Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Albert loved a good rainy day. Rainy days meant everyone stayed inside, yeah, but it meant he could relax! Somehow the goodies and the baddies had both agreed that fighting during the rain would just be… Messy. So rainy days were their weekends, their time to rest and relax before the next mission. He could write more of his fanfiction, or practice his energy attacks in a training room, or… His eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he got today’s idea.

“I’m going to explore the Clock Tower!”, he exclaimed, leaping out of his bed. It was a bit early in the day for him to be awake, but that just meant he could work on his stealth skills while everyone else slept! Albert giggled, still grinning rather goofily as he threw on a t-shirt and some jeans. He slipped on his shoes and left the relative sanctuary of his room for the unknown depths of the Clock Tower. He snagged a bagel from the kitchen along the way, nibbling at it as he scampered down the stairs Tesla just had to have instead of a lift. Something about it being good for the heart and legs. Albert didn’t really understand what a few flights of stairs could do that fighting bad guys regularly couldn’t do, but whatever.

He kept count of the floors as he descended, brow furrowing in confusion as he slowed to a stop. Surely the Clock Tower didn’t have that many floors, did it? He could’ve sworn there were only 11, but if he hadn’t messed up while counting… Albert dashed back up, recounting on the way up and recounting once more when he ran back down.

“... Thirteen?”, he wondered aloud, face all scrunched up from what had to be some cosmic mistake. Albert knew there were only 11 floors, everyone knew the Clock Tower was only 11 stories tall! “So how the hell did I manage to get thirteen?”, he said, descending much slower now. He counted each step carefully, eyes narrowing as he walked on down flight after flight that shouldn’t have existed. It ended at a nice eighteen, or -7, actually. Numbers became negative after hitting zero, or maybe it would be B7? He shook his head because the semantics of the floor number didn’t really matter.

Well, they didn’t matter when he’d found a large metal door to open! He grinned, flexing his nonexistent) biceps before he tugged on the door handle. And… Nothing. Albert frowned, pushing his hair back before he pulled on the door handle again. He spent more than a minute or two yanking on the handle, getting increasingly frustrated before he felt a light bulb go off in his head. Hesitantly, almost as if the door would bite, he pushed on the handle. The door swung open easily.

“... Seriously?”, Albert said, just a little incredulous that nobody had thought to label the fucking mystery door. “Well, at least nobody saw that.”, he mused, whistling to himself as he walked through the open door. Whatever this floor was, it was… Not very well lit. He found himself squinting in the dark, arms held out to blindly feel for something. A light switch, maybe? He hit something solid, something cold, actually. Glass? He flailed a bit, hitting a couple other pretty solid glass things before he managed to hit a button. The room seemed to come to life then, sickly green lights casting their glow on… Oh.

Albert’s blood ran cold and his legs began to shake as he realized just what he’d been hitting. Glass, of course. Glass coffins, for lack of a better term. A sour, bitter taste was at the back of his mouth and for a worrying moment, he thought he’d actually vomit. He managed to fight it down, though, but he couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down his face. Seven glass coffins, six with… With other hims , and one that was empty.

“Oh… Oh god …”, he whispered, stumbling back a couple of steps. Albert had always known he wasn’t the original, that he was a clone, but… He had never thought that there had been others. Especially not six others! He couldn’t help the little pained cry that passed his lips, and he was suddenly collapsing to his knees. He was scared and wanted the others. He needed the others to find him and comfort him, tell him everything was okay! Oh god, he couldn’t even stand, he felt like he would pass out. “Churchill! Marie! Darwin, anybody! P-please!”, he yelled, a desperate, panicked edge in his voice that made it crack.

“What the devil is all the yelling for-“, Churchill began, bursting into the room with his gun drawn. His eyes landed on the coffins first, the clones lying neatly in their resting places like they always were. A particularly pitiful sob wrenched them away from Six, only to widen in shock at the sight of Seven caught in the midst of a panic attack. “He’s in here, everyone!”, he called, the other worried teammates quickly filling the room.

“Seven, what are you doing down here?”, Marie snapped, her voice a mixture of anger, terror, and concern. Albert looked up at them all, the waterworks pausing for just a moment before he began to wail. “Seven, please-“, she began, cut off when he ran into her. She nearly fell back from the force, but Darwin was behind her to keep them both steady and on their feet.

“He wasn’t supposed to ever find this room!”, Freud hissed, eyes filled with a surprising coldness as he glared at Churchill. “ You were the one to insist we never tell him about the other floors, that way he couldn’t find it!”, he continued, jabbing an accusatory finger at the team’s leader. “Well look what we have now! Seven managed to find the room anyways! I knew we never should have kept the bodies, but no! You just had to get all… Sentimental!”, he finished, breathing only a little uneven. He glanced at the bodies for only a moment, flinching away the second he saw Five.

“Everyone, please. Yelling will only make Albert feel worse.”, Darwin said, eyes darting back and forth from the crying child to the angered psychiatrist. Never once resting for more than a moment on darling Four. Tapputi nodded in agreement, an odd shine to her eyes as she pulled Marie and Albert both into a careful hug. Tesla was… Not his usual self. He stood off to the side like he normally would, but his eyes looked glassy and distant. Not here. Sort of… Gone. His hands had balled into fists and there was just the slightest of a quiver to his lips. There… There was Three.

“Everyone get the hell out of this room, now. Back to the kitchen, or to your rooms, or wherever you bloody please! But get the hell out of here!”, Churchill bellowed, smashing his fist down on a table. Everyone seemed to break from their little trances then, even Freud seemed to calm down a bit as he stepped back. Albert had just cringed against Marie, muffled cries and uneven breathing the only sound that filled the green room. They all filed out slowly, Marie and Darwin whispering words of comfort to Albert in a vain attempt to soothe him. They knew it wouldn’t magically erase the sight of his six dead predecessors. It helped them, though, because it kept the sound of his crying from seeming too loud.

Freud led the way back up each accursed flight of stairs, far too much adrenaline in his system from that damned fight-or-flight to really feel the dull pain in his legs as he climbed. Tapputi could feel her chest tightening in the most hauntingly familiar way as she took each step, tears threatening to spill every time her lungs seemed to scream for air. Darwin felt cagey in the stairwell, skin crawling with the urge to change into a wolf that could just run, run so far away. Marie just felt tired, eyes heavy and muscles aching as she took shaky step after shaky step. Tesla forced himself to move slowly, forced himself to keep his energy levels under control so there wouldn’t be an accidental spark.

Churchill… Churchill stayed down in floor B7. He needed to think about what to do next, about what to do with Seven now that he knew. About what would be best, not just for Seven, but for the entire team. That was what he did best. He was an exceptional leader, used to making big sacrifices if they would prevent an even bigger tragedy. That’s how wars were won, with casualties, strategies, and sacrifices. He would be the one to make the big decisions, no matter what it might cost him.

“It had to be done…”, Churchill whispered, turning his back on the others. On… On Six. “You know that, don’t you?”, he asked if a bit feebly. Not that it mattered. Six could never answer again, and he doubted his answer had changed. He sighed, wiping at his wet cheeks before he left the room. He shut the light off, closing the door behind him as he trudged up the stairs slowly. By the time he’d reached the ground floor, the others had already congregated in the living area. Well…

“Freud and Tesla are in their rooms.”, Tapputi said, grasping at a glass of water Darwin offered. Her voice sounded wheezy and the water was a blessing to her dry, tight throat as she drank.

“I think it’s best if we let them be for now.”, Darwin suggested, taking the now empty glass back from Tapputi. Marie nodded, curled up on the couch with a now quiet Albert. Besides the occasional watery hiccup and the red, puffy state of his eyes, one might think he’d never been crying.

“... Is that why you all called me Seven?”, Albert asked quietly, voice still shaking as he looked around. “Cause I counted them. There were six of them-”, he had to stop and collect himself, tears threatening him again before he continued, “And that would make me seven. I don’t have to be a math genius to know that much.”

“Yes Albert, that was why we called you Seven in the beginning.”, Marie replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She felt old and drained, body tired and mind begging for rest at that moment.

“But Freud and Churchill still call me Seven. Tesla only started calling me by my name a couple of months ago!”, Albert said, trying his hardest to hold back the tears and failing. He was hit with a horrifying realization as he wiped at his eyes roughly. “Why was there a seventh coffin?”, he asked. The room fell silent, the question hanging heavy in the air. Albert looked around at the team, most of them anyways, waiting for the answer he already knew. They had to say it though. Just in case he was wrong and had made a mistake with his assumption.

“We… We didn’t know if you would last long.”, Tapputi finally admitted. The matriarch of the team sounded almost ashamed of the admission, that shine taking over her eyes again. With a distant, almost absent-minded sense of horror, Albert realized she was going to cry. As if on cue with his thoughts, a single tear made its way down Tapputi’s weathered cheek. He felt scared, scared and oddly offended. It was enough that they doubted him on missions, but to doubt he could even survive?

“It wasn’t exactly as though the first six did well…”, Darwin added gently, wincing at the memory of Four. Oh, the poor boy…

“We were so happy when you made it through your first mission, Albert.”, Marie said suddenly, running her fingers through the young boy’s hair while she stared off into space. “That’s when I started calling you Albert, remember? I just… I figured you would be okay. And you were! This time around, at least.”, she continued, stopping herself short. That wasn’t her story to tell.

“Well, what did happen to the others?”, Albert asked, unsure if even he wanted to know the answers. Did he really need to find out how six other hims had died? “I mean, I should know so I don’t make the same mistakes-”, he scrambled to add, cutting himself off when Tapputi began coughing loudly. Everyone was occupied with trying to calm her down for a moment, but she just waved them away.

“... Everyone should go to their rooms.”, Marie suggested, using her best you-better-listen-now voice. Considering she had mothered two rowdy daughters, it was rather effective at clearing the room of everyone besides Albert and herself. She looked down at the boy, face and voice softening at the confusion on his face. “Let me tell you about One…”, she murmured, closing her eyes as she let her mind take her back to those horrible times…

Chapter Text

“I want you to listen carefully, without interrupting. I don’t… I have no intention of telling this story again.”, Marie said, looking down at Albert. He nodded once, settling deeper against the couch in preparation for a long story. She sighed softly, the tears already spilling from her eyes as freely as they had back when…

When Einstein’s murder had been discovered. It had hit everyone hard, but nobody seemed to feel the pain as deeply as Marie did. After all, they were more than just teammates or even colleagues. They had been friends, close enough to share personal stories and have a few inside jokes. She had simply shut down after he passed. Walled herself off from everyone else. Lord only knew how many tears she cried over that first month, feet moving of their own accord and eyes constantly bloodshot. Then Churchill came to her in the dead of night with news that made her blood run cold.

“Einstein lives still.”, he explained as he led her down flight after flight of stairs she never remembered using. “Not as he had been, but anew. Much frailer than we knew him as, but reborn with the DNA samples we’d found at…”, he added, trailing off as they entered an odd, dark room.

“At the crime scene?”, a soft voice offered up, startling Marie into letting out a little gasp. Churchill nodded, a look she couldn’t put into words darkening his eyes. “Mr. Churchill told me as much as he could about what happened, Mrs. Curie.”, the horribly familiar, yet foreign voice said. Tears fell from her eyes once more as a small, sickly child stepped out from a dark corner and into the dim, green light of the room. It was the hair that sold her, that shock of frizzy, white hair that Einstein had never bothered with. “He said we were really good friends. I… I hope we can be friends again.”, the child said, looking up at her with such hope that Marie felt a smile, albeit a shaky one, pull at her trembling lips.

“We were very good friends then, Albert. I think we’ll be even better friends now.”, she whispered. The little boy-Little Albert-smiled back with so much confidence that she felt blinded for a moment. He ran towards her, stumbling a bit at the end, and threw himself into her arms. She reacted reflexively, thinking of her two young daughters back home. Marie hugged Little Albert to her chest, whispering fervent prayers to a god she hadn’t believed in since her mother and sister passed on. Just this once, she needed a miracle. “Niech wzrasta i żyje, Panie. Proszę.”, she begged. Churchill only sighed, shaking his head before he led the two from the cellar and back to Marie’s room.

“Little Albert shall stay here with you, that way his condition can be easily monitored as he develops.”, Churchill explained, giving the two a little nod before he left. A comfortingly familiar sort of joy settled over Marie like only the warmest of blankets would do. She had Albert back! Of course, he was significantly younger, maybe seven at the oldest, but… It was all the same DNA. The same powers, the same wild hair, the same mischievous smile, and the same look of wonder in his eyes as he looked the room over. Marie quickly realized her room was far from childproof.

Seeing as it doubled as the team’s sickbay, painkillers and experimental medicines were left out in the open. Clearly labeled, of course, but Marie didn’t even know if Little Albert could read. Not that it mattered, anyway, it was the principle of the thing. She busied herself with tidying the room up, answering the occasional question from Little Albert.

“And what’s this one called?”, he asked, holding up a medicine bottle. She took it away from him, narrowing her eyes as she read the large print. This would definitely need to be locked back up.

“This is penicillin, Little Albert. A very strong antibiotic.”, she finally replied, placing it inside the medicine cabinet before she clicked the lock shut. “We use it to treat bacterial illnesses in people. It fights off the illness and makes the person strong again.”, she elaborated when she saw the confusion displayed openly on his face. Little Albert nodded, grinning as the new information sank in. “Come now, you should rest. It’s very late.”, she said, content now that all the medicine was up at least. Little Albert looked up at her from his spot on the floor, eyes widening as he held his arms up.

“Carry me, Mrs. Curie?”, he asked, little voice warbling like the sweetest birdsong. Marie only swooped the small boy up into her arms, adorable giggles filling the usually silent room as she carried him over to the bed. She laid him down on the crisp, white sheets she had insisted on keeping in her room. Hospital sheets just made her feel at home, and she really hoped they would make Little Albert feel at home as well. With the heavy coverlet pulled up to his chin, Little Albert looked rather small in the large bed. “Can you sing to me, Mrs. Curie?”, he asked, eyes already fluttering shut.

“... Rest now, my child… The day is over. The sun will shine… When morning comes.”, Marie sang softly, closing her own eyes as she swayed to a half-forgotten melody. “But now it is dark and the world is quiet. So let your eyes rest… And fall asleep…”, she sang, voice falling to a whisper as she forced herself out of a nostalgic reverie. Little Albert was already sleeping. She smiled tiredly, the adrenaline rush from seeing him alive and well wearing off. She had to stifle a yawn as she settled down into bed herself, giving the small boy one last look before she let herself fall into the abyss that was sleep.

“... Forgive me, I need a moment.”, Marie whispered, standing up from her spot on the couch. The tears had dried while telling the story at some point, but the song seemed to start them up once more. She walked away from the couch, from Albert, as she tried to regain her composure. At least some degree of it, anyways. Albert kicked off his shoes and pulled his knees up to his chest, fighting off a weird pressure against his throat. It was almost like he’d swallowed a gumball and now it had stuck in his throat, leaving him with less room to breathe than he was comfortable with.

Hearing about this other clone… This other him … It was haunting, to say the least. Seeing them in their glass coffins had been one thing, but watching Marie cry as she talked about One… He shuddered violently, hugging himself tightly against the sudden chill in his bones. Marie was suddenly back, two cups of steaming tea in hand. She offered one to him silently, waiting until he situated himself on the couch with the tea to continue the story. Albert just seemed so…

“ So frail.”, Freud muttered, distaste rolling off his tongue. Marie tensed at the tone, pulling Little Albert closer to her as if that would shield him from the words. “A sickly one, a bit of a runt.”, he added, leaving while he still had the chance to leave with legs unshattered. While the other teammates had grimaced at his repeated dismissal of Little Albert, there had been a silent agreement between the four. Even Tapputi, maternal as she could be, knew when to give up on a lost cause.

“Little Albert, why don’t you get Nikola to show you his new invention.”, Tapputi suggested, shooting the tall man a look that said, “Please, for the love of all things holy, play along just this once.” To his credit, Nikola pasted on a wide grin and lifted the little one up onto his shoulders. Little Albert’s excited squeals faded as Nikola rushed down the hall towards his room, already rambling on and on about whatever it was he was working on now. Darwin chose that exact moment to take off after Nikola, an extra loud burst of giggles leaving the two women to wonder what creature he’d turned into.

“... He isn’t really that frail.”, Marie insisted, already feeling sick at her stomach. Tapputi didn’t say a thing in response, just puttered about the kitchen and boiled a kettle of Earl Grey. She fussed at Marie until the younger woman took a seat. The dark circles under her eyes had dramatically worsened in the past couple weeks. In the beginning, Tapputi had sworn they were going away. Having Little Albert around seemed to brighten Marie’s day in ways that nobody could understand fully. She moved with purpose, almost always smiling or laughing at something Little Albert had said. Tapputi couldn’t blame her for getting so attached.

The little one had managed to worm his way into everyone’s hearts, even Nikola’s. As much as he wanted to brush the child off, loudly declaring his disdain for the mysterious way his hands were always sticky, anyone with eyes could see that he doted on him. Tapputi spun tales of faraway lands and princes for Little Albert, while Darwin would have gladly spent whole days as a fluffy dog if it kept Little Albert happy. Freud and Churchill were the only ones who kept their distance, literally and figuratively. Though, now that Marie had the time to sit and think about it, that made sense.

Freud was weird as weird could be, but he knew people. He knew Churchill, especially. Knew that the man wouldn’t have a moral issue with introducing a malformed clone-their darling Little Albert-into the group as some sort of sick experiment. Maybe he’d wanted to see how long the first one would last before he would burn out? After all, the first experiment hardly went the way she ever wanted it to. Why would this be any different?

“... He’s dying, Marie.”, Tapputi said, breaking the silence between the two. Three words. Three words and five syllables were all it took for Marie to crumble in on herself. She’d tried so hard to ignore his pale skin and thin body. The way his eyes had sunken in and his steps had slowed. The way his breathing seemed so much more labored now, how at night he would heave this horrific rattle of a breath that made her heart stop. Everyone else noticed. Everyone else accepted the fact that Little Albert didn’t have much time left.

“It isn’t fair !”, Marie cried, trying so desperately to control the volume of her voice because she didn’t want to draw Little Albert’s attention back to the kitchen. She wanted him to be caught up in whatever fantastical whimsy that Nikola was trying to sell him. She wanted him to be delighted by the way Darwin’s body could morph into any single animal he wanted it to. Most of all, she wanted him to live. “But he won’t…”, she whispered. Marie found herself being pulled into a crushing hug, one that smelt of lily and honey. She cried against Tapputi’s shoulder.

Days passed her by in a dull blur. Little Albert only worsened, first being confined to a wheelchair, and then a small cot in Marie’s room. He bruised so easily now, with dark circles under his eyes that rivaled Marie’s. He spoke less and less, cheery voice reduced to raspy, whispered pleads for water and comfort. Marie did what she could. She turned him so his skin wouldn't begin to breakdown. Kept him clean and dry, made sure he was swaddled within a sea of coverlets as he shivered. They couldn't figure it out. There were neither a cough or a fever, nor stomach complications to give them any clue as to what made him ill.

“Ma… Marie…”, Little Albert wheezed, reaching blindly with a hand covered in bruises from the IV punctures. She held his little hand in her own loosely, tears she didn’t realize she still had within her making their way down her face. “Sing for me… Please?”, he asked, giving her the ghost of the mischievous smile she loved. “Last time… Won’t ask again… Promise.”, he finished, voice crackling and cutting off. She nodded, hesitating as she tried to get herself under control.

“Rest now, my child… Your day is over.”, she began, singing shakily. “The sun will shine when morning comes… But now it is dark and the world falls quiet.”, she continued, her voice warbling slightly and threatening to crack. “So let your eyes rest and fall asleep… So let your eyes rest and fall asleep…”, she repeated, watching as Little Albert’s eyes closed. His breathing was loud, that awful rattle that haunted her in the darkest of nightmares. “Więc daj odpocząć oczom swym… i zaśnij…”, she finally finished, singing the very last line as loudly as she could in her mother tongue. Though it couldn’t have been too soothing, it stopped her from hearing the final rattle.

Little Albert’s chest no longer moved when the final, somber note rang out.

“... The second funeral was worse than the first one, in a way.”, Marie admitted, taking a sip of the now cold tea. Albert had gone awfully pale in the face, as though he might become sick, and she was starting to regret telling him about Little Albert.

“Was… Was it because of One… Little Albert… Was so little?”, Albert asked, now unsure if he should call the clone One or Little Albert. Marie just nodded.

“Partly, yes. It felt as though I buried my child that day.”, Marie said. She paused for a moment, staring into her tea as she thought. “I suppose I did. Bury my child, that is. Most everyone loved Little Albert, but he… He was my słodki chłopiec… My sweet boy.”, she explained, smiling a smile so bittersweet that Albert felt his own chest seize painfully at the sight of it. Another sip of tea. A little sniffle.

“... I’m sorry, Marie Curie.”, Albert whispered. “I wish he had… That there hadn’t ever been another one. That he’d been perfectly healthy the first time.”, he said. Marie shook her head, setting the cold tea off to the side.

“I miss my słodki chłopiec, horribly so. But I’m glad I’ve got you now, Albert.”, she said, pulling the young teen into a tight hug. He hugged her back just as tightly, tears stinging his eyes as he clung to her. She’d lost him so many times now… First with Einstein, then Little Albert, and the other five…

“What about the others?”, he asked, pulling away to look up at Marie with questioning eyes. For once, she couldn’t give him a straight answer to his question. She looked everywhere but at him, rubbing at her arm before she sighed deeply. Before he could ask what she was doing, Marie was back on her feet. She managed to scrounge up a piece of paper and a pencil then wrote down everyone else’s name beside a number. Without speaking, she passed him the pencil and paper. At the very top was the number one and her own name, it was no longer important.

1. Marie Curie
2. Tapputi
3. Nikola Tesla
4. Charles Darwin
5. Sigmund Freud
6. Winston Churchill

It took Albert a moment to catch on, but he gave Marie one last hug before he dashed out of the room. He had to find Tapputi next. He had to find out what happened to Two.

“Niech wzrasta i żyje, Panie. Proszę.” = “Let him grow and live, Lord. Please.”

“Więc daj odpocząć oczom swym… i zaśnij…” = “So let your eyes rest… and fall asleep…”

Chapter Text

Albert hurried down the hall, mind as much a blur as his legs were by the time he made it to her bedroom. Tapputi was sitting at her makeup vanity, calmly removing the red makeup she loved to wear anytime they had a mission. He took a few hesitant steps toward her, mentally bracing himself for another story of pain and trauma. Tapputi was just as maternalistic as Marie so losing a child-albeit a clone one- still must have hurt her horribly.

“Albert, help me up?”, Tapputi asked suddenly, breaking the silence. He scrambled over to her, offering his hand. She accepted gladly, letting out a tired sigh as he pulled her off the bench. She puttered about the room while Albert tried to figure out how to delicately ask about the death of Two. As it turned out, he didn’t have to ask. “Take a seat on the circle rug, kid. It’s about damn time we tell you the whole story…”, she said, motioning to the faded red throw rug he had long associated with story-time. He plopped down, making himself as comfortable as he could before he looked up at Tapputi.

“... Thank you, Tapputi. Marie got really upset when she told me about… About Little Albert.”, he began, trailing off for a bit before he snapped back to reality. “I just… I really appreciate you guys deciding to tell me about them. I don’t… It isn’t fair that they’re stuck down there, all alone. If I… If I know about them-about their lives-then they aren’t as alone, you know?”, he explained. Albert wasn’t the best with words at all, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten his point across. Mostly.

“I understand, Albert. Believe me, it wasn’t my choice to keep this under wraps as long as we have.”, she said, a slight edge to her words. “You can have a guess at who had the brilliant idea of not telling you that you weren’t the first clone.”, she grumbled, giving a little annoyed wave of her hand. “I’ll give you a hint.”, she said, noticing the look of confusion on Albert’s face. “He’s the only one who decided it was somehow appropriate to scream at the kid who found six dead bodies that were identical to him.”, she explained, sounding angrier as she went on.

“... Churchill?”, Albert asked quietly, an odd sort of pain stealing into his chest. Tapputi just nodded once, looking the kid over with sympathy filled eyes. “But… But why wouldn’t he tell me that? Why would he make you guys keep it a secret?”, he asked, frustration first creeping into his voice, then practically oozing it with every forced out syllable. His face felt hot and he was embarrassed in the way anyone felt embarrassed by being the last to know something important. More so because that important something was about him, about all the hims before him. “What if I’d done something and gotten hurt like one of the others? What if I… What if I died?”, he continued, eyes burning and voice hitching as the first sob broke free.

It was really starting to hit Albert. There had been six others before him. Six other kids like him, kids that knew the team, that had personalities, hopes, and dreams until they suddenly weren’t alive anymore. Until they died, in untold pain, only to be replaced with a new him until that one died. Tapputi only sighed and pulled him up into a hug, the scent of lavender and rosemary surrounding him. It had an almost instant soothing effect on Albert, as his breathing began to even and his racing heart began to slow.

“... The one good thing that Churchill did was make sure that you were born resistant to whatever killed the last you.”, Tapputi said, speaking softly as she pulled away from the still sniffling kid. “Ever noticed you don’t seem to get sick often? That’s from Little Albert. Nobody wanted to see you like that again, especially Marie.”, she explained. Albert nodded slowly, letting this new information sink in. “... And it’s why you never get bothered by weird foods or chemicals, either.”, she admitted, stepping away from him to sit at her alchemy table. She fiddled with different bottles of oils and dried plants, almost like she was nervous.

“... Is that what happened to Two? Did he get sick from something you made?”, Albert asked. Tapputi winced, hesitating before she picked up a random bottle. It wasn’t like the other bottles. It lacked a label, was covered in a thick layer of dust and was stopped with a thick piece of cork. Every other bottle had a scrawled label on it, was meticulously cleaned daily, and only had a small cork stopper. With a little difficulty, she pulled the cork from the bottle. Almost instantly the room was filled with an overpowering floral scent.

“... Daylily has never been a favorite of mine, not until Al made me this perfume…”, Tapputi said, a sad smile and that shine back to ancient eyes. She turned back to Albert, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Do you know flower language like Al did? You never quite took to my craft as he did, but I always thought… Maybe you have some of their memories?”, she wondered aloud. He shook his head slowly, unaware that flowers even really had a language to them.

“N-no… I’m sorry Tapputi, but I don’t… At least I think I don’t have any of their memories.”, he replied. Tapputi sighed softly, then held the bottle out to Albert.

“Take it, kid. Get back on the circle rug and make yourself comfortable. I’ll explain the perfume’s language as we go.”, she said, taking a seat on the well-padded chair kept by the table. Albert sat back down on the rug, holding the bottle closely to his person. Whatever this perfume was supposed to be it was important. Tapputi had to blink a couple of times to get rid of the extra water in her eyes, the overpowering perfume taking her back to the days when…

Al was first introduced as the new clone. Marie left the room before Churchill even finished explaining the new clone. It didn’t surprise anybody much. While everyone had been upset by Little Albert’s passing, she had been absolutely crushed.  No, crushed wasn’t quite enough. Crushed was when Churchill yelled at them for messing up a time travel mission. This was something entirely different, something only Tapputi could fully understand. Little Albert had been Marie’s son she never had. The inquisitive little boy who made messes and caused a ruckus, but more than made up for it with his mischievous grin and infectious laughter.

Tapputi understood because she had mothered many a child in her lifetime. Some who lived to have long, fulfilling lives. Some who… Didn’t. Their passing always hurt, of course, but it was worse when she knew they’d never really gotten a fair chance to experience all the amazing, heartbreaking things life could offer. So she accepted that Marie would need more time than the others to accept Al, and took it upon herself to play mother once more.

“Welcome to the Super Science Friends, Al. Name’s Tapputi, world’s first chemist, and local grandma.”, she said, offering her hand. Al’s grip was surprisingly firm considering he’d only recently been released from the vat, and there was a certain warmth to his eyes that brought a grin to her face. This kid definitely had more of the Einstein charisma they all adored.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet everyone. Churchill’s told me so much about you and the others, so it’s good to see you live up to my extremely high expectations.”, Al teased, flashing her a smile that confirmed it: Kid had the ol’ Einstein charm.

“Care for a tour of the Clock Tower?”, Tapputi asked. Al nodded, linking his arm in hers as they began walking. “We’ve got the kitchen and dining room through here. Breakfast is around nine, but don’t expect anything too good.”, she said, waving her arm around the spacious room. “Tesla refuses to eat or cook any kind of meat, so he just sticks with fruit. Freud hardly eats here, he’s always leaving for little get-togethers with some young man he works with. Darwin will eat pretty much anything, and it’s not like the English are really known for their excellent cuisine.”, she added. Al raised a single white eyebrow, a smirk settling onto his face.

“Didn’t Take Freud to be the silver fox type.”, he joked, getting a little snicker and eye roll from Tapputi. She had really forgotten just how much a teen could read into anything and make it weird. God, she missed it.

“I’m so glad that’s all you took from the kitchen tour.”, she replied dryly. Al just laughed, patting the immortal on the back.

“Don’t worry, I’m simply gifted at multitasking! I can make witty jokes and enjoy a tour with the world’s most amazing chemist at the same time.”, he insisted. Another eye roll from Tapputi, though she’d be lying if the blatant flattery wasn’t appreciated.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, kid.”, she began, lips twitching into their own little smirk before she continued, “And by everywhere, I mean into the living room.” Al had puffed his chest out at first, looking like quite the proud little devil until she’d went and finished her sentence. Then he’d visibly deflated, getting a rather raspy laugh from Tapputi.

“Well, at least the living room is…”, Al began, trailing off as he looked around the rather sparsely furnished room.

“Like a funeral director’s parlor?”, Tapputi offered.

“See, I think that would insult a funeral director. They at least have a distinct style. This is just a cobbled together mess of beige, there’s no identity to this room whatsoever!”, Al said, wandering around the room as he eyed the wallpaper with distaste. “And who the hell thought the walls should be covered in watery gruel?”, he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a rather dramatic sigh.

“England’s best did that all on his own. Churchill thinks himself to be quite the interior designer! He’s also the one who decided to ‘borrow’ one of my hand weaved throw rugs and pair it with the… Rather conventional furnishings.”, Tapputi explained. Al just sighed once more, throwing himself onto the oatmeal colored couch.

“... Can we hold off on the rest of the tour? As much as I love our little back and forth, we really should do something about this ghastly room.”, Al suggested. Tapputi hummed, pretending to think it over before she nodded. “Lovely!”, Al yelled, jumping up off the couch with more enthusiasm than a fresh clone should have had.

“Calm down, kid. We’re just going to make a quick trip to-”, Tapputi began, only slightly miffed when Al cut her off.

“-to the future where the style is surely better than it is now!”, Al finished, all bright eyes and mischievous grins at the thought. Tapputi just stared at him, which shouldn’t have made him feel as antsy as he felt but it did anyway. “... Or we can visit someone who lives now?”, he offered meekly.

“Let’s save the time travel shenanigans for another day. Tesla is working on the Science Mobile anyways, so we can’t exactly go frolicking in an IKEA just yet.”, she said. Al nodded, though he had literally never heard of IKEA in his three days of being alive, and followed Tapputi to the staircase. That entire first day was spent goofing off in some fancy little furniture shop in London, with Al being amazed as Tapputi managed to score an entire room’s worth of furniture for free. She’d sprayed something in the salesman’s face, then just sweet talked him into delivering it all to the Clock Tower that day. It left him more confused than the IKEA did, especially when the man went all starry-eyed after Tapputi “tipped” him with a kiss on the cheek before he left.

“... How the hell did you manage that?”, Al asked, caught somewhere between awe and jealousy. Tapputi only grinned, patting the kid on the back.

“Let’s get all this junk reorganized first, and then I’ll let you in on my little secret.”, she said. Al nodded and went to work, putting his super strength to use as he moved the furniture around. It would have been backbreaking work for anyone else. Al didn’t even break a sweat. In fact, he spent the next hour or so joking with Tapputi, listening to story after story of the adventures the team had been on in the past. He was amazed! Time travel, superpowers, arch nemeses! Nemisi? Whatever, the English language was still pretty new to him.

“When do I get to go on missions?”, Al finally asked, rocking back and forth as Tapputi surveyed the improved living room. “I mean, we both know I’m pretty strong already! I’m super fast, too! I don’t see much of a reason as to why we aren’t on a mission now.”, he rambled, running a hand through his messy hair.

“As I said, Science Mobile needs some TLC. Tesla will be busy with her for the next day or two, so time travel missions are out of the picture.”, Tapputi reiterated. She gave a little nod of satisfaction, then sat down on the new maroon couch. Al followed suit, sitting down with all the grace a gangly, recently created clone could muster. “There uh, isn’t really much else to do when we can’t time travel. Unless a rival decides to show up out of nowhere, of course.”, she said. Her eyes darted around the room expectantly, as though Mata would appear from thin air to challenge her to a fight. Sadly, today wasn’t going to be that sort of exciting. That was probably for the best.

“We spent so much time picking out new wallpaper and furniture, if someone wrecked the living room I would be totally pissed. Just saying.”, Al said, adding the last part with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Read my mind, kid. How about we settle in for a nap instead?”, Tapputi suggested. She was already half asleep anyways, being 3200 years old really made most everything a tiresome affair.

“I’ve only been alive for a few days, but dear lord does a nap sound heavenly.”, Al said. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his knees up to his chest, head resting comfortably against Tapputi’s side. “G’night, Taps.”, he mumbled, falling asleep quickly. The nickname should have annoyed her, but she found it to be almost annoyingly endearing coming from the kid.

“Goodnight, Al.”, she said, closing her eyes and settling into a good nap.

“... You let him call you Taps?”, Albert asked, having long since abandoned the rug to rest against Tapputi’s side. Maybe he was too old to still be clinging the way he was, but… She smiled down at him, patting the top of his head lightly.

“He called me Taps. I was the only one that called him Al. Everyone else called him Two.”, she explained. Albert frowned, looking back down at the perfume bottle he clutched tightly in his hands. “... It made it hurt less.”, she quietly added.

“Calling us by numbers instead of using a name?”, he asked. Tapputi nodded, letting her mind wander a moment. “That’s what the Nazis do.”, Albert stated. She snapped back to attention, looking down at the clone with the closest thing to an expressionless face she could manage.

“They do it for different reasons, Albert. They’re the bad guys, they call the clones by numbers because that’s all they are. They aren’t real people to them.”, she said, only a slight tremor to her voice. He was openly staring up at her, something cold and hard in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in any of the others.

“But what makes me so different from the Nazi Clones? I’m a clone just like them. I wasn’t ever born, I don’t have real parents, and I sure as hell don’t have much of a family! I could die tonight and be replaced just as easily as they could be!”, Albert said, voice rising until he was shouting. He pushed himself away and up off the rug, taking to pacing around the cluttered room to deal with the nervous energy that had suddenly filled his body.

“Albert, it isn’t that simple-“, she began, incredulous at being cut off.

“Yes, it is! Don’t sit there and act like it isn’t, Tapputi! You’re not the one that’s already been replaced six damn times! I am!”, he snapped. He was crying again, great big angry tears. Angry crying, the kind that only served to make him feel even worse and cry even more, which only made him angrier. It was a stupid, annoying cycle that usually left him with ripped up posters, holes in the walls, and a terrible headache.

“You don’t think that didn’t hurt us? That it didn’t hurt me? You have no clue what it’s like to lose someone that you actually loved and knew!”, she yelled back. She was standing now, eyes locked on the little brat that seemed convinced he was the only one affected by this.

“No, I only killed my biggest inspiration! That never hurt me or led to any kind of psychological scarring at all!”, Albert said, scoffing as he looked down at the perfume bottle again.

“That doesn’t even come close to how losing Al affected me! You lost an idol, someone you only knew through second-hand stories and from magazine pictures. I lost a child!” , Tapputi screamed, voice tightening until it cracked. They were both crying now, angry and hurt as they stared each other down. Chests heaving, breath hitching, and eyes quickly becoming bloodshot. The silence was heavy, uneasy, the sort that made those involved wish the earth would just open up and swallow them whole.

“... I lost Al. I lost him, and it could have been prevented.”, Tapputi said. Albert wiped at his eyes, swallowing roughly around the lump that had somehow appeared in his throat. “He died making that perfume for me. Snuck around in my things while looking for daylily, but found one of my poisons instead.”, she admitted. She walked back to the alchemy table, Albert trailing after her quietly.

“... So you kept the perfume and didn’t use it.”, he said, placing the bottle back on the table. She nodded, moving things around until the bottle seemed to have disappeared in the mess.

“He died in the room, all alone. I found him before I went to bed…”, she began, trailing off as her eyes closed. “All alone-“

And so very still. Tapputi‘s legs moved without thinking, feeling for a pulse as her vocal cords froze up. The air smelled heavily of flowers, dizzying and lovely all at once. Underneath was the metallic bite of blood and bile. Something purple was spilled on the floor, spreading across the carpet like some horrific flower that blossomed only to wither and die the next day. The rest of the team scrambled up to her room when she finally screamed, the sound so raw and foreign that she didn’t even realize she was the one screaming until someone pulled her away from Al. Tesla was hovering over Al now, swearing loudly and rubbing his hands together before shocking Al.

Deafening silence. More swearing. Another shock. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Darwin was holding her back, just as much consoling as he was restraining her while she sobbed bitterly. Marie finally called the time of death, speaking so softly and so shakily that she was barely able to make herself be heard over the sound of Tapputi’s cries.

Officially, they decided it was deadly nightshade. Deceptively sweet and capable of killing a child with just a couple of berries. Deadly was in the name, dammit, but Al hadn’t known that. He couldn’t have known, not when Tapputi didn’t label things. She’d been alive for several centuries. Why would she still need to label the contents of her alchemy pantry when she knew them by heart? She just… Hadn’t thought about having to child proof everything. She assumed Al would listen and stay out of her things when she wasn’t around.

“... But I forgot just how little a teen listens to adults.”, she said, smiling a bittersweet smile. She turned to look at Albert, a somewhat familiar warmth in her eyes. “Did you know there’s a whole language to flowers?”, she asked suddenly.

“Like… Roses are for love?”, Albert said. Tapputi nodded, motioning to the array of dried flowers and various oils on her desk.

“Nearly every flower or herb has a deeper meaning to it, especially when given as a gift. Roses and their meanings change based on the color.”, she began, picking up a bottle of crushed daylily petals. “Daylily… Daylily symbolizes motherhood. In Chinese culture, specifically, they’re given to new brides in the hopes that they’ll birth a son.”, she said.

“Al wanted to show you he thought of you as his mom.”, Albert stated softly. There was a mist to ancient eyes now, one that quickly turned into tears once again. Crying seemed to be all she could do today. For what it was worth, Albert was pretty sure he would need at least a gallon of water to replace everything he was crying out. He gave up on trying to keep his face dry, instead opting to hug Tapputi tightly. He wished he knew what Al had known. What all of them had known. Al would have known just what to say to put Tapputi at ease. But he didn’t know how to do that.

All he knew how to do was to hold Tapputi as tightly and as close to his shaking frame as he could. And… As much as it didn’t make sense, that seemed to be enough.

“... You didn’t deserve any of this, Albert.”, she whispered, pulling away and wiping at his tear-streaked face. “This shouldn’t have been a secret. And… And it definitely shouldn’t have been kept from you this long.”, she added. Albert just nodded, lip still quivering and threatening to let loose another wretched cry.

“... Why couldn’t he tell me?”, he finally asked. It hurt her, hurt something awful to hear how he sounded. Just so… So hurt. Betrayed. Almost like an abandoned pup. “I mean, what good did it do? I found out anyways. He could’ve saved me-could’ve saved us - a lot of heartache by being honest from the start.”, he said. There was that righteous, but confused, anger again.

“You’ve got to ask Churchill that, Albert.”, Tapputi replied. Her hands were suddenly gripping bony shoulders tightly, something fierce burning within her eyes as she stared at him. “You make him tell you the reason why.”, she demanded. Albert just nodded, that fire mirrored within his own eyes. He was still a little shaky when he left her room. That would be okay, though. There were still three more stories to hear before he would confront Churchill, after all. Plenty of time to clear his mind and get that nervous energy out.

For now, he would worry about Tesla and Three...

Chapter Text

Albert’s mind wandered as his feet carried him along to Tesla’s room, for once moving slowly. Marie and Tapputi had both cried. He’d cried too, but that was less upsetting. Kids cried. A lot. Kids cried over dumb stuff. Adults… Adults didn’t cry. They weren’t supposed to, at least. Not like Marie had cried, those silent, shameful tears that spoke more than words ever could. Not like Tapputi had cried, big, heaving sobs that tore loose from her throat like it physically pained her to do so.

“How will Tesla cry?” Albert wondered aloud, coming to a stop outside the eccentric’s laboratory. Would he cry at all? It wasn’t like the failed businessman was known for his emotional depth. Now there was an almost morbid curiosity to his pondering. Tesla wasn’t one to really connect with others, much less with Einstein. His disdain for the original had been well known, and Albert himself? Tesla had only began to call him by his name recently, at his own persistent insistence.

“Tesla?” Albert called, knocking at the door three times. Muffled cursing and loud clattering followed, the door eventually opening to reveal the disheveled outcast. There was a scowl and a retort that surely would have been scathing on the tip of his tongue, but Albert was certain he could see Tesla’s brain shut down the moment he registered who was there. Who was he to not use that to his advantage? He walked into the room, eyeing the awful state it was in.

Tools were strewn about haphazardly, raw electricity seemed to fly across the room from coil to coil, and… It definitely seemed like the kind of environment where a kid could easily die. Al had eaten nightlock berries because he didn’t know any better. Three must’ve tripped and impaled himself on something sharp, or something equally tragic, yet preventable! Albert nodded, then spun around on his heel to face Tesla once more. He’d recovered somewhat, enough to be pacing the crowded space while he wrung his hands.

“... Were you and Three close?” Albert asked, wincing at the way Tesla froze at the name.

“... Albert, go bother someone else about this,” Tesla said, speaking in harsh, clipped tones. He bristled when he felt a small hand grab at his shoulder and jerked away roughly. With his mouth caught somewhere between a snarl and a grimace, he wasn’t surprised when Albert stumbled back. He was surprised, though, by the flash of cold anger in the kid’s eyes. More so when that small hand was suddenly grabbing him by the wrist a bit tighter than he was comfortable with.

“Tell me what happened to Three, Tesla,” Albert demanded, eyes narrowed and entirely consumed by that terrifying, cold, calculating anger. Tesla tried to pull away but found he couldn’t. There was the bitter tang of acid at the back of his throat while he tried to still his racing heart, though he found he was quickly losing that battle.

“I… The story isn’t all mine to tell,” Tesla finally said, the confession nothing more than a choked whisper. Albert’s hand tightened, tightened until the older man was sure his bones would snap under the pressure. “We’d have to visit Edison-” he began, cut off by his own little cry of pain as he was yanked toward the door.

“Then what are we still doing here? We need the Science Mobile!” Albert snapped, still pulling roughly at Tesla’s wrist. Tesla followed along as quickly as he could, something cold and foreign forming in the pit of his stomach as they marched down to the garage. No, not at all foreign. It was familiar, dizzying in the worst ways, making him feel as if…

“Albert…” he began, his free hand pressing against his temple where a sudden pain had bloomed. The kid looked back at him, an awful scowl etched deeply into his face before he realized just how pained Tesla looked. Wide eyes, eyes that were suddenly full of horror and brimming with unshed tears, bore into the inventor’s. Albert jerked his hand away from Tesla, staring out at the offending limb with a mix of awe and disgust. Lovely, he was having a crisis when Tesla was going to pass out.

Well, at least he’d let go of his wrist. That alone was already soothing the sharp ache in Tesla’s head. The pain was still there, his very heartbeat kept reminding him of it, but the cold feeling in his stomach was fading. Cursed be this affliction of his! Now really wasn’t the time to black out and have one of his visions. Right now he had to comfort Albert, take him to Edison’s, and have that bastard explain what happened to Three.

“Albert, look at me,” Tesla said, reaching out toward the frightened boy. He flinched, pulling away from Tesla like he was some sort of monster.

“I’m so sorry-” he began, looking off to the side as he tried to wipe away the tears. Too much crying. Albert didn’t want to do anymore crying, not ever. Crying in front of Marie and Tapputi hadn’t been too bad but he couldn’t cry in front of Tesla! Thinking about it only made him more upset, though, and that just made him cry even more. It did, if he was being honest. Then he just got more upset with himself and started the whole cycle over again.

And then Tesla was hugging him close.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Hell, nobody really knew what to do with Albert normally, they sure as hell didn’t know what to do with him now! Despite all that, Tesla did know that most people found comfort in physical contact. He knew that children especially seemed to be soothed by it, enough to seek it out on their own. While it might’ve been true that Albert was a teen and usually one to push for being treated like an adult, this wasn’t one of their usual scenarios.

This wasn’t Albert having to stay behind in the car during a mission. This wasn’t Albert not being able to drive the car. This was Albert at his most vulnerable, crying out for forgiveness that he never had to earn because there had been no real reason to get upset with him. He didn’t deserve to have this weight on his shoulders. Hell, he didn’t deserve any of this!

Albert was fighting in a war that had never been about him. He’d never had the choice, it had been made for him time and time again now. He was only fourteen, for Christ’s sake! He should’ve been messing around in school, his days filled with studying and… Whatever social things school children did. Instead he spent most of his days preparing for the next big fight with the enemy forces, whether it was the Nazis or the Soviets. Tesla wasn’t even sure if the reality of the war was apparent to Albert, because how could someone explain to a child that millions of strangers wanted him dead for something that he had no control over?

“It’s okay, my dete,” Tesla whispered, just holding the crying boy close. He was shaking, shaking so hard that for a moment Tesla worried he might fall apart at the seams. But he wouldn’t let him do that. He’d hold him tightly and keep him together, even when the angry masses wanted to tear him apart. He owed him that much, after everything Albert had been through. After everything Three had been through. They both deserved better than Tesla could ever dream to be, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try for Albert like he did for Three.

“Come on now, Albert. We have to hurry if you’d like to see Edison,” he said, speaking gently like the boy in his arms still might shatter. Albert looked up at him, eyes still watery and horribly bloodshot in the dim light of the garage. “I’ve a spare handkerchief in the Science Mobile, you’ll want to clean yourself up a little before we actually see Edison,” he added, now the one leading Albert in the large room. He just nodded along slowly, suddenly seeming so small and lost that it made Tesla’s heartache in a way he couldn’t fully understand.

“... How come crying makes you so tired?” Albert eventually asked, crawling up into the Science Mobile as Tesla slid into the driver’s seat. There was a bit of a smile to his face now, admittedly wobbly and somewhat sheepish, but it was a smile. Tesla handed him the promised handkerchief as he mulled the question over.

“Well, I think it makes people tired because you’re losing precious water,” Tesla finally replied. It was a nonsense answer, really, but it seemed to satisfy Albert enough. Enough that he didn’t ask more questions, and instead chose to look through the glass as Tesla readied the Science Mobile. He punched in the necessary data, took a deep breath, and revved the engine before he took off.

It was an odd sensation, to say the least. Feeling how his body was yanked through the very fabric of time and space, tearing through reality at speeds even Albert couldn’t truly comprehend. And then they were in America, in some little byway in New Jersey. Tesla shifted gears and pulled out onto the road carefully, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“And you’ve got your heart set on this, dete?” he asked, glancing over at the boy in the passenger seat. Albert nodded, that fierceness back to his eyes. It was far more controlled this go around, but it still burned as brightly as it had before. Tesla sighed because dammit he had seen that look in his own eyes time and time again. “Very well, then let me tell my part before we handle Edison’s,” he said. “Nobody really expected-”

For Three to be quite as reclusive as he was. Outside of the team missions and the odd meal together, he seemed to spend all his time locked away in his bedroom. Not that it bothered Tesla much! He had never been one for people in general, but children irked him especially. They were messy, hard to understand, and he found them to be generally lacking. It didn’t help that he’d never been too fond of Einstein as an adult, having a tinier, even less comprehensible version of the man running around was…

Undesirable, to say the least.

At least this particular version seemed content enough with leaving Tesla alone. In fact, he left everyone alone. Tesla was sure that boy spent more time alone than even he did, which was admittedly worrisome after a while. Tesla enjoyed being alone with his thoughts and his inventions, but what on earth could the young Einstein be doing during the day? It was a question that Tesla found to be strangely haunting, never quite leaving his mind until he finally decided to do a bit of investigating.

It would be just his luck that he’d run into Three a day later, mirroring the boy’s look of surprise as they both hesitated in the hall. The boy was carrying a rather large stack of books, large enough that he couldn’t possibly see over them given his short stature. It had only seemed reasonable, then, to offer his help to the boy.

“Need a bit of help there, Einstein?” Tesla asked, gesturing to the books. Three just looked up at him, a certain guardedness in his eyes that troubled Tesla. What did he have to be so secretive over?

“... It would be greatly appreciated, yes,” Three finally replied, speaking so stiffly and so formally that it threw Tesla off a moment. He took some of the books, though, giving the boy a bit of time to readjust his grip before they started walking together. Did teenagers really speak that way? It seemed rather… Not quite eloquent, no, but a bit much. Just something more than the average fourteen-year-old would respond with, even if they were the clone of a scientist.

“Is that one of my books?” Tesla asked, eyeing the familiar cover with a single raised brow. Three’s face reddened slightly and he glanced off to the side, slowing to a stop outside of his bedroom.

“... The Problem with Increasing Human Energy, yes. I…” Three trailed off, caught somewhere between frustration and embarrassment. “Come into my room,” he suddenly demanded, rummaging in his pocket before he pulled a small key out. He unlocked his room and opened the door, giving Tesla one last quick glance before he hurried in. Tesla wondered for only a moment about when individual locks had been applied to the personal bedrooms, then he was following after Three and shutting the door behind him.

“Oh goodness!” Tesla exclaimed, looking around the room as Three puttered about. It was… So delightfully messy! Messy in the way his room was messy, in the way that had a method to it all! “Einstein, what on earth have you been doing in here?” he asked, following the teen around a moment before he sat the books down.

“Working. Experimenting, really. Do you truly think the power of the sun itself could ever be harnessed?” Three asked, speaking quickly and with urgency.

“Well, I suppose it could be harnessed at some point in the future. It would provide cleaner energy for businesses-” Tesla began, surprised when Three shushed him.

“Yes, I’ve read that particular passage of yours. Clean energy and all that aside, do you think it could be weaponized?” Three pressed, a certain shine to his eyes that lit up something within Tesla.

“A weapon that could potentially end-” Tesla began, that familiar excitement as an idea began to take shape taking hold of him.

“Yes! End this war!” Three exclaimed, finishing his sentence for him. “It would be powerful, powerful enough that even the fact of its existence should be more than capable of convincing the Axis Powers to surrender!” Three explained. He was getting caught up in it all, in that grand scheme of his that would end the war without anymore violence.

“But how would we go about harnessing it? And what of the Manhattan Project?” Tesla asked, taking to pacing the crowded room in order to get rid of some of that nervous energy. “I doubt the other scientists would like to know that their research and work with radioactive elements has been for naught,” he added.

“... You and Three seriously thought you could harness the sun’s energy into a weapon?” Albert asked, interrupting the story for a moment. Tesla just stared out the windshield, pretended the question hadn’t been asked, and continued with his story.

The two must have spent three or four hours just that afternoon, pouring over various texts and crude schematics for a machine that would be capable of harnessing such great power. It was quickly decided that it would need to be run by alternating currents, obviously, seeing as it was readily available and capable of producing high enough voltages to run the machine.

Days passed the pair by, quickly melting into weeks as they worked with a frantic fervor to complete the machine. Lives were being lost everyday, lives that didn’t have to be lost if they could only finish their invention quick enough!

Then one day, it finally whirred to life.

Tesla threw the Science Mobile into park, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he tried to keep everything laid out straight in his mind. They’d reached Edison’s main laboratory, the one he’d worked in years ago. There was a certain sense of nostalgia to the place, bittersweet and painful as it filled his chest. Memories of betrayal, of ceaseless heartache and endless lies…

“Edison will not want to speak about this, Albert,” Tesla said, cutting off power to the engine as he took the keys from the ignition. “He’s an evil man, but even he would have some sort of shame for the death of my-of a child,” he explained, catching himself perhaps a moment too late. He didn’t like to think about how close Three had been to him, just how much he reminded Tesla of himself as a young lad, and how much he really had come to care for him while working together.

“So what’s the plan then, Tesla?” Albert asked, looking up at him so expectantly that it surprised him. He just… Seemed to know that Tesla would somehow figure a way inside the labs.

“... Just follow my lead, alright?” Tesla said after a few moments, an almost wicked grin making its way across his face. Albert suddenly wished he had come up with a plan on his own, because goodness he didn’t like that look too much. Yet he found himself nodding along as he stepped out of the Science Mobile, Tesla once more taking the lead as they walked up to the laboratory. He knocked on the door three times, that grin melting away quickly.

“Excuse me, no solicitors-” began the man who had opened the door, only to find himself being held hostage.

“Take us to Edison. Now ,” Tesla hissed, holding… Holding some sort of strange gun to the man’s back. Albert was really wishing he’d come up with his own plan back in the Science Mobile because Jesus fucking Christ!

“Nobody will have to get hurt if you just listen to my associate,” Albert whispered, playing along like he’d been told to. The man just nodded, turning a very interesting shade of green as he walked them through the facility. He was shaking something terrible, which really was entirely understandable given his current predicament. Still, Tesla wished he would stop. It might attract the wrong sort of attention…

“H-here’s his office,” the man eventually squeaked out, stopping in front of a familiar oaken door. Tesla narrowed his eyes at the sight of it, that wicked grin back to his face again.

“Your help has been greatly appreciated, but unfortunately I no longer require it,” Tesla said, pulling the trigger to the gun. The man jerked for a moment, then fell to the ground.

“... Did you just fucking kill that guy?!?” Albert whisper-shouted, now panicking because this mission wasn’t supposed to have a body count! Tesla scoffed and kicked the man in the side, smirking when he groaned.

“He is incapacitated, but not dead. I always make sure to leave it on stun, Albert,” Tesla said. It was… Only a mild comfort to know that now. Tesla dusted himself off and knocked at Edison’s door, the gun still held loosely in his hand. This mission had taken a turn that Albert wasn’t prepared for, and he might’ve had a bit of whiplash if he was being honest with himself, but…

It was kind of fun, too.

“What is it now Henry-” Edison began, looking only a little exasperated before he recognized who was at his office door. “... Who the hell let you in here?” he asked, going just a little bit pale at the sight of a strange gun pointing to his stomach. He didn’t care for that much, really, his stomach was where all his squishy organs liked to stay. Being shot there would be… Pretty bad, to say the least.

“I believe the three of us have a bit of unfinished business, Alva ,” Tesla stated. He pushed past Edison and into the office, taking just a moment to admire the new carpeting before he turned back to his old boss. “More specifically, I believe Einstein and I had unfinished business,” he explained. Albert slid by Edison and shut the door, even went so far as to lock it so they could have a bit of privacy. It really wouldn’t do for one of the workers to find Edison cowering, now would it?

“What the hell do you two want?” Edison asked, trying so damn hard to keep his voice steady when it felt like his entire body was trembling.

“I want to know what happened to Three,” Albert said, crossing his arms as he stared at the businessman. “How’d he die? What did you have to do with it?” he asked, confusion hitting him when Edison smiled. Smiled and then began to laugh .

“Oh you poor boy!” Edison finally said, clapping a hand on Albert’s back rather roughly. Too roughly for Tesla’s taste, and definitely too close. At least, that’s what Albert thought when he shoved the gun in Edison’s face.

“Answer his questions, Alva,” Tesla demanded. He was scowling, smirk long gone now because how dare Edison start laughing at a time like this?

“What questions can I answer that you can’t, my sweet Nikola?” Edison retorted, smile sickeningly sweet in the face of potential death. “After all, it was you who put him in the coma, wasn't it? With that lovely alternating current of yours, ever so safe until it’s put a boy into a seizure induced coma-” was as far as he got into his taunting before Tesla pistol-whipped him. Or whatever the appropriate equivalent would be with his weird little stun-gun.

“Tesla,” Albert said, carefully pulling the gun out of the shaking man’s hands. “Come on, he’s doing that on purpose,” he whispered, trying his best to calm the older man down. “He’s useless to me if he’s dead, remember?” he added, grinning when he finally got Tesla to look back at him.

“... I suppose that is true,” Tesla eventually conceded, sighing as he grabbed Edison by the collar and hauled him over to the one chair in the room. Really, being able to sit his own chair was a bit of a pleasant surprise for Edison. Especially when he considered that he was bleeding from a nasty gash the barrel of the gun had left on his cheek.

“... Was Three really put into a coma?” Albert asked, turning back to Tesla while the man worked on keeping Edison in one place. Albert didn’t ask why Tesla had a long length of rope on him, just as he didn’t ask why he kept a strange gun on him. Somethings just didn’t seem worth learning about today.

“Yes, but it was for his own good,” Tesla said, ignoring the way his eyes stung in favor for pulling the rope just a little too tight around Edison’s middle. “He… He was very sick, you see,” he explained, sitting on the edge of Edison’s desk. “He didn’t… He didn’t listen very well...”

“Einstein, don’t!” Tesla shouted, stopping the teen just before he touched a live wire. “There’s already several hundred volts of alternating current coursing through that copper wire, Einstein. It won’t hurt me, but it will hurt you,” he explained, feeling only slightly woozy as the realization that Einstein could have died hit him. The young man-the young boy - just stared back at him, eyes wide and oddly shiny before he hugged Tesla.

Tesla just reacted, arms wrapping around the boy tightly as he shook. It took him a couple moments to realize that the boy was shaking because he was crying, but he only hugged him closer when he did.

“It’s okay, dete. You didn’t know it was live,” Tesla whispered, some odd sort of warmth filling his chest as he comforted the child.

The child.

… His child.

He hadn’t meant to get so close to Einstein, and yet he had. Tesla had hated the original, hated how he spoke to him and now he acted around him. There had always been something indescribable about him that put Tesla on edge, some gentleness that seemed so out of place when war was waged in the background.

This Einstein was so different. Not just in the way he was withdrawn, though Tesla was admittedly drawn by that reclusivity in the beginning. It reminded him of himself, of a younger him who stuck up his nose at others and insisted upon being alone.

This was Tesla’s chance. This was his only chance to really leave behind some sort of legacy! This child, with his tear streaked face and desperate grip. When all was said and done, this boy would need someone. He was a direct product of the war, a weapon fashioned with no known expiration date. And should he make it through this war…

He needed Tesla as much as Tesla needed him.

“You’re okay, I promise,” Tesla said, pulling away slightly. Einstein sniffled as he wiped at his eyes, the half-moon bruises underneath them making the poor boy look much older than any child ever should. “You need to rest,” Tesla said, speaking gently as he pulled his boy away from the solar device.

“... You don’t rest. If you don’t, why should I?” Einstein countered, though he still allowed the older man to guide him over to the small cot he’d been given.

“I rest, I just rest less,” Tesla corrected, offering his boy a wry grin. “I’m older, anyways, so my body needs less sleep than a child’s. You need more rest than me, dete." he added, helping the exhausted child into bed. Einstein’s eyes were already drooping, bloodshot from lack of sleep and the earlier stress.

“Promise me you’ll rest too, okay?” Einstein asked, words muffled by the covers he’d cocooned himself in.

“Promise,” Tesla said, smoothing back Einstein’s hair. His boy nodded, though Tesla would be lying if he said he knew it was in agreement or an attempt to fight off sleep. Not that it mattered either way, his boy was fast asleep a few moments later.

“This is all very touching to hear about, but why don’t we skip ahead to the good part , hm?” Edison suggested, leaning forward against his binds. “You see, Albert, Tesla’s darling little Three fell into a coma! It wasn’t just because he was ‘sick’, as Nikola put it. Heavens no!” he scoffed, eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a snarl. “It was because Nikola’s death machine fried the boy! Absolutely ruined his brain! Gave him the same fits Nikola suffers from now, ironically,” he said. “It wasn’t good enough for Nikola to be broken, he had to go and break his own boy too!” he taunted.

The sudden sting of an open palm hitting his cheek was to be expected, really.

What he hadn’t expected was for this new Albert to be the one delivering the blow.

“I want objective facts here, Edison. Not the unnecessary insults you throw like a petulant child!” Albert snapped, shocking both of the adults into momentary silence.

“Sometimes, you even sound like him,” Tesla said, catching the white-haired boy’s attention. “... Do you have any of his memories?” he asked, turning away from them both as he began to pace. “It wasn’t too long ago, you know. One year and two months. Only 426 days ago, when we finally powered up our machine,” he said, eyes misty once more as the past came back to haunt him.

“... You realize if this works, Einstein, then everything will be forever altered,” Tesla said, hesitating before he let his hand settle on the boy’s shoulder. Einstein was staring back up at him, such intensity to the fiery determination in his eyes that he didn’t need to reply.

“That’s what we’ve worked for, isn’t it?” Einstein asked, quirking up his eyebrow. “I… I want everything to change. I want to be my own person, Tesla. Not the third rough draft, but something entirely new,” he said, words tumbling down from his mouth almost frantically now. “I want to be a child! I want to be a kid who goes to school and complains about having too much homework to do, but it’s okay because I’ve got-” he faltered, doubt dulling the fire in his eyes for a moment.

“Because you’ve got what?” Tesla pressed, speaking gently to the young boy.

“Because I’ve got a family, even if it’s only you,” Einstein whispered. He let out a little sound of surprise when Tesla hugged him, the sudden display of affection an act he was unaccustomed to receiving from the older man.

“Sometimes, all a family needs to be is two people that need each other,” Tesla said. He was grinning as he pulled away, a mix of pride and relief swirling in his eyes. Einstein nodded, a bit of a wobbly grin on his face as they faced their machine. Months of work had gone into it, months of testing design after design until they’d finally managed to create something resilient enough to capture and maintain the sun’s energy.

“... Can I flip the switch?” Einstein asked, excitement coloring his cheeks as he glanced at Tesla. Tesla just nodded, still grinning proudly as his boy darted forward and flipped the switch. The familiar low hum of electricity filled the air along with the whirring metals as the machine sprang to life. Tesla pulled Einstein back, shuffled his boy around until he was standing behind him.

The tip of the weapon began to glow, ruby-red and intense as power surged through its circuits. This was it! This was to be their legacy, forged together from shared sweat, blood, and tears. As Tesla snuck a peek at Einstein, with his face all lit up with such a familiar joy, he couldn't help but think that this boy was to be his greatest legacy.

Then sparks began to fly.

Tesla paused a moment, having finally stilled by Edison’s desk once more. He gripped the oak desk tightly, so tightly he was white-knuckled as he tried to remember how to breathe. He didn’t like remembering what happened next, had tried so damn hard to block it all out, only to see it in the depths of his worst nightmares.

“Einstein didn’t listen well,” he said, a tremor to his voice that made Albert’s heart began to ache.

“... So you’ve said before,” Edison ventured, an eyebrow raised slightly at the display of emotion. Seeing Tesla angry was one thing, seeing him looking so haunted… It was unsettling.

Einstein had noticed the problem first, and hadn’t thought. He couldn’t have thought much about it, right? That was the only way Tesla could explain his sudden movements.

“Einstein, don’t!” Tesla cried, reaching out toward empty air as Einstein dashed forward.

“I can fix it Tesla, I see the problem-” Einstein began, still looking so very determined with a grin fixed firmly on his face as he grabbed at the sparking part. Then he couldn’t let go, pain burning up his arm and straight through to his entire body as his muscles spasmed.

“Einstein!” Tesla shouted, stumbling forward and yanking the boy away. “Live wires, Einstein. Live wires,” he whispered, speaking frantically as his boy gasped and writhed in pain. “Curie! Curie come here now! ” he cried, scooping up the twitching boy. The other scientist ran in, eyes wide and horrified at the sight that awaited her.

“Tesla, what the hell-” Curie began, surprised when the man shoved Einstein at her.

“It’s too much for him, he isn’t made for this, you have to fix him Curie,” Tesla rambled, speaking disjointed thoughts and feelings as they came to him.

Another pause, one that stretched on for far too long for the other’s comfort. Though Edison was less concerned with the silence itself, and more with the tears steadily streaming down Tesla’s cheeks. Hadn’t Tesla always hated children? Hadn’t that been his one comfort after the power outage he’d caused? That nothing of any real value was lost, because Tesla didn’t get close to explode in general, let alone children.

“Tesla…?” Albert asked, tugging at the man’s shirt sleeve lightly. His voice was so very small, and god he was just small in general, wasn’t he? How had Edison never noticed just how young Albert was? He shoved those thoughts away, though, the rising panic in his chest quashed down as quickly as it had begun.

“Well, aren’t you going to finish telling the boy your little story?” Edison asked, an uneasy smirk curling at his lips now. This was much more simple, wasn’t it? Shutting down any thoughts that made him begin to feel pesky things like guilt or regret, covering them up with false confidence and sarcasm.

Much more simple, indeed.

“... He fell into a coma. We kept him in the basement on life support, and…” Tesla trailed off, suddenly looking every bit of his 42 years.

“I presume that’s where I come in, isn’t it?” Edison asked. Tesla only nodded, finding that he now lacked the energy to speak. “Very well. Don’t expect me to spin the story quite as Tesla does, I can’t be bothered with remembering such minute, pointless details,” he said, leaning back in the chair slightly.

“Don’t call the details pointless when you weren’t even part of the story until now,” Albert snapped, glaring at the tied-up bastard. Edison only rolled his eyes at the boy’s theatrics.

“It would seem Tesla had a little too much faith in his alternating current. Enough that he powered the third clone’s life support with it,” he began, speaking so candidly that it made Tesla feel sick to his stomach. “I merely wanted to show your other teammates that my direct current was safer and far more useful than alternating current, boy. It wasn’t my fault that the machinery keeping that third one alive couldn’t run on it!” Edison scoffed.

“Einstein. Albert Einstein, not the third one,” Tesla corrected, giving Edison an admittedly weak glare.

“Do the semantics really matter here, Nikola?” Edison asked, rolling his eyes once more.

“Yes. Yes they do! I know for a fact that you would feel incredibly insulted if I were to refer to one of your children as ‘the third one’!” Tesla snapped, crossing his arms.

“ Oh please, Nikola! Even you should know you can’t compare my relationship with my flesh and blood children to yours with this… This strange boy!” Edison said. He sounded almost exasperated, as if this entire situation did little more than slightly amuse and annoy him.

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Tesla snapped, suddenly much closer to Edison than he’d been before. The room was heavy, heavy like the air before a great thunderstorm. Albert was shocked to see that the thin hairs that grew on his arms were standing on end.

“Nikola-” he began, making a little indignant noise when Tesla shushed him.

“I wouldn’t compare the relationship I had with Three-even with Albert-to what you have with your children,” Tesla reiterated. The occasional spark appeared at his fingertips, causing Edison to flinch away when Tesla lightly caressed his cheek. The sudden contortion of the younger man’s face was the only warning Edison got before the slap. It left him reeling, one ear ringing like a bomb had went off in the room.

“I would never ignore my children when they lie sick with smallpox,” Tesla snarled, backhanding Edison again. “I would never tell the public I was ashamed of them either!” he said. Albert was on the edge of his seat, eagerly watching as Tesla laid into Edison. “And I know I would never be able to kill a child and carry on living as if I had done nothing wrong!” he yelled. The open handed slaps had changed at some point, his stinging hand curled into a fist and covered in blood.

Good.

Edison was sputtering, coughing out blood and a couple teeth from his new spot on the floor of his office. Albert hoped it would stain the carpet forever. Tesla was grinning, grinning something mad as he wiped the blood from his knuckles. He leaned down, cupping Edison’s face in his hands almost gently. Almost . Jagged nails dug into his skin, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Stay away, Edison. Stay away from me. Stay away from Albert. Away from the Clock Tower and from London,” Tesla said, voice low and surprisingly threatening.

“Or what?” Edison asked, glaring up at the man. Tesla only sneered, a sudden shock causing Edison’s facial muscles to spasm momentarily.

“Or else you’ll find out just how dangerous alternating currents can truly be, Edison.”

Chapter Text

Tesla and Albert tore out of Edison’s office like bats out of hell. They left him lying on the floor, still tied to his chair as Tesla’s warning rang in his head. They left content with the knowledge that the worker outside of Edison’s door would awaken soon enough and be able to help the businessman. The drive back to the Clock Tower was silent, contemplative silence as the two mulled the afternoon over. 

“... Things are different now, aren’t they?” Albert asked, finally breaking the silence with the hesitant question. 

“Things were different from the moment you saw the others, Albert,” Tesla replied, punching in the coordinates for the Clock Tower before he shifted gears. The Science Mobile lurched forward, tires squealing as they spun out on the pavement before sending them through the very fabric of space. Tesla’s parking job in the garage was a bit more crooked than the others would’ve preferred, but he was a bit more preoccupied with thoughts of disinfecting his entire body. 

Edison’s blood was dirtied in ways he didn’t like to dwell on, dirtied in ways that he would never be. Could never be allowed to be. Ridding himself of the other man’s impurities would be the first of many steps to ensure he never allowed himself to become so tarnished. These were the thoughts he found himself occupied with as he and Albert parted ways, sharing one last knowing glance as the young genius headed down the hall to Darwin’s room.

It was time for another story. 

Albert was only able to knock one time before the door flew open, and didn’t have the time to begin speaking before Darwin ushered him into his room. The door shut softly, the distinct sound of the lock clicking into place putting Albert on high alert. After everything he had heard and seen, could anyone really blame him? He watched Darwin closely, eyes narrowed as the biologist paced around the room. 

“... We called him Chuck,” Darwin said, breaking the silence quite suddenly. “ I called him Chuck,” he amended, letting out a short, bitter laugh. “After everything that Tesla went through with Einstein, I was hopeful enough-foolish enough-to grow close with Chuck,” he began, falling heavily into an overstuffed armchair. With a tired wave of his hand, he gave Albert the cue to follow suit. There was a familiar morbid curiosity in this one’s eyes, the sort that would as easily lead to ruin as it would greatness. 

“I’m listening,” Albert prompted gently, settling into the armchair opposite of Darwin. The man only sighed, smiling a tired sort of smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. 

“We really thought that he’d be the one, you know. The final Einstein, the one that would help us end this blasted war of Churchill’s. He was quick-witted, intelligent, and-”

Seemed to hang around Darwin like a lost puppy. With wide eyes full of burning curiosity, Chuck became the shapeshifter’s shadow during the time he spent with them. It didn’t bother Darwin. It probably should have, given the way the others had gotten close and then gotten hurt. There was something about Chuck, a wild sort of shine to his eyes that made Darwin feel at home amongst the others in a way he never had. 

They didn’t understand the way his shifts into beasts hurt him. They didn’t understand the way those shifts changed who he was on a level far deeper than physical. It was psychological, a mental shift as much as a physical shift he underwent. Chuck understood as well as he could and knew to stay on his guard around the older man. He would watch from a distance, eyes trained on whatever form Darwin chose to take for that lesson. 

“Lesson?” Albert interrupted, quirking up an eyebrow. “What lessons?” he asked, leaning forward in the chair. 

“Fighting lessons. We… We hadn’t been as prepared as we should’ve been for the passing of Einstein,” Darwin admitted. He lowered his head for a moment, letting the silence stretch on just a second longer before he sighed. “Marie was working so hard on treatment for him, you know,” he said, the ghost of a smile crossing his unusually somber face. “I think he reminded her of Little Albert, near the end. Tesla may not realize it, but she hurts for Einstein as he does,” he explained. 

“... I know,” Albert whispered. “I think everyone hurts in the way Marie Curie did. Does. Maybe they aren’t ready or willing to say it, but it seems like everyone got closer to their me than they are to me now,” he said. Darwin winced, a flash of fear flitting across his face so quickly that Albert nearly missed it. 

Nearly. 

“... Some of us, yes. Not everyone,” Darwin said. He looked almost uncomfortable, his face contorting in ways that Albert wasn’t used to seeing and couldn’t entirely describe. “You’ll understand that soon enough, I suppose. No need for you to know now,” he muttered.

“Then what do I need to know now?” Albert asked, pain seeping into every word he spoke. Darwin’s head jerked up, eyes widening as he watched tears stream down the boy’s face. “I always knew I didn’t measure up to the original Einstein, so I assumed that was why you guys never seemed to like me much. Now I find out I’m the seventh one! Not just that, but that you guys actually did like the others!” Albert said. His voice was shaking, caught somewhere between heartbreak and bitterness as he spoke.  

“You all even loved them, but you couldn’t seem to spare me any of that love.”

“Albert, you can’t actually believe that-” Darwin began, recoiling back against the chair when Albert suddenly moved. He was standing in front of him now, scrawny arms shaking and fists clenched tightly as he invaded Darwin’s space. There was that glimmer to his eyes, not unlike the glimmer he’d seen in Chuck’s eyes and in his own when in the form of a great predator. 

“Don’t you ever try to tell me what I think. Don’t you dare assume to know what goes on in my head, or how I feel!” Albert snarled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. There was a certain lowness to his voice at that moment, something akin to a growl edging in as he shouted. 

“... What you need to know now is that Marie, Tapputi, Tesla, and I hurt. That pain doesn’t mean we should avoid you, though I know we have. I have,” Darwin admitted. He hesitated, scanning Albert’s face desperately for… For something. Forgiveness, maybe? Or perhaps something much darker, something that would confirm what he’d known all along. 

That they’d failed him.

“... I hurt too, Darwin,” Albert whispered. It was said so earnestly, speaking of a genuine, deep pain that Darwin couldn’t help but wonder how long it has festered within Albert. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, and nobody has ever been able to explain just what it was I did wrong to be treated the way you all have treated me,” he said, voice rising back to its usual pitch from the low growl that it had been before. “And now I know what I did wrong. I dared to exist, not to be born, but to be torn from the clutches of death in the cruelest of ways,” he said. 

There was something final in the way Albert spoke. It wasn’t spoken as if it were some sudden realization that left him reeling with shock. It was spoken as if it were something he’d considered before, maybe even accepted by now. There was a certain clarity in his bloodshot, puffy eyes. A sobering confirmation of what he’d secretly wondered to be the problem all along. 

“I don’t know how to be any of the others, Darwin. If I knew, then I’d be them. I’m sorry that I’m just me. I’m sorry that’s not good enough for you, or for the rest of the team,” Albert finally said, voice quavering as he turned away. He didn’t want to hear anything else the man had to say. He didn’t want to hear any more stories about those before him who were so much better than he was now. 

There was no time to hesitate now. 

Darwin grabbed Albert by the arm, tears burning at his own eyes as he pulled the boy into a hug. No words were spoken, the silence deafening as Albert slowly relaxed into the sudden embrace. He felt small. Not small in the way he usually did, in that way that left him feeling unimportant and incapable. Small in the way a child feels during a thunderstorm, swaddled up in a nest of blankets while their parent sings some lovely lullaby to drown out the screams of the wind. It was comforting to embrace this feeling of being small and of being protected. 

“You were never the one who was meant to be sorry, Albert,” Darwin said. He spoke softly now, though there was a certainty to his words that drove them home. “None of us are perfect, Albert. We all have our weaknesses, our own imperfections that define our very character. You cling to this idea of not being good enough…” he trailed off, brows furrowing together as he pulled away slightly. “... What is it exactly that makes you not good enough?” he asked.

“What isn’t there?” Albert countered, that same tired resignation creeping back into his voice. “I messed up our first big mission by killing my idol! I let Edison and Ford escape because I was being a petty kid! I wouldn’t listen to Marie Curie when the Nazis wanted her Nobel prize! I played right into Jung’s hands and got the entire sleeping population of London involved!” he said, voice rising once more as he went through the list. 

“You never meant for Sir Isaac to get hurt, Albert! You were still-” Darwin began, eyes widening slightly as he suddenly stopped speaking. 

“... Were still what?” Albert asked, searching the older man’s face for some sort of sign. He saw panic and dread flit across his face, each one contorting Darwin’s features into something of a terrifying mask. 

“... You were still very ‘fresh’, as Churchill and Freud liked to say,” Darwin admitted, feeling an odd shame wash over him. “It… Wasn’t our first big mission. Just yours, really,” he explained. 

“But I remember more! I remember-” Albert began, interrupted as a little choked sound wretched itself free as tears began to fall once more. “I-I remember , I know I do,” he whispered, a frantic edge of desperation coloring his voice as he looked up at Darwin. 

“There wasn’t anything noteworthy before that mission, Albert. That’s because there isn’t anything to remember,” Darwin said. “Search the very depths of your memories, you know it to be true,” he said. 

“No, I know there’s something- anything - my first memories can’t be of me failing !” Albert insisted. He shoved himself away from Darwin, stumbling backward as he tried to regain his footing on shaky legs. It didn’t help that everything in the room was blurry from the tears, or that it seemed to close in on him. “I’ve done more than this, I’ve done more than just cause trouble and mess things up in this timeline! I know I have…” he said, eyes clenched shut to fight back nausea as the room began to spin instead of close in. There had to be something… 

Helplessness, enough to overwhelm and god so much shame!

Albert’s eyes flew open, some ancient panic gripping tightly at his chest for only a moment before it dissipated. Darwin was eyeing him, eyes narrowed as if he were studying some exotic specimen instead of a child. 

“... What did you see?” he asked, taking a step towards the boy. Albert flinched away from him and cowered against the armchair, bitter bile rising at the back of his throat. 

“I… I’m not sure,” he said, goosebumps rising on his skin as a shudder ran through him. 

There was so much shame, so much confusion as someone spoke softly, almost sweetly to him.

“I see… Myself,” Albert whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he relaxed back into the armchair. Darwin nodded, still staring, fixated on the young boy. 

Churchill had told everyone that the clones weren’t able to access memories of the past. Freud had cautioned that questioning the clones of said inaccessible past memories might prove detrimental to their mental health. Between the words of those two and the grief each teammate felt in turn, they’d all just… Never really thought to press the issue of memories with any of the clones. Not only that, the other clones hadn’t known! They’d never discovered the preserved bodies kept hidden away in the basement! As far as each of them had been concerned, they were all the first human clone to ever exist. 

This was… Something that hadn’t been expected at all. A development that threw all logic and reasoning out the window. If Albert could remember parts of the past, then that meant Churchill was wrong. Sure, it wasn’t as if the leader of the Super Science Friends was infallible or in any sense incapable of being wrong, but to be wrong in such a drastic manner… 

Darwin couldn’t help but wonder just what else the prime minister had been wrong about.

He shook those thoughts away, for now, instead directing his attention back to Albert. 

“... I’m in the basement,” Albert said, speaking slowly and with a certain dreamy quality that made Darwin feel uncomfortable. It reminded him of how people sounded when hypnotized, so lost in their own minds that they weren’t fully aware of what went on around them. 

“And what do you see?” Darwin asked, speaking just as quietly and as gently as he could manage. If Albert seemed like he was in a trance of some sort, then it made the most sense to treat him as such. Freud did the same thing to his patients, didn’t he? Pull out the memories deemed too horrible by the brain by speaking softly and almost sweetly? Lull the hapless patient into a false sense of security while forcing them to dredge up what they’d rather forget? It left a hard ball of disgust in the pits of his very being to imitate the most reprehensible member of the team, but… 

This was something huge. Something that Darwin couldn’t just let pass him by because the ethics of it were questionable. Not when he had so many damn questions of his own now! Not when it would seem another clone had been in the basement! 

“... A gun,” Albert said, that terror creeping back into his voice. Darwin watched as his hands curled into fists, some attempt at remaining grounded as memories sprung forth from his subconscious and assaulted his mind in the light of day. “I don’t… I don’t want to do this,” he confessed, voice faraway and thick with emotion. 

“Don’t want to do what?” Darwin asked, morbid curiosity spurring on this makeshift experiment of his. His story was long forgotten, deemed unimportant in light of this discovery. He had plenty of time to tell Albert about Chuck. Instead, he found himself lacking knowledge. How long would Albert be able to stay in this trance? How far back could he convince the boy to go? How far back should he convince him to go? 

“To use the gun,” Albert eventually replied, speaking slowly and with great difficulty. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, leaving a light sheen over the quickly paling skin. His breath no longer came to him quietly, but in loud, sharp gasps that left him feeling quite dizzy. Despite this, Darwin felt the need to press on. It wasn’t in his nature to do something so cruel, so unnecessary to a child, and yet something deep within his mind urged him on. He still had many questions to be answered. Surely asking one more wouldn’t hurt?

“To use the gun on who?” Darwin asked, now struggling to keep his voice lowered. Albert shook his head, knuckles white as he gripped the upholstery of the armchair. His eyes were clenched shut as if keeping them closed so tightly would be enough to fight off the urge to run. 

Caged, he felt terribly caged. When backed into a corner like this, what else could he do? There was nothing else that he could do! The answer was in front of him, the loaded pistol Churchill cherished so. 

“I can’t! I can’t do anything else, please!” Albert cried, hysterical sobs tearing free from somewhere deep within him. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I’ll be better! I know I can!” he begged, shrinking back against the armchair and making himself as small as he possibly could. Darwin’s eyes widened as he realized just what Albert was trying to do. 

He was trying to appear less threatening to whoever he was speaking to.

He’d seen it before, this instinctual behavior exhibited by prey and predator alike when attempting to run from him. It made sense in a morbid sort of way, in the way that Darwin had grown accustomed to since he’d first shifted into something with great teeth and claws. What didn’t make sense was that Albert-one of the past Albert’s-had ever needed to make use of that strategy. There was a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach then, the realization that that strategy never worked. At least, it had never worked on him. 

It hadn’t mattered how small and piteous a creature made themselves out to be, that dark call of the wild that coursed through Darwin’s veins always won out over the cries for compassion his mind offered up. Would it really be any different when it came down to humans? Could he expect an enemy to take pity and leave an Albert with his life intact? No, that would be far too naive and foolish! Surely they would do as he did, and take advantage of that moment to land the killing blow! It was what made the most sense, yes? Use a foe's last ditch effort at inspiring pity to finally end their life? Of course! 

“Albert, tell me who you tried to use the gun on!” Darwin demanded, the gears in his mind turning quickly. Six, it had to be Six! There was no other clone who’d died by gunshot, no other death that had gone unsolved in the way his had! Churchill had upped security measures after his death, giving the others the clear impression that Six’s death hadn’t been the result of a simple pistol cleaning accident. No, it had been murder. A murder that nobody had ever solved, one that had left Darwin spriralling into paranoia as he tried to assure himself that the Clock Tower was safe from intruders. 

If he could just pry the answer from Albert, then that paranoia could finally vanish!

“I CAN’T! I CAN’T!” Albert screamed, his eyes opening once more. They were bloodshot, nearly bulging out of their sockets with the wild fear of a cornered animal. “Get away from me! I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it!” he said, scrambling up and over the back of the armchair. He only fell a couple feet in his attempt to escape, but the impact seemed to be enough to bring him to his senses. To bring both of them to their senses. That, and the fact that Freud burst into the room. 

“... What the hell is going on here?!?” Freud asked, marching across the room quickly before he yanked Albert up by the collar of his shirt. “Charles Robert Darwin!” he began, glaring at the so called professional as Albert cowered beside him. “Tell me what you’ve done to this one!” he demanded, eyes narrowing before he gave Albert a quick once over. He wouldn’t put it past Darwin to lose control again, not after the affair with Four.

“I haven’t done anything to Albert! All I did was ask-” Darwin began, wincing when Albert cried out again. It was high pitched and inhuman, nothing resembling any kind of speech pattern he’d ever observed. Just sheer terror, unbridled emotion that felt more like an accusation than a mere cry. 

“Kuhscheiße!” Freud snapped, jabbing Darwin in the chest roughly. “He’s a wreck now! I know for a fact that this one was in perfectly fine condition when he came back from his little excursion with Tesla. Now his condition screams of mental instability,” he said. Darwin looked between the two quickly, an overwhelming amount of shame crashing into him. 

“I… He remembers . I just had to know what it was exactly that he remembers,” Darwin explained, faltering slightly as Freud kept staring. 

“That is physically impossible!” Freud said, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as his head began to throb. “Churchill and I both have warned the bunch of you plenty of times about something like this! How would you feel if your entire existence was revealed to be a carefully controlled experiment, hm? Then to have someone question you about past lives you can’t know?!?” Freud continued, pulling away from Albert as his hands curled into tight fists. 

All that kept him from flying off the handle entirely was the sharp sensation of his pinky nails digging into the tender flesh of his palms. That, and the little pained sounds Albert occasionally made.

“Freud, we do the physically impossible all the time!” Darwin retorted, able to find his voice now that he had a point. “Ask the boy yourself! He remembers! He knows about the gun!” he added. Albert cringed against Freud’s side, clutching desperately at the man’s suit jacket in the way a child would their mother’s skirt. 

“Don’t you dare bring that up around him again,” Freud demanded, speaking slowly and with such venom that it made Darwin pause. “This one is a child . He didn’t need to know of any of this,” he said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. It was the most minimal effort he could manage now, the basics of comfort available for him to offer in such a state. Later. Later he could do more, have Albert sit down in his office and discuss things properly. None of them had given this any thought outside of exposing their own traumas! 

“... He deserves to know their stories, Freud. We deserve to know. The answer to Six’s murder is right under our noses,” Darwin said. 

“What have you told him of Four then, hm?” Freud asked, a familiar knowing sneer curling at his lips. “Does he know of the way you tore that boy apart? Does he know how it took all of us to haul you away from his broken, bleeding body?” he taunted. 

“And what of your little assistant? Don’t act as if you didn’t choose to murder Bert!” Darwin retorted, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands. He was too angry, too overwhelmed with heated emotions that threatened an involuntary shift. 

“Stop it! Both of you just… Stop! ” Albert begged, pulling at Freud’s hand desperately. “He’s bleeding! Dr. Freud, you’re bleeding ! You need to calm down!” he said. 

“... So I am,” Freud whispered, blinking a couple times as he uncurled his bleeding fists. Darwin took a half-step backward, eyes widening in horror as blood dripped from Freud’s hand and onto his carpet. “Cold water will handle that if you’re fast enough. I…” he began, drifting off to stare at the matching marks on his hands with a vague sense of confusion. When exactly had he dug his nails in so roughly? 

“Freud, you should head to Marie Curie’s lab. She should have some spare plasters, peroxide too,” Darwin gently urged. 

“Yes, plaster and peroxide… Wouldn’t do to get an infection,” Freud muttered, nodding slightly before he left, leaving the door wide open.

“You should go with him, Albert. He’s not particularly well today,” Darwin said. 

“None of us are well today,” Albert corrected, sniffling quietly as he moved toward the door. “... Did you really maul Chuck?” he asked, speaking hesitantly as he lingered in the doorway. 

“Yes. Yes, I did maul him,” Darwin admitted, shifting his weight from side to side as he kept his gaze on the bloodstained carpet. “I can’t… When I shift, Albert, it can become very hard to control myself,” he explained. “Especially when it’s an extended shift, like during-

The most grueling battle they’d faced so far. The Nazi clones had them outnumbered five to one, a seemingly endless sea of black and red that swarmed them with no sign of ever stopping. Tapputi had been the one to suggest he become the Bear. Out of the entire crew, she was closest to understanding just what a shift entailed. She knew what it meant to become something she wasn’t, to assume the form of someone else entirely. 

Unfortunately, Tapputi didn’t know what it meant to take on the mentality of someone or something else. She knew only of taking on the physicality, of maintaining the illusion through chemical trickery. For Darwin, it was so much more. It was bones breaking and reforming, organs moving about painfully as they settled into their new places, and the human side of his mind being muffled by the call of the wild. There was no longer a sea of black and red, only crowds of weak bodies that fell apart beneath his paws like glass baubles. 

Red. Only red.

Darwin moved quickly, his claws becoming bloodied as he tore through the Nazi clones. In that moment, their screams of agony were a symphony far greater than anything Mozart could compose. They were the frantic beats of an ancient drum, a rhythm unknown to all except him. 

Red. Red and a shock of white.

White? No, that wasn’t right… It was only supposed to be red! A snarl tore past the Bear’s lips, one that was followed by heavy silence. Silence, and then frantic screaming. It was no longer distant, no longer sweet music that spurred him to move faster. No, it now gave the Bear pause, confusion clearing the haze of red as someone pulled at his hind legs. 

“Get away from him you… You savage!” Freud yelled, digging his nails into Darwin’s fur as he tried to drag him away from Chuck. Darwin could feel the Bear fading away, the wild drumbeat echoing in his ears one last time as his bones and organs shifted back into their proper places.

“What have you done to him?” Tapputi choked out, cradling Chuck’s body to her closely as the others surrounded Darwin. 

“What-” he began, reeling backward when Freud backhanded him. 

“You killed him, you great big brute! You’ve gone and killed this one!” Freud snapped, a strange, strangled noise catching at the back of his throat. 

“You can stop now,” Albert interrupted, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped the doorway. “I get the picture, spare me the gory details, please,” he said. Darwin finally looked up at him, a helpless look to his eyes that was unfitting of the team’s brute. 

“Albert, I never meant to hurt Chuck, much less kill him!” Darwin insisted, moving toward the boy. “You know that, right?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d never hurt you, either! You believe me when I say that, don’t you?” he pressed, desperation creeping into his words. 

“I… I don’t know that, Darwin. I’m sorry,” Albert stammered, glancing out into the hallway. “I should check on Freud, like you said! He’s confused, right?” he said, barely suppressing a yelp of surprise when Darwin suddenly closed the distance between them. 

“... Go to Marie Curie’s lab,” Darwin said, speaking flatly as he looked Albert over. “I have a stain to clean,” he said, clearly disappointed with whatever he’d seen. He backed up, muttering to himself about the bloody carpet as Albert tore out of his room. He ran down the hall, ignoring the cold pit of fear that had settled in his stomach. 

For just a moment, Albert was sure there had been something else in control.