RUN BOY RUN- reader x Five Hargreeves

Part Fifty-Six

The aftermath of our battle with the Sparrow Academy felt like the remnants of a hurricane – destruction everywhere, bodies battered, spirits bruised. We limped away from the scene of carnage, finding temporary sanctuary in a nondescript park that seemed oblivious to the supernatural war we'd just survived. The landscape was a study in mundane tranquility – patches of dry grass struggling against late summer heat, scattered picnic tables worn smooth by countless anonymous gatherings. It was a scene of perfect, unremarkable peace that stood in stark contrast to the chaos we'd just endured. Broken and bleeding, we must have looked like survivors of some impossible apocalypse dropped into this ordinary slice of suburban normalcy. The picnic table creaked and groaned under our collective weight, a symphony of pain and exhaustion. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows that seemed to mock our battered state. I settled onto the weathered wood, feeling every muscle protest the movement. Each bruise was a story, each ache a testament to our latest impossible mission.

Five dropped down beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body – a comfort in our moment of vulnerability. His proximity was familiar, a constant in our perpetually chaotic lives. Despite everything we'd been through – the timelines, the fights, the impossible situations that seemed to define our existence – he was still here. Still Five. Still the one constant I could count on in a universe that seemed determined to break us. A thick silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken emotions and the residual adrenaline of our fight. The park around us seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something – perhaps another explosion of supernatural chaos, perhaps simply for us to break the fragile peace. Diego broke the tension first, his voice a razor-sharp observation that cut through our collective shock. "That didn't go well," he sneered, his disappointment so palpable it seemed to make the air around him vibrate with frustration. 'Yeah, no shit,' echoed in my mind. A masterpiece of understatement if there ever was one.

My powers felt like rusty machinery, each movement a painful reminder of how long I'd been out of practice. The energy I'd expended during the fight left me feeling hollowed out, stretched thin like an old piece of fabric about to tear. Memories of past battles flickered through my mind – the times we'd fought together, the times we'd nearly destroyed each other, the countless impossible scenarios we'd survived. I turned to Five, my eyes immediately catching the angry gash on his forehead. It was a violent splash of red against his pale skin, a testament to the brutality we'd just survived. Blood had dried in a pattern that looked almost artistic, if you could ignore the pain behind it. His resilience was both beautiful and terrifying. "You okay?" The words came out softer than I intended, carrying more care than I typically allowed myself to show. His smile was small, fragile – a delicate thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. But it was enough. A promise of survival, of continued resistance against whatever the universe threw our way.

Vanya emerged from the park path like a ghost, her limp telling a story of survival more eloquent than any words could express. Autumn leaves crunched beneath her feet, a quiet counterpoint to the violence we'd just experienced. "Oh thank god, you're alive," she croaked, her voice a rasp of pure, raw relief. Allison's concern was immediate, her maternal instinct cutting through the chaos. "You okay?"Klaus's sigh carried the weight of our entire complicated family history. "Apparently Ben is alive too," he added, the words dripping with a mixture of resignation and disbelief that perfectly captured the absurdity of our existence. "And he's a dickhead," I muttered, the observation feeling both childish and entirely accurate. "They're all dickheads," Diego groaned, his frustration a tangible thing that seemed to make the air around him vibrate with tension. Luther, sulking in his corner like a wounded animal, added his own bitter commentary. "Dickheads who can fight."

Five's warning came like a crack of lightning. "The next person to say dickhead is getting a punch to the throat." Challenge accepted. A chorus of "Dickhead" erupted, a rebellious symphony that was part sibling rivalry, part stress release. I couldn't resist adding my own, complete with a smirk that I knew would drive Five crazy. Five turned to me, unpleased and smacked my arm. "Ow, I wasn't the only one who said it," I mumbled, my voice carrying the petulance of a frustrated child. "Yes, but you were the closest to me," he smirked back, that infuriating glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. I reached out and flicked his forehead, a swift retribution that made him flinch. The conversation twisted, Diego probing Klaus about their new "siblings." The revelation came like a bomb – our father had been so repulsed by us that he'd adopted an entirely different group of children in this altered timeline. The implications were devastating, a fresh wound in our already complicated family history. My eyes met Five's. No words were necessary. We both understood the magnitude of what this meant – another timeline, another version of our fucked-up family, another reminder of how fragile our existence truly was.

"Care to explain?" Diego's patience was wearing thin, his demand cutting through our silent communication like a knife. "We're not Dad's kids in this timeline," Five stated, matter-of-fact, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much, known too much. I elaborated, choosing my words carefully. "The timeline has changed. Major things might be different. We don't know the full extent yet." Allison's challenge came swift and sharp. "Shouldn't you two know?" My response was immediate, protective. "Five isn't God. Neither am I. We don't have all the answers." Vanya, ever the peacemaker, offered a potential solution. "We still have the Commission's briefcase. We can go back and fix this." The hope in her voice was fragile, and I knew what was coming before Five even spoke. His blank expression told the story before the words left his mouth. "There are two problems with that statement." I groaned, already anticipating the lecture.

"One, time is tough-" "Can we skip to problem number two?" I interrupted. "I don't have the briefcase," Five finished. The silence that followed was devastating in its implications. Another dead end. Another impossible situation. Diego, ever practical, looked at our ragtag group. "We need to move. Secondary location?" I helped Five up, my arm finding its familiar place around his waist. "I'm sorry about getting frustrated," I whispered, a moment of softness amidst our chaos. His wink was a promise – we would figure this out, together. We always did. As we walked, our family moved as a single organism. Broken, battered, but undefeated. Whatever this new timeline held, we would face it. Together.