End of the Beginning [Five]

Twenty

Are you more productive in the morning or the night?

The moment Emery stepped out of the train station entrance, he knew something was wrong.

This wasn't the tension he felt between Five and Emery before the boy had told him that he'd found their way home ten months prior. This one was physical. And it spread through Emery's body with such a staggering lurch that he had doubled over, eyes pressing shut as a wave of dizziness spread across his vision, pulling black spots along its edges.

"You need to lay down. A damp towel against your forehead." Sloane advised as Emery tucked the information away, knowing that if the world was ending, the last thing he would be doing was laying down.

Five had changed his mood in an instant, watching worriedly as Emery pulled himself up a moment later, shooing the boy away with a dismissive wave of his hand under the pretense that he was fine.

If 'fine' meant that he currently felt that his inner organs were actively trying to spill free of his body by any means possible, then 'great' surely would have meant that he'd be six feet under, nothing but a corpse for the crows to pick at as they pleased.

And so this was how Emery found himself gripping the railings banister decorated in tinsel, knuckles starkly white and face alarmingly pale as he waited for Lila fucking Hargreeves to open the door and let them inside.

Snow coated the ground and a Christmas wreath hung against the outside of the door, a warm welcome to the holiday, twinkling against the light of the day as Emery glared at it, wishing it would sooner spontaneously combust than instill in him any Christmas cheer.

"Everything looks normal." Five said as he looked around for any irregularities so as to give himself something else to worry about other than the state of his boyfriend who looked two steps away from calling out to death himself. "It's possible they solved the Cleanse without us."

Emery just took a step forward, grasping onto Five's forearm for stability (petty anger be damned), and banged his fist against the door; a far cry from the pleasant ring of the doorbell moments prior.

The door swung open to reveal Lila at its threshold, lips turning upward when she saw the three of them on their doorstep. "Aha! You're back." She grinned, pausing, surprised when she saw Sloane, paling when she saw Emery. "Shit, Em. You look horrible."

"If one more person says that to me I'm going to strangle them," Emery said as Lila opened the door wider. He stumbled into the house, noting its warm welcoming scene. It was domestic, with delightful smells wafting from the kitchen and children's drawings pinned up to the walls fireplace. A small Christmas tree made up the corner of the living space and Emery gazed upon its decorations as he shrugged his shoes off as per the woman's instructions and all but collapsed onto the nearest couch, heart hammering in effort.

Lila disappeared quickly with the promise of ibuprofen and water.

"You had me worried sick!" She said. She had changed out of that notorious pink parka into a warm-toned lined coat. Her hair had been straightened and tamed and she appeared otherwise lively as three small children hid behind her legs when she came back. Emery had never met her children and would have ordinarily offered a warm smile if he could bring himself to do anything other than try not to actively vomit his guts out. "After the train left you two, I searched for hours. But I couldn't go between stations. The train never came back." She chose her next words carefully, eyes fixating on Emery's hunched form. "You were only gone a few hours."

"Seven years." Five said from where he had chosen to remain standing, back to the corner so he could see relatively every inch of the space. Over a decade retired from being a hitman and he still couldn't relax.