𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

11│IMPOSSIBLE THINGS ARE HAPPENING EVERYDAY

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs
ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴅᴀʏ ꒱


❝ I DON'T BLITHER ❞

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"Well, shit."

Dolores huffed in annoyance as Five stood directly into her path and she tried to gently push him to the side. "Five, move," she insisted, annoyed.

He did, though not in the way she wanted to. Instead, the boy turned to her with concern evident on his face. "How are you feeling, Dolly?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "I'd feel a lot better if you weren't standing the way. Let me talk to my brother-in-law. We have to have some sort of relationship, you know."

"That's not— never mind. I'll meet you back at my room, yeah?"

"No."

"Dolly."

Irritated with how he was being, she placed her hands on her hips and didn't flinch from his— mostly worried— look. "Five," she repeated in the same tone of voice.

"Do you need water? Is it too hot in here?" he asked, ignoring her frustration.

"If this is another crack at my earlier hormonal reaction, I'm not in the mood," she told him flatly. "Now get out of my way." (It was in times like these that she felt his powers had been unfairly distributed— why did the most stubborn person get a way of moving around objects while she didn't?)

The boy straightened in the doorway, using his (considerably lesser, now that he was younger) width to prevent her from entering the room. He spread his legs so that they were placed on either side of the door frame. For all of his genius, though, he'd forgotten one thing: people without powers were more resourceful in finding other ways around things. She dropped to the ground.

"Dol—" Five's sentence trailed off as he watched her crawl between his legs and stand up behind him to face Klaus. "You're absolutely ridiculous," he muttered, turning back around with the only hope of possibly salvaging things before they could get worse. (If they weren't on a time crunch, he might have admired her stubbornness.)

"Oh, Klaus," Dolores said softly as she took in the man's ragged appearance— though much improved by the bath— and her eyes flicked to the ground to follow the trail of bloody footprints that had led them to the room before they focused on the man again. "What happened?"

There was no response, though, for the Hargreeves was staring at her with wide eyes before his head slowly turned to look towards his bed, then back at her again. After a moment of silence, he asked quietly, "am I still high or are there really two of you?"

Dolores blinked. Two? She followed the line of sight back to where Klaus had been looking and she froze. She swore she could feel her heart stop beating for a second as she stared into the eyes of her younger self, though not one she recognized. While she'd always been on the paler, thinner side— thanks to her dislike for most physical activity paired with a faster metabolism— she (Dolores wasn't quite sure what to call herself) was positively haggard, with distant, tired eyes. It looked as if her double had already survived an apocalypse, not about to.

The silence in the room was almost deafening as the two men waited to see what the Doloreses would do. To her credit, Lola only looked mildly shaken as she stared at a much cleaner version of herself. "Who—" she started, her voice much fainter than Dolores remembered.