The Flood // the umbrella academy [Klaus]

o n e

Phoebe Hargreeves never thought she would see those intricate wrought iron gates again, let alone the umbrella insignia that emblazoned so carefully across them. The memories came flooding back of the last time she stood before the building they so elegantly blocked; the tears, anger, heartbreak and betrayal she felt as she 'ran away'. At least, that's how he had put it the very first time she had felt the taste of complete freedom. Freedom. Thinking of it as freedom only ever made her scoff. She had a job to do and she completed it. If things had gone the way she had envisioned, she never would have found herself crying on the streets some ten years ago, instead of back where she belonged. He cut the tether tying her to her home. What a prick he was.

Shaking herself free of her memories, she took one step forward, hearing the soft creak of the gates as they swung open. As her pale hand still gripped the metal, one more step was all she managed before her vision became clouded once again. Another memory. They plagued her often; it was a part of her to be overwhelmed by memories. I never asked for this, she would tell herself. Never asked to be blinded by my past. It had nothing to do with her abilities - the attributes unique only to her.

This time, the memory was of a seven-year-old Phoebe. The conditions, ironically, were the same. It was late. It was raining. The streets were quiet and the only sound that could be heard was the muffled wailing of a little girl as she sat tied by the wrist to the very same wrought iron gates. Her mother, if she could ever call herself that, had desperately sought a way out of the situation life had thrown at her. It seemed the universe had told her that it was perfectly acceptable to abandon her only child outside the first household that appeared wealthy. As she scuttled off into the night, her confused and devastated daughter could do nothing but sit and wait. Wet, cold and hungry she cried, begging her mother to come back. When she finally realised that her mother wasn't coming back she begged the owner of the house to come outside and find her. Or anyone, really. She turned as the door opened, light and warmth from inside travelling down the steps and permeating through the chill that surrounded her...

"Miss Phoebe?"

Blinking suddenly, she was back in the present day. Her face was wet; from her own tears or the rain hammering down from above she couldn't be sure. She focused her sights on the open door, eyes connecting with those of a friendly face.

"Pogo, I told you it's 'Bea'." She said softly, her smile returning to her face only slightly.

"Apologies, Miss Bea." Her old friend replied. "Might it be a good idea to step out of the rain? Considering, of course, that you are not currently in possession of an umbrella."

Isn't that ironic? Bea shook herself slightly, gearing herself up for the onslaught of memories that came as guarantee with the Academy. She stepped inside, slowly removing her jacket as she did so, placing the soaked garment gently in the awaiting arms of her old friend. She gazed upwards in awe. "You and Grace have kept this place in beautiful shape, Pogo, I've got to say."

"It is our sworn duty to look after the Academy as if it were still up and running."

Bea turned towards him with a sad smile on her face. "I am sorry for your loss. And for not keeping in contact over the past ten years. It's been...a difficult situation."

The professor smiled at her, brown eyes betraying his sadness. "I understand, Miss Bea. Circumstances cannot be helped. As for my loss – it is your loss too."

"Maybe it could've been, but in the end he was happier without me," Bea stated, eyes glazing over slightly with an emotion that could only be described as betrayal. "He had his Number One."

Glancing at her with restrained sympathy, Pogo spoke up. "The others will be happy to see you; they are around, should you choose to stay and explore the house." On this note, he turned and walked away, leaving Bea to her thoughts.