The Umbrella Academy’s mansion was always too quiet at night. Its large, looming hallways felt like echoes of a past no one really wanted to remember. Number Five paced through the dimly lit corridors, his sharp mind racing through endless calculations of time and probability. He never could sleep, not when there was so much to figure out, so many timelines to consider.
And then there was Dolores.
Five’s pace slowed as he made his way into his room. There, sitting on a chair in the corner, was the mannequin he had dragged back from the apocalypse all those years ago. Her vacant glass eyes reflected the pale moonlight coming through the window. Even now, with everything he had seen and done, Dolores was still the one constant in his life.
It wasn’t exactly the same—he knew that. She didn’t speak, didn’t move. But during those long years trapped in the wasteland of the future, Dolores had been his only companion. His anchor. His sanity.
“Another long day,” Five muttered, more to himself than to her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, casting a brief glance in Dolores' direction. “Sometimes, I wonder if you had it easier not having to deal with all this. With family, with timelines... with life.”
He sat down at the foot of his bed, letting out a breath. The world was always on his shoulders—stopping apocalypses, saving his dysfunctional family, keeping the timeline intact. And as much as he tried to maintain his sharp, calculating demeanor, being back here, surrounded by reminders of everything that went wrong, wore him down.
His eyes drifted back to Dolores.
“If only you could talk,” he whispered, a small, wistful smile playing at his lips. “Would’ve been nice, having someone real to vent to.”
He stared at her longer than he intended, his mind slipping back into memories of the future, where they had spent countless hours together. It was strange how attached he had become to her, to this silent presence that had seen him at his worst and, in her own way, kept him going.
But then, something shifted.
Five blinked, narrowing his eyes. There, in the soft moonlight, it almost seemed like Dolores… moved.
“Impossible,” he muttered under his breath, but a sudden jolt of energy coursed through him, making him sit up straighter. He stared harder, certain that his overworked brain was playing tricks on him. But no. There it was again—a slight twitch, the barest movement of her head.
And then, she blinked.
Five’s heart stuttered in his chest as he jumped to his feet, his sharp mind struggling to keep up with what he was seeing. “Dolores…?”
Her glass eyes softened, the eerie stillness of her mannequin form melting away as she slowly turned her head toward him. Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time, Five heard her voice—soft, warm, and full of life.
“Yes, Five. I’m here.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe. This had to be some kind of trick, some warped reality caused by all the time jumps. But Dolores—his Dolores—was standing now, stepping toward him, her once stiff limbs moving with fluid grace. Her skin looked real, her eyes alive with emotions he never thought he'd see reflected back at him.
“You—how—” Five stammered, his usually composed mind reeling as he tried to process what was happening. “You’re… you’re real?”
Dolores smiled softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. The touch was warm, solid, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Five was at a loss for words.
“I’ve always been real to you,” she said gently, her voice soothing and familiar. “Even when I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move… I was with you. I always have been.”
Five swallowed hard, his gaze locked on hers. It was impossible. This shouldn’t be happening. Yet here she was, standing before him, alive and real in a way she never had been before.
“Why now?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse. “Why are you here, like this?”
Dolores looked at him with an expression that was both tender and sad. “You’ve been alone for so long, Five. Too long. I’ve seen it in your eyes, the weight you carry. You think you have to do everything yourself, that you don’t deserve anyone’s help. But you’re wrong. You don’t have to be alone.”
Five shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t have anyone, Dolores. I never did. Just you. Always you.”
She stepped closer, her hand sliding down to take his, her fingers lacing through his in a way that felt so natural, so right, it made his chest ache. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
He stared at her, his sharp mind struggling to keep its usual detachment. This was everything he had dreamed of during those long, lonely years in the apocalypse. But now, standing in the quiet of his room, with Dolores alive and real before him, Five felt something unfamiliar. Something like fear. Fear that this was just another thing that would slip away from him, like everything else had.
“What if this isn’t real?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if you disappear, like everything else?”
Dolores squeezed his hand, her gaze unwavering. “I’m as real as you need me to be, Five. As real as you’ll let me be.”
For the first time in a long time, Five didn’t have an answer. He had always prided himself on knowing what to do, on being five steps ahead of everyone else. But here, with Dolores standing in front of him, offering him the one thing he had longed for but never allowed himself to hope for—connection, companionship—he didn’t know what to do.
All he knew was that he didn’t want to lose this. Not again.
Without thinking, Five pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a desperate embrace. Dolores returned the gesture, her arms circling him as she pressed her face against his shoulder. She was warm, soft, real. For the first time in what felt like forever, Five allowed himself to close his eyes, to let down his walls, if only for a moment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dolores whispered, her breath warm against his skin.
For once, Five let himself believe it.
And for the first time in a long time, the ticking of the clock faded into the background, and the weight of time lifted from his shoulders. Even if only for a moment, he wasn’t alone.
