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To adjust to a new life is a challenge in and of itself. A new environment, new people, a new job. Everything about your day-to-day life is subject to change but there is always the small comfort of a world still familiar to you, surroundings that are as slow to change as you yourself are.
To adjust to a new time is far more challenging. Anything and everything that you once knew is gone; society has changed, the world as a whole has changed, and somehow you're the only one left to play catch-up.
It was completely understandable that Sissy and Harlan were practically glued to Vanya's side, finding comfort in Grace's familiarity when Vanya herself had errands to run and rehearsals to attend. Allison didn't really get any sort of reprieve from Ray, he found no comfort in Grace or even Sissy and Harlan despite the fact that they were just as lost as he was, but Allison couldn't find it in herself to mind. She loved Ray, her entire heart went out to him, and his discomfort upset her but she couldn't regret convincing him to return to 2019 with them. She couldn't lose him, not after the hardships and love she'd shared with him in the short year she'd spent with him. That year felt like a lifetime, like she'd built up this entire world with him at the epicenter and she knows her happiness would simply collapse around her if he were to stay behind in his own time. She thinks, maybe, it was only because she told him just that that he decided to come.
She thinks she should feel guilty about that, and she does, really, it's just so infinitesimal in comparison to the relief she felt that he was here.
"So, Allison," She can feel the deep rumble of his voice reverberate in his chest, the vibrations comforting against where she pressed her cheek against ribs. She hums, tilting her head up to smile at him softly. Her arms tighten around his waist and his in turn tighten around her shoulders. He's a warm, solid comfort she doesn't understand how she ever survived without. There's a beat of silence where they simply stare at each other but Allison can see the slight furrow in his brows, the thoughtful downward twitch of his lips.
Her smile sombers, "What is it?" She prods, gently pushing off his chest to better look him in the eyes. She braces her hand on his breastbone, the other now loosely tucked under his arm.
He seems hesitant, not in the fact that he didn't want to say it but rather that he didn't know how to word it properly. Another beat passes in silence but it's not a silence filled with any sort of tension like it would have been if she was sitting here with any one of her siblings. It was companionable and patient and one of the many, many comforts of her husband.
"I was thinking maybe we should take the night," He settles on finally, eyes confident and loving as they meet hers, "This house is big enough to keep me busy for a while, but it's been a month now and I think it's time for us to have more time alone."
She can't help but agree. She adored her siblings, and this house-- the Academy-- was plenty big enough to house them all and their new guests without any sort of crowding, but sometimes she missed her small home with Ray. She missed late nights snuggled up together on the couch with some old but new movie on their TV. Her siblings were a lot, a handful by very nature, and though Ray had taken to them easily enough they didn't have much privacy. Not with the way that Five would pop into any room unannounced without care, or the way that Klaus would burst into anywhere loud enough to startle most people, or even how Ben sometimes forgot that everyone could see him and would simply lurk around the house like the ghost he used to be. The idea of some time alone sounded like absolute Heaven on Earth. There was only one thing keeping her from jumping for joy and throwing herself ecstatically into his arms.
"Are you sure you're up for it?" There was so much to catch them all up on, and Sissy had a genuinely hard time being comfortable around Ray and Allison alike solely because their skin color was different from her own. Pogo had been essentially giving their guests history lessons, though it had taken a solid week for them the push past the fact that Pogo himself was a chimpanzee. Klaus and Diego had jumped on trying to teach them about pop culture and the new dynamic of the world, Diego tackling the more gritty details like how racism wasn't eradicated and how homophobia and sexism were still prominent just the same, while Klaus excitedly caught them up on fashion and technology and the more colorful aspects of the world he was well-versed in.
Allison and Vanya filled in the gaps for their respective partners where they could, but it had only been a month. There was a huge difference between knowing about the future and living in it, experiencing it, and Allison didn't want to throw Ray into the deep end just because she wanted to go on a date.
"I get that it's gonna be different," Ray agreed quietly, extracting his hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek lovingly, "But I'm gonna have to get out there at some point, and the only way I'd want to do it is with you."
Allison beams, eyes shining, and Ray smiles back with matching enthusiasm. "Then we have a date to plan." She concedes, already thinking of what Ray would look like in a more modern suit.
Allison's bangs hadn't grown out much and the natural curl of her hair had returned with a vengeance, luckily for her it was relatively easy to either straighten her hair with the help of loving husband-- to cut time in half and justify the fact that she owned two hair straighteners-- or to brush them up and temporarily fuse them into the rest of her tight curls. It's been a while since she just let her natural texture tumble around her shoulders, however, so she figured a date night was the perfect night to simply tame her hair and wear it naturally. That, and it looked especially nice with one of her favorite tight, black dresses. She had missed her closest while in the 60's, she had to admit.
The way Ray seems starstruck when she steps from the bathroom to ask him how she looked, mouth agape from where he sat neatly on the edge of her bed-- their bed-- It made her feel like a princess, like she ruled the world, and she smiled so bright she thought maybe she could be the star he clearly thought she was.
Ray didn't look too bad himself, dressed in a smooth suit the same charcoal tone as her own dress, the suit tailored to absolute perfection. It settled perfectly on him, tucked neatly against his lithe frame and blended so beautifully with the tone of his skin, she was pretty sure she'd fallen in love with him all over again. Right there, in that moment, she handed him her heart for the second time in their lives.
Date night was easy, something classic. Just dinner somewhere nice, somewhere classy. Somewhere that Ray could feel comfortable and see how different the world is now. Just walking to the nice Italian place down the street Ray couldn't help but look around in wonder. Not at the huge city that could easily make a lesser man feel small, or the cars that raced past on the streets, rather, he gawked at the diversity in the people. He couldn't take his eyes off the lesbian couple happily walking down the street hand-in-hand or the group of mixed teenagers roughhousing and playing a game of basketball in one of the alleyway courts. He was amazed and on edge, a tense set to his shoulder telling Allison he was waiting for something to go wrong. She knew it was a possibility just the same as he did, but she also knew it was less likely to be tolerated in this world nowadays. That they had made progress in leaps and bounds despite everything they still had left to work towards; how much there was left to do.
The restaurant only seems to solidify the tension in him, the second they walk in through the door only to be greeted by white waitstaff Allison feels his entire body coil up. She knows he knows things are different, knows that people can't be so openly intolerant without some form of backlash, but she also understands that he can't simply just take their word for it. He's lived a hard life in a harsh world. Decades of rules, and cruelty, and discrimination have made him the wonderful man he is today. She's glad to have the opportunity to show him that all the hard work he put in back in his time paid off at least a little. She wants to show him that things get better, even if they aren't fixed. She wants him to feel safe and protected.
So, she holds her head up high and asks to be seated at a table for two. With her reputation the staff is happy to give them a small booth off in a candle lit corner, far enough from the other patrons not to be bothered and close enough to the kitchen doors not to be overlooked. Her fame haunts her, sometimes. Knowing how she stole it and conjured it all up with her powers made her gut twist and her chest constrict.
Using that fame to provide for her husband makes it feel less like a burden. It makes it feel like a different kind of a superpower. She feels unstoppable when Ray slides into the booth across from her, the tension bleeding out of him and a gentle smile sliding onto his handsome face. "Well, that was something." He starts, eyes sparkling, and Allison can't help but laugh. This is everything she could have ever wanted, the only thing that could make it better was if little Claire was settled softly at her side. A family dinner, parents and their child enjoying a fancy night out. She hopes that Ray will get to meet Claire someday. Her worlds colliding in the most extravagant way.
Ray unfolds the menu, smiling lovingly at her over the rim when he thinks she isn't looking, and Allison can't remember the last time she felt this warm.
She has to admit, by the end of the night, she's had too many glasses of wine and she's giggling into Ray's shoulder as they head out the back. Word had gotten out that Allison Hargreeves was out with a new mystery man, likely some other patron having posted frantically to the internet, and the staff had been kind enough to offer them the back exit to escape the lingering press. Allison is grateful for that, Ray shouldn't be forced into the limelight so soon after arriving in the future. He wants him to adjust more before she lets the world know that she has a new, wonderfully loving husband.
"You might've had a bit much tonight, Allison," Ray suggests, looping an arm around her waist and holding her stumbling wait as they shuffle down the cold alleyway. The city lights practically twinkling, reflecting off the puddling pooling on the asphalt and coloring Allison's vision with warm light. She can see the same lights gleaming in Ray's eyes, his kind eyes that she fell into, and his soft smile reserved just for her pulls at his lips and Allison can't help but think 'This is it. This is all I want.'
"Hey, Hargreeves!" A voice snaps from the end of the alley, harsh and demanding. It rattles her, shock leaving her pliant in Ray's arms as he instinctive pulls her into his chest to shield her from the call. She blinks a few times, eyes focusing and trailing over to the mouth of the alley. A few men stand there, heads held eye and fists clenched at their sides. They're clearly not reporters desperate for a scoop, no journals or tapes in sight and their clothes far too simple; t-shirts and jeans, trucker caps fastened neatly to each of their heads.
"I think you might have the wrong people, mister." Ray starts placatingly, always trying to defuse a situation before it inevitably escalates and lands him in trouble. There's a harshness to his own tone, a threatening undertone to his words that meant he'd bring his own brand of trouble if these men didn't leave them alone. Ray wasn't a fighter, not in the traditional sense, he believed it peaceful protest. He wanted to make a positive difference, he knew that violence only bred violence, but he was also a man that would protect what he cared for with everything he had.
"I think you're in the wrong part of town." One of the three instigators huffs, Allison can practically see the smirk on his square face as he grinds a fist into his palm and cracks his knuckles. Stereotypical but effective, she supposes.
The warmth from the alcohol in her stomach mixes with the hot pit of rage starting to brew in her chest. She feels like she's on fire, like she can simply brush these men aside like the bigoted flies they appear to be. "Excuse me?" She hisses, prying herself out of Ray's arms to better face the men bold enough to stand up against a member of the Umbrella Academy. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me?"
"Allison," Ray whispers, a warning to back down before things got out of hand. Ray didn't understand, though, he was still struggling to accept they lived in a better world now, let alone the fact they were living in a very progressive city. People like these men, they don't get away with much in places like this.
"Better listen to your man, whore, if you know what's good for you." The third snarls in a lilting drawl, he sounds so satisfied with himself and Allison's vision bleeds red, dark and bloody like the wine she'd been drinking a mere fifteen minutes earlier. The first thought that comes into her mind is rumor them. Make them beat each other bloody and watch as the red mixes with the shining puddles decorating the glittering pavement, indulge in their brutality as she pits it against them.
But that's not who she wants to be. She doesn't want to feel satisfaction when people get hurt, or indulge in bloodlust and vengeance. She remembers being ecstatic when she'd rumor bank robbers into shooting each other when she was a kid, or rumor a mugger to turn their knife on themselves. She's remembers smiling at pooling red as men and woman alike cried in an agony she'd forced upon them. They were bad people, she'd tell herself, and they deserved every second of pain she condemned them to. She was judge, jury, and executioner and she basked in it.
Looking back on that she's horrified. Horrified of the things she did, of the people she'd hurt, in the pleasure she'd taken from it. She wasn't the hero the world painted her and her siblings as and she was determined to do better.
So, she makes the stupid choice. She's closer to drunk than she is to tipsy and her thoughts are clouded by her fury, but she doesn't dare open her mouth to rumor these bastards into leaving her and her husband alone. Instead, like the drunken moron she's let herself become, she charges. She went through her father's grueling training for almost two decades, learned how to take out a man twice her size when she was barely ten, but she's drunk and angry and she stood no chance against the three bulky men that had decided to confront her.
It feels like she blinks and suddenly she's pressed against the cold brick, her cheek is squished into the wall and she can feel the grain of the brick scratching into her flesh. Her shoulder is already aching from the strong grip one of the men has on her arm, yanking it behind her and expertly pinning it to the small of her back. She growls, squirming against her captor's grip, but the man is stronger than she is. The kind of strong that suggests he spends all his free time in the gym because he thinks the stronger you are the more masculine you present. She hears Ray, and her head snaps to the side despite how it scratches her face, and she sees the other two men prowling down the alley. Ray has his hands up and he backs away, not paying his soon-to-be-attackers any mind as he looks past them to try and catch her eye. "Hey, hey, let her go." He tries to reason, "She didn't mean any harm." Though, that's a bold-faced lie and everyone present knows it.
Her stomach twists, nausea and horror mixing in her gut when she sees one of the men dig into his pocket. It's hard to make out in the low light, the glow of the city filtering in from above and the lone light positioned beside the back door of the restaurant offering barely any visible details, but she knows what's happening before the man even so much as pulls his hand from his jeans. She hears the distinct click of a switchblade snapping open, can just barely make out the glint of the blade--
"I heard a rumor yo--" But before the words can finish tumbling from her lips a large hand clamps over her mouth. Thick fingers force her head up, the force behind the grip clamping her jaw shut with an audible click. She kicks out, heeled foot digging into the leg of their attackers but he barely flinches. She knows that people have to be lurking just around the corner, people filtering out of the restaurant to go home, paparazzi still lurking in hopes to catch a glimpse of her. Someone has to be there. So, seeing as it feels like the only option and she's so painfully desperate she can barely remember to breathe, she screams. She shrieks at the top of her lungs and prays that someone will be able to hear her because she's never felt so helpless in her entire life and she needs this all to stop.
There's a pop, familiar and welcome and her visions blurs with tears of relief and panic all at once.
"I was expecting you," Five's voice huffs, disgruntled and bordering on something dangerous. "But the idea of making this all seem like a hate crime? Were you planning to do this to the woman too? Her child?" He asks, and Allison desperately wants to ask not only what he's talking about but what in the world he's waiting for.
"You aren't supposed to be here." One of the man snarls, the sound of another blade snapping open.
"I'm not supposed to be a lot of places," Five dismisses, scoffing at the ignorance of such a small sentence. Five and his holier-than-thou attitude. He was a pretentious, crude little shit but she decides in this moment that he's her favorite brother. She has to look down, her head forced too far back to see him naturally, and he meets her eyes swiftly. There's a determination there, a fire in those green eyes that promise freedom and retribution and safety all at once. She swallows thickly, grunting as her shoulder protests loudly. Five's expression darkens and his eyes flick back up to the man holding her. Ray is behind him, watching with wary eyes, the men that had been approaching him turned to sneer down at Five with a fury that nearly matched Allison's own. "Now, I suggest you let go of my sister."
"What are you gonna do, pipsqueak?" Someone, one of the men, scoffs.
There's another pop and suddenly the arms holding Allison in place fall slack, there's a sickening gurgle right by her ear and the sound of metal slicing neatly through skin. She hears a thud and whips around just in time to see Five retrieving a stolen blade protruding from the man's neck, his eyes lifelessly staring ahead of him and his baseball cap laying discarded in a puddle a foot away. Five hums, examining the blade he'd clearly nabbed from the dead man, and looks over to the two left standing. They're still blocking her path the Ray, anger and fear coloring their expressions. It'd be funny, she thinks, to see two grown men easily twice Five's size cowering before him if it weren't for her husband being corralled into some back alley like some pig to the slaughter.
Five is gone again in another flash of blue, appearing right behind one of their attackers and slamming his foot into the side of their knee full-force. She sees it break, snapping to the side with a sickening crack, but the man doesn't have time to even scream before Five is driving his weapon neatly into the man's eye. He falls, silence and mutilated, and Five doesn't spare him a glance before jumping directly in front of the last man and stealing his own knife from shocked fingers. He smiles, a single smear of red painting his cheek, and expertly sinks the blade into the man's chest. The sound of the blade sinking into flesh, tearing through sinew and muscle, reverberates in Allison's ears. The last man drops and Five tisks disapprovingly at the corpses he'd littered the alley floor with, "The Commission should have known better." He says distractedly, neat grin still plastered on his young face.
Allison had never felt genuine relief at the sight of that smile until today. Usually Five's strained smiles and wide, murderous eyes had discomfort curdling in her veins, but today she wants to hug him and cry and thank him until she loses her voice.
Ray moves first, startling and stumbled around the dead bodies laid at his feet, and Allison is jolted from her stupor by the movement. They meet halfway, wrapping their arms around each other and sharing silent tears and shaky assurances.
"Are you okay?" Five asks, startling them apart so they both could look down at the apocalyptic survivor. His eyes are narrowed, calculating as he scans them up and down, "Hurt?" He presses.
"No, no." Ray offers, giving an almost hysterical bark of laughter. He turns to Allison, hands cupping her face and brushing away stray tears. She nods a jerky agreement, sharing a frantic chuckle with him.
Five nods, too, curt and content. "Good." He turns on his heel and moves back towards the alley entrance, leaving the bodies in his wake. "We should head home after all, it's getting pretty dark out."