—————༻☂︎︎༺—————
༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

The longer we drove, the more the night stretched on. The sky had deepened into darkness, and rain began to patter against the windows, streaking the glass with a steady rhythm. I turned my head, watching as the drops slid down, illuminated by passing headlights. Allison gripped the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the rain-slicked road ahead. The silence between us was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional sound of the windshield wipers.

Allison gripped the wheel, her eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. The quiet between us felt fragile, like it might shatter with the slightest sound. But eventually, I spoke.

"Tell me about your daughter," I said softly, turning to look at her.

Allison glanced at me, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Claire?"

I nodded. "Yes, Claire. What's she like?"

A small smile broke through her otherwise tense expression. "She's... everything to me. Beautiful. Bright. She talks a lot, just like her mom. Loves to tell stories about her aunt and uncles, all the old missions." She let out a soft laugh, her voice filled with warmth.

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "She sounds wonderful. I imagine she gets that from her mother."

Allison's smile faltered slightly, and I noticed the change immediately. My systems registered the subtle shift in her demeanor—the tension in her grip on the wheel, the faint downward tilt of her lips.

"And her father?" I asked gently.

Allison hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly toward me before returning to the road. "Patrick," she said quietly. "He loves her, too. She's staying with him right now... for the time being."

I tilted my head, scanning her face as her voice wavered. My gaze dropped to her hand, resting on the gear shift. No ring.

"I'm sure once all this is over, you'll have her back," I said, my voice steady. "A mother's love isn't just for the mother."

Allison smiled faintly, her eyes glistening in the dim light. "Thank you," she said softly.

We fell silent again, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on us both. The rain continued to fall, heavy and relentless.

"Once we get Vanya back and keep her safe, this will all be over," Allison said, breaking the quiet.

"Everyone will go back to their lives," I added.

She glanced at me. "And you? You'll stay with Five?"

I hesitated, turning my gaze back to the window. "Of course. It's part of me to follow him, to keep him safe, to ensure his life is... better. Until he decides he doesn't need me anymore."

Allison frowned, her brow furrowed. "Do you think that will ever happen? That he won't need you?"

I didn't smile. "That's not an answer I can predict. I've been with him for years—through time, through chaos—and not once has he spoken about a future without me. In his mind, there is no future where I'm not a part of it."

"That's a good thing, right?" Allison asked, her voice tentative. "That's what you want—to be with him, to keep him safe."

I turned back to the rain. "I would do anything to make his life better," I said softly, my voice hollow, as if the words were heavier than I could hold. "But I'm afraid... that's not possible for me anymore."

"What do you mean?" Allison's voice was sharper now, tinged with alarm.

"I'm a machine, Allison," I said. "I was built to endure. To protect him. To bring him back to the person the Commission needed him to be. But time... time does not spare anyone. Not even me. When we jumped back here, my systems were the first to feel it. The strain of time travel. The fractures."

I paused, pulling back the sleeve of Five's blazer. Exposed wires and frayed circuits glinted in the dim light, a stark reminder of my fragility. "It started small—glitches, wear and tear. But it's worsening. My systems are failing. Soon, I'll reach a point where I can't function anymore."

Allison's eyes widened, her voice trembling. "Have you told Five?"

"No."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. "Y/N, he needs to know. He wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want you putting yourself at risk for him like this."

"That's exactly why I can't tell him," I said, my tone calm, even as the weight of my own words crushed me. "He needs to focus on saving the world, not saving me. I was built for him. My purpose is to ensure he's okay, to make his life easier. If I told him, it would only make it harder for him to do what he has to do."

Allison stared at me, her eyes brimming with unspoken words. "But... what happens when you can't go on anymore? What happens when you..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

I smiled faintly, though the gesture felt hollow. "Then I'll have fulfilled my purpose."

"Y/N..." Allison's voice cracked, her hands tightening on the wheel. "That's not fair to you. You deserve more than that. You've given so much—"

"That's what I was made for," I interrupted gently. "And I don't regret it. Five has shown me more than I ever thought I'd experience. He's given me a life beyond my programming. And all of you—your family—you've given me a place, even if it's only temporary. Risking myself for all of you... is the least I can do."

The car fell silent again, the rain the only sound between us. Allison's grip on the wheel tightened, her knuckles white. She didn't speak for a long time.

"Please," I said finally, my voice quiet. "Don't tell Five. Not yet."

Allison glanced at me, her expression conflicted. But after a moment, she nodded. "I won't," she whispered.

I turned back to the window, watching as the rain blurred the world outside. In my reflection, I saw Allison glance at me one last time, her eyes heavy with worry.

The weight of inevitability settled over me like a shroud. But for now, I focused on the road ahead, and the quiet hum of the car carrying us closer to the end.

The drive stretched on through the night, the forest growing denser as we moved deeper into the unknown. In the dim light of the car's dashboard, I switched into a low-power state, letting my systems recharge while Allison kept her eyes fixed on the road. The steady hum of the engine and the faint rustle of trees were the only sounds to fill the silence. By the time my systems signaled a full charge, the first faint rays of dawn had broken over the horizon.

The morning light filtered through the canopy as Allison drove along the winding forest road, the trees crowding closer with every mile. Eventually, the car slowed, and she pulled off onto a gravel path that led to a large, weathered cabin. The house was nestled in the shadows of towering pines, the air around it still and heavy.

Allison turned off the car, grabbing the blue folder with Harold Jenkins's information from the passenger seat. She flipped it open, double-checking the address against the mailbox just ahead. The faded letters on the box spelled Jenkins.

"This is it," she said, her voice low but sure.

I nodded, and we stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching softly underfoot. Moving around the cabin carefully, we approached the windows. The place seemed quiet, almost eerily so. Allison pressed a hand against the glass, peering inside, while I scanned the interior. The cabin was sparsely furnished, the space cold and uninviting.

But then my eyes locked on something—a violin case sitting on a chair in the corner.

"She's here," I said, my voice cutting through the stillness. "Or at least, she was recently."

Allison followed my gaze, spotting the case. She nodded, her jaw tightening. "If her violin's here, she wouldn't leave without it. She's close."

I took a final look inside. The cabin may have been empty now.

"Let's get back in the car," Allison said, pulling away from the window. "We'll drive around and see if we can find her before she comes back here."

I nodded, and we returned to the car, sliding back into our seats. As Allison started the engine, I glanced back toward the cabin.

As the car rolled back onto the dirt road, the forest around us seemed to grow darker, the morning light doing little to chase away the shadows.

As we drove through the thickening traffic, I sat in the car, my eyes scanning the surrounding vehicles. Maybe one of them held Vanya, hidden among the others. But as I shifted my focus to the cars around us, I noticed Allison's gaze had become fixed on something ahead. She seemed to have found something, her expression darkening with quiet determination.

"Stay here, Y/n," she said, her voice steady. Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and stepped out of the car. I watched her walk toward the scene ahead—an area where the traffic had been slowed to a crawl, looking increasingly like a crime scene.

I sat in the car, my eyes trailing after her figure, watching as it grew smaller in the distance. The traffic noise grew louder, the distant hum of cars behind us, their engines straining to move. The occasional blare of police sirens and the static of walkie-talkies echoed faintly from the back, but soon everything faded into the background. My mind, focused only on one thing: Five.

I hadn't been able to check on him since the attic. Since we got separated, I had no way to scan him, no way to see if he was awake, or if his wounds had been properly tended to. A wave of anxiety crawled through my system, but I pushed it aside.

Instead, I turned my attention to the sleeve of Five's academy blazer, which I still wore. Slowly, I rolled it up to reveal my arm. The wires were barely flickering, hanging loosely from the deep cuts in my skin. I felt the familiar tension in my circuits—the signs that my system was nearing its limit.

I started searching the car, my hands feeling around under the seat. Then, I felt it—a small first aid kit. I pulled it out, thankful for the unexpected find. Quickly, I opened it and set the contents before me. My hand moved swiftly as I pulled the blazer off, exposing my arm fully. The bandages in the kit were small but enough to cover the damaged area.

With practiced precision, I wrapped the bandage tightly around my arm, the pressure helping to stabilize my wires. Despite the severity of the injury, there was no pain—just a dull thrum as my system slowly began to reset. I watched the wires close together and reconnect, their light growing steadily brighter.

Two minutes. That was all it would take to heal.

Once the bandage was secure, I closed the first aid kit and returned it under the seat, as if it had never been there. My arm felt whole again, the connection between circuits strong once more. I leaned back against the seat, eyes still fixed ahead.

I watched Allison return to the car, her figure cutting through the light drizzle now falling over the scene. In her hand, she held a scarf. She slid into the driver's seat, her movements purposeful yet strained. Her jaw was tight as she buckled herself in.

"We need to get to the hospital," she said, her voice low but steady.

"Is Vanya there?" I asked, my eyes narrowing as I analyzed her expression, trying to discern what she wasn't saying.

"I don't know," Allison admitted, her gaze fixed straight ahead. "But someone we need to talk to is."

I nodded without question. Whatever she'd seen or heard at the scene, it was enough to shift our course. She started the car, the engine rumbling as we pulled away. Allison maneuvered us around the stagnant line of vehicles with sharp, deliberate turns, her knuckles pale against the steering wheel as the tires splashed through puddles forming on the road.

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————

We stopped in front of the hospital, the tires skidding slightly against the slick pavement as the rain continued to pour. A police car pulled in behind us, its lights flashing but sirens off. I could see Allison glancing at the rearview mirror, her mind clearly racing as she worked through the plan she'd explained to me earlier.

The officer had recognized her as Allison Hargreeves, the celebrity actress and former superhero. She planned to use that recognition to her advantage, persuading him to let her tag along to cushion whatever had happened to the man who was injured—and, more importantly, to dig for information about Vanya.

Allison unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to me, her expression softer now but still threaded with concern. "I'll head inside with him, see what I can find out. You'll be okay out here?" she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of hesitation.

"I'll be fine," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze.

She studied me for a moment, as if trying to assess whether I was truly okay or just saying it to ease her own worry. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. Stay sharp. If something feels off, you find a way to let me know."

I gave her a small nod of acknowledgment.

Without another word, Allison stepped out into the rain, shutting the door behind her. I watched as she approached the officer, her movements confident and deliberate despite the storm. She tilted her umbrella slightly, keeping the rain off her face as she exchanged a few words with him. He nodded, seemingly convinced, and gestured toward the hospital entrance. They walked inside together, disappearing through the automatic glass doors.

The car fell silent except for the steady drumming of rain against the roof.

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WORDS WRITTEN.
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