

I don’t really know what to say to you. I guess if there’s something I’ve never been very good at it’s knowing the right thing to say at the right time. You probably tried to teach me that but I can’t remember. You tried to teach us all a lot of things, didn’t you? I guess we never said thank you, either, so I’ll start there. Thank you, Pogo, for doing what you could for us. It wasn’t enough, but it was all you could give. I understand that now.

~

The apartment Allison brings them to weeks later is decidedly out of Vanya’s budget. When Vanya opens her mouth to point this out, Allison exclaims loudly about the tiling in the kitchen and drowns her out. Somehow, she never quite manages to see the sales price. 

“You know I can’t afford a balcony,” she mutters when they’re watching Klaus throw open the French doors and lean far too far out over the railing to yell at people on the street. Diego’s hand hovers in the air behind him, ready for a fall. “I know this neighborhood, Allison. Just looking at the balcony costs more than my entire life’s savings.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“That is absolutely the worst thing you could’ve said besides maybe ‘calm down.’” Vanya points out. Behind them, Five is checking the locks on the front door. Luther is explaining to Ben, who Klaus is manifesting, where exactly he’d like to put some planters outside. He’s excited about tomato season coming up.

“I already put you in a cage once.” Allison drops her voice, so low Vanya has to lean in to hear it. “Let me make it up to you, okay?”

Her heart twists in her chest and Vanya nods, but something shrewd makes her eye her sister carefully. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Allison’s mouth twists. Her eyes get a little big and something sad and guilty tinges her expression. She reaches out and Vanya reluctantly lets her take her hand, twine their fingers. 

“I like to take care of you guys,” Allison says. “It’s all I have without…”

“Without Claire?” Vanya prods gently. “What happened, Allison?”

“Her father--I rumored him. To, you know. Love me. And now I--I just don’t know if I can go back because…”

Vanya waits her out. Allison looks out over the rooftops and breathes shallowly. “Because everything here, with us, is real. And the only thing real out there is Claire. I want her with me, of course, but I think maybe he knows something about what I did and I just can’t face that.”

“ Allison .” 

Her sister takes a breath sharply, and nods once. “I know. I have to own up to it eventually. It’s just. Hard. You know.”

“Yeah,” Vanya says. She squeezes her sister’s hand. “I can guess. It’d be cool to meet my niece, though.”

~

I hope you and Mom are alright. I won’t ask you to write back, but I also won’t refuse a letter if you send one, if you catch my drift. But maybe don’t call just yet. I doubt either of us can handle that right now, and besides, there’s no telling what Dad will do if he catches you talking to me. It wouldn’t be good, I can guess that much. You and I both know how well you can keep a secret, though, so I’m not too worried about you. (Sorry, that was mean, wasn’t it? I’m working on it. Give me time.) 

~

Leonard looks smaller now. He’s hunched in on himself, hair dirty and hanging around his ears, fingernails bitten to the quick. The fluorescent lights do nothing for his complexion, make him look sallow and frightened. He’s a wild animal ready to bite.

Vanya shivers behind the glass of the one-way mirror and the officer behind her offers her a cup of coffee. She refuses and keeps her eyes locked on the back of Diego’s head. She’s not entirely sure about police procedure, but she’s almost positive he’s not a high enough rank to be doing this interrogation. Vanya herself certainly should not be here. 

She’s here anyway. Being a “superhero” has its perks, she guesses.

Detective Patch drums her fingers on her forearm where she stands at Vanya’s side. She for one does not seem impressed with Vanya’s presence; it’s actually weirdly reassuring. At least someone is acting normally.

It barely takes Diego saying more than “why’d you do it?” to get him talking.

“You all thought you were so special, just because you had powers,” Leonard raves. His eyes are wide. His teeth are sharp. Vanya holds herself around the middle. “I’m extraordinary too. We share the same birthday, you know.”

“Answer the question,” her brother grits. She does not like him being in the same room as Leonard, even though she could probably bring the roof down on his head before he even touched Diego.

“I am special. I am special.”

“If you don’t comply, I’m going to have to--”

“You couldn’t get away from your father, but I did,” Leonard snarls. “I got away when you all couldn’t. I did what had to be done and when he tried to touch me that last time I showed him what I was capable of. I’m better than you were because I got away. I’m special too. I didn’t even need powers. I am extraordinary.”

Oh. Oh .

Unexpected pity floods Vanya. She can’t forgive Leonard for what he’s done; her skin still crawls with the feeling of his hands in her hair, but something clicks in her head. He’s like her, in a twisted, disgusting way. He’s what she could’ve become if she didn’t have powers, if she didn’t have family, if all she was was what Sir Reginald Hargreeves made her into--a jealous, envious skeleton of a person, wasting away to nothingness. Leonard is nothing more than a scared little boy, a husk of a man, a monster convinced he is right. That could’ve been her. That could still be her, if she’s not very careful.

Vanya turns and leaves and doesn’t need to see any more. She wonders later, when she lies awake at night sometimes, if anyone ever visits Leonard. If she were a braver woman, she may have tried. 

She doesn’t.

~

I don’t really feel right about how things ended, especially between us. And with Mom, too. I wish--well. Sometimes I wish you could have come with us. If I’m being honest, sometimes I never want to see your face ever again. I know it’s harsh, but I never want to lie to you, Pogo. It’s important to me now that we don’t lie to each other, even if the truth hurts. You can humor me on this, can’t you? After all, you’re the one who broke the news about me being a child murderer, which, ouch. Thanks for that. (I knew I needed therapy but my God. Whoever I start seeing is going to need an immediate raise.) 

~

Vanya loves her siblings and she loves playing the violin and she loves her students and she loves helping people and she loves the new apartment and she loves the kids on the street she can call hers now. But sometimes love and a good life are not enough.

Vanya can’t sleep. It happens. She deals. Tea is a new addiction. It’s herbal, she tells Luther and Diego when they fret. No caffeine. Stop worrying.

She stays up sometimes, slips from her bedroom--she has her own bedroom now, they all do, this apartment is fucking gigantic and she never ever wants to know what the security deposit cost Allison--and pads to the living room. Thankfully they agreed with Klaus and got a comfy couch instead of Allison’s modernist choice. The cushions nearly swallow each of them, barring Luther, when they sit down. Sometimes Vanya reads, but more often than not she drinks rooibos and knits and tries not to let her heart beat out of her chest. Sometimes she has to open all the windows and the doors to the balcony to remind herself she isn’t trapped. Those are the bad nights.

Vanya is having a bad night. Her hands shake on her knitting needles and she has to put them down. She’s been thinking of starting needlepoint or cross stitching next. A wind blows gently on the back of her neck, where her hair is up. There’s a sudden, muted crack and she doesn’t react. Her head is all jumbled tonight.

“Why did you go back?” 

Vanya looks up. Five is sitting on the kitchen counter, watching her with those strange, old eyes. They make her insides shiver sometimes; his eyes shouldn’t look like that. “Sorry, what?”

“Don’t apologize,” Five snaps, but he subsides quickly. “You went back to the house, knowing what he did to you. Allison told me. So why did you go back?”

“Why did you come back from the future?”

He startles. It should be an accomplishment, but Vanya doesn’t have the energy to do more than twitch the corners of her mouth. “Because the future sucked.”

“It wouldn’t have anymore, if what you told us was accurate. The world didn’t end.”

“Yeah and we were never sure why that happened,” Five points out. “I for one would still like an explanation.”

“And people say you’re the genius of the operation,” Vanya scoffs fondly. “Don’t you get it, Five? I was the apocalypse.”

It takes less than a second for her brother to pop into being by her side. His hands grip her fingers too tightly but Vanya doesn’t pull away. This is important to him. “What do you mean, Vanya?” 

“Dad built that bunker for me when I was, what? Seven? Nine, maybe? He might have been kinda batshit crazy, but Reginald always had a reason for the things he did. He knew a threat when he saw one, and he saw one in me.”

“You’re not what he thought you’d become,” Five says. He’s the only one she told about the conversations with Dad and Pogo. But she didn’t tell him everything.

“Dad said I was the reason the world ended.” Five’s hands spasm atop hers but don’t let go. “He didn’t just think I was a monster, Five, he thought I would kill everyone. And I think he was right. No don’t--don’t say anything, just listen. I was in a bad way, after you left and Ben died. And I got out of the house just like everybody else but I was alone and I was scared and I’d never learned how to be okay with myself. And I was headed down the path of blaming it all on everyone else--all of you guys, even you, maybe especially you because you were my best friend and you left. I think if that were how I saw you when I found my powers, I don’t think--I probably would have been resentful and distrusting and I wouldn’t have listened to reason. I wouldn’t have been able to control this power by myself but I wouldn’t have let anyone help. Because I’d be special, when I never got to be and you always were.”

“You’re special, Vanya.” Five says, and his voice is low and rough and so young and his eyes are so old and Vanya smiles because she wants to cry all the time. “You are . Don’t look at me like that.”

“Special is a relative term,” Vanya replies, soft. “And I’ve done a lot of growing since then. But thank you Five. It means a lot, coming from you. But if you patronize me again, I’ll have to blast your ass through a window.”

Her brother’s laugh is a surprise. They don’t hear it often enough. 

“So you went back because you thought you were a monster? I hadn’t even told you about the apocalypse yet.”

“No, of course not. I went back--” Vanya pauses and looks away. Her throat feels tight suddenly. She focuses on her knitting, a thick scarf of red and gold glittering yarn she hopes to gift Cate before the onset of spring rains. It’s calming, the way the low kitchen lights catch on the threads. “I went back because even when I knew what happened with me and Allison--fuck, when I knew what happened to Klaus, even--he’s our dad , you know? I guess somewhere deep down I thought that counted for something.”

“It should.” Five mutters. They don’t say anything for a long time. Vanya sips her tea. “I have something to tell you. You’re gonna think it’s crazy.”

She tilts her head and waits. She’s always been good at waiting for Five. 

He snorts and scrubs a hand over his face. He’s probably as tired as Vanya feels. “When I was stuck in the future, I got out by working for an organization of time traveling assassins who called themselves the Commission and worked to bring about the end of the world.”

Vanya blinks. Five gives her a minute. It is appreciated.

“They...wanted to make me blow up then? If Dad was right about me?”

“If Dad was right about you,” Five agrees grimly. “Yeah. And I don’t know what’s happening with them now. I wasn’t supposed to come back here so they’d be looking to stop me from stopping the apocalypse--you, I guess--normally, but since you stopped yourself they might have been thrown into chaos.”

“I would think so,” Vanya says, trying for reasonability in the face of utter insanity. “Nobody’s ever heard of a bomb defusing itself.”

That might have been a tad morbid, because Five looks at her askance. “Right,” he says slowly. “So what I’m saying is, they still present the world a very real threat. And they’ll be coming after us--you and me specifically, if I had to wager a guess.”

“We’ll be ready for them.”

“How?” Five asks, and he looks so worn out. She reaches out and pushes his bangs off his forehead and laughs when he shakes her off with what is probably supposed to be a growl but ends up more of a whine. 

“I’ll make a pot of tea.” Vanya offers. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

~

I’m sorry. And I forgive you. Or at least I will, when I stop being so angry. I hope that’s soon; I hate feeling angry. I do remember that I love you though, and I have always loved you, which somehow makes handling the anger easier and harder at the same time. But I do love you Pogo, so--write soon. If you want to.

Love,

Vanya. 

~

Vanya picks up her violin and lets her hands run over the worn wood. It is brown and smooth and warm and sends tingles through her fingertips. It is the first--and for a long time, only--thing she ever loved. It is not the last. 

Her family’s voices rise and fall in the other room. Their laughter makes the corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles. The window is open but the sounds of the street traffic are faint to her ears. The air making the white, gauzy curtains billow around her is slightly wet with the promise of spring. The lamps behind her cast her sheet music in soft golden light. For some reason, Vanya’s chest constricts gently around her heart before easing. She has a feeling she’ll play for hours tonight.

It ends when Vanya closes her eyes, breathes, and touches bow to string.