Multi-fandom Oneshots

Helping Hands {Five Hargreeves}

My stomach aches with every step I take. My hand laid flat against it, as if that would ease the pain. There was a gash across my hairline, my lip was split and blood dried across my chin and throat. It hurt to breathe too deeply and every step I took made me believe as though his hands were personally gripping my ribs and squeezing tightly. The last of my injuries consisted of a throb in my ankle.

I turned the corner, staying along the side of the walk as to not get knocked by the busying New Yorkers. I grip at their gate and limp along, with the gates help, until I reach the Hargreeves main gate. I open it and step up the stairs.

"Ah, dammit," I grit out. The pain in my ribs increases with each step. My stomach churns and I fear I may vomit. I stumble up and lean against the side of the wall.

I lift up my fist to knock as loudly as I was physically able. I wait... and wait. No one answers. I bang my fist on the door again.

"Will someone answer that door?!" I hear the voice of Reginald Hargreeves snap from inside the home. I knock again; with a little less power than before. My breath quickened and I fought off a groan. "Will someone get the damn door?! Grace! Pogo! Anybody!" He shouted once again.

There was silence. Or at least I couldn't hear anything. I waited patiently. I knew not to bug Mr. Hargreeves too much. If he couldn't help, I would just go to the free clinic. Maybe they would be able to help. I wasn't sure if they were able to help me without an adult present though... I was only thirteen. But I couldn't go back there.

My mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts of what alternatives I could possibly go to that I didn't hear Mr. Hargreeves himself open the door. I jump, finally noticing that he was standing there, looking at me with his beady eyes.

"Number 8!" He exclaimed, seeming as surprised as he was able. "What are you doing here? There is no mission, today," he states. I exhale sharply, looking down at my shoes.

"I-I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know where else to go," I say timidly. I don't dare look back up at him. I feared too greatly that he was going to send me away. He doesn't say anything, nor do I. The tension in the air was thick and yet I wasn't sure what to make of it. So I finally look up.

Mr. Hargreeves eyes were already looking at my face. He looked with an understanding eye as he took in my injuries. This was not the first time I had shown up at the door on non-mission days in this type of condition. I also suspected that this wouldn't be the last. His gaze moved all the way down to my swelling ankle. When he finished assessing the damage, he clicked his tongue and nodded.

"Well then, we better get you inside and get those checked on," he stated. He stepped back and opened the door wider for me. I peered into the foyer and saw a glimpse of Vanya peeking her head from the living room. "Come now, we haven't got all day," he snaps. I exhale, looking down at my ankle. I wasn't sure I could walk on it for much longer. 

"Uh, sir?" I look from my ankle to him and down again. He realizes the issue and thinks for a moment, his lips pursed.

"Number Five!" Mr. Hargreeves shouts.

In an instant, a circle of blue appears out of thin air and Five steps out of it. His eyes instantly connect to mine. I smile brightly, instinctively standing up straighter and forgetting the ankle. I wince and stumble back again the wall around the door. Five's eyes widen. He shoots from out of the house and is carefully guiding my left arm around his shoulder. I hop, finding my footing and finding myself very close to him. I pray my cheeks don't flush.

"It happened again?" Five asked, jaw clenched tightly as he looked in my eyes- purposely avoiding the cuts and bruises.

"Yes," I admit softly. I looked back into his eyes and I was entranced. We were dangerously close, so close I could see every speck of gold in his brown eyes.