The Ninth

When Your Parents Drag You To Events And You Just Want To Go Home

Chapter One : We Only See Each other At Weddings And Funerals

Cleo Hargreeves sits at the kitchen table, rereading the same book for the fifth time, unaware of her mother smiling warmly (or creepily depending how you take it) down at her. 

"I have something to show you", she jumps dropping the book and meeting her mothers gaze. 

Nodding slightly, she dogmarks the page and follows her mother through the halls of the Academy and to a corridor she hardly ever entered. Cleo frowns up at her mother in confusion, knowing that the only room down here is her fathers bedroom. Unaffected, Grace opens the door, stepping aside and motioning for her to walk in. Hesitantly, Cleo looks to the taller woman for reassurance that if she walked into the room she wouldn't be shot on the spot. Reassurance that she gets through Grace's warm smile. 

The sight of her father dead and cold in his bed was both a sight she never and fully expected to see. "Is he...?". 

"Dead?" Grace asks, cheerfully, "I believe so". 

"That's a shame" Cleo cautiously steps closer to the bed, ignoring the voices echoing through her head. 

Cut him. Hurt him. Kill him. Destroy him. 

How can I kill someone that's already dead?, she asks silently. Heart drumming in her ears, the voices get louder as she stands over the body, looking down at the monocle less face. Ever since she'd remembered, he'd been the one towering over her, his shadow cast across her face. How the roles had changed now. 

He was her father, she loved him. He was her father, she hated him. 

You're no coward, are you, Number Nine?

Before she was even aware of the movement, Cleo found herself beating the empty shell of the man, fighting off the arms that tried to pull her back, screaming insults until her throat was raw. "Nasty fuckhorse, horrible piece of shit. Coward!". 

The efforts of both Pogo and Grace combined managed to pull the teary eyed teenager from her fathers body. Only, the tears were there from anger rather than the expected despair. Cleo stood in the corner, taking a moment to regain her breath. She meets Pogo's horrified expression and smiles lightly, "just making sure". 

***

The second she caught sight of Luther in the entrance hall, Cleo waltzed straight back down to the kitchen. She figured it was safer down here, rather than in her bedroom where everyone would know where to find her. Although they were siblings by name and law, they weren't by blood or spirit. Apart from Arius.  It'd been years since she'd seen any of them and she wasn't ready to talk.  

Five had left first, before she was even born. The only reminder of his existence lay in the face of the portrait's that hung above the mantle and down the hallway. Ben had been second to leave this house, guaranteed never to come back. Cleo hardly had any memory of him, being only three when he died but that hadn't made his absence any less painful. 

Next had been Diego not long after Ben, although he continued to check in with Grace, Cleo and Arius, though only rarely, when Dad and Luther left the house. His visits slowly got less frequent over the years before stopping all together when the twins were eleven. Vanya followed quickly in Diego's footsteps, though she never returned. She'd left during the night, not even taking anything with her.  Allison and Klaus left on the same night, a year after Vanya and never looked back. Luther left to the moon four years ago, though unlike the others, with the promise of soon returning. 

Last to leave was Arius, Number Eight, nearly two long years ago. The day the light left his eyes, the last of the light faded from the academy. Grief for the loss of the other Hargreeves kids had never weighed so heavily since that day.