[✓] 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐿𝑈𝐷𝐸 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 dreary as the group headed outside into the courtyard.

Rain hammered against the umbrellas that shielded them, and the grey sky was just as sorrowful as the mood that followed them towards the middle of the courtyard. 

The darkened sky made no effort to hide the thick ivy that crept up the brick walls, and rain poured upon the rusting statue of Ben that stood in the corner. Dead leaves were dispersed amongst the ground, letting out faint crunches as feet shuffled upon them.

Valerie closed her eyes for a moment, indulging in the cool winds that blew past her. Though it caused her goosebumps to rise and her entire body to shiver, she felt nothing but pleasure. 

Her attention turned back to the group as they approached the middle of the courtyard.

Luther tightly clutched the glossy, black vase that contained Reginald's ashes in his gloved hands as he came to the centre of the group, facing them.

"Did something happen?" their mother, Grace, questioned with a joyful smile that greatly contrasted the mood.

"Dad died," Allison reminded as her eyebrows furrowed. "Remember?"

"Oh." Grace looked taken aback for a moment. Her eyebrows knitted together and it seemed as though she forced her mouth muscles into a frown as she nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Is Mom okay?" Valerie asked as she watched her mother with uncertainty, tilting her head.

"Don't worry, Sonic, she's fine," Diego reassured her with a nudge. "She just needs to rest. You know, recharge."

Pogo appeared, his walking cane gripped in his hairy hand and a black-and-white umbrella in the other. He looked towards Luther, his eyes solemn behind his spectacles. "Whenever you're ready, dear boy."

Luther clenched his jaw as his eyes gradually lowered to his hands. He tentatively lifted the lid off before turning the urn over, allowing the ashes to spill out and create a small mountain on the grass in front of him.

They all stared at what remained of their father as it deepened in colour from the rain; all the pain, suffering, hardships they've gone through . . . now sat in front of them, withered away and unable to cause any further harm.

As the final ashes drifted out of the urn and towards the ground, Luther looked up at them and muttered, "Probably would have been better with some wind."

"Does anyone wish to speak?" Pogo asked as he looked around the family. Getting only the sound of wind and rain in response, he heaved a sigh and nodded. "Very well. In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master . . . and my friend, and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy—"

"He was a monster," Diego interrupted, rain dripping down his face from his hair (he was too tough for an umbrella, apparently).

Klaus removed his cigarette from his mouth and laughed.

Diego continued, giving the ground a cold stare, "He was a bad person and a worse father. The world's better off without him."

"Diego," Allison warned.

"My name is Number Two," Diego said quietly, though his voice soon loudened. "You know why? Because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it."

Grace suddenly spoke at the mention of her name, "Would anyone like something to eat?"

"No, it's okay, Mom," Vanya reassured quietly, shaking her head.