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Diego had learned early on that he had to hide his soft heart. Not that he had admitted that was what it was back then. Soft meant easily destroyed and Diego was definitelynot easy to destroy, no matter what Dad and Luther claimed. But he knew he had to hide it instinctually, no matter how it was described.
However, hiding a thing didn't change that thing. His heart still broke for hurt animals on the side of the road. He couldn't stop the tears from welling at every hint of a strong emotion.
So he took a different tactic. He took the normal routine in their lives, the blossoming Umbrella Academy, and hid bits of himself in it.
He had always adored his mom, but their father (and by association, Luther) derided any deliberate social time with her was considered a weakness to exploit. So he began to volunteer himself for the mucky kitchen duties his siblings despised, winning time with his mom as a byproduct.
Unwanted strong feeling pop up after Luther mocked his stutter (again)? Take that energy and channel it into anger. After all, shame and anger aren't all that different from one another, so who would be able to tell the difference? Every single soft, vulnerable piece about him he manipulated the appearance of so that even he, himself couldn't remember its true form.
By the time their twelfth birthday rolled around, Diego had successfully hidden any and all traces of his ability to Feel Too Much from the world. Which was probably why he and Klaus fought like cats and dogs; Klaus also had the ability to Feel Too Much but chose to embrace it instead of transforming it. He loved his brothers and sisters, but he didn't much like them.
When their father announced he would be granting them a new possession for their birthday (it was not and would never be a gift), he couldn't hide his scoff when Luther immediately gave the biggest and most pretentious answer: a new suit. Of course the asshole would come right out of the gate with something their father would eat up, judging by the hint of pride glinting in the psychopath's eyes.
To his mild surprise, Luther let the scoff go, standing at loose attention to his left. Which, unfortunately, meant that Sir Reginald Hargreeves' steely eyes were upon him. After a moment or two of silence, in which Diego knew Reggie was waiting to see if he had to repeat the question and which Diego stood his ground, Reginald gave a short burst of air and drawled, "Number Two?"
Diego took his time before he locked eye contact with his father. It was partly because he liked to push the envelope in a discreet way (he left the non-discreet ways to Klaus or Five) and partly because his mind was drawing a blank. What would he like for his birthday? It was clearly a loaded question at best and a test at worst, so that meant it wasn't a question of what he wanted but a question of what Reginald thought he should want.
His father radiated impatience as the seconds ticked on, so he took something he genuinely would enjoy and warped it into something that Reginald might tolerate.
"A weighted training suit," he said as neutrally as he could, trying and failing to keep the hint of a challenge out of his voice.
His father studied his expression carefully, disdain radiating from the curl in his lip. "Very well," he agreed in a clipped tone before moving on to Allison.
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Diego navigated down back alleys, dodging puddles of murky water and shards of brown broken glass glittering in the dim light. He had been out since the sun had set the previous day, police scanner held close to his ear as he patrolled down the street, embracing the shadows.
If he was honest with himself, he was more looking to exchange fists than help anyone. But the added bonus of being a vigilante, he mused, was that quite often he got to do both.
Surprisingly, his lust for blood hadn't originated with his family. Well, not entirely anyways, and not in the ways it usually did. His family had headed off the apocalypse and, with nothing left to pour their energies into but their screwed up sense of selves, tackled their issues with gusto.
Allison spent her days fighting Patrick for rights to Claire, alternating between taking self improvement classes and therapy. Luther had begun to branch out from their house and even had a group of people he went out with once a week to socialize. Klaus was working hard to stay clean and even attended some NA meetings occasionally. Five, well, Diego wasn't entirely certain what Five got up to. But Vanya was blossoming as first chair. She had continued up with her violin tutoring and even had made some friends.
Diego was very happy for them, truly he was. But he wasn't like his siblings. He didn't know how to let go of the boiling anger he kept deep in his core. He knew that little boy he used to be was curled up inside of him somewhere, but he had long ago forgotten how to reach him. He had tried different hobbies. He even attempted a few that Klaus recommended, like knitting. It was exceedingly clear, however, that nothing was going to distract him from that desperate, painful energy inside of him.
So he kept up his nightly patrol. Allison caught him one night, leaving the house late, so he stopped frequenting the house and went back to his boiler room. Without the prying eyes of his family, he fell back into his old routine.
He was fine. He just needed something to drown out the aching sorrow in his chest. Patch was gone. He was still persona non grata at the police department. It occurred to him vaguely that this might have been part of the reason Klaus had taken drugs. The numbness promised was incredibly tempting, if only for a moment. But Diego was made of different stuff. Klaus' trauma burned low and steady, but Diego's burned bright and hot. He didn't think even drugs would top the incredible euphoria of a fight, the adrenaline singing through his blood. His father had made him into a soldier and the only use for soldiers was to fight.
A strangled cry sounded a few blocks away, near the marina. The sun had crept enough over the horizon that puddles of honey gold light danced on the street. Criminals usually stuck to dark and secluded places, in Diego's extensive experience, so anything happening in the light of day was indefinitely more dangerous.
Diego stole down the street, feet light and quick. He arrived just in time to witness a large man dressed all in black securing ties around two children, no more than eight years old, to a rusted anchor.
<Please, my children are innocent!> a frail woman, presumably the children's mother, wailed in Spanish from where she sat slumped between two smaller goons. Blood obscured her face, dripping down her pink blouse.
The children squirmed, moaning softly but not crying out. The older of the two stared at the man binding them, sheer malice dripping from his young face.
Before Diego could even get a word in, the large man shoved the anchor into the marina.
A pained wail came from the mother, but Diego was already running, readying the dive before the thought formed in his mind.
The icy September water hit him like a brick wall, unforgiving and sharp. Quickly, while his eyes adjusted, he dove deep, hoping to get closer to the children before they fell out of reach.
His eyes finally adjusted to the murky water, sunlight weakly breaking through a scant couple of feet before blurry darkness surrounded him. He didn't see the children anywhere.
Swimming harder, he ignored the popping of his ears as he shoved his way down. He may not need air, but that didn't matter much if he couldn't locate the kids.
He forced his racing mind to calm as he scanned the blackness surrounding him, body comfortably numb as he approached the sea bed. He couldn't afford to panic and miss them, the precious seconds slipping away far too quickly.
There! Several feet away the anchor had landed on the sea bed, the children struggling furiously to break free. The older one yanked at the younger one's bonds, movements sluggish and sloppy. Diego cut through the water towards them with as much speed as he could muster.
When he reached them, the smaller of the two, a girl with long messy braids, was weakening as her oxygen ran out. Both had inflated their cheeks, sucking in precious air before they had hit the water. But it was only a matter of time before the girl fell unconscious and the control she had over her mouth dissipated.
Grabbing the chain that bound them, Diego fumbled for the tiny diamond blade he kept sheathed right over his heart. It was one of the only extravagant things he afforded himself when he left The Umbrella Academy, small stipend and duffel bag in hand. Now he clasped it tightly as he sawed at the metal links, the grating sound clear even through his water dampened senses.
With a sharp crack , the metal gave way and Diego tugged sharply on the chain to loosen the children. The older boy now had his hands clasped tightly around the younger girl whose eyes were dim and bubbles leaked from her lips. Diego grabbed hold of the boy and locked their eyes, pointing emphatically upward before opening his arms to hold the children against him. The boy went easily and Diego wasted no time shooting up through the depths towards the surface.
As they neared the surface, Diego readied three knives that he loosed the moment the chilly air hit his face. He didn't need to look to know that all three goons were felled almost immediately as he quickly boosted the boy up and out of the water still cradling his sister.
Emerging from the water himself, he made a beeline for the two children, the boy hovering over his lifeless sister while the woman continued her high pitched keening.
Diego pushed the boy aside, not unkindly, as he rearranged the tiny girl's limbs and began CPR.
He was on his fifth round of compressions when the little girl coughed weakly and Diego gently rolled her into the recovery position as she vomited up brackish water.
Only when she began to cry softly did the boy relax with a brief sob of his own, clutching his younger sister. The woman had crawled closer to their group, reaching for the children as she mumbled prayers in Spanish.
Diego let the group have a private embrace as he retrieved his knives from the thugs. From the tattoos, most were part of the Mexican cartel that had a small but prominent position in the city. He spit on them, disgusted. It was one thing to shake down someone who owed them money but it was a completely different matter when to involve children.
Sheathing the knives, Diego walked back to the huddled forms of the family, shivering in the weak September morning light.
<You're safe now,> Diego said, wringing the water out of his undershirt. The little girl peered up from against her brother's chest, eyes bright but wary. Diego smiled. <They are gone. I will make sure they don't bother you again. What is your name?>
<Annamaria,> the little girl replied, voice raspy and quiet.
<And your brave brother?> Diego asked, eyes softening at the protective grip her brother kept around her.
<Daniel,> the boy replied, a hint of defiance in his voice.
<Well, Annamaria and Daniel, you both were very brave and very smart.> He turned towards their mother, stifled sobs still escaping her shuddering form. <Can I call anyone for you?>
<No,> she murmured as she shakily stood, the hold on her children bone white. <We will be okay. Thank you. Thank you so much. You are a godsend.>
Diego nodded, the adrenaline singing through his blood in earnest as he turned around and headed away.
<Wait!> The voice was high and sweet and stronger this time. Slowly, Diego turned just in time for the tiny bundle that was Annamaria to wrap her body around Diego's knees. Her hair had begun to dry and curled wildly from her braids. He stood for a moment, marveling at how tiny she was, how fierce. How she reminded him of another tiny yet fierce sister in his own life.
<For you.> She took one of his hands and placed a small and sopping wet stuffed duck in it. The material was worn in places where little fingers had stroked and worried at it. A frayed ribbon encircled its neck.
<I can't take this,> Diego shifted, trying to return the stuffed animal. But Annamaria only looked up at him with her big brown eyes and cupped her hands around his own, slowly closing his fingers over the gift.
<He helps when you are sad,> Annamaria said proudly, her solemn face leaving no room for arguments. <I don't want you to be sad anymore.>
Diego was speechless. The tiny duck was cold and wet in his hand, the hands holding his own confident and strong. A trickle of tears welled up from deep within him and he let just a few of them fall, blending seamlessly into the sea water dripping down his face.
Annamaria nodded once and released him, racing back to the open arms of her family.
<What's his name?> Diego called after her, cradling the duck in his palm.
The little girl turned, sun dancing on her face, as she responded, <Diego.>
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Diego sat slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, nursing a cup of coffee. It had been several long days and his energy waned even though he had begun sleeping better. After he had saved Annamaria and her brother, he had gone through the ranks of the Mexican cartel pretty quickly and made it very clear what he would do to them if they involved children in their business again.
Something had loosened in his chest after that. The rage that was coiled tightly now began to unfurl and cool. It definitely wasn't a big step, but it was something that he didn't think had even been possible, so he took it. He started to hang around his family more, helping Grace with the chores required for the upkeep of the house and watching Luther tend to his tiny garden.
Five popped into the room without warning, as usual. He wore his rumpled Umbrella Academy pajamas even though Klaus had continued to try and persuade him to wear anything else. He seized a coffee cup and inspected the brewed coffee before efficiently pouring himself a cup. He downed the entire thing right in front of the coffee maker before pouring another cup and settling into a seat at the table.
They both sat in complete silence, Diego absently studying a chip in his mug and Five scowling at the table.
When Five broke the silence, Diego had to do his best not to jump. "Where did you get that?"
"What?" Diego blinked, focusing on his brother. Dark circles ringed his eyes, but he looked more rested than he did last time Diego had seen him. He figured Five was a big boy and didn't need to be mothered, so he didn't comment.
"That," Five indicated with his mug towards Diego's breast pocket of his t-shirt. Diego the duck peeked out, marginally cleaner and less rumpled looking than he had looked after his dip in the marina. Mom had been more than happy to give him a little TLC when she noticed his shabby form sticking out of Diego's collar the other day and Diego had been more than happy to let her. Now Diego the duck possessed a little bit of his mother and Annamaria.
"It was a gift," Diego said softly, brushing his fingers over the threadbare head.
Five watched him for a long moment, eyes narrowed in thought. He must have come to a conclusion, though, because he just nodded once and went back to his coffee.
Silence blanketed them once more, warm and embracing. He had really missed it, this togetherness of his family. He was finally beginning to feel like maybe he could belong.
"NO, KLAUS, WE CAN'T GET A LLAMA FOR OUR BIRTHDAY!" The declaration echoed throughout the house, Luther's exasperation palpable. Diego jumped and spilt coffee into his lap, cursing quietly.
Maybe he could belong from back at his boiler room.