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You tugged the rusted wagon behind you, the strain of it made the ache in your arm multiple tenfold despite the fact the waggon was half as full as it should be. You’d injured your arm last season, it’d been dislocated and you were helpless to only watch as Five popped it back into place.
The red wagon held a few measly tins of food and a singular first aid kit that had nothing of use except for perhaps the bandages. Supplies were getting low. Who were you kidding? They’d been low for the past three years. Rations had gotten smaller, times between meals had been stretched and injuries weren’t tended to until they got infected.
A whole day of scavenging and this was all you were able to wrangle up. You were almost ashamed to let Five see. Not that he’d been much help.
He’d been secluded away for weeks now. Hiding away in his little bedroom in the bunker you two had found. He’d come out when you called for him and would make the occasional scavenge trip with you, but other than that, he was contained to his room. You couldn’t help the resentment that had filled you, nor the instinct to use your 'authority' voice and tell him to get up and help. But you quashed those feelings and treated him the same. God knows the two of you couldn’t turn your backs on each other at this point.
15 years together. Surviving day to day. Nobody but the other to talk to or care for. You were all each other had. Maybe the hyper-dependency on each other should have been a worry, but who was judging?
The first years had been the hardest. Five was so young, so small, so innocent. It was you and him against the end of the world- and you had no more experience than he did. You’d felt almost like a child yourself. But you took him under your wing. Those first years needed the toughest decisions to be made, and as strong-headed as he was, Five would look to you to confirm those decisions. How much rationing was too much or too little? Was it worth it to look for other survivors? Or leave any irrational hope in the past and move on?
Leaving the city you two had met in was the hardest decision. The graves you and Five had built for his siblings were a tether that neither of you wanted to slice. But supplies had gotten so short you were skipping meals most days. It was for the best. That’s what you told him, and that was the answer he’d accepted.
The smoke that filled the air had cleared a while ago, finally giving way to the beautiful skies you remembered from the years before the apocalypse. You never took the blue of the sky for granted again.
Now, the sky was painted with pastel pinks and purples, the end of another day. One day closer to what? Neither of you knew, but it was another day survived and you’d take it.
You knocked on Five’s door, the thin wood created an echoey sound that rattled through the bunker.
"Yeah?"
"Come have some dinner, Five," you called through the wood.
You could hear him huff inside and the rustling of papers. You leaned your head against the wood and closed your eyes. God, you thought the teenage hormones had been well gone by now. The slamming of a heavy book made you jump and you pulled back from the door just in time before it swung open to reveal a disgruntled looking Five.
He was taller than you now, though that’d happened a long time ago. He was tall and skinny- worryingly so, even for these times. His face had matured and the baby face you met so long ago had been replaced by one that had seen things no child should have ever seen. The sweater he wore was dusty and tattered and his pants had several holes that’d been patched up with mismatched fabric, courtesy of you.
You looked different now too, you supposed. There weren’t many mirrors around, nor a need for them, but the glimpses of your reflection you’d caught told the story of someone who’d aged too fast. Wrinkles lined your face, creased between your brows and pinched lines around your mouth. Grey hairs weren’t anything new, and the constant tiredness that settled deep in your bones alerted you of your age. Any semblance of ageing gracefully had been gone. The 44-year-old that you were now could easily be mistaken for late 50s. But that was all part of the apocalypse experience.
You smiled at Five, a tired smile that barely settled on your face. "You need to eat, little one."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom." It’d started years ago, one slip of the tongue from Five and an embarrassed look that refused to leave his eyes. You took it good-naturedly, laughed and told him he was the best son in the world. He’d been quiet for a little after that but took it in stride nonetheless. Now, he used the term every now and then, usually when he was being passive-aggressive and wanted to let you know you’d been nagging him too much.
"C’mon," you told him, "we’ve got some good choices tonight. Half a can of spinach, or half a can of corn?"
He followed you to the wagon. "You found some cans?"
"Only those two, but it was a lucky score."
"Can we do corn?"
"Certainly," you said. You pulled up the can and cracked the tab while Five lit the fire under the metal container you heated the food in.
The two of you sat in comfortable silence while the food cooked. The crackle of the flames made up for the lack of sounds from the natural wildlife. You gazed into the flames, grateful for a moment to rest your aching body, soon enough you’d have to get up and start this all again tomorrow. Five fidgeted, he stared forwards and his fingers twitched in the way you knew them to when he was doing mental calculations.
"Five," his eyes snapped to you, "what are you thinking about?" You mused.
"Calculations."
"Obviously," you deadpanned. "Are they the ones that have been keeping you locked in your room for the past few weeks?"
Five stilled. "It’s been weeks?"
"Yeah," you nodded slowly, "you didn’t notice?"
"No," he hummed. "You’ve been scavenging alone for weeks?" It was a rhetorical question but you nodded anyway. "Shit, I’m sorry."
Now could be the time for you to lash out. Berate him, tell him he needs to pull his weight and get off his ass. But what would that achieve? Besides, his calculations were the only possible way out of here… at least, according to him. Sure, it’s been 15 years, but if you didn’t have hope, then what did you have?
"It’s fine, Five, really. If it was getting too much, I would’ve asked for your help."
He eyed you warily, you both knew that wasn’t true. You’d push yourself to the ends of the Earth for him. But after giving you a once over and noticing no new (visible) injuries, he gave a satisfied nod.
"I’m getting really close," he said.
You smiled. "That’s great!"
He’d been saying that for years.
"I mean it."
He’d been saying that for years as well.
"I know, I believe you, Fivey."
You ate the rest of your meal in relative silence. Five’s leg bounced and he shoved the food in his mouth in an effort to get back to his research faster. You had to remind him several times to slow down. Despite being 28-ish, he still occasionally acted every bit the child he was when you first met him.
Five finished his food in record time and raced back to his room, the door closing with a resolute bang behind him. Once again, leaving you alone. One thing no one mentioned about the apocalypse was just how lonely it could get. But at least you had each other.
You tidied up the bunker as best you could. There was no such thing as 'clean' anymore, a layer of dust and filth covered everything. But you wiped the bowls with a damp rag and you placed them away in their designated spots. You dampened down the fire and settled down beside it, pulling out a book you’d found in an old library. It was a cheesy Young Adult novel, but at least it was entertaining- another thing severely lacking in the apocalypse.
You had almost finished your chapter when Five’s door slammed open, jolting you from the daze you’d sunken into.
He yelled your name, his cry echoed off the concrete walls as he raced towards you.
"What? Five! What is it?" You yelled, tone urgent. You jumped from your spot and met him halfway. Your hands were already up and reached for his shoulders, taking hold of him and checking for any injuries.
"I did it!"
"Did what?" You asked, your grip still firm on his shoulders.
"The calculations. They’re done!" His eyes shined bright with a glee you hadn’t seen in years as he looked down at you. Clenched in his hands was a piece of paper that’d been scribbled all over.
"You’re sure? How do you know?" You asked.
You couldn’t believe him. You almost didn’t want to, in fear that he was wrong and you’d both gotten your hope up for nothing.
"I just know. Trust me. This is the equation to get us back!" He held up the paper and pointed at a string of numbers and symbols that, try as you might, you had no chance of understanding.
"We’re going home?" You asked, dumbfounded.
Five nodded, his head bounced up and down like a bobblehead. "Yes!"
A joyous laugh bubbled out of your throat. "Five! You little genius! You did it!"
He hid a bashful smile.
"When can we go?"
Five paused. "We could go now."
Your breath caught in your throat. The reality of it all settled in. He was serious about this. You could go back. Back to everything you once knew. You glanced around the crumbling bunker, the last few years of your lives together compiled in one space. The books in the corner, a mixture of heavy textbooks and any fictional book salvageable; the makeshift kitchen, with two bowls, two spoons and two cups; the ratty lounge that had already been down in the bunker and somehow survived whatever it was that ended the world.
This had been everything you knew. But you were ready. Anything for Five.
"What are we waiting for?"
Five grinned at you and you couldn’t help the cheesy smile that split across your face. You pulled him in tight for an impromptu hug and you felt his arms tighten around your torso.
He pulled back and glanced at the paper once more, committing it all to memory. He tucked it in his pocket and clenched his fists, a faded blue exuding from them. He turned to you, a determined look in his eyes. "You sure about this?"
You nodded. "I trust you."
He turned back and clenched his fists tighter. An electric blue sparked from them and he squeezed tighter. A blue vortex opened up in front of the pair of you and started to become larger. Wild wind whipped around you and the unfamiliar sound of electricity cackled in the air. Five’s face was screwed up in concentration and you stared through the portal. On the other side, you could make out an intact building and trees that were still standing.
You glanced back at Five who forced open his eyes to look. The portal seemed to be fighting with him and you knew it was taking all his strength to keep it open.
"Ready?" He yelled over the commotion.
"Ready!"
You reached out a hand and he took it without hesitation. You laced your fingers through his and held on as tight as humanly possible. You took a deep breath then leapt into the portal and the world as you once knew it faded away.
You flew through time and space. A vibrant blue consumed you until it was all you could see. Your body stretched and thinned before being put together once more. You tumbled around, with no sense of what was up and what was down. You knew this wasn’t a dimension you’d ever witnessed before. Five’s hand never left yours. Finally, after what felt simultaneously like decades and seconds, you were spat out.
Your body collapsed in a heap on the concrete and you felt Five drop next to you. Your head pounded and it felt like you’d been hit by a truck. It took all your effort to pick it up. In front of you stood a group of confused looking people. All of them stared at the pair of you with various expressions of bewilderment. You somewhat recognised them but you paid no mind to the first living people you’d seen in 15 years as you turned your attention to Five.
"Five?" You called to him.
He slowly pushed himself up and you were startled by the little boy who looked back at you.
Five was 13 again.
His eyes widened as he took you in and your eyes dropped to where your hands met to find your hands bare of all scars and wrinkles. The same way they looked at the start of the apocalypse.
"Does anyone else see little Number Five and a stranger, or is that just me?" A voice asked from the group.
Your eyes slid back towards them and it registered where you knew them from. You were looking at the grown-up version of the Umbrella Academy. The very same people you buried when you met Five.
You looked back at him and he shared a wide-eyed look with you.
"Shit," you both said at the same time.