𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

4│CRYPTIC UNCLES ARE PROPHETIC HARBINGERS

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴄʀʏᴘᴛɪᴄ ᴜɴᴄʟᴇs ᴀʀᴇ
ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ʜᴀʀʙɪɴɢᴇʀs ꒱


❝ HE WHO SEES HIS OWN DOOM
CAN BETTER AVOID ITS PATH ❞

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It was only when The Umbrella Academy was fully out of sight that Dolores realized they hadn't decided on a meeting place. Still, she was too stubborn to go back and besides, it wasn't like they were subtle. They'd probably be on the evening news if worst came to worst; she put that particular thought out of her mind for now.

After everything that had happened, it was almost surreal to be walking down the street in a world that wasn't threatened by an apocalypse or currently experiencing one. People bustled past her on the sidewalk in a purposeful manner, cars whizzed by on the roads and occasionally honked their horns, birds squawked in the sky as they did whatever the hell birds did. It was a world untouched by the terror that superhero siblings could inflict even if their presence was felt throughout the city.

She kept her gaze focused on the ground as she'd always had when she was younger and counted the steps quietly in her mind as she walked. The familiarity of studying the concrete and everything that lay in her path was comforting, especially as she realized exactly how loud the city actually was. (Piece-of-trash number one. Weed thirty-one since she'd left the park. Sidewalk crack number twenty-five.)

She wondered what it would be like to see her parents again, if she got to see them this time. A part of her wished that Five was with her so that he could meet them now that this timeline afforded such luxuries, but in a way she wasn't; his strange behavior post-Sparrow fight was starting to worry her. She tried not to think about that and considered her parents instead.

Would they pick up that she was different than their original daughter? Would they be vastly different? Her new self in this timeline seemed cooler and more formal than she'd ever been, but maybe that came from hanging out with super-powered assholes. Would Uncle Ed recognize that she wasn't the same Dolores right away? She figured that he probably would. (Piece-of-trash number three. Weed number fifty-six. Sidewalk crack number eighty. Bump on the sidewalk number two.)

Dolores also took an interest in the shoes that passed her. Brown work loafers had the highest count (fifteen) while kids' shoes had the lowest (six.) It had been a long time since she'd been on her own without something terrifying happening— i.e., the nuclear apocalypse she'd just lived through— that she actually relished the brief separation. Besides, The Umbrella Academy was not known for their diplomacy and they'd most likely have tried to attack her uncle if he gave them unfavorable news. It was probably for the best that they hadn't come with her.

✧✧✧

Dolores stopped in front of her house and stared up at the once-familiar yellow building. It was shorter than all of the ones around it and sat back slightly from the curb. A white picket fence smartly defined their property from the city's and a surprisingly green lawn stretched from where the concrete ended to where the house began. A straight cement pathway a single square wide led up to the front stoop where three brick steps could be climbed to get to the door. Identical flower planters hung underneath the windows on either side of the symmetrical face.

Deeper into the lot, the back half of the house was cut off by a taller wooden fence that her father still hadn't gotten around to painting. The left side was just a partition while the right was a gate that one could go through to get to the backyard. It was this side that she headed for and she jerked at the black latch that held the door fast. After she'd freed it from the lock, she kicked at the bottom left corner twice to unstick it before it swung open easily.