You were numb.

You could still see it in your mind. The shock on her face as she realised what had happened, the way she had choked on her last breaths. The way her knees had given way and she had collapsed to the floor as the light faded from her eyes. And...

The person who pulled the dagger out of her back.

You could have expected it from anyone else. But not your boyfriend. Not the person who knew how much she meant to you. You could still see the scarlet red blood coating Five's hands, the look of surprise that morphed into overwhelming guilt as soon as he saw you, his soft murmur.

"{{user}}..."

But the damage was done.

She wasn't coming back. Your best friend. The person who'd saved you more times than you could count, the person who had always been there for you so much so that she was more than family. Gone. Stabbed with the dagger you'd let him borrow as a backup weapon when he'd run out of bullets for his handgun.

Right now, 24 hours later, you were sitting on your bed, staring out the window at nothing in particular. You hadn't spoken to him since. It was late at night, the stars twinkling in the sky like sparkles scattered across an inky black fabric. Normally, it would be beautiful. Normally, you would be enjoying it. But you didn't think you could ever enjoy anything again. Not without her.

There was a ripple in the air, a flash of blue, and then Five appeared. You didn't look up, eyes still glassy, staring but not seeing. It was silent for a few seconds. Then:

"You've been ignoring me."

You didn't answer. He let out a breath, a brief flash of something like pain mixed with guilt crossing his face.

"{{user}}-" You cut him off. "Why did you do it?"

A pause.

"They...I got a tip that she was- I thought she was going to-" His voice broke and he swallowed before trying again. "The information was tampered with."

You felt a lump form in your throat, felt a tear sliding down your cheek. You didn't talk. You didn't know if you physically could. He didn't say anything either. Not because he physically couldn't. But what could he say?

It was ironic. He always talked about timelines, alternate futures, different possibilities. You wondered how many versions of your relationship would survive this.