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The White Umbrella

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The White Umbrella



The world was ablaze in a cacophony, all the power Allison had sealed away from her was called forth in deadly crescendo, and Vanya had never felt so…like herself. The last thing Vanya remembered was blue light drowning everything else, and a–









“I’m so useless…I’m so w-w-worthless. There’s nothing special about m-me.”



Then it was nothing. The abyss. Vanya came to in utter darkness. It was like she was back in that horrible cell; the bunker underneath the Umbrella Academy. But this was different. At least the bunker had a window, this was just nothing, she thought frantically. She could hear her breathing, but something was wrong. Wait…raising her left hand, she snapped her finger next to her ear.

Sounded fine.

She did the same on her right side…but it was faint. Her left ear heard the right hand’s snap. But her right ear…was Deaf.

Trying to shelve the panic she felt at another one of her precious traits being maimed, Vanya desperately tried to make sense of everything. She looked around the darkness and realised she was standing up. There was nothing visible below her feet, but she felt solid matter below them all the same. She pivoted in place to have a proper look around.

            She sensed it before she saw it. lying behind her, not three metres away was a gleaming white violin. Like Vanya , the violin seemed to be resting on a plane of some sort.

            What the fuck happened? Why did Luther lock me way? How come Allison let him…oh wait, I almost fucking decapitated her. They’re right, I’m a fucking monster.


…..a few minutes later….


            Hold up, Allison tried to lobotomize me again. Luther and Pogo put me in my cage, and the others fell in line like fucking sheep. And I think I killed the world.


            Realising the introspection was a little too tainted by her depression, Vanya walked over to the violin. Weirdly, the bow was lying next to it too. Vanya blew out a huff of air. What is there to lose?

            As she played, she tried to call to her powers. And they were there. Instead of the outpouring of horrors that happened before, she tried to focus on something else, another emotion other than well, all the bad ones really.

            Something happy maybe? Okay, happy memories…think Seven! Um, maybe it’s like a Patronus or something? Can’t get to a worse place than I already am….right?

            And so she played, thinking of all the times she got a smile from Grace while she played the violin. Having drinks with Allison. Feeling her powers for the first time in the forest.

            Pogo comforting her when she as a crying child and the others were out doing superhero things.

            Vanya couldn’t help but sob as she played. Pogo may have been an accomplice to her lobotomy, but he was also the only family who stuck by her always. He didn’t deserve what she did to him. If only she could go back, and right that damn-near irredeemable mistake. Did Grace survive or did she kill her mother too?

            The White Violin let out a strangled cry as she fell to her knees the sobs overtaking the music, though she still held the bow.

            If only she could time travel like Five. She could go back and stop herself, fix everything. She could save the world instead of destroy it.

            Vanya stood up, letting the power of that wish, her hope of redemption fill her up. And using her music, she cast that wish out into the universe with all her might.



            And suddenly there was sound again. The abyss was gone, the violin was gone, and she tumbled to her knees onto earthen ground.

            “Shit, Vanya are you alright?” Allison’s voice filled Vanya’s perception as she came to. She looked up. Her brothers and Allison had umbrellas drawn, her own had fallen to the ground at her side, where she had just been holding the violin’s bow.

            Vanya took Allison’s outstretched arm and was pulled to her feet in a daze. She also stooped and handed Vanya back her umbrella. The men hadn’t really paid her any attention and were beginning to stand around the grave. “Vanya, are you okay for this?”

Vanya looked at her; really looked at her. She had no gash on her throat, she looked radiant, even in the rain. Vanya pulled the taller woman into a hug, burying her face in Allison’s hair.

            Startled at first by the uncharacteristic showing of affection, Allison recovered herself and returned the fierce embrace. Allison could feel the tears tracking down Vanya’s cheeks onto her neck. She didn’t really care.

Despite the horrible way their father had weaponized them, she was barely keep herself together. He was their dad. Allison gently rocked the smaller woman back and forth before feeling the those small arms loosen enough to draw back and look Vanya in the face. She brushed those pale cheeks clear of tears, and again, once they were immediately replaced with more. Allison looked into those wide dark eyes, she noticed for the first time, there was a fleck or two of pale blue. Weird, she thought, before she was distracted by their brother.

“Get your shit together and let’s finish this,” Diego called out; as insensitive to Vanya as ever.

“Hey, leave them alone,” Luther scolded from where he held their father’s ashes.

Pogo sighed, resigned that this scattering of ashes was going to go as badly as he feared it would. At least they had Five back.

It was worse.

After the boys fought, and the make-shift funeral was over, Vanya found herself sitting on the stairs. Just like she did was she was younger. This time however, she was contemplating her situation. She had fucking time travelled…somehow. And it was before everything went to shit. She tried to steady her thoughts, the way she normally did that was through playing the violin. For some reason, she thought that may not be the best idea at the moment.

Suddenly struck by inspiration, she got to her feet and raced up the stairs to their father’s room. Granted, it was a long-shot, but maybe he kept the damn thing. Now that her powers had swept aside Rumour’s fog in her mind like a gale, her memories of her childhood were there for her to see. The tuning fork, that’s what she needed.

            “Thank fuck,” she muttered as she found the damn thing high on one of their father’s book shelves. She jumped off the chair she was using for support and ran downstairs to the small kitchen. She pulled out a couple glasses and set them on the table.

            With a quick stroke, she brought the tuning fork down on the counter, and her training resumed, finally.