Five's eyes widened as the name sank in. Bri. Y/n's best friend, the one who had always been at her side, laughing and sharing secrets. The last time he'd seen her, she was just a girl, barely eighteen, but now—now she was a grown woman, standing in front of him with years etched into her face that hadn't yet passed for him.

"Bri? Holy shit..." Five muttered, the shock evident in his voice. "I didn't—how—?"

"I won't take up much of your time, Five." Bri cut him off, though her voice was softer now, tinged with something that sounded like sorrow.

Five blinked, trying to process what was happening. "How are you?" he asked, trying to pull himself back to the present, but his mind was spinning.

Bri's eyes softened even more, her gaze searching his face as if trying to find the boy she once knew beneath the layers of time and battle scars. "I'm... older," she said, forcing a small smile. "But I'm here."

Five's heart skipped a beat as a thought crossed his mind. If Bri was here, then maybe—just maybe—

"Where's Y/n?" Five's voice was almost frantic as he looked around the lobby, searching for the one face he desperately wanted to see. "Is she outside?" He stood up, ready to rush to the door, to find her.

"Five, wait. No!" Bri's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, and she grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and look at her. "She isn't here, Five."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He turned back to Bri, confusion and fear mingling in his eyes. "Where is she?" His voice was a whisper now, tinged with desperation.

Bri's gaze faltered, and she looked down at the ground, as if the weight of what she was about to say was too much to bear. When she finally looked back up at him, her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Slowly, she held out the journal she had been clutching, offering it to him.

Five stared at the journal in her hands, a deep sense of dread settling in his stomach. "What's this?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"It was Y/n's," Bri said softly. "She wanted you to have it... She knew one day she'd find you, but she didn't know how much time she had."

Five's breath caught in his throat as the realization of what Bri was saying hit him. His world, already shaken by everything that had happened, began to crumble around him. "She... she's gone, isn't she?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands shaking as he reached for the journal.

Bri nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Six years ago... it started off as the flu, but it got worse. Her heart... it just gave out."

Five stood there, his mind reeling. Y/n was gone. The girl he had loved, the one who had fought by his side, who had changed his life in ways he couldn't even begin to comprehend, was gone. And he hadn't even been there to say goodbye.

"She was only 36," Bri continued, her voice breaking as she spoke. "She was so young, Five. We all thought... we all hoped she'd pull through, but..."

Five felt a tear slip down his cheek, the first of many. He was no stranger to loss, but this—this was different. This was the loss of a future he had never allowed himself to fully hope for, and now it was gone, taken from him before he even had a chance to grasp it.

He looked down at the journal in his hands, the weight of it heavier than anything he had ever held before. "She wrote in this?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Every day," Bri said, her voice thick with emotion. "She wrote in that journal every day, hoping one day she could give it to you herself."

Five nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He clutched the journal in his hands, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine Y/n sitting down to write in it, her thoughts and feelings poured out onto the pages. She had loved him—he had known that. But hearing it now, knowing she had carried that love with her until the very end, was almost too much to bear.

"She talked about you all the time, Five," Bri continued, her voice trembling. "You changed her life. You made her happy, even after you were gone. She never stopped believing she'd see you again."

Five opened his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek as he looked at Bri. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for bringing this to me... and for being there for her."

Bri smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "She wasn't just my friend, Five. She was like a sister to me. Losing her... it's been hard. But I promised her I'd find you, and I did."

Five nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He wanted to ask so many questions—how Y/n had spent her last years, what she had written about in the journal, how she had known he would be here today—but the words wouldn't come. All he could do was stand there, clutching the last piece of Y/n that remained.

As Bri turned to leave, she paused at the door, looking back at him one last time. "It was good to see you again, Five," she said softly. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances, but... it's good to know you're still out there, fighting."

Five managed a small, sad smile. "It was good to see you too, Bri. Thank you... for everything."

Bri nodded, wiping away her tears before she turned and walked out of the hotel, leaving Five alone with his thoughts—and the journal.

Five stood frozen in the middle of the hotel lobby, a deep, aching sadness spreading through his chest. The noise of the world around him faded into a dull hum, leaving him alone with the crushing reality that Y/n was gone. He couldn't wrap his mind around it—couldn't bring himself to accept that she, the girl who had meant so much to him, was no longer alive. It felt wrong, impossible. His Y/n couldn't be gone. Not like this.

He looked down at the journal in his hands, his grip tightening as if holding onto it would somehow bring her back. The smooth leather cover was worn from years of use, and his fingers traced the elegant cursive letters that spelled out her name. The sight of it brought a bittersweet smile to his face. He could almost see her sitting at a desk, carefully writing out each word, her brow furrowed in concentration as she poured her thoughts onto the pages. The idea that this was all that was left of her, just ink and paper, felt like a cruel joke.

Five's heart clenched as memories of their time together flooded his mind. He had loved her deeply, more than he had ever let himself admit. She had been different—special. She saw something in him that no one else did, something beyond the sarcastic exterior and the hardened assassin. She had loved him for who he was, flaws and all, and that had meant everything to him.

Y/n had been by his side when he was lost and alone, offering him a warmth he hadn't known he needed. She cared for others in a way that made him believe in the goodness of the world, even when everything around them was falling apart. She had put everyone else first, even when it cost her. She was strong and selfless, and he had admired her for that, even though he never got the chance to tell her.

A lump formed in his throat as he realized he would never have that chance. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Suddenly, as if propelled by a force he couldn't control, Five ran up the stairs of the hotel, the journal clutched tightly against his chest. He didn't stop until he reached one the library in the middle of the hotel. The room was dimly lit, filled with the shadows of old memories, but he didn't care. He needed to be alone. Alone with her words.

Breathing heavily, Five collapsed into a chair, staring down at the journal in his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he wondered what he would find inside. What had Y/n written? What thoughts, what feelings had she kept hidden from the world, saving them only for him?

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before slowly, almost reverently, opening the journal. The first page was filled with her familiar handwriting, a mixture of elegant script and hurried notes that he could picture her scribbling down in a moment of inspiration.

——-

Five read the words over and over, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. "Dear Five..." It was such a simple beginning, but it carried the weight of her love and the memories they had shared. The image of Y/n, sitting in some quiet corner, penning these words, filled his mind. He could almost see the way her lips might have curved into a small smile as she thought of him, her fingers carefully crafting each letter.

As Five read the opening lines of Y/n's letter, his heart ached with a bittersweet mixture of love and sorrow.

"Dear Five," she had written . "Not a day goes by where I don't think about you and your family. My dad and I are still on the road, looking for a new place to call home. I dream of you often, of a world where we have our own timeline, free from apocalypses and full of happiness. I wanted to make writing to you a regular thing, even though I can't be with you. I miss you so much, Five. Every second of every day, you're in my thoughts.

Love, Y/n

Five traced the words with his fingers, feeling the weight of her absence and the depth of her feelings. Each word she wrote was a reminder of the love they shared and the future they never got to have together. The letter, simple yet profound, made him smile through his tears, cherishing her memory even as he grappled with the loss.

Five turned the page slowly, feeling the weight of each word as he continued to read Y/n's heartfelt messages.

"Dear Five,

We've finally made it to the Big Apple. It's a city of lights and towering buildings, and I can't help but be amazed by how alive everything feels here. The streets are always bustling, and there's this constant hum of activity that makes me feel both excited and comforted. My dad, Sushi, and I are settling in, and we're starting to find our rhythm as a family in this vast, vibrant place.

Every day feels like a new adventure. We've explored Central Park, marveled at the skyline, and even tried out some of the local delicacies. There's so much to see and do, and I find myself wishing you could be here to experience it with us. I know you'd love the energy of this city, the endless possibilities, and the sense of wonder that fills the air.

Even though we're timelines apart, you're always in my thoughts. I find comfort in imagining you alongside me, sharing in these moments of discovery and joy. I love you so much, Five. You are always with me in my heart, no matter where I am.

Love,  Y/n.

As Five finished reading, he smiled through his tears. Her words painted a vivid picture of her new life, and the love she expressed was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost.

Five held the notebook in his trembling hands, each page he turned filled with Y/n's handwriting and traces of her life. As he flipped through the pages, he could almost hear her voice narrating the stories, her hopes, and her dreams. Each entry was a snapshot of her life, her thoughts, and her love for him. The pages seemed to go on forever, filled with details of her days, her experiences, and her undying affection for him. But as he reached the end of her writings, the pages suddenly stopped. The blank pages were a harsh reminder of the time when she could no longer write.

His heart sank as he realized that these empty pages marked the point when she must have started to fall ill. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—Y/n, the vibrant and loving person he had cherished, had been taken from this world far too soon. He let the notebook fall to the floor, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness and grief. His gaze fell on the scattered photos that had slipped out, and he reached for them, hoping to find some comfort or understanding.

The first photo was of Y/n and her father in New York City, a snapshot of her youthful joy. She was standing in the midst of the city's hustle, holding Sushi close. Her smile was genuine, and her happiness was palpable. Seeing her like this, so full of life and contentment, struck Five deeply. It was a reminder of the dreams she had pursued and the life she had built.

He flipped to the next photo, finding Y/n laughing on a crowded sidewalk. Her laughter seemed almost audible, and her expression radiated pure joy. Five couldn't help but smile at the sight, even as tears threatened to fall. This was the Y/n he remembered—the one who brought light into every room she entered.

The following image showed Y/n in a blue graduation gown, standing proudly with her father. The photo captured her accomplishment and the pride she felt in achieving her goals. Five felt a pang of pride and sadness; she had always been brilliant and driven, and seeing her reach this milestone was both a joy and a source of sorrow.

As he continued, the next photo showed Y/n at a desk, laughing while writing in the very notebook he held. She was covering part of her face with her hand, her smile infectious. The sight of her so engaged in her passion, so full of life and laughter, was heart-wrenching. It was a glimpse into her world, a world that he had been a part of, and it made her absence all the more painful.

The subsequent photo revealed Y/n and Bri standing in front of a building labeled 'New York's Writers.' Both were dressed in their best, looking confident and accomplished. They were in their twenties, a testament to their shared journey and successes. Five couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and sadness. Y/n had achieved her dreams, and Bri had been by her side, but it was bittersweet knowing he hadn't been there to share in her triumphs.

The next photo was difficult to look at—Y/n in a hospital bed, tubes visible but a smile on her face. Bri and Elliot were beside her, holding up a 'Get Better Soon' sign and offering flowers. Despite the tubes and the hospital setting, Y/n's smile was a beacon of her enduring spirit. Five felt a profound sorrow; seeing her like this, surrounded by love but suffering, was almost too much to bear.

Finally, he reached the last photo, and his heart shattered. It was the image from the gala—that night they went together for the mission together. Y/n, radiant in her pink dress, and Five, captured in a moment of genuine happiness as they danced to their favorite Elvis song. The photo was a reminder of their connection, of the joy they shared, and the love that had been so real and deep.

Five's hands shook as he flipped to the very last page of the notebook, half-expecting it to be blank, a final testament to Y/n's last moments. But as the page turned, he found one last note, carefully placed there. His eyes widened as he read the words written in Y/n's familiar handwriting:

"April 1, 2019. Hotel Oblivion."

His confusion grew as he stared at the note. How did she know about this place? The date and location seemed to hold significance, but he couldn't immediately grasp why. He turned the page back and noticed a final paragraph scrawled beneath the date. He leaned closer, trying to read her handwriting through the haze of his tears:

Five's hands shook as he carefully unfolded the final note tucked inside Y/n's notebook. Each crease in the paper seemed to hold the weight of the past, and as he read, her words came alive with the intensity of her emotions. He could almost hear her voice, soft and trembling, guiding him through the pages of her final thoughts.

---

"Dear Five,

I'm writing this from hospital bed, a place I've come to know too well. They keep telling me that I'm going to be okay, that this is just a temporary setback. But in the stillness of the night, when the room is silent except for the soft beeping of the machines and the distant murmur of footsteps, I know the truth. The nights are the hardest; they're when the pain feels most real, when the sense of inevitability becomes almost suffocating. I see the worried faces of those around me—my father, Bri, the doctors—but I also see beyond their hopeful reassurances. I know that time is running out for me.

As I lie here, I find myself thinking about you, about us, and about everything that we shared. I remember vividly the day back in 1963 when you, Luther, and I went to see your other self. I was handed a note by the other Five and told to give it to you when the time was right. At first, I thought it was some kind of trick, a way to make me doubt you or to test my trust. But as time has passed and my own time has grown shorter, I've come to understand what was really meant by that note. The other Five knew more than anyone else. He understood my fate in a way that was beyond comprehension.

I now realize that he was trying to prepare me for what was to come. He knew I wouldn't have the chance to see you again, at least not in the way we had hoped. And so, I made the decision to put my thoughts, my feelings, and everything I wanted to say to you into this notebook. I wanted you to have something tangible, something that would remind you of what we had, of what we could have been, if only things had turned out differently.

I remember so vividly the day I met you in Dallas. It was a whirlwind of emotions, and we fell into something so beautiful and intense. We had moments of pure joy, and even in our quieter times, there was something profoundly comforting about being with you. The way you looked at me, the way you cared for me—it all made me feel like I was finally where I was meant to be. I don't regret a single second of our time together. You gave me memories that I will cherish forever, and I want you to know that even though my time was cut short, I felt deeply loved and understood.

If there's any chance we might meet again, in another time or place, I'll be waiting for you. If not, know that you will always be in my heart, and I'll carry the love we shared with me as I move on. I'm sorry that I couldn't hold on just a little longer. Life has its own plans, and sometimes they don't align with our desires or our dreams.

Please remember me with fondness and know that I will always love you. You were a significant part of my life, and I'm grateful for every moment we had. My only regret is not being able to share more of it with you.

Forever and always, Y/n"

---

As Five finished reading the letter, he felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. Her words, so raw and heartfelt, pierced through the armor he had built around himself over the years. Y/n's love, her pain, her resignation—it all came together in a powerful testament to a life that had touched his in ways he had never fully grasped until now.

He clutched the notebook to his chest, feeling the tears that had been building finally break free. The love they had shared was palpable in every word, every sentiment expressed. The realization that he would never see her again, that her life had been cut short while he was out of reach, weighed heavily on him. The photographs she had included, each one a snapshot of her life without him, told a story of her growth, her triumphs, and her struggles. They were a painful reminder of all that had been lost.

As he stared at the final photograph of them together, the one from the gala, the reality of her absence hit him with full force. The image of her, radiant and full of life, contrasted starkly with the emptiness he felt now. The joy of that night, the promise of a future together, seemed like a distant dream that had slipped through his fingers.

Five looked up from the notebook, his gaze lost in the memories of their time together. The journey ahead now held a different significance. It was not just about finding answers or confronting the past, but about honoring Y/n's memory and finding a way to make sense of their shared story. Her final message, filled with love and sorrow, had given him a new purpose, one that would guide him as he continued forward, carrying her legacy in his heart.

———

Five sat alone in the hotel lobby, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the profound silence. He held Y/n's notebook in his hands, now closed, the weight of its contents pressing heavily on him. The photos that had slipped out were scattered across the chair beside him, each one a poignant snapshot of a life lived without him.

His eyes traced the edges of the notebook, the cover now a bitter reminder of a love he had lost. Y/n's handwriting had been a comfort, a bridge across time and space, but now it only deepened his sorrow. Each photo told a story of her journey without him—smiling in New York, holding Sushi, celebrating milestones, and eventually, facing the pain of illness with a brave smile. They were vibrant, joyous images, starkly contrasting with the hollow ache he felt.

The note Y/n had left him was a revelation, both heartbreaking and uplifting. She had known her time was limited and had still managed to prepare a final message for him, a message that spoke of her undying love and her acceptance of their fate. It was both a gift and a cruel reminder of what he had lost.

As he sat there, the weight of her absence pressed heavily on his chest. The sadness was overwhelming, but mingled with it was a profound sense of gratitude. Y/n had loved him fiercely, and despite the brevity of their time together, she had managed to leave him with something precious—a tangible connection to her life and her feelings.

The emptiness of her loss felt unbearable at times, but Five knew he had to honor her memory. In the quiet of the lobby, he thought about the title of her notebook, "Beautiful Tragedy." It was a phrase that now seemed to encapsulate their love perfectly. It was a love that had brought him unparalleled joy but had also been tinged with sorrow from the very start. Y/n's life, their love, and the way she had faced her final days were a testament to the delicate balance of beauty and pain that defined their relationship.

Five closed his eyes, allowing the tears to slip down his face. The notebook was not just a collection of memories—it was a reminder of the love they had shared and the promise he had made to carry her legacy forward. In his mind, he whispered the phrase, "Beautiful Tragedy," recognizing that it perfectly described their love. It was beautiful in its intensity and its depth, but it was also a tragedy that it had ended so soon.

He sat there for a long time, holding the notebook close, mourning the loss of Y/n but also cherishing the profound impact she had had on his life. There love had been a beautiful tragedy, a fleeting yet eternal part of his existence, and he would carry it with him through every timeline and every challenge that lay ahead.

______________________________

THE END.