same old story, same old song | the umbrella academy

December 24.7, 2004

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

After three failed tries, Maya has found a trick for today's reset. You could call it a cheat.

If the Comission is after her and her parents and is trying to kill them on the road, the simplest solution is not to go on the road. Everytime they go out, they get killed, either by a hit or a shootout following the accident. Something is bound to happen to the timeline if they reach their destiny. So why doesn't Maya make the Commission's life easier?

—Maya? Maya, we're already late! —

When she hears her mother knock on her bathroom's door, she gags. She takes the cup of water she was holding and dumps it inside the toilet, and groans, loud enough for the woman to hear.

—Oh, baby, are you throwing up? Open the door, Maya. Have you eaten anything weird? —

Maya coughs, and fakes a raspy voice, —I don't know, mom. —she sobs.

Thank god for theatre class.

She hears the car outside turn off, and the main door close, which means her father has entered the house too. Maya smirks, but quickly gags again, remembering she has a goal to focus on.

—Maya, I found meds downstairs. They'll make you feel better, come on. —

—Ted I think we should stay home... —

—But your parents are waiting for us, it's Christmas. —

—We can stay until Maya gets better. Maybe we'll only be hours late. —

Her father sighs. —Okay... —

Maya celebrates, as everything is going to plan. If the Comission doesn't want them to leave today, she'll make sure they don't.

Quickly, she gags again, and starts to cry on command. She quietly runs in her place for two minutes. Looking in the mirror, she makes sure she looks a little too sweaty, a little too pale, and a little too tired.

She flushes the empty toilet and opens the door, continuing her act.

—Oh Jesus, —her mother slowly drags her to her bed, gesturing her to lay down, —Maybe we should go to the hospital. You've been having headaches lately and now this. —

Maya shakes her head. —It's nothing, mom. —

Her father enters the room with a glass of water and a pill too big for her liking. —This helps with the nausea. —

She's pretty sure if she drinks that pill she'll throw up for real. But she sighs, and takes it, hoping for the best. —Thanks. —fake-swallowing is harder with water, but she tries keeping the pill under her tongue. It almost fails, and she coughs, momentarily chocking on it. The pill miraculously is back in her mouth, but it must have looked realistic, for her parents nod in approval.

Now she must simply fake sickness for the rest of the day. It's not the first time she's done it, so it should be fairly easy.

An hour later, she's faking being asleep, while staring at the window and zoning out.

Her parents can be heard planning what to do, downstairs. They have called her grandparents and explained the situation, and they took it way better than Maya expected.

Outside, it starts to snow. They're still alive. Maya saved them.

She stands up, walking back to the bathroom. She could really use a shower, but it might be out of character. Instead, she puts her hair up, not too tight so it doesn't give her a real headache.

In her ponytail, she notices her hair is lighter.

Weird, considering her hair is deep black, and she hasn't bleached it. Taking out the lighter lock, she inspects it, recognising it as a grey hair just like the ones on her mom's head.

The grey strands are very few. They wouldn't be noticeable if they were separated. Still, Maya frowns, well aware fifteen year olds shouldn't get grey hairs. Maybe it's the stress?

Somebody knocks on the front door.

Tick, tick, tick, tick-

Maya knows it's probably a mad neighbour. But Maya has also learned it's better to assume the worst in any situation.

Hearing her parents answer the door, she rushes to their bedroom in the same floor as hers, immediately looking for one of the guns inside her father's cabinet. The revolver is not enough; she grabs the shotgun instead, making sure it's loaded.

Bang! Bang!

Those shots weren't hers, and it's suddenly obvious what is going on.

The Comission.

-tick, tick, tick, tick-

She makes her way downstairs pointing the shotgun upfront. If the Comission is here, it must mean the road wasn't the problem. They're after her parents. They must change something in the timeline.

Or maybe they're after her too?

-thriink, thriink, thriink, thriink-

Maybe her impeding their deaths is changing everything in the timeline.

-thriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

The same old man is standing in the lobby, in front of her parents' corpses. He hasn't noticed her. She places the shotgun against his back, and places her finger on the trigger.

—What does the Comission want? —

The man's tense shoulders fall, and he turns his head in curiosity. Slowly, he moves his entire body so he's facing Maya, and her shotgun which noticingly digs his chest.

—How do you know the Comission? —his frown is deep, and now facing him, Maya knows he's definitely not Hazel.

She shakes her head. —Unimportant. What do they change? I'm sure I can avoid it, you don't need to kill them again. I've seen all the tries. —

—Again? —

Maya moves the shotgun so it now digs his jaw. —Answer the question. —

The man thinks for a moment, and narrows his eyes, —Are you in a loop? —

How does he know?

—Unimportant! —she moves the shotgun to his forehead, —Tell me what to avoid. —

After a second, the man disappears with a blue aura.

-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink.

—What? —

—You can't avoid it. —

Before she can turn around to face the voice, something hits her head, and she sees black.