The Sparks Between Us | Five Hargreeves x Reader

SEVEN

༻ FIVE'S POV ༺

I landed hard in Vanya's apartment, Y/N still in my arms. Her body was too still—no hum of her systems, no sign she was... functioning. It felt wrong. She was supposed to be indestructible, a force of nature, and yet here she was, limp and lifeless. The thought made something sharp twist in my chest.

I glanced around, taking in the modest space. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. My eyes locked on a chair in the corner, and I moved quickly, my legs burning from the fight, the teleportation, and the damn weight of what just happened. Gently, I set her down in the chair, placing her hands in her lap. She looked wrong like this—still, fragile. It wasn't her.

"Come on, Y/N," I muttered under my breath, brushing her hair away from her neck to find the small panel there. My fingers hovered for just a second before pressing the button. I held it firmly, waiting for something—anything.

Nothing. No sound, no hum of energy, no sign she was rebooting. My throat tightened, but I pressed the button again, harder this time. "Please, Y/N," I said, my voice low, almost pleading. "Come on. Start up."

Still nothing. The silence was deafening. I stepped back, dragging a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be fine. I forced myself to breathe, to think—but then, just as I was about to panic, I heard it: a faint whirring sound deep inside her.

Relief hit me like a freight train, and I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. The soft hum of her systems restarting was like music to my ears. I leaned back against the wall, sliding a hand over my face, trying to ground myself.

After a moment, I glanced back at her. She sat there, eyes still closed, the faint glow of her charging systems pulsing softly in the dim light. I moved closer, taking her in. Her face was streaked with blood—none of it hers, I realized. It was from the fight, from the men we'd just left behind.

I couldn't leave her like this. I headed to Vanya's small kitchen, rummaging around until I found a clean rag. Running it under cold water, I wrung it out and walked back to her. Kneeling in front of the chair, I started wiping the blood from her face, careful not to press too hard. Her skin—metal? Flesh? Both?—was smooth and cold under my hand.

As I worked, I caught myself staring. She looked... peaceful like this. No sharp retorts, no sarcastic quips, no determined focus locked solely on me. Just stillness. It wasn't her, not really, but it reminded me for a moment of the Y/N I used to know. The one who didn't have to fight or bleed or sacrifice everything just to protect me.

I finished wiping the last streak of blood from her cheek and sat back on my heels, staring at her. How much more could I ask of her? She'd been built—rebuilt—for this, to protect me at all costs. That was the point, wasn't it? But sitting here, looking at her now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

She lost her life once because of me. Her real life. And now, in this form, she was risking it all over again. What the hell kind of person does that make me, letting her do it? Having her back... it didn't feel like a second chance. It felt like a debt I'd never be able to repay. And maybe, just maybe, her protecting me wasn't what I wanted after all.

Maybe I just wanted her to live.

I slumped into a chair across the room, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The only sounds were the occasional hum of Y/N's systems recharging and the muffled noise of cars passing outside. I should've felt exhaustion; my body certainly begged for it. But I couldn't let myself stop—not yet. I came back to stop the apocalypse, to fix everything, and somehow, it still felt like I was falling apart.