The Umbrella Academy: The End

The Photo

Five was grateful they hadn't been on a mission in a while. Maybe because there was no crime or because their father tried to kowtow Five's behavior. He should ask the sibs what Dad told the world about Five disappearing and reappearing.

But, as their father was a publicity whore, he announced they'd have formal pictures taken in the morning. Everyone needed to be ready, in uniform, clean, and perfect. Trepidation filled Five's heart. The situation sounded similar to the tattoo attempt. If Dad tried again, hopefully, the rebellion would be epic.

At 9 am, the seven children assembled in the great room. A photographer set up his camera in front of the mantle. Dad kept a close eye on Five. Hands in his pockets, he smiled at his father, trying to emulate Grace's signature expression.

"Line up, children. No funny business." He glared at Five, who failed to respond to the jibe.

As if on automatic pilot, they assembled by number, in a line. Except Vanya, who stood beside their father. Five stood in the middle staring straight ahead, hands in his pockets.

He cleared his throat quietly, and the other five sprang into action. It'd been an impromptu idea of Ben's. Whoda thunk? Everyone was game. Five offered to take the blame for the entire escapade.

Each kid assumed some sort of ridiculous pose. Luthor put his hands on his hips, chin up, ala Superman. Diego fell to one knee, flashing gang signs. Allison made a duck face, tossing her hair like a supermodel. Klaus planned to moon the camera, but they decided it might be going too far. Instead, he crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue, fingers in his ears. Ben grabbed Five and squashed him in a bear hug. Five flailed his arms and bugged out his eyes.

The room remained icily silent for a few seconds. The photograph moved to take the picture when Dad erupted.

"Children!" Their poses fell apart, and they looked at their father expectantly.

Klaus, of course, spoke first. "We figured you wanted to get the silly pose out of the way." He grinned.

Five loved that grin. An image of a thirty-year-old dead Klaus flashed behind his eyes. He shook it away. The images would always haunt him, but together, they'd already changed so much.

"Don't be ridiculous."

Before he could chastise them, Diego jumped in. "Thank you, Dad." He waved Vanya over. "Sorry, Sis." He tucked her in the line next to him, his arm around her. She grinned like he'd given her the best Christmas present ever.

"Vanya. Come here," Dad snapped. "You will not be in the photo."

"Why can't I be in the picture?" Vanya asked, edging away slowly.

The cameraman glanced around as if asking, "Why are we leaving this kid out?"

"Because there is nothing extraordinary about you." Dad lifted his chin and stared at little Vanya.

Five donned his most outraged face, but Allison beat him to punch.

She snatched at Vanya's arm before she moved too far away. "Excuse me." She used her snottiest thirteen-year-old princess voice. "Vanya is absolutely extraordinary. Have you heard her play violin?"

Their father pursed his lips, his eyes narrow. "We are all aware Vanya has no gift."

"She has the gift of music," Klaus said with an airy tone, fluttering his hands. "Who knows what she can do with that?"

Dad shot Klaus an alarmed look. Then he glanced at Five who blanked his expression. No, Klaus didn't know about Vanya. And Five wasn't ready to reveal her powers to her.

Or anyone.

Not yet.

Not until every single sibling had her back and could help her control it.

"Out of the picture, Vanya," Dad ordered. Usually, when he barked, they jumped. Today they didn't.

Allison crossed her arms over her chest. "If she's not in the picture, then I'm not." She cocked her head to the side, her mouth a thin line.

"Me either," Diego said.

Luther said, "Yeah." In a quiet voice, still having a hard time defying Dad. At least he tried. Diego put his arm around Luther.

"All or nothing," he added. The other kids nodded.

Their father screwed his mouth in a tight grimace. "I take it this is your doing, Number Five."

Five shrugged. "If we're going to be a team, we should act like a team. I mean, we are six powerful individuals and one extraordinary violin player. There's nothing we can't do together."

He met his father's gaze, and damned if the man didn't back down. He understood the threat—six of us, one of you.

Five didn't think any of them would ever hurt their father physically, but they could be defiant, obnoxious, temperamental teens until they left home. And Dad knew it.

"Take the picture."

Hurriedly, the seven squished together, no lines, no number order. The cameraman quickly snapped off a few shots. Five cleared his throat, and they all made goofy faces as planned. The photographer caught it before their father raged again.

"Number Five!" he bellowed, and the kids broke apart.

Five jumped in before Dad started a tirade. "My name isn't Number Five anymore." He glanced over to where Grace stood in the shadows. She raised her chin, a small smile on her lips. He continued, "Call me Nick."

Dad huffed through his nose, glaring daggers at Nick. "Training will begin in five minutes." He turned and stalked away.

The photographer followed in his wake, and Mom faded into the shadows.

"Nick?" Diego asked.

"Yeah. I asked Mom."

"You refused her before. Why ask now?" Allison directed her outrage at him.

"Yeah," Luther said. "I thought you'd pick Daniel or something." He shuffled his feet. Daniel had been the name on the birth certificate.

"Nah, I let Mom choose. Like she did for you guys."

They migrated upstairs in a slow precession to change into their training clothes. Klaus giggled.

"Well, Five, I mean, Nick, it's great," Klaus said, putting his arm around Nick's neck. "Short for Nickel, right?"

The group burst out in laughter.

"No, no," Ben said. "It's short for 'Nick of time.'" That met with more uproarious laughter.

"Hey," Nick said, laughing along with them but no longer wanting to be the butt of the joke. "Short for Nicholas."

"Like Saint Nicholas?" Luther asked. "Was Old Five fat and bearded?" More laughter, slaps on the back. Diego looked like he couldn't breathe.

"That's how he gets down those chimneys," Allison chimed in. "He flashes in."

"Saint Nicholas was a real catholic saint," Ben added. "You think she chose it on purpose?"

"I'm pretty sure the guy's the patron saint of prostitutes," Klaus added.

"You'd know," Diego answered.

"Geez, did any of the rest of you get this kinda guff for your name?" Nick shook his head.

Vanya bounced up next to him. "I think it's great."

Nick did too.