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1.
When Five jumps downstairs in the middle of the night to stare into the kitchen pantry it is an exercise in willpower. The act of opening the cabinets, seeing the plethora of food neatly and lovingly arranged by Mom, and then shutting it away again is a form of practice for him. If he can do this, repeatedly, then he can easily overcome the obstacle that dad has placed before him.
To be fair, there is very little here that could tempt him. Dad does not allow canned goods or premade meals into the house and he permits very little in the way of junkfood so what remains is a set of cooking and baking staples (raw sugar, self rising flour, oats, etc.) that Five would have no idea what to do with even if he did see fit to take them out.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Mom makes all of their meals from scratch, along with whatever snacks they request, and she does it happily. Unfortunately, these circumstances are what got him caught out in the first place. Stupid. He should have been more careful.
Initially, Five had expected that should his burgeoning appetite be noticed by anybody, that it would be chalked up to standard teenage growing pains, but he slipped up. He underestimated the old man. Of course Dad was keeping track of every extra snack he asked mom for, of every time he cleaned his plate too quickly during a meal so that he could get extra, of every pre-training sugar load up. He probably even knows about the items that Five sneaks in from the outside. It would’ve been better if Five had made sure to get his fix away from the house. Trickier, sure. Dad still would have noticed if Five disappeared for too long or deviated from the rigorous schedule he sets for all of them, but at least then the why of him disappearing could have easily been kept a secret. If only he hadn’t been so foolish. He will not make a mistake like this again.
What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple. Simple enough that it only took dear old Dad two weeks to put two and two together.
It is a crutch, Number Five. Unacceptable. You must learn not to rely on outside forces.
And then the old man had looked down on Five and expected him to obediently cower while he explained that he would have access to nothing until he learned better. Well, challenge accepted. It’s been nearly a month since Dad first dealt out his punishment and aside from the occasional single slice of plain toast and maybe a piece of fruit every now and then, the absolute bare minimum neccessary to keep going, he’s been fine.
It would be easy enough for him to use his powers to sneak out of the house and steal whatever he needs. In fact, he has a semi regular weekly trip to get snacks for his siblings (cheese doodles, mostly-Luther god damn loves cheese doodles) but getting something for himself would defeat the purpose. He cannot, under any circumstances, let Dad win. Five will prove to him that he can withstand whatever is thrown at him. He cannot let Dad think that he has any power over him. Besides, he’s….curious to see what will happen.
With the extra energy he was pulling a one mile jump radius with a neccessary 5 second recoup period between jumps and a max of 20 jumps before he fatigued. But this was with aid and the old man was at least right about one thing- it is a crutch. He’s not always going to have easy access to sugar and especially not in the middle of a mission. And in that case, he cannot be at the mercy of his powers. Five has to be in control of them. He has to train them to obey him no matter what.
His siblings are all the victims of their own abilities- simultaneously in awe of themselves yet so scared to test them beyond the limits set for them by Dad that they inadvertently cause mayhem when forced into practical use. Luther goes to throw a ball but has no concept of reasonable force and the ball becomes as deadly as a bullet. Diego helps mom with the dishes and sends a butter knife flying into the wall. A wrong choice of words and Allison puts a man into an indefinite coma instead of sending him to take a nap. Klaus communes with the dead by publicly telling thin air to fuck off. And Ben. Well, Ben. Case closed.
And for the most part, anyways, it’s working. The hunger pangs went away weeks ago and since then he has never been more focused. It’s like he’d been trapped in a dark room for years and now he’s finally found the light switch. Before, it was as if he was fumbling for the powers he can’t see, asking them nicely to come out and play. But now? Now he has them by the throat. With help his jump radius was a mile. This week he hit 2. How long before he can push it even further? Before he can jump time as well as space? He’s willing to do what it takes to find out.
2.
Turns out there’s not a great deal of nutrition available in the apocalypse. It’s to Five’s advantage that he was well used to being empty by the time he jumped forward.
He spends most of his time scavenging and still has very little to show for it. This morning, like every morning, he wakes up in the shithole he’s forced to call basecamp, gets dressed in enough layers to protect his skin from the volatile weather, and then drags Delores and his wagon from destination to destination in the hopes of finding something useful.
Most of the food he comes across is expired or partially destroyed, but every once in a while he’ll find a somewhat intact store or the remains of some family’s freezer and he’ll bring back with him what he can. He’s not going to waste a good find even if a good chunk of what he grabs will sit untouched until Delores stares him down and he inevitably gives into her nagging after a few days or so.
Today, he’s recanvassing the dime store on fourth. He’s long since pilfered any real sustenance from them but the building is relatively stable even if it is missing 1 and a half walls and its roof and Five wants something easy today. Plus, last time he was here he noted a stationary section in the back and seeing as his last pen ran out fo ink this morning, he’s been relatively stalled on the equations to get home front. At least, that’s what he tells Delores.
The true goal of today’s mission is to bring home whatever’s salvageable of the watered down piss this place used to pass off as wine. But Five is not about to tell Delores that- she’s made him well aware of how she feels about his drinking.
The last time Five got not just drunk, but blackout drunk, was only a few days ago and when he finally came to Delores made a point of telling him I am not talking to you and when has asked if he could at least get a reason as to why she said You know why. He thought she was bluffing but when she really didn’t speak to him for a day he all but lost it- crying and begging her not to leave him. She assured him that she would never leave him but only after telling him that he needs to take better care of himself. Well, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. It’s not like she really understands anyways.
Delores doesn’t like that the alcohol makes him sluggish and his jumps sloppy. She claims he uses it as an excuse for oscillating wildly between overworking himself to the point of exhaustion and doing absolutely nothing because what’s the point? She says that he’s a maudlin, temperamental drunk who’s making a wasteland of himself. Normally he responds to these accusations by saying look around Delores, what else am I supposed to do? And then they’re back to square one but Five is trying to do better after the last debacle so this time he’s going to keep his mouth shut and try his best to hide it, though it is going to be hard for him to drink on an empty stomach and remain composed. Perhaps it will be easier if he makes up an excuse for them to spend some time apart.
3.
The Commission pays like shit. That’s why he’s sitting in this garbage diner smack dab in the middle of nowhere in 1995 waiting for headquarters to update him on his mission. Wasting time when he is so close to getting home. He has no intention of giving The Commission the full five years that they want from him but he counts every second spent here as a second lost.
Oh, The Handler is convinced that she has him collared, her blood soaked watchdog on the prowl, but Five belongs nowhere, and to nobody. Five scowls to himself, setting his coffee cup back on the saucer and adjusting his tie. That’s what happens when you become a killer, he thinks, and tries to shake the thought away.
If he can just keep playing along until he gets the equations right...It’s not as if they haven’t provided him with plenty material to work with in regards to the mathematical particulars of the space time continuum. A little more blood on his hands (and under his fingernails, and going down the shower drain, and behind his eyes when he tries and fails to sleep) is a fair price to pay if it means that he can get home and stop the apocalypse from happening, and subsequently killing his entire family. But for that to happen Five needs to be at the top of his game- hence the coffee and the empty stomach. He calculated before hand how little he can consume and still get the most out of his powers and he plans to strictly stick to it.
Now, The Commission loves his powers. It’s why they recruited him in the first place. They find him novelty, grand, a fine weapon for their collection. Nothing he wasn’t already used to from his years in Dad’s regime. But still, he’d rather individually gnaw all of his fingers off than continue to be their toy. No matter, though, it shouldn’t be too much longer now. He’s getting close to solving it. He can feel it. That’s why he downs the last of his coffee and asks the waitress for a refill.
4.
The peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich is a reward for a job well done. Sure, he’s stuck in his 13 year old body but he’s home and he still has a little bit of time do something about the apocalypse. Five earned that sandwich. Besides, jumping through time is exhausting. A little boost won’t hurt him. And it is only a little.
Now, for the unfortunate news. If Dad’s wake was any indication, then his siblings are all morons. Nothing to be done about that, so he’ll have to work alone. Big deal, he’s been fine on his own before. If he watches himself carefully from this point forward he can do it. He still has the eye, after all.
But first, he needs coffee. As Allison so kindly reminded him, Dad didn’t allow caffeine in the house, so a trip to Griddy’s will have to do it. He does wonder what the place is like now, after all these years. A small part of Five hopes that it hasn’t changed, that the little haven he remembers from his childhood is frozen in time, but he knows better than to expect that. He doesn’t exactly have a great deal of time to reminisce about it anyways, he has work to do and he’s not sure how much time he has before The Commission catches up with him.
5.
He can’t believe that they fucked up this bad again. Five knew he was playing it fast and loose when he carried them all through time with him but christ. Nuclear war? He though it wasn’t possible but somehow this is even more of a shitshow than the first time around. And he’s still wearing fucking bowling shoes.
The way he sees it there are two problems here. One: the timeline is absolutely mangled. Two: his siblings are still self interested idiots incapable of seeing the bigger picture. He only has a solution to one of these problems and he doesn’t like it.
He sensed immediately upon meeting her that Lila was bad luck and she ultimately proved him right. Being forced into doing The Handler’s bidding again is not a good feeling and the thought of it alone makes his skin itch but Five does not have any better options to save his family and as always, he is running out of time.
He’s not even concerned about killing the board of directors. They’re overcoddled cowards that send other people out to do their dirty work for them. Five does not consider the board to be a threat to him in any way. He’ll have to break his own rules (for nearly two weeks he’s been good so it should be fine) but with the tiniest sugar boost beforehand it should be an easy enough job to take them out, especially now that he knows where they are going to be. He just hopes that it’s enough. Let it finally be enough.
+1
He’s so unbelievably tired. It’s like his body started giving up as soon as he finished rewinding time. Every step since has been an effort. Five has been dragging himself through the motions since the second it became apparent that they were no longer in immediate danger. His body knows better than to fail him like this but it is. He’s frustrated with the situation because he knows that they are not out of the woods yet, that he needs to be more alert.
The Sparrow Academy is a new threat and they shouldn’t be relaxing but here they all are, in this shitty run down motel where they could only afford one room, eating take out at their leisure, as if they aren’t about to be hunted for sport by their own father in this god forsaken mess of a new timeline that they themselves created.
Five is sitting down on the floor, wedged into the only corner of the room that isn’t occupied by furniture, trying and failing to piece together all the places where they went wrong. His siblings are spread out across the room, the girls and Klaus wedged together at the top of the bed, Luther perched by the windowsill, and Diego in the desk chair. He’s successfully tuning out their conversation until Vanya addresses him.
“Five? Are you okay? You’re not eating?,” she says and he registers that his siblings seem to be exchanging a look with each other but Five doesn’t have the patience to decipher it’s meaning.
“I’m thinking,” he says, and what he means is leave me the hell alone, but he never gets what he wants so in the next moment Allison is in his face waving a paper plate at him.
She tosses out “You can think and eat,” over her shoulder as she goes to sit back down on the bed and Five can’t remember seeing her get up to start with.
He stares at the plate in his hands, at the greasy low mein sloshing around and the spring rolls off to the side, and it makes his stomach queasy. He doesn’t have time for this, but none of them can just let it rest.
From the bed Klaus calls out, “Hey old man, I know you were in the apocalypse and all for a while but you’re supposed to take a fork and eat that.”
He has to stop himself from jumping over and kneeing Klaus in the balls and he speaks through gritted teeth, “Thank you for the reminder, Klaus, truly. Anything else you would like to share with me?”
“Guys-” Great, now apeman is jumping in. Five squeezes his eye shut and tries in vain to stave off a headache while Diego cuts Luther off.
“No,” he says pointing his own fork in the direction of Luther as he speaks, “He’s right. We’re not doing this again. Does he really think we don’t remember?”
“Did he just say I’m right? Diego I’m touched.” Shut up, Klaus.
“Remember what, Diego. I’m not a mind reader.”
He can vaguely hear somebody saying Diego don’t (Vanya or Allison, if Five had to guess) but they all know that there’s no stopping Diego once he starts in on something.
“That Dad used to starve you. All those dinners where you sat in front of an empty plate while the rest of us ate. You think we didn’t pick up on that?”
Fine then, if Diego wants a fight he’s got one.
“I’m surprised that your underdeveloped brains are capable of picking up on anything.”
It takes a Five a moment to realize that that was the wrong thing to say because instead of retaliating back like he wanted him to, Diego aims his fork at him and proudly exclaims, “So you admit it!”
And that’s what finally does his temper in. He’s bone tired and they are in danger and none of them will shut the fuck up already and let him think. He jumps to in front of Diego, stealing his fork and slamming it into the desk.
“I admit to nothing. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
And then he jumps out of the room.
Bonus:
It’s been months since Five started eating regularly and it’s still hard but he’s getting better, and he can tell that his family is proud of him (Klaus, for some reason, displays this by bringing him various baked goods at all times of the day). It's an odd realization.
He won’t say that it’s easy. There are days when he feels foreign in his own skin, when he wants nothing more than to recreate the version of himself that survived the apocalypse on alcohol and crumbs. But there are better days too. Days whens he’s happy to share a meal, when he feels strong and rested, days when his powers stretch restlessly in him, more full and ready than they’ve ever been.
Today he’s testing them. For so long he felt like he had them under complete control but now they are so much more that it’s hard to tell if he ever really had a grip on them. Sometimes he wonders what things would have been like if he had never starved them down.
He’ll never know if he could have gotten home faster or if he would’ve progressed far enough in his training that he never would have felt the need to prove a point to Dad by time traveling in the first place. He’ll never know if he could have been home this entire time, grown up with his siblings, been there for them, saved Ben. If he could have never worked for The Commission. He has to be okay with that.
Five stretches both his arms out and jumps.