Number Eight - The Viper ┃ Five Hargreeves ┃1┃

XX - Klaus Is Partial To Wedding Cake, Apparently.

Number Five blinked into the Academy sitting room, holding the unconscious Number Eight in his arms. His cheeks were slightly damp, and his breaths were heavy. As he arrived, he seemed to interrupt a relatively awkward conversation, leaving a heavy silence to fall across the room. Luther, Diego, Allison and Klaus staring at him, confused, until they noticed their bleeding adoptive sibling resting in his arms.

"Please, help me." Number Five said quietly, his voice shaking. Luther immediately jumped into action, taking Number Eight from his arms and carrying her to the medical wing. Her head lulled in Luther's arms and her skin was growing cold to the touch.

"Five, what happened to her?" Asked Allison, her eyes full of worry. The rest of the family followed closely behind Luther, each one of them growing more and more anxious regarding Number Eight's declining health.

"My boss. My ex-boss, shot her." Number Five spat the words out, his upset turning into anger. Allison looked bewildered, unfamiliar with Number Five's job history. "We went to try and get information about the apocalypse. Turns out my boss is still a nutjob running a shit show. Where's Viktor?" He asked.

Allison sighed before shrugging her shoulders. "There was a bit of an argument. He hasn't come back"

The family approached the medical wing, where Luther laid Number Eight down on one of the beds. Diego walked into the room with swiftly, holding Grace by the hand and pulling her along with him.

"Mom, you need to help her." Diego said, pointing to Number Eight's still, unconscious body. Her skin was drip-white, and her clothes were drying in a deep shade of scarlet. Grace immediately began to examine Number Eight, finding the source of the bleeding.

"A bullet wound. On the lower left abdomen. I can help." She said, her speech programmed to perfection.

"Will she be okay?" Allison asked, gnawing at the tip of her fingernail. The whole family were brewing with anxiety; they had been here before with Number Eight, and back then, she didn't wake up for twelve years.

Number Five shook his head, his emotions becoming uncontrollable. His anger and panic were incomprehensible. "Look, Grace. You can not and will not let her die. This is my wife we're talking about, here. And please, don't lose her to a twelve-year coma again." He said, the words spilling out of his mouth without thinking. As the rest of the family stared at him in confusion, he simply placed his face in his palm.

"Excuse me, what?" Asked Luther, his frows furrowed.

Allison chuckled lightly. "Did you just say wife?"

Klaus took time to respond, his brain overloaded. "Wait, what? Five?"

Number Five rolled his eyes, knowing that there was no turning back now. He raised his left hand, pointing at his golden wedding band, "Look, I know I said the apocalypse can mess with your mind, but I didn't go crazy enough to marry the mannequin."

"But, I thought you found all of our bodies? We died." Luther asked, remembering the conversation that they had had in Diego's gym room.