Sarcasm | Five Hargreeves

30 | rather your face than mine

Five and Hazel reappeared behind a wooden bench in the middle of a sidewalk, their sudden materialization going by unnoticed by the few pedestrians that strolled the streets. Five huffed, relief softening his widened eyes as he took in their serene surroundings, no burning buildings, no tanks or soldiers, and definitely no nukes.

"Okay," Five breathed. "What the hell was that?"

"The end of the world, November 25, 1963," Hazel replied, his otherwise stoic expression hidden under his graying beard.

"'63," Five muttered, gears turning in his head. He recalled having his last assignment in the same year, where he was tasked to make sure Kennedy was assassinated. Funnily enough, the end of the world was three days after the President's death.

Five averted his gaze for a moment, watching as a man in a suit crossed the street before he chuckled lowly. "You know, Hazel, I'm no history buff, but I don't recall there being a nuclear holocaust."

"No shit," Hazel mumbled.

"What about my family?" Five questioned.

"Dead, like everyone else."

Five retracted at the information before shaking his head. "And where am I now?"

"Dallas. Same street. Ten days earlier," Hazel clutched his briefcase and walked around the bench, sitting on it tiredly. "Plenty of time to restore the timeline and save them."

"Okay," Five whispered, plopping down next to him. "So where do we start?"

Hazel fought back the amused curl of his lips as he stared back at Five's desperate expression. "We? You're on your own, pal. I'm just here to keep a promise to Agnes."

"Is she?" Five asked softly.

"Dead," Hazel finished. "Cancer. Took her quick." The man sighed, the aged lines on his face hardening at the thought. "But we had 20 good years together. I guess forever just wasn't in the cards."

"I'm sorry, Hazel," Five said, sincerity weighing his voice as he watched a bus stop at the end of the street. He knew loss better than anyone, but it hit harder every time. Although his affiliation with Hazel was limited, the less cold side of Five felt his heart clench at Hazel's vulnerability. The boy suddenly remembered a more recent loss of his own.

"Back there, in WWIII, everyone was there but Y/N," Five started, clearing his throat. "Do you...happen to know why?"

The man sighed, pulling at the collar of his dress shirt as he struggled to come up with an easy way to break the news to his old co-worker. Five, who was already dreading the answer, waited impatiently.

"Well?"

"I think it'd be best if you read it for yourself," Hazel coughed, reaching into his blazer before pulling out a newspaper.

"What's this?" Five questioned as he took the paper from Hazel's hands.

He flipped it open, skimming through the various sections regarding the local news before his eyes rested on a photograph of a smiling Y/N who was holding a certificate for...the Medal of Honor? Five gaped in astonishment as he read through the paragraph, an obituary to her wondrous feats, but a harsh and abrupt headline made him pause in shock.

Y/N Gussman will forever be remembered as a hero, and a revolutionary addition to the force.

"She's...dead?" Five exclaimed, absentmindedly clenching the newspaper in disbelief. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened and Hazel found himself placing a supportive hand on Five's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.