I'm absolutely loving 'The Umbrella Academy', and since the TV show doesn't have it's own page yet I'm just adding this here. Just know that I've never read the comics; I'm only putting my thoughts on the shit that happened in the show into words. Starting with the biggest 'what if' scenario, obviously; Vanya in that cell. The last two episodes were so frustrating to watch because of this, but at the same time it sadly made sense for all the family members to act the way they did. Won't stop me from writing a fix-it, though.
(Also, is it just me or did Vanya casually out-phoenix Jeanne Grey?)
„Is anybody else uncomfortable with this? Or is it just me?"
As always, Klaus' input went unheard. Either that, or ignored. Probably the latter.
"That bunker was built to withstand an atomic blast, right?" Luther was questioning Pogo. Right now he was in full I-am-Nr-1 mode, not allowing anything but what he'd identified as the right thing to do to be done. Klaus wasn't sure if he had always been like that or if it was a recent thing. Not that it affected the outcome in any way.
"It was, Master Luther. May I advise…"
"No." Luther turned to the rest of the group. "We have to decide what to do with her."
"Yeah, about that…" Klaus tried to make himself heard again.
"This is insane. You do realize this is Vanya we're talking about?" Diego spoke over him. He was pacing back and forth across the atrium. That in itself was a sign how serious things were. "Vanya. Little sister who made herself an umbrella tattoo just to belong? If she had powers, don't you think she'd busted those out a lot sooner?"
"Not if dad found a way to stop her from doing it." Luther argued. "And good thing he did, or we would all probably be dead."
"Dad really was an asshole, wasn't he?"
"You can say that again." Klaus agreed.
"What?" Both of his brothers looked to him for the first time, confused.
"Didn't agree with you!" Klaus clarified in Luther's direction, without elaborating further. This didn't feel like the time to bring up the dead-brother-talks-to-me explanation (somehow he doubted there would ever be a right time for it), especially since he finally had their attention. It was a testament to how insane things had gotten that he – Klaus – had to be the voice of reason. "Even if Vanya has powers, which I'm not saying she does, I don't feel like putting her in an atomic bunker is the best possible option here."
"It's our only option right now." Luther was visibly trying to be patient. It wasn't working that well. "What do you suggest we should do? Have a polite chat around the dinner table and talk things out until she slits all our throats like she did Allison's?!"
"Yes." Klaus said. "Well, minus the throat slitting part."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's right." Diego jumped in in his support. "Even if Vanya doesn't care for any of us, she does care for Allison, man. A blind guy could see that. Whatever happened, it must have been an accident."
"An accident?!" Luther growled, eyes flashing dangerously. He took a step towards Diego. Somehow he seemed to grow even taller than his already impressive height.
Diego, to his credit, didn't budge. He had never been one to back down from Luther. Unfortunately, he had also never learned how to talk to him. "You're being emotional because it's Allison. If it were one of us, instead, would you still care so much?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means Vanya hurt your girl, and now you're on a revenge trip."
Off to the side, Klaus winced. Wrong thing to say. Very, very wrong thing to say.
For a long moment, Luther just glared at his brother. Much to Klaus' surprise, though, he didn't start throwing punches. His giant shoulders just sort of clenched and unclenched, as if debating for themselves whether Diego was worth it. Maybe he was as drained by the last few days as the rest of them. In the end, he just shook his head: "Vanya is dangerous. We're not letting her out. And that's final." Without another word, he turned around and walked away. Perhaps it was coincidence that his bulky frame shattered a vitrine on the way, but it looked more like a lot of pent-up frustration if Klaus had to guess.
As the splinters clattered to the floor, the two brothers exchanged a glance. "Ideas?" Diego said.
"Hold hands and start singing Kumbaya?" Klaus suggested.
Diego sighed profoundly. "Great. I'll go check on mum." With that, he was gone, too.
Pogo, looking weary beyond his years, shuffled off after him.
Talking things out was an issue in their family, Klaus reflected. To the point that, apparently, even locking up their sister behind atomic-proof metal was preferable to it. Normally he wouldn't care, but right now he was depressingly sober and he was finding that this condition made him prone to caring. He really didn't enjoy the feeling; it was like a permanent ache in his stomach. High time to fix that.
He started heading for his old room. Maybe there was still some leftover cocaine somewhere to find. He'd even take basic painkillers at this point. The thought of Vanya sitting alone in that room, screaming her soul out, didn't agree with him. Nope, not at all. But he was Klaus, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do on his own. What was the point in even trying?
Perhaps Luther would see sense, eventually. Or Diego would get fed up with him and bust their sister out on his own. Yeah, that was probably what was going to happen, Klaus convinced himself as he climbed the steps, trying not to think too much about that cell deep below him. And trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head.
The only problem was, that voice didn't care much if he ignored it or not.
"So, that's it. Solitary confinement for Number 7."
"Yep." Klaus said.
"She is going to need a lot of drugs after this."
Klaus stopped and looked at his brother, wondering if he had rubbed off on spirit Ben a little too much. He was starting to talk just as much nonsense as him. "Huh?"
"Just saying. That's a lot of trauma. She's gonna need a way to cope. Especially if she's been down there before…"
Ah, so that was the way the wind was blowing. "That was way below the belt, man." Klaus complained, pretending to search his pockets for something so that he wouldn't have to look at that judgemental stare on his brother's face. Ben had perfected that one.
"You could supply her, I suppose. Good deeds help with the guilt."
"Now, Ben…"
"I can't even imagine what she's going through right now, locked up, all alone. Can you?"
Klaus stared at him. Ben stared back.
Finally, Klaus groaned and gave up. Damn it. Yeah, he could imagine very well. And of course Ben knew that. "You're by far the worst brother, brother. And with that I'm including the knife-throwing maniac and the time-travelling grandpa." he said accusingly. Then he turned on the spot and headed back the way he'd come.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
She had screamed it so often that her voice was practically gone. Now, Vanya sat slumped against the door of her cell, knees drawn to her chest, and just thought it over and over. She didn't even know what exactly she was apologizing for at this point. Everything probably. Existing.
Her entire cell was lined with sharp spikes, except for the door, so that was where Vanya sat. The empty middle of the room only made her feel more vulnerable, so she avoided it. There weren't any noises coming in to join her, only stale air and her own heartbeat. And with nothing to distract her from the silence, her thoughts were overwhelming her. The barriers she has built up over the years couldn't stop them, even though Vanya would have given anything not to think or feel. The silence wasn't so kind as to let her.
She had almost killed Allison.
She had definitely killed Leonard – Harold. Even now, Vanya couldn't wrap her head around the Why and How of him. One day ago, she thought she loved him, but now when she searched for those feelings, there was nothing. Not even guilt for killing him. He had deserved it. But there was something else stirring in her chest, thinking of that moment when she finally put a stop to his insults: It had felt good. More than good; satisfying. And that scared her more than anything else.
She had killed those people in the parking lot, too. She hadn't realized for a long time, or she hadn't wanted to think about it, but beside the patter of rain and the drum of the engine there had been the sound of spines snapping. She hadn't meant to do it. It had just happened.
She had almost killed her sister.
Vanya gave a dry sob, burying her face in her hoodie. She hadn't meant to. She would never do that to her, never. It had just…
Happened? Just happened, like everything else?
What if something else 'happened'? If she lashed out again, in anger or fear or envy? Vanya had plenty of all three, and it would only take one mistake. One moment of failing to keep it all from showing, and another person she cared about might be dead. Maybe it was a good thing she was locked up in here. This way she couldn't harm anybody else.
It was all Vanya could do not to burst into cynical laughter: All her life she had wished for powers of her own, but now that she had them she was still the liability. She should have known, really. Nothing she ever did turned out right.
I'm sorry.
Why should you be sorry? It's them who have locked you in like an animal. Ignored you your entire life. Whispered behind your back. They always wanted to keep you controlled, just like your father did. Lest you overshadow them all.
It rang all too true. Vanya remembered now. All the days of loneliness, the absentminded slights and the open torture. She had been too young to comprehend it then, but now she understood what had happened to her. Being in this room made those memories bubble up from deep in her subconscious, and suddenly it was becoming hard to breathe. Vanya gasped for air. The walls around her seemed to be moving in on her. She pressed her eyes shut. There was a faint ringing sound in her ears.
Two memories kept coming to the forefront. Reginald Hargreeves – dad – guiding her into this room for the first time, saying she had to be controlled. And then him standing on the rooftop, telling her she wasn't special.
He deserved to die for what he did. He deserved more than he got.
But her siblings weren't like dad. Vanya forced herself to remember that. They weren't. They were a messy and dysfunctional family, but not cruel or evil. Luther just cared about Allison, that was why he was doing this. If they'd just let her explain, she could apologize and maybe her sister would forgive her. When Allison had looked at her earlier, Vanya hadn't seen hate in her face. Just sorrow. It had given her a sliver of hope. They would let her out; she had to believe that.
Really? How much do you really know them? Look at where you are now. Is this was siblings do to each other?
No, it was what her father would do to her. What he had done, repeatedly, and not only to her. Her brothers knew that and still…
The ringing in her ears grew louder and louder, and Vanya pressed her palms to her ears in an effort to shut it out. She could feel the familiar energy building in the sound, coiling, ready to snap. Her hair started to dance in an impossible breeze. Vanya gasped, tried to steady her breathing; she had to control this…
Did she, really? What then? She would spend the rest of her life in this cell, because she couldn't be trusted. Not even Allison trusted her. Before Vanya lashed out, she had tried to charm-speak her back into her shell, make her less than special again. Her own sister would do that to her again.
She had been kidding herself all this time. Even with real powers, Vanya was still being swept aside like she always had been. Nobody cared about Number 7. Even the one person she'd chosen to trust had turned out to be only interested in her powers, not in Vanya Hargreeves. Because how could anyone be? She would always be alone.
Through the drowning thrumming of her own heartbeat, she almost didn't feel the rhythmic vibrations of the cell door against her back. When she did, Vanya first thought it was her doing, too. But when she looked up, what she saw was a hand banging against the window of her cell, the sound inaudible through the thick glass.
In a heartbeat, she had jumped to her feet and was looking for her visitor through the small opening – uncertain whether she wanted to hug that person or blast the door in their face with decades' worth of pent-up anger.
From the other side, of all people, Klaus was waving at her.