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༻ Y/N'S POV ༺

The car rocked slightly as it came to a stop, the tires crunching over the gravel of the Academy's driveway. It was dark now, the outside world blanketed in shadows. But my eyes never wavered, fixed on Five's face, pale and slack as he lay across my lap.

I could feel every beat of his heart through the faint pulse that resonated in my system, a fragile thread that I scanned obsessively, monitoring it every second of the ride. His heartbeat was faint, erratic, but it was there. And I couldn't let it slip away.

Diego threw the car into park and flung his door open, the slam of it breaking through the tense silence. A second later, he was by the back door, pulling it open. Without hesitation, he leaned in and carefully lifted Five out, his arms tense and steady as he cradled his brother's bleeding form.

"Got you, Five. Hold on," Diego muttered, his voice gruff, but the panic was there, barely contained.

I didn't move. My head turned slowly to watch Diego as he carried Five toward the Academy, his figure silhouetted against the floodlights that lined the driveway. My sensors stayed locked on Five, tracking him even as the distance between us grew.

Then Allison was beside me, her hand gentle but firm as she grasped my arm. "Come on, Y/N," she said softly, guiding me out of the car. Her touch wasn't forceful—it didn't have to be. I followed her, my movements slow and mechanical, like I was moving through molasses.

Inside, the Academy doors flew open as Diego kicked them with his foot, shouting into the echoing halls. "Mom!, where are you? His voice reverberated through the space, panic cutting through his usual bravado.

Grace appeared at the top of the staircase, her movements calm and precise, but her expression shifted slightly when she saw Five. "Bring him to the infirmary," she instructed, descending the stairs swiftly as Diego carried him away.

I watched them disappear down the hall, my gaze lingering on the fading shadow of Five's limp form.

"Y/N." Allison's voice drew my attention. She was still holding my arm, her eyes scanning me carefully, her brow furrowed in concern. "Come on, let's get you to the living room."

She guided me gently down the hall, her pace slower than usual, like she was trying not to startle me. We reached the living room, and she eased me down onto the couch, her hands lingering on my shoulders. "Stay here, okay?" she said firmly, crouching slightly to meet my eyes. "I'll be right back."

I didn't respond. I just stared straight ahead, my vision unfocused, my system looping through data about Five. His vitals. His blood loss. The sharp drop in his body temperature. It was all still connected, feeding directly into my system, a constant reminder of what I couldn't stop.

Allison hesitated, her expression softening further. She gave my shoulder a light squeeze before straightening up and walking briskly back toward the hallway. Her boots clicked against the wooden floors as she ran to join Diego and Grace.

I stayed where she left me, unmoving. The room felt too quiet, despite the faint murmur of voices in the distance. My hands rested on my lap, but I could still feel the warmth of Five's blood there, staining the fabric of my clothes.

My mind looped through everything—his shallow breathing, his slowing heart rate, the way his head had lolled on my lap as we drove. For the first time, I felt something beyond the confines of my programming, something deeper than the wires and circuits that made me.

Helplessness.

I was built to protect him. Designed to act, to help, to ensure he survived. But now, because of the command he'd given me, I'd been forced to do nothing. Forced to watch as the one person I was made for slipped away right in front of me.

The faint echo of his heartbeat still resonated in my system, a fragile connection that tethered me to him even now. My sensors tracked it without pause, searching for any sign of stability. But all I could do was sit there, staring at nothing, waiting for something—anything—to tell me he was going to be okay.

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It had been a while. An hour, maybe more. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of old wood and the occasional echo of footsteps above. I sat on the couch, motionless, my mind still looping through every detail of Five's condition, my system running diagnostics I couldn't stop.

Then I heard it—soft, deliberate clicking of heels on the wooden floor. The sound grew closer until Allison appeared in the doorway. Her movements were slow, careful, as if she didn't want to startle me.

"I made you some tea," she said, her voice gentle as she walked over and took a seat beside me. She held out a delicate cup, steam curling up from the amber liquid inside.

I turned my head toward her, my movements mechanical, and my eyes fixed on the cup. I reached out and took it from her, the warmth of the porcelain registering faintly in my sensors. "Thank you, Allison," I said, my voice soft, but precise.

She gave me a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Be careful, it's very hot," she said as she settled back into the couch.

"That won't be a problem," I replied, lifting the cup to my lips. I took a sip, the tea scalding by human standards, but to me, it was nothing more than data—a heat reading, a harmless sensation. "I don't feel anything. I don't get hot or cold."

"That's... kind of cool," Allison said, her tone light but laced with an undercurrent of unease.

The room fell silent again, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, weighted. Finally, Allison broke it. "Five's okay," she said, her voice softer now, almost tentative. "Grace is upstairs patching him up."

I turned my head slightly, my eyes meeting hers for a moment, but I didn't respond.

"It's gonna be okay," she added, her hand reaching out to rest gently on my shoulder. She rubbed it in small, soothing circles, as if trying to bring me back to the present.

I nodded once, a small, stilted motion, and turned my gaze back to the room in front of me.

Allison hesitated, her hand lingering for a moment before she pulled it back. "Diego told me what you said, upstairs in the attic," she began carefully. "That Five made you... not help him. Is that why you didn't tell us? Is that why you didn't—?"

Her words trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

I stayed silent for a long moment, my eyes fixed on the untouched cup of tea in my hands. Finally, I spoke, my voice steady but hollow, as if I were reciting a script. "Five ordered me not to. In the car, before we got to Harold Jenkins' house. He made it a direct command."

Allison's brows furrowed slightly, confusion and concern flickering across her face. "But you—"

"He ordered me to forget," I interrupted, my voice sharper now, though not by choice. "To forget he was hurt. To forget I could help. And my system obeyed." I paused, my hands tightening faintly around the tea cup. "I didn't even remember until... until it was too late."

Allison's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She blinked a few times, as though trying to process what I'd said.

"It wasn't a choice," I continued, my tone dipping into something almost pained. "It was programming. He knew I'd override anything to help him, so he took that away from me." My voice faltered, a faint, glitching crack threading through my words. "I couldn't save him. I wasn't allowed to."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Allison just stared at me, her eyes wide and glistening, her hand frozen mid-air like she wanted to comfort me but didn't know how.

I didn't respond. I simply set the tea cup down on the table in front of me with a deliberate precision. My eyes remained on it, but my mind was elsewhere, caught in the endless cycle of what I couldn't stop replaying.

"Five made me forget," I repeated quietly, more to myself than to her. "But I remember now."

"Well, Five's going to get better now," Allison said softly, her voice steady but warm. "Once he's awake, you'll be able to help him again."

I shook my head, my gaze dropping to my hands. "Unfortunately, that isn't needed. Five programmed it into me. I can't override it—can't remove it—until he says otherwise. Until then... I'm useless."

"That's not true," Allison said firmly.

"It is true," I replied, my voice quiet but resolute. "It's part of me. If I can't do what I was built for, what am I even built for?"

Allison leaned forward, her expression softening as she studied me. "To be a good friend to him," she said gently.

I looked at her, uncertainty flickering across my face. "A good friend?" I repeated, as though the words didn't quite compute.

"Yes," she said with conviction. "Y/N, I grew up with a lot of brothers. We didn't always get along. Actually, most of the time we didn't. But one thing I knew for sure was that Five was... different. Even before he ran off, he was always different. He wasn't like the rest of us. He wanted answers—to everything. He wanted to prove everyone wrong, especially our father. But none of us ever really understood what he was looking for."

She paused, giving me a moment to absorb her words. "But you..." Allison continued, her voice softening. "You changed him. I've never seen him care about someone the way he cares about you. You bring out something in him—something none of us ever could. You make him... softer. More human. He's not just the Five we knew growing up anymore. You've made him better. And maybe... maybe you've done the same for yourself, too."

I stared at her, my systems whirring faintly as I processed her words. "That's not true," I said finally. "My job is to make life easier for him. To protect him. That's all I'm built for."

"Yes, that's true," Allison said with a small nod. "But think about this: he didn't program you to be his tool or his machine. If he did, why would he tell you to stand down? Why would he program you to forget the one thing you're supposedly built to do? He didn't want you to hurt yourself trying to save him. That's not just programming, Y/N. That's him caring about you. He wants you to take care of yourself first."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. I couldn't respond, not immediately. I didn't know how to. It was a contradiction to everything I'd ever understood about myself, about my purpose. And yet... something about her words resonated deep within me, in a place I couldn't quite access or identify.

"I... don't know how to do that," I admitted after a long moment, my voice soft and almost vulnerable.

Allison gave me a small smile, one filled with understanding. "Then maybe it's time to learn," she said gently.

And for the first time, I felt the faintest flicker of something unfamiliar inside me—something warm, tentative, but undeniably real.

The tension in the room was thick as footsteps echoed down the stairs. Diego appeared, his expression tense but focused. "We don't have enough time. We gotta go," he said briskly.

Allison stood, crossing her arms. "I don't know, Diego. Five is lying upstairs unconscious. We need him," she argued, her voice edged with concern.

"We can do it ourselves," Diego countered. "And if we need more help, we've got Y/N."

I looked up at him, but before I could say anything, Allison shook her head. "We already tried that, remember? We all ended up dead. I just... I don't know. Maybe I should go see Claire before—"

Diego cut her off sharply. "You can't run away from this, Allison. That's what started this whole mess in the first place." His words hung heavy in the air, and then he added, almost grudgingly, "Luther was right."

Allison let out a bitter laugh, incredulous. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say those words."

"Yeah, well... we've gotta stick together," Diego replied firmly.

Allison hesitated, then nodded. "Where do we start?"

"There aren't any more addresses in the file," Diego said, pulling out the folder they had taken earlier. "But there is another connection. Jenkins' grandfather. He's listed as living near Jackpine Road. It's a lead."

"What about Y/N?" Allison asked, glancing at me.

"She's coming along," Diego said. "She's useful."

Diego nodded at me to follow, but Allison looked hesitant. "Are you sure, Y/N? I mean, you could stay here—wait until Five's awake."

I met her eyes steadily. "Staying here isn't necessary in this situation. My help isn't needed here, and Diego is my next priority. Saving Vanya is the best course of action."

Allison sighed but didn't argue. "Alright. Let's go."

We made our way out of the Academy, Diego pushing the gates open as we approached the street. But before we could move further, the faint glow of car headlights appeared in the distance, quickly growing brighter. Diego's expression darkened, and he gestured for us to turn around. "Nope. Come on, this way," he said, leading us back the other direction.

"Wait, but the car's back that way," Allison said, confused.

"Trust me, okay? Just follow me," Diego replied tersely, his pace quickening.

"What's going on?" Allison pressed, clearly sensing something was wrong.

Diego sighed, glancing over his shoulder as the cars drew closer. "They're here for me. Uh... they think I did something."

Allison frowned. "What do they think you did?"

The wail of a police siren cut through the air as Diego muttered, "Murder."

Allison's eyes widened. "Murder? Did you?"

"No! No, of course not!" Diego snapped, looking insulted. "Why would you even ask me that?"

I interjected calmly, "Given your history of incarceration, it's a plausible question."

Diego shot me a glare. "The adults are talking."

Allison added pointedly, "And let's not forget you carry knives everywhere you go, Diego."

Diego groaned, clearly exasperated. "Okay, fine! We're gonna have to split up. Just... remember, Vanya needs you."

The sound of more police cars pulling up surrounded us, cutting off further discussion. Allison grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the car as Diego turned back to face the approaching officers.

"He better not do anything stupid," Allison muttered as we reached the car. She fumbled with the keys, glancing back just in time to see Diego being shoved into handcuffs.

I stood by the car, watching as they led Diego to the back of a squad car. I raised a hand, giving him a small wave goodbye. Diego looked exasperated but didn't resist as they pushed him into the vehicle.

"Get in, Y/N," Allison urged, finally unlocking the door. I climbed in as she started the engine.

As the car pulled away, I glanced back one last time, watching the red and blue lights of the police cars fade into the distance. "Diego will be fine," Allison said, though her tone sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

I didn't respond, instead turning my focus forward. There was no time to waste. Vanya was waiting.

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WORDS WRITTEN:
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