THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY
fractured || five hargreeves x reader

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: IT'S A RISK I'M WILLING TO TAKE

Written By: peachyhxlland

°•.☆.•°

"I thought you didn't want him near your gray matter." Lila's voice echoed through the cold, sterile lab as she and Viktor stood, observing Five's preparation for what was about to be a dangerous procedure. Five was strapped into a sleek, metallic chair surrounded by complex machinery, his face tense as Reginald maneuvered around him, adjusting dials and pushing buttons.

Reginald had set up a machine that would allow Five to enter your mind and communicate with you, hoping to stop the impending doom. The others were in the living room, a safe distance away, with their families in tow—ready to protect themselves in case another earthquake struck.

Five shrugged. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Viktor, standing nearby with his arms crossed, shot a sharp look at him. "Really? Are you willing to risk your mind, knowing the kind of experiments (Y/n) went through while under that alien's control? She was tortured in ways none of us can understand. How is this any different?"

"And don't forget," Lila added, crossing her arms with a pointed glare. "It was those head experiments that pushed (Y/n) over the edge and she has been dealing with the aftermath ever since."

Five raised an eyebrow at Viktor. "If I remember correctly, all of you agreed to let Reginald examine everyone's memories to piece together the Jennifer Incident. So what's the difference now?"

Viktor raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, you got me there."

"That's enough chitchat. We have no time for more discussion," Reginald told the three. "Let us begin!"

The room fell silent as Viktor and Lila moved to stand by Reginald, though they kept a noticeable distance, clearly uneasy about the procedure. Viktor shot a glance at Reginald, his brow furrowed. "What if another earthquake hits while this is going on?"

Reginald, ever calm and composed, didn't look up as he continued his work on the machine. "This house is built to withstand such things. The earthquake won't affect the procedure, nor will it harm your brother."

With a final glance at the two, Reginald pulled a lever, causing the overhead lights to dim and the machine's internal lights to flicker on, bathing the room in a cold, almost otherworldly glow. He met Five's gaze. "Now, listen carefully. Keep your eyes open when the machine activates. You won't notice it, but once you're inside (Y/n)'s mind, your eyes will close. You may encounter fragments of her memories, thoughts, and visions, but you must not interact with them. Your focus is on finding her. Nothing else."

Five nodded, his lips tight, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Reginald looked over at Viktor and Lila, who exchanged a brief but uneasy glance before turning their attention back to the machine. With a final press of a large, red button, the procedure began.

As the machine hummed to life, Five felt a strange pressure, as though gravity itself was working against him. His body seemed to be anchored to the chair, a sense of force pinning him in place. His surroundings blurred, flashing with bursts of white light, and he clenched his fists, fighting the urge to scream. Despite the overwhelming sensation, he kept his eyes wide open, determined not to break Reginald's instructions.

Slowly, the world around him began to fade, replaced by a void. He felt weightless as if he were floating through endless space. There was no room, no machine—only darkness. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he felt his feet gently touch solid ground. The darkness around him didn't lift, though, and Five hesitated for a moment, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He walked forward, his footsteps echoing in the silence, the darkness surrounding him thick and oppressive. After a few moments, he noticed something strange—red smoke swirling beneath his feet. He froze, his eyes darting around, trying to find a source. Suddenly, he heard a faint voice behind him, distorted and muffled. Spinning around, he saw the red smoke begin to take shape, morphing into something... or someone.

It was you. A younger version of yourself, trembling inside a small, dimly lit room. You were curled up, clutching your knees to your chest, eyes wide with fear. The room's walls were faintly glowing, and a red door stood ominously in front of you. Five's heart sank as he took in the image—his regret hitting him like a wave.

He remembered that room, the red door. He remembered keeping you company, talking to you when no one else was there. But then... he had disappeared. He hadn't listened to Reginald's warnings, and now you were left alone to suffer in that room.

Five's fists clenched as he forced himself to turn away from your younger self's cries. His instincts screamed at him to comfort you, to tell you that he was there, that he would always be there. But Reginald's words echoed in his mind—do not interact with the visions. He swallowed hard, forcing his feet to move forward, ignoring the tightening in his chest as your sobs grew fainter behind him.

As he walked deeper into the darkness, the red smoke thickened, swirling and shifting until it took form once more. This time, the scene was different. The sterile, suffocating room was gone, replaced by a cozy kitchen bathed in golden light. It was a memory from before it all went wrong.

Five's breath hitched when he saw you, your older self before Reginald's twisted experiments had changed you. You stood by the counter, humming softly as you spread marshmallow fluff over peanut butter on a slice of bread. You looked... normal.

Happy, even.

The sound of footsteps made Five shift his gaze to your old roommate, Jeanie, as she entered the kitchen. She leaned against the doorway, watching you with knowing eyes. "You okay, sweetie?" Jeanie asked, her tone laced with quiet concern.

You barely spared her a glance as you pressed the slices of bread together. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jeanie raised an eyebrow. "Because you're making your comfort food, and it's been a week since you and your boyfriend of two years broke up."

Five had forgotten that you had an ex-boyfriend. The mention of him was quick. It was just tossed into conversation once and never spoken of again. He even remembered being sad about it when he heard of it.

"We lost connection, that's all," You answered casually, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"Or..." Jeanie's voice turned to tease as she draped an arm around your shoulders. "You're just not over your first love."

You stiffened slightly but covered it with a laugh. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeanie rolled her eyes. "Come on. I had a silly crush on Five once, too, but that was kid stuff. Yours? Definitely not a crush. You two were inseparable. And now I get the feeling that he's still on your mind."

Five felt his breath hitch, his pulse quickening as he watched you stifle a laugh. Something about the way your lips curled into a hesitant smile, the way your shoulders shook ever so slightly, sent a strange warmth creeping up his neck. He barely registered it at first, too caught up in the sight of you—alive, carefree, yourself. For a moment, he forgot the reason he was here.

He didn't even realize he was smiling.

Then, just as quickly, the warmth faded as you exhaled softly, your expression shifting. You stared down at your sandwich, fingers tracing absent patterns on the crust.

"I-I don't know," You admitted, voice quieter now. "All I know is I do miss him every day."

Jeanie's smirk softened into something more genuine. She squeezed your shoulder. "Yeah. I figured."

Five's chest tightened, a deep pang of regret twisting in his gut as he watched you with Jeanie. If he hadn't been so stubborn—so determined to prove himself by time traveling—he would have been here. With you. He wouldn't have left you behind to face Reginald alone. He wouldn't have been trapped in a desolate future, suffering in isolation while you were suffering differently—under Reginald's control.

His frown deepened. 'If I had just stayed...'

A heavy silence settled between you before Jeanie changed the subject, grinning again. She nudged you playfully before pulling you into a quick hug. "But congrats on finally being free of the Hargreeves name, by the way," She said, her tone lighthearted. "Finally free from Regibald's twisted grip! Cutting off ties with him must feel good, huh?"

You chuckled, a genuine one this time, and nodded. "I feel loads better. I just... don't know how to tell the others though."

Jeanie cupped your face and made you look at her, her eyes warm but firm and her voice softening. "I'm sure they'll understand. It's not like you're cutting off ties with them. You still love them, don't you?"

"Of course," You answered without hesitation.

"Then that's what matters," Jeanie reassured you. "You've been wanting to take the surname Russell back for a long time. You have your freedom now. You have free will."

Five's stomach churned. Freedom. Free will. Those were things you had once tasted, only to have them ripped away when Reginald took you back. Back then, you had finally broken away from Reginald's control and started carving out a life of your own. But in the end, it didn't matter. The reality was cruel—no one in the Umbrella Academy had ever truly escaped him.

He pushed forward, forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest. The warmth of the kitchen memory was long gone, swallowed by the encroaching red smoke. The air was thick now, heavy with something Five could only describe as dread.

And then—a scream.

Agonized. Desperate.

Five froze. His pulse spiked as he turned toward the source and his surroundings shifted once more. The warmth of the kitchen was gone, replaced by cold, sterile air. The walls flickered, shifting between the past and the present, memories unraveling and twisting together like threads of a nightmare.

Then the red smoke thickened, forming another vision.

The cold, sterile glow of fluorescent lights flickered above, casting harsh shadows over the metallic walls. A deep hum resonated in the air, and the sound of machinery running in the background was an unsettling reminder that something unnatural was happening here.

At the center of it all—you.

Strapped down to a metal table, your body writhing against the unyielding restraints. Your wrists were bound so tightly that the skin beneath was red and raw. Electrodes clung to your temples, thin wires trailing from your body to the machines that whirred and clicked ominously nearby. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your chest rising and falling erratically as though every inhale burned your lungs. Your fingers curled, trembling violently, nails digging into your palms as if that small act of resistance was all you had left.

A desperate, choked sob tore from your throat. "No more!" You sobbed. "Stop, please! It's too much!"

Five's blood ran cold.

And then, he saw him.

Reginald loomed over you, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. His face, so eerily calm, held no trace of humanity. He simply observed, clinical and detached, as if he were watching an experiment run its course. His face, so eerily calm, held no trace of humanity. He was not angry. He was not disappointed. He was simply watching. Studying.

The same detached gaze Five had seen so many times before—during their training, during their tests. But this was different. There were no harsh words, no lectures about strength or control. Just silence. Complete, unnerving silence.

Five's entire body tensed. He knew this wasn't real. It was a memory, just another fragment of your past playing out before him. But that didn't stop the fury from rising inside him like a tidal wave.

The machine beeped sharply, and your body jerked, back arching violently as another shock coursed through you. Your scream rang through the empty room, raw and agonized. Five's entire body screamed at him to move. To rip you out of that chair, to shove Reginald aside, to punch him, to stop this. But he couldn't.

"It's tragic, (Y/n)." Five heard Reginald say; his voice was calm, almost pitying, but it was the kind of pity that felt hollow. "You are a remarkable child. However, your abilities... your powers... too fascinating yet too dangerous."

Reginald stood beside the table, peering down at you with that same detached expression, hands still clasped neatly behind his back. His sharp, calculating gaze flickered over your trembling form as if you were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved.

Five's stomach twisted. He wasn't sure what Reginald hoped to gain from these experiments—what sick curiosity drove him to push you beyond your limits, over and over again. If he truly believed your powers were dangerous, why did he keep feeding them? Why did he continue to inject you with Marigold, knowing full well the consequences?

The answer was cruelly simple.

You were his favorite.

Not in the way a father had a favorite child. No, Reginald Hargreeves did not love any of them. But he valued you—the way a scientist valued their most intriguing test subject. The way a collector prized a rare artifact, too precious to be discarded but too volatile to be left unchecked.

And that's all you ever were to him.

An experiment. A specimen to be studied.

Five's breath came out uneven; his rage was barely restrained.

Reginald was still talking, his voice a distant hum beneath the ringing in Five's ears. The beeping of the machine grew more erratic, wires sparking as your body convulsed against the restraints. Your fingers twitched, your head rolling weakly to the side.

And yet, Reginald did nothing.

Then, suddenly, the vision flickered like static on an old television set. The memory was slipping away. "No, wait—!" Five took a step forward, but before he could move, everything dissolved into darkness.

He skidded to a halt, his heart hammering. The suffocating silence surrounded him like a void, pressing in on all sides. He swallowed hard and looked around, his voice cutting through the emptiness. "(Y/n)?" His call echoed, bouncing back at him. His throat felt dry. "(Y/n), where are you?"

Then, the red smoke thickened once more, swirling at his feet before shifting into another memory. You sat hunched on the edge of your bed, shoulders trembling. The dim glow of a lamp illuminated your face, tear-streaked and exhausted, your eyes swollen from crying. Your hands—shaking violently—curled into fists before unclenching again, as if trying to will the tremors away. A shaky breath. Then another. You exhaled hard and dropped your head into your palms. "Oh, God..."

"It's eating you alive, isn't it?"

Five stiffened, his breath hitching. For a second, he thought the words were directed at him, but then you flinched, shifting ever so slightly, your hands tightening against your temples. Not just a voice. Your voice. Or rather... the version of you that lurked beneath the surface.

"I killed people." You whispered, voice hollow. "For his own gain. A test."

"Yeah," The voice mused. "But I did most of the killing."

Your breath shuddered. "They have a family."

"You had a family." The voice was unfazed.

"I'm a cold-blooded killer."

"You killed before when you were a kid."

"On accident!" You snapped, your voice cracking.

The voice merely hummed, unfazed. "You know what I think?" It was taunting now, curling around the words like a predator circling its prey. "I think those people deserved it."

Your head jerked up, eyes narrowing at nowhere. "What?" You asked, baffled.

The voice chuckled. "Those people got to live their happy little lives, got to be with their families, got to wake up every morning without a care in the world. And you?" It clicked its tongue. "You're alone."

Your fingers curled against the bedsheets.

"Do you remember your dream?" The voice was sickeningly sweet now, teasing, mocking. "You and your little family? How adorable."

Your breathing turned shallow.

"You never know... that could have been yours. A real life. But in a different timeline."

The smoke swirled and thickened, and the oppressive darkness surrounded Five like a suffocating fog. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind raced as the visions shifted. But then... something changed that made him stop dead in his tracks.

The red smoke began to take shape slowly and deliberately as if it were becoming something far more tangible. His heart skipped a beat when the smoke solidified into a red door, standing tall, and framed in darkness, as though it had been summoned from nowhere.

Five's breath came quick and shallow as he stared at the door—the same one that had always terrified you. He stepped forward cautiously, eyes locked on the handle. His fingers hovered over it, hesitation creeping in, but he pushed it aside. Taking a steadying breath, he grasped the handle and turned it. The door creaked open, the sound cutting through the silence like a blade.

As it swung wide, Five stepped through.

His heart clenched when he saw you—chains wrapped around your wrists and ankles, your body sagging with exhaustion and the weight of pain. You were barely conscious, slumped against the wall, your head resting against the cool concrete, and your hair hung on limp strands around your face.

"(Y/n)..."