𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

26│TAKE MY HAND

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ ꒱


❝ I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S
NOT HOW TIME WORKS ❞

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Words had always been Dolores' weapon of choice. She'd had an affinity for them since the moment she could talk and the connection had only grown stronger once she learned how to read and write. For a girl born without superpowers, she was very lucky to be blessed with two (and a half), though 'normal' superheroes would not consider her talents true superpowers.

Her uncle had understood this kinship and made every effort to encourage it, having some idea of what the girl would go through to know that she would need the comfort of something that never changed. He'd created her favorite word game out of boredom, not knowing then that it would lead to the burgeoning feelings of friendship between the last two survivors of the world (or, perhaps, he had.)

There was a certain power to words that superseded any sort of traditional superhero gift. They created imaginary worlds and fictional characters that one could grow to love. They could make you feel things, both good and bad. They could start wars and make peace. They could connect people all around the globe. Dolores understood this power and used it to her advantage, wielding her words better than any marksman. If she truly tried, she could always, always get her way.

It was this gift that she put to use after several years of working with The Commission. During the entire time she'd been an employee, she'd been a diligent worker and made very few ripples apart from her magic tricks. She was helpful to her coworkers and ingratiated herself into the Case Management office, often helping others on their cases whenever they were stuck. It had taken time for her to get adjusted but now she blended in so well to the community that many people couldn't remember what it was like before she arrived.

Another gift she used was patience. She had what seemed like an infinite amount of it. She'd had enough to 'put up' with Five for thirty years. She had enough to quietly bide her time before she got him to cave after their first year. She had enough to know when to play her cards right and that now was the time to strike.

If Five was impulsive then she was resolute. It was one of the many things that made them a perfect balance.

"Two thousand eight Obama catchword."

"What?"

Dolores looked up from the paper she had spread out in front of her. "Crossword puzzle clue," she explained, "two thousand eight Obama catchword, four letters."

"Obama?" Five asked, his expression puzzled. The woman groaned. 

"I keep forgetting that you were born before me. He was the president in two thousand eight," she explained, "after you time travelled."

"Oh. Well, I wouldn't know the answer if you were asking that."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I know that now," she sighed. "I'll figure it out later. You should get this one. Wedding vow. Five letters," she chuckled slightly.

"You know I'm busy, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your equations are probably wrong anyway. Just help me finish this— I've only got a few clues left."

"Whatever," the man grumbled as he closed the top of the notebook with a snap. "Fine. Tell me what it is again?"

"Wedding vow, five letters."