umbrellajackassery | tact from me is like blood from a stone

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tact from me is like blood from a stone

Isaac's birthday had been registered as the 17th of September, two weeks to the day before those children were born from mothers who weren't pregnant, the miracle children who were forgotten again until the unveiling of the Umbrella Academy.

Isaac had never learned much about it all. He'd lived somewhat sheltered from that part of the world and by the time he was old enough to explore on his own, the Umbrella Academy had come and gone and he was more interested in his own life and future.

But the blackouts became more frequent and the medication didn't help. He stopped taking the medication and it got more out of control, but he had found other ways to control it and by the time he was thirty, he was out of rehab (again) and didn't know what to do or where to go to learn about what he was.

So he used the last of his money to make his way to the old address of the Umbrella Academy and hoped someone there might be able to help.

He was raising his hand to knock on the door when he saw the flicker, a momentary glimpse and he stepped back enough that whoever was coming to the door wouldn't barrel into him...

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"... yeah, I sort of got that." He's read a bit. Not least of all, he's read 'Extra Ordinary' but he thinks maybe that wouldn't be the best thing to say.

"I can deal with chaotic. I've lived in New York for years." But he follows, keeping Diego between him and the house.

There's noises coming from all over the house, shouts and talking and music. He leads into the house, through the massive rooms with vaulted ceilings and chandeliers that dangle precariously over everyone. The kitchen actually looks nothing like the rest of the house which says a lot.

"Have a seat," he says, moving to pour them both a cup of coffee before carrying them over to the table. "So... want to talk about why you're here?"

Isaac looks around, curious but not wandering off to look. The kitchen, at least, felt homely, real in a way the rest of the place didn't.

"Um, thanks." He set down his duffel and sat, slipping his foot through the handle of the bag out of habit. "I was born in September of '89. I was a couple of weeks early, spent some time being cared for by a nurse before my parents got around to registering my birth in October." He feels as mad as everyone said he was in New York. "Which happens, you know? All the time. My parents are well off, private care for a premature baby isn't unusual. You have six months to register a birth, they were well within the legal time. Thanks." He takes the coffee and dumps in sugar. Like so many people with his issues, sugar is a good replacement high.

Settling in across from Isaac, he watches him as he talks. Watches as he loads his coffee, considering that from things he's witnessed from his brother and others. At least he isn't lacing it like Five, who thankfully isn't there at the moment.

He nods though, figuring this would mean nothing if the guy wasn't there with them in that moment. He hadn't come to the Umbrella Academy for being born two weeks before everyone else in the house. "What made you start thinking maybe there was a lot of bullshit to that story?"

Either there was, or this guy was wasting their time, after all.

Isaac looks at the coffee and then closes his eyes to avoid seeing anything that will just distract him. "I don't know what started me wondering. I suppose... when I was in my late teens, I started taking my brother more seriously when he called me a freak. I started looking into paranormal abilities and I learned about the Umbrella Academy. My parents always kept me away from the north americas, we lived on a property in Venezuela, private tuition, it was isolated. We moved when the Academy went public. My parents always dissuaded me from leaving the family property and business, which naturally made me want to leave more than ever."

Made him suspicious about why they wanted him there.

"I was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was young. Pre-teen. I saw things. Flashes of other places and other people. Things that weren't there. I was medicated from about eight onwards. I think you might be able to see where this is going."

"You didn't move until after the Academy outed what became of the children, and your brother calls you a freak," he says, definitely seeing where this is going. "I'm going to assume they didn't encourage your sibling from staying locked up like that? Not in the same way?"

He wonders why some are coming to them now, but he suspects he knows. The reset has stirred things up, and perhaps encouraged others to come to them in a hope together they can save the world. At least that's the theory of some.

"What happened to make you think that they weren't just some kind of mental illness?" NOt accusing but wondering if something change to make him believe it wasn't what he was being medicated for.

"No. Saul was the golden boy." Knowing what he knows now, he wonders if his parents would've taken the offer to sell their unexpected child.

"A lot of things slowly happened, including a pretty crippling heroin addiction which both dulled down the flashes and made them way more intense at the same time. Blackouts, but I'd wake up have done really specific, complex paintings. I've been clean for two months now, after I did a series of paintings that scared the hell out of me. The paintings have been destroyed, but I have photos."

He dug out the photos. Actual print photos, the only copies. Nothing digital. "I recognised her. From her book. So I got clean and then I came here."

He slides over the pictures. The White Violin, her brothers sprawled in the air around her in agony, her face slack and empty of emotion. Then the gunshot, the beam of light and the moon fracturing apart, a meteor storm that would wipe out most life on the planet.

Diego's jaw tightens but he nods at that. "You wouldn't be the only one that worked hard to dull what they can do without drugs," he says, not knowing how much the media had run Klaus' stints in rehab, but they likely weren't a secret either.

He moves to pull the pictures to him, his blood running cold as he sees Vanya, the sound of that shot echoing in his head, the moon breaking up. His fingers trace over that picture of Vanya, a beautiful and elegant painting. If you didn't know what came of it.

"So... your parents lied to you. Which you already know." He looks up at him, his fingers still tracing the picture. "Welcome to the Umbrella Academy. I can guarantee you that you're one of us," he says, glancing down at the picture and back up at Isaac. "Because this already happened once, and we're working damned hard to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Probably not," he agrees softly. "I was pretty sure I was able to see things in other cities. Other countries. Since my early twenties, when I'd see things happen and then hear about them on the news. Live them out and not be able to do a damn thing." He had felt helpless and he wanted to visions to stop. If he couldn't help, he didn't want to know about it at all.

"When I was twenty six, I killed someone. She saw a painting I did of a woman being hit by a bus and- it was her. She freaked out and ran outside and-"

He had chased her, just in time to see the bus smash her body through the air, the road tearing up her skin as her body landed.

"I'm one of the forty three. So I came here to find out more about what I can do, what others can do, how to control it. Just, anything at all. Hell, maybe I'm even just looking for people who get it." He took the photos back, looking at the one of the White Violin. "I don't know what 'did happen' means aside from time travelling shenanigans and I'm not ready to try and understand that right now because I'm still trying to stay sober."

Diego stares at him for a long time before shaking his head. "You may be damn lucky your parents did what they did. There's an organization that if they'd known what you can do, they likely would have come for you. Not that it makes it okay but shit."

He can't even imagine what it would be like if the Time Commission had gotten their hands on someone with Isaac's ability.

Wincing though when he talks about someone being killed.

"And still likely would have been hit by a bus anyway. If you predict things, there may not be a way around it," he points out, not that it's likely to be helpful. He knows it wouldn't do much for him had it been Diego with that ability.

"When you're ready, we can talk about it though..." He pauses, lifting his head and glancing around as if he can see through this floor. "This house now is a representation of it. Time things don't always go right," he points out, lowering his gaze. "But you came to the right place. We can definitely do our best," he admits, nodding. "And you're not the only one here working on staying sober either. Klaus is as well," he says, just speaking of them collectively because it's easiest that way.

Clairsentience and clairvoyance. It had the possibility of being tremendously powerful, especially in conjunction with the ability to move back and forth and out of time.

Isaac has no real concept of how dangerous. At all. He hasn't let himself think of it too much.

"We don't know that. And even if it would have happened anyway, that doesn't change that the way it did happen was my responsibility." He can feel the itch starting up in his elbow. "Oh good. A pair of addicts trying to get sober and clean in one house."

"I'll let you have that, though it doesn't put you in bad company. A lot of us have caused deaths, one way or another." Or been an assassin but that's another story and it's Five's to tell. Mostly.

He snorts at that, though again he looks away, considering. "Something like that, though something you'll learn in this house is that nothing is ever as it seems. Except for Luther. He's a jerk," he says, though there's none of the heat that used to be there with those words. Old habits die hard though.

"All of us are trying to help though. The original seven and everyone that's come since then. You'll meet them as it goes. Though stay away from a bar called Carpe Noctem. The asshole behind that place is one of us too I think, and he is not your friend."

"That's... not really very reassuring, actually." It's probably meant to be, but it's really not. "I appreciate you're trying."

Nothing is what is seems, unless it's exactly what it seems.

"I need to stay away from bars anyway, with the whole... addict thing. Avoid booze, avoid drugs, avoid situations likely to trigger a relapse." It doesn't sound like Klaus is being very successful with getting clean if those basics aren't happening.

"Literally trained to take out terrorist threats," he points out. "I try and leave them for the cops personally but lately that hasn't always been an option. Not everyone answers to cops," he adds.

He snorts then, shaking his head. "Yeah, we're doing our damned best, but one? You're a grown up and much as everyone around here if you tell them that will do everything short of tying you to a chair? That's kidnapping. Which, by the way? I'm the one that would tie you to a chair to keep you clean, and I'm done falling for the need to take a piss thing. Happened once. You're not Klaus. That said..."

He closes his eyes, considering how to say that. "It's hard to keep someone clean when they've kind of fallen more victim to time anomalies than anyone in the house. That's what I heard someone call it. As we speak, if I had to guess? There's a Klaus in his room, one in the library, and probably one perched in a window looking down over the front door. I was trying to sidestep reality as we know it because you're new and all."

"Right. Yeah. I read about the Academy. I guess it's just not as ingrained an association for me, not growing up with it."

Isaac listens. Nods. Thinks about it. "Fractured reality. Coexistence of multiple variations in a moment? I think I did a comic on something like that once..."

"Did it involve a skinny fucker with tattoos on his hands? If so, you've got even more proof," he notes, thinking about his brother.

"But yeah, you want to stay clean, we'll work on keeping you that way," he says, meaning it. "We'll be there for you." And he's new there, but that's Diego's feeling on how things are right now and how they need to be taken care of. If they can manage it.

"I've painted him," Isaac comments softly. "Hello. Goodbye. Not a comic, I mean... I painted him. I'm sure of it, but I don't remember what the painting was. It might be in one of the tubes. And I'm trying to stay clean this time. For real."

"That should be creepy, I'm sure but eh," he says, shrugging, though he tries to smile a bit. It's a bit more baring teeth than a comfortable smile. "Wait, you corrected that. Did you do some of the Umbrella Academy comics?"

He nods though about staying clean. "Then it'll happen though it'll be ... Five drinks like a fish out of water. The moment he figures out you can add alcohol to coffee, nothing will hold him back. I can't swear all my brothers are clean. I can only speak for one of them."

He thinks it's his brother. He thinks, though in his mind they're also all his, but he knows that one in particular is trying to stay clean, and he's going to make damn sure he does.

"But you need help, I'll be there. Except when I'm at the Met gala, but that's only a weekend or so."

"No." He shook his head. "Not old enough, was I? No, I'm a comic artist, I do 9th Wonders when I'm sober enough to meet deadlines and not preparing for a show." Given he's the same age as them, he was just a child when they were superheroing.

Still, the passion with which Diego pledges his help to Isaac's sobriety genuinely touches him, draws a small smile. "That's- really good of you. Thanks. I'm away from all my old haunts and connections, which will hopefully help."

"There were some written down the road. Every now and again there seems to be a resurgence of things. I figured the old man pushed for it to make a profit," he says, shrugging.

He nods at that. "Good. We'll help with that." He puts his phone on the table. "Do you have a cellphone? You can put your number in mine if you want, and I'll hit you back up so you have mine."

"Not by me." He feels weird about drawing real people, even unintentionally. Doing it on purpose for money is just bizarre, unless he's commissioned.

"Um... no." He bites his lip. "I hocked it for smack months ago. When I got clean and came out here, haven't needed to get one. I can probably buy one. I probably should." Now he's thought of it. "Can I sketch you? I focus better when my hands are occupied."

He pauses at that, arching a brow as his face kind of screws up. "Uhmmmm, sure? I don't care," he says, though he pauses. "I mean, this isn't some weird picture in the attic kind of thing, is it?" Not that he really seems concerned about it.

"And you should. That way we can help you. And by we I mean me and Klaus, and maybe the others." He hasn't had a lot of faith in them. "Though Mom? I mean, Grace? She'll be there for you instantly," he says, his smile warming as he talks about her. "She's been amazing about taking in everyone that's shown up."

"... Dorian Grey? No. I'm a professional artist. You can look me up, I worked with a gallery, had a studio, the whole nine yards. I just also sometimes black out and come to having painted the future."

The warmth of Diego's voice is telling and helps Isaac relax a little. "Grace. Okay. She... is clearly an awesome Mom from the way you speak of her. Like, I love my mother, but I don't like her a lot of the time."

"Around here, you never know," he points out, but there's a hint of a smile as well. "Well... Why do I suspect that would raise the cost of your paintings? Or maybe not," he says, shrugging as he thinks about it.

He grins kind of crooked at that, ducking his head to hide it as he looks away. "She is. She's been there for us all, and when everything changed? Her heart only got bigger." He won't ever mention that time in between, the changes. They were fixed now.

"Hard to say. The best thing I could do for the price is die, but having done that a couple of times, I can't recommend it."

"So, how do I recognise Grace if I see her?"

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