I am flesh and I am bone

It was no secret in Allison’s household that you simply did not disappoint Reginald Hargreeves. Unfortunately for his children, it was almost impossible not to disappoint that monocle-wearing monster. Luther seemed to have the best rep with his father and Diego appeared to be building up a thicker skin around their dad, but Allison, at twelve years old, was stuck between wanting to please her dad by doing her best and learn to do her best for herself and no one else. There was always that lingering fear, though, that Reginald would burst into her room with another roaring lecture, shouting about something that she had disappointed him with.

Allison liked to believe she was strong, but she showed it in was that she shouldn’t have at that age. She could have been miserable with the early stages of the flu, but she would power through training for her pride and her father’s. She never would have imagined that she’d do something similar with a fractured bone.

Her father had trained her well in hand-to-hand combat, so she approached every fight in every mission with confidence. This particular criminal, though, had a grip on her arm and twisted it in such a way that, when Allison felt the jab of pain, she knew it was broken. That pain didn’t go away, either, not even when the crooks were being led away from the museum in handcuffs. Still, she would have rather eaten a jar of leeches than gone to her father for help.

Days passed, though, and the pain didn’t ease up. In fact, it got worse and her arm only swelled up, providing visible proof that something was wrong. She couldn’t always hide it from mom and dad and eventually the broken forearm was put into a hard, white cast. Her father had shouted awful things at her. How dare she hide this from him and how dare she let it happen in the first place! Allison stood her ground, taking the tongue-lashing as best she could with her lower lip quivering, but no tears pouring out. When he was done, she stoically marched up to her room and burst into tears, the sounds of her sobbing echoing through the halls.

The Hargreeves household was a nightmare for adolescents. Reginald had fun rationed like it was food on a particularly bleak game of Oregon Trail and some days it felt like happiness was being sucked from the kids’ veins.

Allison took every opportunity to use her ability to pilfer nail polishes and other fun and interesting things when she would sneak out to town. Sometimes she wondered why Reginald didn’t say anything about her growing collection on her vanity. He certainly noticed. However, while the gathering of trinkets was Allison’s duty alone, she wouldn’t hoard and keep them to herself. Every so often she would make opportunities to share with her siblings. These opportunities, however, were top secret events.

While Reginald was supposed to know nothing of this (he had his nose buried in research), Grace had helped by making guacamole for the bowl of chips Allison had set in the center of a circle of pillows on her bedroom floor. They’d even smuggled in a few cans of soda, set off to the side.

Once everything was set up, Allison tip-toed around the house, slipping invitations written in her feminine script underneath their doors.

You are cordially invited to a night of fun and contraband snacks in Allison’s bedroom. Scary stories, jokes, and manicures are encouraged.

hey.
this is klaus
this is a mass txt
do u no where i am?
cuz i dont
im lost
send help

They've escaped the apocalypse (her apocalypse), and whatever weirdness happened with their teenage bodies for the first few days. But escaping immediate danger hasn't truly fixed anything. Vanya hasn't said a word since waking up in the house they've taken over, somewhere upstate; she's eaten a little, drank less, and hasn't met anyone's eyes. Her violin is gone. So is the white suite, the pale skin and paler eyes, but it's the violin she misses.

And living without a ringing in her right ear. She really misses that.

Mostly, sleep has been her answer to avoiding it - avoiding everything, really, her siblings and the ringing and her fear that she's lost her hearing on the right side. It's easier to just focus on drifting off whenever she's awake, because then she won't have to remember.

It comes in flashes anyway, but she makes a damn valiant effort to avoid it.

Running only works for so long, and they don't live in a manor that takes up a full city block anymore: this is a farmhouse at best, two stories plus an attic and a cramped basement. They don't all have space for their own rooms, but Vanya - always apart, even now - does. And when she emerges from it, she does so mostly in the dead of night, the better to avoid the others. When she comes out in mid day, blinking in the sunlight that streams through, it's only because she couldn't ignore her growling stomach anymore. It smells like someone is making bacon.

So. That was it. The Old Man was dead. She'd known something had happened. She'd been uneasy for most of the day at home, but didn't have her phone with her to hear the news. She never did when she was working on projects. She kept the TV off, she kept her music to something from iTunes. It was a total social media blackout for her as she worked on Captain Marvel's costume, all the way in her apartment in Ohio.

When she did step out of her room to get food, she'd noticed several dozen messages from Klaus. From Vanya. From everyone. Even Pogo and Mom had called and that was when Charlie understood how she'd felt all day. It had been a weird sense of detachment, an odd sense of...she didn't want to call it relief, but that's what it felt like, and several varying degrees of 'oh, shit', but none of it was hers.

But now she understood. Now, she got it. Dad was gone and even from all the way in Ohio, Charlie picked up on her siblings emotions.

It was just a matter of throwing stuff in a bag, making sure she had money for gas and tolls, and telling her roommates what was going on and then she left.

Drove for hours. Stopped for coffee and food, but kept driving. It's now noon, a day later, and Charlie's standing in the foyer of the house. Listening. Shutting her empathy down as best as she can. Finally, after a few minutes, she calls out.

"Anyone home?"

Cuz if not, she can book a hotel somewhere. She doesn't have to stay here.

Boy, she doesn't even want to stay here.