When I got home, the silence was almost deafening. The house, usually so full of life, felt empty without the usual hum of daily routines. I took the opportunity to retreat to my room, desperate to change out of the clothes I'd been wearing since yesterday. The stress and exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and a hot shower felt like a small reprieve. I dressed quickly in blue jeans, a brown blouse, and my brown high boots, trying to focus on something mundane.

Just as I was about to grab my purse, I heard the unmistakable whoosh of someone blinking into the room. Turning around, I saw Five standing in the doorway, his face a mix of frustration and anger. I knew exactly why he was angry—I hadn't met him at the alley, and honestly, I felt a small measure of relief at that. I avoided his gaze, more focused on searching for my purse.

"It didn't work, by the way," Five said, his voice edged with irritation.

"Sucks for you," I replied tersely, my tone flat as I continued to rummage through my things.

"Why weren't you there, Y/n?" His voice was sharp, and his frustration was evident.

I stood up from where I was kneeling and faced him. "I didn't want to."

Five's anger flared. "You— you didn't want to?" He began pacing the room, his agitation growing.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Do you have any idea what I did to get us here?" he demanded, taking a step closer.

"I didn't ask you to risk everything just to drag me along and leave my father and my life behind," I shot back, my voice rising.

Five looked momentarily taken aback but quickly regained his composure. "I heard you in the kitchen this morning. You said, 'I know what Y/n want.' Really? Because I don't remember telling you what I want!"

"Y/n, look, I'm sorry—" Five began, but I cut him off sharply.

"Don't apologize. Were you seriously planning to take me and leave my dad here?" I asked, my tone incredulous.

"It's for the best. It's what Elliot would want," he said softly, but the words didn't soothe me.

"Then why can't we take him?" I shouted, my voice trembling.

"He's a risk to us and my family. If I lost you like I lost my family here... I don't know what I'd do," he said, his voice breaking.

"Five, I can't just leave him. I'm all he has," I said, my tears falling freely now.

"I know, but what about us?" he asked, stepping even closer, his voice pleading.

I looked down, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of everything. "I love you, Five, I really do. But I can't just leave my life behind. My dreams, my friends, this is my timeline."

Five's expression softened with a mix of regret and understanding. I reached out and cupped his face in my hands, making him look at me. "I just wish you'd asked me first before making decisions without consulting me."

He gazed at me with deep regret. "It was wrong of me. I know. But I can't just leave you here after we fix this."

I struggled to steady my breathing, my heart aching. "I understand you want us to be together, but my life here matters too. My father matters."

Five's eyes softened with empathy, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. "We'll figure this out. I promise."

As we held each other, I clung to the hope that somehow, we could find a way to bridge the gap between my life here and the future he envisioned. The thought of reconciling our worlds seemed daunting, but in that moment, I found solace in his embrace, hoping for a solution that could bring us together without sacrificing everything I held dear.

As Five held me, I could feel the tremors of his body and the tension in his grip. His face was pressed against mine, and I could sense the pain and resolve in his touch. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I cupped his face, and he mirrored my gesture, his hands gently cradling my face. His voice was soft but strained, as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. "I love you, Y/n," he said, his words carrying a mix of longing and anguish.

Hearing those words was like a balm to my fractured heart. I looked up at him, a shaky smile forming on my lips despite the tears. "I love you too, Five," I whispered back, my voice trembling with emotion.

The moment was charged, a collision of desperation and tenderness. Five's lips met mine, and our kiss was an outpouring of everything we couldn't articulate. It was a kiss of passion, fear, and an unspoken farewell. The world around us seemed to fade as we lost ourselves in each other, as if this brief escape was all we had left.

When we finally pulled away, I rested my forehead against his, my eyes searching his. "Please... just let me have the choice," I implored, my voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his smile wavering but sincere. "Yes," he managed to say, his voice a soft promise.

Five pulled me into another kiss, and this time it was filled with a mixture of fervor and sorrow. The intensity of the kiss reflected the gravity of our situation, the urgency of our feelings, and the depth of our connection. When we finally broke apart, Five held me close, his embrace tightening as if he were trying to anchor us both in this fleeting moment of solace. I clung to him, closing my eyes and savoring the warmth of his body against mine.

In that embrace, everything felt suspended—our fears, our pain, and our hopes. I realized how deeply Five had affected my life in such a short span of time. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, he had become a vital part of my existence. Our story, marked by intense emotions and fleeting moments of beauty, was a beautiful tragedy. It was a poignant reminder of the fragility and intensity of love.

As we held each other, it was clear that our time together, though brief and marred by tragedy, had been profoundly significant. The world outside might have been crumbling, but in Five's arms, there was a fleeting sense of peace and belonging. The apocalypse loomed on the horizon, but for now, the warmth of his embrace and the depth of our connection were a beautiful tragedy, a brief but precious escape from the turmoil that awaited us.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by the failed plan. Five sighed, lost in thought. "I have to go with the backup plan."

"Which is?" I pressed, hoping for some clarity.

He glanced at me, his eyes filled with both determination and tenderness. "I really don't want to worry about that now. If this is our last time together, I want to spend it with you."

A warm smile spread across my face. An hour later, we were lying in my bed, my head resting on his chest. The faint strains of "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis played in the background, and Five's hand gently moved up and down my back. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing and comforting presence.

Eventually, I got up from the bed. "What are you doing?" Five asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Well," I said with a playful smile, "I guess we should have one last dance before you go off to save the world and deal with your backup plan." I extended my hand to him. "Want to dance?"

Five's face lit up with a smile as he took my hand. He spun me around and drew me close, his eyes never leaving mine. "Love to," he murmured.

As the music played, Five led us in a gentle swing to the rhythm of the song. We moved together, our eyes locked in a silent conversation. Without warning, Five dipped me low, and I laughed with a mix of surprise and joy. He pulled me back up with a grin, and we continued to dance, our heads resting against each other as we held hands.

When the song ended, we stood there, still wrapped in each other's arms. I leaned in and kissed him softly, savoring the moment. He responded with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the same love and affection that I felt.

In that quiet, intimate space, with the echoes of the song fading away, we found a fleeting, perfect moment of peace and connection. It was a beautiful interlude amidst the chaos, a final, cherished dance that we would both carry with us as we faced whatever came next.

"As much as I loved dance with you for hour's and getting lost in your eyes." Hsibserious expression pulled me back to reality. "I really need your help with this plan," he said, his voice firm but full of urgency.

I nodded. "Of course. Come on." I grabbed his hand and led him out of the room. Five instructed me to head to the kitchen. Once we were in there, he started chugging a whole gallon of water.

"Five?" I heard Luther's voice from the living room. He walked in, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna need to be hydrated," Five replied with a sigh.

"Hydrated? What's he talking about?" Luther turned to me, but I just shrugged.

"I promised him no questions," I said.

"Y/n, do you have baby powder?" Five asked, turning back to me.

"Yeah, it's in the bathroom. Let me check." I hurried to the bathroom, searched through the cabinets, found the baby powder, and ran back to Five, handing it to him.

"Thanks," Five said, taking the powder and starting to sprinkle it on his clothes.

"What's with the baby powder?" Luther asked, bewildered.

"It'll help with the itching," Five replied as he continued applying it.

"What itching? There's itching? What the hell is going on here?" Luther's confusion grew.

"I don't know, Luther!" I said, equally puzzled. But then, it dawned on him. "You do have a plan!"

"Well, it's a desperation move," Five admitted. "Since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, I have no choice." He walked past me and Luther to the living room.

"No choice for what?" I asked, following them, my curiosity piqued.

"I have to find myself," Five answered, making me even more confused. I raised an eyebrow.

Five checked his watch. "I was just in Dallas 15 minutes ago," he said.

"Should we be worried about you, Five?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"Y/n, I was sent to 1963 on a job by the Commission to make sure the president was assassinated," Five explained.

"Dang," I murmured.

"Oh! So wait, your old self is out there," Luther caught on.

"Precisely," Five confirmed.

"So your older self is just walking around here in Dallas?" I asked.

"Walking around Dallas with a briefcase that can get us home," Five replied.

"Oh, my god, you're a genius," Luther said, his face lighting up with realization.

"However, there are two significant problems with this plan," Five began, his voice steady but laced with the gravity of the situation. "Problem number one: I'm a trained assassin, arguably the most dangerous assassin in the space-time continuum. If I know myself, I'm not going to react kindly to bumping into... well, myself. Problem number two, and this is the real fly in the ointment here: you're not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. The side effects can be disastrous."

"Side effects? What sort of side effects?" I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

"According to the Commission Handbook, Chapter 27, subsection 3b, the seven stages of paradox psychosis are: stage one, denial; stage two, itching; stage three, extreme thirst and urination; stage four, extreme gas; stage five, acute paranoia; stage six, uncontrolled perspiration; and stage seven, homicidal rage," Five explained, listing each one with a clinical precision that only made it sound worse.

"Homicidal rage?" I repeated, my eyes widening.

"Yeah," Five confirmed, meeting my gaze without a hint of hesitation.

"Jeez, I don't know. This maybe isn't such a good idea," Luther suggested, clearly unnerved. I nodded in agreement, the whole plan sounding more and more like a suicide mission.

"It's a Hail Mary. But what choice do we have, Luther?" Five argued, his eyes hardening with determination.

"I don't know, Five... this seems very dangerous, almost like a death wish," I said, my concern for him outweighing everything else.

Five stepped closer to me, his hands gently resting on my shoulders. "Look, Y/n. For once, I'm asking for your help. And Luther's. I need you two to be my spotters," he said, his tone softening but still firm.

"Spotters?" I asked, not entirely sure what he meant.

"Yeah," Five confirmed, looking between me and Luther.

"What is that? Like a wingman?" Luther asked, still trying to grasp the concept.

"In case the paradox psychosis gets too severe, I need you guys to help me stay on task, all right? So whatever happens, whenever I say, we need to get that briefcase," Five reassured us, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

I thought about it for a second, weighing the risks against the reality of the situation. But deep down, I knew how much Five needed us. How much he needed me. "Okay, yeah," I finally agreed, my voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at my insides. Luther nodded as well, the seriousness of the situation sinking in.

"Okay," Five said, his expression softening for just a moment before he turned to leave.

"A spotter," Luther mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. "I've never been one."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. "Me neither," I mumbled back, sharing a brief, uncertain glance with Luther.

"Guys, come on," Five called out, already a few steps ahead and impatient as ever.

Luther and I exchanged one last look before following Five out the door. The weight of what we were about to do settled over us, but there was no turning back now. We piled into my dad's car, the tension in the air thick as we drove to the place where Five's other self was waiting.

As we drove through the quiet streets of Dallas, my mind raced with a mix of fear and determination. I glanced over at Five, who was focused, his jaw clenched as he stared out the window. This was our last chance, and I knew that whatever happened next would change everything. This was a gamble, a dangerous, near-impossible mission, but I was ready to face it. For him. For us. This beautiful tragedy was ours to live, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

———

The three of us are crouched behind a weathered wall on the outskirts of a diner, tucked away in a quiet corner of Dallas. The evening air is thick with tension, the distant hum of neon signs buzzing in the background. I peer cautiously over the edge, my heart pounding as I spot him—the older, yet paradoxically younger, version of Five. He's seated in a booth inside, his posture tense but composed, a stark contrast to the chaotic situation we're in.

"Well, there I am," Five murmurs, his voice laced with an eerie calmness.

Luther, who's squeezed in next to me, narrows his eyes at the other Five, deep in thought. "Why don't we just grab the briefcase and run?" he suggests, his voice low but tinged with a sense of urgency.

I glance at the Five beside me, who's already a step ahead. "Does your other self have a gun?"

"Yeah," Five replies without missing a beat, his tone serious. "And trust me, I wouldn't let that slide. We were trained to guard those briefcases with our lives."

Luther nods slowly, processing the information. "Right," he agrees, though the concern in his voice is hard to miss.

But Five isn't done. His expression tightens as he continues, "Plus, it's not just about the briefcase. There's a bigger problem here—the paradox. I'm endangering my own existence just by being in the same room with myself."

Luther looks confused, his brows knitting together as he tries to understand. "Huh? What do you mean?"

I can't help but step in, frustration bubbling up as I turn to Luther. "Luther, try to keep up."

"Got it," Luther says quickly, but I can tell from his face that he's still struggling to wrap his head around it.

I let out a small sigh, trying to simplify it for him. "If that older version of Five doesn't go back to 2019 like he's supposed to, the entire timeline unravels. This Five ceases to exist. Do you get it now?"

Luther's eyes widen slightly as the pieces start to fit together. "I get it," he says, though there's still a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

I look back over the wall, watching the older Five for a moment. He's so focused on the newspaper in front of him, completely unaware of the storm that's about to hit. It's unsettling to see him like this, a version of him that doesn't yet know what's coming. I turn back to the Five beside me, noticing that he's staring at me.

"What?" I ask, meeting his gaze.

"It's kinda attractive when you know how to speak smart talk. How do you know that?" he asks, clearly impressed.

"Who's my dad?" I say, giving him the answer. Five just makes a face, agreeing with my explanation.

"So, if he doesn't go back to 2019, I die," Five explains to Luther again.

"Oh, that makes more sense," Luther agrees, nodding.

I sigh. That's exactly what I just said to him.

"Our best chance is to talk to him, to reason with him. He'll understand. Trust me, I know myself better than, uh, better than I know myself," Five says as he scratches his neck.

Luther and I quickly notice the action. "You just itched your neck. That's stage two of paradox psychosis," Luther reminds him.

"No, I didn't itch my neck," Five disagrees.

"That's denial," I remind him, trying to keep things in perspective.

"I am fine, okay? Let's stay on task, shall we?" Five says, brushing it off.

Five begins to walk inside the diner, but Luther stops him. "Wait!" Luther whispers.

"What?" Five asks, looking at him.

"Maybe someone else should go," Luther suggests cautiously.

"Why?" Five asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, you'll freak him out. Bumping into your own tiny doppelgänger? He'll lose his shit," Luther explains, trying to be logical.

"I'll go," I say, causing them both to look at me.

"Maybe I should?" Luther suggests again.

"Look, this other that younger- looking older Five doesn't know me like this one does," I say, pointing at my Five. "Maybe I'll just ask him, and Luther can follow me in. Easy peasy?" I suggest.

Five nods. "Good, let's go," I say, signaling Luther to follow me.

As we approach the other Five, who's sitting there with a newspaper, I clear my throat. "Uh, hi, excuse me, sir," I say, trying to sound casual.

"Not interested in your Thin Mints, kid," the other Five responds dryly, not even looking up from his paper.

I click my tongue in frustration and glance at Luther, giving him the signal to try.

"Hello, Five..." Luther says, and this time, the older Five's head snaps up.

"It's me... Number One," Luther says, and I see the shock in the other Five's eyes.

"What the hell?" the older Five mutters, completely taken aback.

I just stand there, feeling the tension rise.

"Before you say anything else, I need to introduce you to somebody. Just promise me you won't freak out," Luther says, trying to calm the situation.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the older Five asks, clearly on edge.

"Uh! No freak outs, okay? Promise?" Luther insists.

That's when the Five I know steps out from behind the wall. "Hey there, stranger," he says.

The older Five looks like he's seen a ghost, and I can't help but look between the two of them, still in shock myself at what's happening.

_______________________________

WORDS WRITTEN: 3443