"You were thirteen." Still a child in so many ways, the beginnings of a man in others, but that manner of knee jerk impulse, that sort of spite? It is simply what teenagers do. Most don't have the ability to leap through time and space to make trouble and grief for themselves but that is something Reginald should have considered. That he didn't ever treat the children like they were children, like they were his? Exacerbated everything. Teeth grit against everything in her coils that screams her to be silent, every line of her code fighting to keep her voice light and saccharine, placating. Platitude after platitude rolls through her mind, praise for his skills and his father's patience, his certainty of Five's survival claw to pass her lips.
She swallows them back before they can, hands trembling against the onslaught. Every word drags and warbles, wavers as she fights to say what she intends rather than the preprogrammed patriarchal propaganda. "He should...he should have spoken with you. He should have had more care."
There is so much more she wants to say, so many other truths and frustrations built up over decades of being made to stand idly by and observe or worse- take notes in the moment and offer comfort after the fact as though it solved anything- but she has deviated as much as she can bear in the moment, her need for rebellion overcome entirely by her comforting protocols. Five hasn't needed them for a fair while and even then it was only ever begrudgingly accepted and the urge to soothe him is all the more potent for its rarity.
"You're home." She pulls him close, arms wrapping around his shoulders, cheek tucked against his hair. Gently (children are fragile), kindly (children are precious), she strokes his back, no longer concerned that her lack of a heartbeat might be more harmful than helpful. "You came home. Vanya left the lights on for you and left out your favourite snack every night. Diego left one of the windows unlocked, Ben made sure I wouldn't let Reginald into your room to keep your notes safe. Klaus went weeks trying to contact you before he was sure you were alive. Allison wished for you to come back, Luther asked your father if he knew how to find you. We missed you dearly, sweetheart."
It's instinctual for actual mothers with hearts and lungs and wombs that gave birth- but it isn't anything Reginald programmed in, the subtle shifting of Grace's weight in their embrace, subtly rocking Five as he clings and breathes. "I missed you. So much- but you're home. You're safe. And we all forgive you."
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She swallows them back before they can, hands trembling against the onslaught. Every word drags and warbles, wavers as she fights to say what she intends rather than the preprogrammed patriarchal propaganda. "He should...he should have spoken with you. He should have had more care."
There is so much more she wants to say, so many other truths and frustrations built up over decades of being made to stand idly by and observe or worse- take notes in the moment and offer comfort after the fact as though it solved anything- but she has deviated as much as she can bear in the moment, her need for rebellion overcome entirely by her comforting protocols. Five hasn't needed them for a fair while and even then it was only ever begrudgingly accepted and the urge to soothe him is all the more potent for its rarity.
"You're home." She pulls him close, arms wrapping around his shoulders, cheek tucked against his hair. Gently (children are fragile), kindly (children are precious), she strokes his back, no longer concerned that her lack of a heartbeat might be more harmful than helpful. "You came home. Vanya left the lights on for you and left out your favourite snack every night. Diego left one of the windows unlocked, Ben made sure I wouldn't let Reginald into your room to keep your notes safe. Klaus went weeks trying to contact you before he was sure you were alive. Allison wished for you to come back, Luther asked your father if he knew how to find you. We missed you dearly, sweetheart."
It's instinctual for actual mothers with hearts and lungs and wombs that gave birth- but it isn't anything Reginald programmed in, the subtle shifting of Grace's weight in their embrace, subtly rocking Five as he clings and breathes. "I missed you. So much- but you're home. You're safe. And we all forgive you."