The Umbrella Academy: The End

October 1, 2019

"Happy Birthday, Number Five."

Five's head snapped up, his eyes wide. In a matter of seconds, he shouldered the rifle and pointing it at a strange man.

"Who are you?"

The man ignored him. "Been about what? Six months now?" He held a suitcase in one hand.

Five didn't lower the gun. He hadn't seen a soul in the entire time he'd been here. And this the guy might be hostile. All the training his father instilled in him kicked into overdrive. He examined the man, hunting for weapons or anything that resembled one. The suitcase bothered him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

The man placed on a hand pile of rubble, glancing around the ruined library. "It's been a good spot for you, huh?"

Five stepped forward. "I know how to use this, and I'm more dangerous than I seem. State your business, mister."

"I'm you, Five." The guy stroked his mustache. A small smile crossed his lips, revealing a dimple on his left cheek.

Five's breath caught. He looked the man over carefully. Black suit, white hair, a little gray mustache, same green eyes. The guy was rounder than Five ever hoped to be. But round meant well-fed, and "well-fed" sounded fantastic about now.

He'd lived six months in the wasteland with no one, little food, and too much time. He couldn't move backward in time, and forward did him no good. He had to go back, save his family, and get a decent meal.

"If you're me, then where the fuck have you been?" He didn't lower the rifle, just waited.

The man smiled. "Those couple months here gave you some perspective."

"Yeah, this has been great." Sarcasm soured his words. He lowered the gun. "Got any food?

The guy reached for his lapel, and Five snapped the rifle back to his shoulder.

"Slowly," Five said, hoping the man was reaching for a snack and not a weapon.

The man put one hand in the air and reached into his suit coat with the other. He glanced at Five, a twinkle in his eye. "Brought you something special." He pulled out a sandwich bag and held it up. "Tell me you're not craving it."

It looked like...

"Put it down and move back." Five wouldn't sacrifice himself for a sandwich, but he might kill for one.

The man placed it on a pile of rocks, stood, and moved a dozen paces away, taking the suitcase with him. He stood, hands at his sides, palms up, showing no harm.

Five flashed forward, grabbed the bag, and flashed to his original position. He glanced at his prize, a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. Tears prickled in his eyes.

A glance at the stranger showed an amused look on his face. The guy hadn't seemed surprised Five teleported from one spot to another. Maybe it was an older version of himself.

"Okay," Five said, hiding his wonder and excitement. "Who are you really?"

"I'm you, fifty years older." The man flashed to his original position by rubble pile. He pulled out another sandwich and raised it in a salute. "Let's eat and chat."

Five lowered the gun, finally convinced. The old man constituted his best hope of returning home.

They talked.

"So, you're going to send me back to the minute I left."

"Thereabouts." Old Five finished his sandwich and grinned. "I'm letting the family sweat a little."

Five rolled his eyes. "As if my father would worry."

"He worried, but not as much as Vanya, Pogo, and your other siblings." He lowered his head and gave the boy a poignant look. "They're your family. Remember that. You're going back to save them, friend them, and be whole. No more fights, no more competition, no more time-travel."

"Vanya..." Five stared off into space. It was a big pill to swallow.

"Be her friend, Five. It will help. Wait to tell her the truth."

Five nodded, but a tickle of doubt dancing down his skin. "Why don't I trust you?" He scratched the back of his neck, a sudden thirst making him uncomfortable.

"We've gone on too long. I gotta go before the homicidal rage kicks in."

"The what?" Five's survival instincts buzzed. He eyed the rifle.

"Never mind. Remember what I told you. Take care of your siblings, especially Vanya and Ben. All of you are important." He stood and dusted off his pants. "Oh, and I almost forgot this." He pulled an envelope from his jacket. "Keep it to yourself. For now."

"You're actually taking me back?" Five stood also, glancing around for anything he wanted to bring with him. His eye fell on Vanya's heartbreaking book. He already knew why his older self wanted him to watch out for Ben.

Old Five's gaze fell on it too. "You can take it if you want." His voice sounded much older and full of sorrow. "Hopefully, she'll never write it."

Then Five spotted Dolores, sitting alone in the ruins.

Old Five patted his shoulder. "She'll be fine. Ready?"

Five sighed, a slight ache in his chest. "Yeah."