Wonder • Five Hargreeves

28

"Number Five"

Angry people don't see in red, do they?

Winnie thought about this often. Red isn't a negative color to begin with, why would they see in it?

Red is the color of blood. Its the color of humans, Winnie decided. When we laugh too hard, our cheeks turn red. When we kiss too hard, our lips turn red. When we hold to hard, our arms, our stomachs, our fingers- they turn red. When we love too hard, we feel our red in the recess of our hearts and souls.

But when we're angry? Thats not red. No, not red at all, Winnie decided.

Its black.

Anger is the color that swallows red whole and sucks down everything else while its at it. Anger is the absence of everything that makes us human, and far too much of it at once. Its the saturation of the universe, and where all nightmares are born.

Anger is a darkness that is inescapable. Even the most holy men succumb to its touch. The most calm, and wise, and forgiving; they lay in the dark every night, same as us.

Anger is not a bad thing though. It gives us depth, texture. It shows where you fold and wrinkle. Where life can reach you, and where it never will.

There is a beauty to anger.

There is a beauty to using black instead of red when you paint a picture.

Winnie Hargreeves watched through a window as Diego, signature in his own black, slid into his car and beat the steering wheel. She sighed and tilted her head. He was always a masterpiece, she thought.

Of course she never liked her beloved brother to go in gun's a-blazing, but she certainly wasn't going to stop him. She'd learned long ago that, that wasn't her place in his life.

A painting as dark as his still needed an element of light- something to keep it from succumbing completely to its own personal obscuration.

"Former employer? What's this really about Five."

Winnie glanced back towards her company. Five sat hunched on the edge of Diegos bed while Luther sat opposite of him. Winnie stood above them both, atop a table so she could peer out the tall windows. From her vantage point she could watch both their shoulders tense.

"And- and dont give me any 'its none of your business' crap, okay?" Luther pushed, in case Five wanted to give him a repeat of their van talk.

Fives eyes flickered to Winnie. Her smooth skin glowed in the light of the window, blotted with a thin layer of dirt and grit from the days explosion. He watched her eyebrow furrow, barely, like it always used to when she was thinking. About what? 48 years later and he still couldn't ever hope to know.

"Its a long, long story." Five said without looking away from her.

She smiled softly at him. She couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Five was willing to tell his story- though she would really prefer if it were in a more relaxed circumstance.

Say in bed... a good cup of tea or coffee in hand, naked as can be and maybe not in eminent danger of world annihilation...

Alas one can never be too choosey. She stepped off the table and fell into her seat at his side. His hand wrapped her waist instinctively.

"We are here to listen, my love." Winnie said and Luther nodded with her.

Five nodded warily and began.

—
"Who the hell are you?!"

Years ago, when Five was still an old weary man living among the destruction of life as he knew it, a woman in black stood at the end of his barrel.