REWRITTEN.
The men looming behind the two of them looked like towering shadows to Violet as she stared at them through the reflection of the napkin dispenser.
She clutched her hands tightly, rigidly, her heart in her throat.
A dark skinned man clad head to toe in black gear pointed the barrel of his large gun at Fives head, just out the corner of her eye.
"That's a shame, I thought I'd have more time before they found me," he commented before taking the last sip of his coffee.
She dug her nails into the side of her bruised hand, the pain becoming a focus to keep her from fidgeting and drawing attention.
"Okay, so let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us, they want to talk." The leader demanded.
They?
Was he expecting this to happen?
Who were these people?
"I have nothing to say," was Fives simple response.
Just as Violet had finished repeating the mantra to herself that they would be fine and could get out of this, a large hand wrapped itself around her upper arm and yanked her off of her stool.
She let out a noise of distress and fought against his hold, feeling the harsh pull in her shoulder and ignoring the pain and clawing at his hands.
The man hadn't expected such a sudden fight from the tiny girl and was startled when she ripped herself from his hold, hands up to keep distance, her back slamming against the counter.
She was barely able to catch her breath before the same man raised his gun and pointed the barrel right at her heart that thumped so heavily she was sure he could hear it.
Her hands shook as she stared at the distance between them. He was too close, the counter digging into her back, her eyes fixed on the distance between him and herself - and even though the entire situation was suffocating and they were surrounded with no visible way out - at least he wasn't touching her anymore.
She didn't even care about the gun aiming at her chest.
"You think I want to shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?" The leader said, still looking at Five.
But Five could not look away from Violet, who was shaking and in an absent daze of panic.
"We're all adults here. You can let her go, she has nothing to do with this."
Violet clenched her hands into fists against her collarbones, digging her knuckles into the bone so she could focus on something and stop herself from visibly shaking.
Five's voice, although calm, had a twinge of warning to it.
The leader scoffed. "Not happening, kid."
Violet felt her heart stutter. She couldn't think straight.
Five straightened his back then, and gave a blank, placid smile as he put his mug down with a harsh clink.
His hand shifted subtly to clutch the butter knife beside it.
He sighed. "Then you wont have to worry. You won't be going home."
As soon as the first shot was fired, Five spacial jumped within a split second and jammed the dull blade into the leaders neck.
The diner erupted into gunfire and screaming and chaos and when the man went to fire his gun at the girl, the bullet struck the counter.
Even though the barrel had been aiming directly at her heart only a split-second before, it did not strike her heart. It didn't even pierce her skin. In fact, he didn't even know where the fuck she had gone because she was not where she stood just a second ago.
She was gone.
Violet thanked her anxiety sometimes, because when she could think in dire situations, it allowed her to react quickly.
She phased through the counter and turned herself invisible as fast as she could, Five's words rolling around in her skull, loud above the noise - and she curled in on herself. She sat huddled crouched down with her knees to her chest and her hands covering her ears and her eyes wide as glass shattered and scattered across the floor in front of her, shards landing in her hair.
She could feel them. Flashes of crimson and dark figures shot back and forth in the reflections of the coffee pots on the shelves within her eyeline.
The girl was frozen in shock, heart racing a mile a minute to catch up with her brain.
All she could hear was the cries and bullets whittling down one by one mixed with the sound of Five's spacial jumps.
She pressed her back against the underside of the counter, trying to snap herself out of her daze, when a body is thrown into the shelves. The figure fell against the tiles just inches in front of her in a pile of broken wood and coffee grounds and glass.
She expected him to be dead but she could hear the barely audible groan as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees.
Their eyes locked at once and she reacted quickly, darting to the left towards the open floor, ignoring the sting of glass beneath her hands and knees.
A hand latched at the back of her collar and yanked her backwards, slamming her against the floor. He was ontop of her before she could blink, the glint of a knife catching her eye.
She clawed at his wrist at her collar, breathe leaving her. Her other hand grappled with anything within reach, sharp stings cutting at her skin. She clutched a shard of glass tightly and jammed it into his forearm before he could stab her.
Blood spilled across her front as he screamed and released her, clutching where the blood was practically spraying from his wrist.
Violet pushed herself up as quick as she could, trying to ignore the metallic taste on her tongue, and kicked him away from her.
His back slammed into the counter and he slumped over on his side, eyes wide in panic at the blood pooling beneath him on the floor between them.
Violet was clutching the shard of glass so hard she barely noticed the warmth in her palm.
All she could stare at was the blood creeping towards her and the life draining from the man in front of her as he slowly dropped his bloody arm.
Her appearance flickered as she fought to catch her breath, trembling from head to toe. She dropped the large shard of glass as though it had burnt her and clutched her sliced up hand to her chest, crawling away from the dead body. Once enough distance was between her and the mess, she scrambled to a stand using a chair, eyes flickering wildly around the diner as she desperately searched for Five.
The diner floor was slick with pools and splatters of blood, bodies lying gruesomely massacred across tables and through shattered windows, slumped against the tiles.
Flashes of blue had her blinded for a split second, and as she swallowed back her panic, a sudden burning pain shot through her leg.
She crumpled, choking on a scream, before flickering through phases until the rest of the bullets passed right through her. The gunshots and ringing in her ears were loud.
Her eyes fell on the man on the other side of the diner aiming at her, slowly depleting his bullets as he realised it was no use and she could no longer be hit. Frustrated with himself, he turned back to Five who reappeared in the center of the floor, dropping a dead body at his feet.
She dragged herself to a stand and launched herself at the man who now had his back to her. There were several clicks as he aimed up at Five who hadn't noticed.
Despite the pain, Violet grabbed a buckle on the man's back and ripped a knife from a sheath at his upper leg. As he span to face her, she slashed at his hand thatreached for her and sliced right through it.
Before he could yell, she kicked his knee out from under him and threw him to the floor, intent on ending his life, but as he went down he grabbed her below the knee and dug his thumb into her bullet wound.
She cried out as her leg buckled beneath her. Within an instant, he struck her in the face and she landed on her back, head hitting the floor.
Blinking harshly through the darkness edging her vision, she felt her skin crawl as his knee pressed against her wound.
She grit her teeth and tried not to scream, her vision splitting white as she struggled beneath him as he searched his pockets for another knife, holding her in place.
Across the diner Five dropped the last attacker with a snap of his neck, and span to find-
His gaze turned murderous as he saw the position she was in; the touch, the blood staining her clothes, her pale skin, her shaking hands and bleary eyes- it was wrong and it unlocked a feeling so dangerous within his chest he never thought himself capable of.
But just before he could blink to her side in an instant, he watched her stab him in the thigh with his own blade and let out a cry through gritting her teeth. She used the momentum of him falling to the side to shove him away and readjust herself onto her knees, drawing her arm back and swinging mercilessly downwards.
His cries turned guttural as his eyes widened. He stared up at her in shock, choking on his own blood. She ripped the blade from his throat and he stilled.
Silence rang out heavy as she forced herself to stand, stumbling, before throwing the knife to the side.
Her hands shook terribly as she brought her hands up, the blood clinging to her skin unbearably itchy and thick and sticky, her clothes heavy and torn.
Five blinked in front of her, eyebrows drawn in concern.
"Violet, are you..."
His fingers barely brushed her arm but she flinched back violently, yanking her arm away. She stumbled back from him, chest acting at the sight of guilt in his eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing left her mouth. She began stuttering, forcing her words out despite how unbearably overwhelmed she felt to her core.
"Fi- Five...," she inhaled deeply, hands shaking, and she had no idea if it was the adrenaline or panic or anger she was feeling.
His eyes meet hers. He desperately wanted to check if she was okay even though he knew without a doubt she was not and that it was his fault.
He had never seen her like this before.
Blood splattered against her face, coating her neck and front of her clothes and hands. Her weight was leant on her left side, the other leg bent slightly, blood seeping through her jeans. But her expression - she looked infuriated, twitchy with nerves, a type of uncontrolled adrenaline fueled panicked that he'd never seen her harness before.
"You had- had better tell me what... what the fuck is going on or... or- or I'm- I'm going to hit you."
Her voice cracked.
Her eyes were ablaze.
Five took in her dishevelled appearance and he she couldn't even clench her fists because of the disgusting feeling of blood, partially her own, stuck to her skin like glue.
His gaze softened drastically. He nodded once.
"I will."
She nodded back, jaw sharp and tense, eyes darting around to the floor and the blood droplets on his shoes and the shattered tiles between them.
She couldn't think.
He stared at her, ashamed, and risked it by stepping closer. This time she didn't back away.
"I told you to stay hidden."
Her eyes met his and the burning fire in them made a shiver roll down his spine.
She turned away from him without a word and headed for the counter. Her coffee mug was shattered on the floor, the liquid spilt across the stool she had sat on just five minutes before.
He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing but he stopped himself.
He eyes scanned the floor until she found, beneath the stool, covered in shards of glass, was the folded up photograph.
The tension in her body released slightly as she bundled her sleeve over her hand and picked it up, brushing off the glass and trying not to get blood on it. She slid it carefully into her pocket.
When she turned back to Five he was busy staring down at a tiny device in his hand with a deep frown. In his other hand was a clean knife.
As he rolled up his sleeve and prepared himself with the blades edge over the skin of his forearm, Violet tensed and attempted to protest.
The words died in her throat.
She could do nothing but watch him slice into his arm with haunted eyes, and she had a feeling he wouldn't have heard a word if she did say something.
Every instinct in her told her to fix him, help him, stop him.
She cringed as he slid his fingers into the wound so he could dig around for something. He pulled out a tiny blinking device and glared at it in his palm.
"Fucking tracking device..." he muttered under his breath.
She approached him slowly and reached out for his arm.
He met her eyes quickly and pulled away.
"Later," he told her dismissively, gesturing for them to leave. "We need to go."
Violet stared at him, blinking, all instincts telling her to say no. Because Five was hurt, and it was her job to fix things like this, and he wasn't letting her.
She met eyes with a person who was familiar with pain and swallowed, uneasy. How times had changed the boy in front of her. She didn't like it but followed his lead nonetheless.
The tracking device crunched beneath his shoe as the rain lightly hit their skin.
She walked beside him with a limp, forcing herself past the pain, unable to tear her eyes away from the bruises forming on his knuckles and the blood trickling beneath his sleeve. Something about seeing Five of all people in pain made her wildly uncomfortable and she couldn't explain why.
He took them both back to the academy by holding her sleeve, and silently they retreated into their rooms before anything else.
Doing her best to ignore her overwhelmed mind, she cleaned herself up and scrubbed until the blood only remained inside her own head. Her skin raw, scratched. Blue bruises began fading greenish yellow. She changed into looser clothes to allow her time to breathe.
The hole in her leg looks more like a deep cut, scabbed over already surrounded by angry red, bruised black skin.
As a faint knock hit her door, she stilled her fidgeting and waited.
It slowly opened and Five cautiously poked his head in to see where she was.
She was sat on the floor in front of her bed, her back against the mattress and her injured leg sprawled out in front of her, not bothered by the little trail of blood that had began seeping into the floorboards beneath.
Five quietly sat opposite her but with his back to the wall. Their legs brushed against eachother for a split second.
She fought hard not to flinch.
He noticed.
Her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. 0
He fiddled with his hands for a second and she almost wanted to point it out, but she was too tired to even open her mouth.
So she listened to him ask about her bullet wound, and waved a hand when he asked if it was serious. The bullet only grazed through a small chunk of her leg and would be nothing but an old scan by morning. The blood trickle had tried, tacky against her skin, dampening the wood in a tiny splosh beneath where she sat.
Though the initial pain was gone, it ached horrifically.
He nodded, but his worry remained.
Their silence was not unwelcome. It was almost nostalgic as they simply existed in eachothers company in the middle of the night. It reminded her of the photograph, that she now had pinned to the mirror by her wardrobe.
After a long while, Violet nudged his ankle with her foot.
He sighed and rested his head back against the wall. He appeared weighed down by something, his eyes filled with ancient wisdom and just as much suffering.
She considered nudging him again, worried by his silence, before he finally spoke.
His voice was quiet, barely audible. But he told her everything.
The commission. The things he did, the things he saw, the type of person he had become.
He knew he was talking to the right person because she listened wholeheartedly and didn't interrupt, not that she ever would. She took in his words carefully, her heart aching. She had never considered just how much he had to do, to go through, to get back to the others and to her.
She listened to him talk about starving and living in fear and wishing for the company of another, but only finding those around him dead and long gone.
He talked about the commission and being an assassin and killing innocent people in the hopes it would lead him back home. He spoke of feeling guilty, and crying himself to sleep the first night it happened, but finding that every day after became like all the days before. Monotonous and a chore that he had to force himself to go on with, because he had no other choice.
He told her perhaps more than he had even considered telling her in the first place, simply because the emotion and the words poured out of him in her presence.
Maybe it was because he knew that she, out of everyone, would listen and understand.
Violet would not judge him like he had judged himself over the decades.
When he finishes, he refused to look at her because he was afraid to see her expression.
A small insecure part of him that makes him feel small and too young for who he really was, convinced him that she would be angry, upset, disgusted. As she should be.
He didn't expect her to tap the floor to get his attention.
When he glanced over at her, all he could see was Violet.
She was not any of those things he thought she would be, she was just little old Violet. She was warm, she did not pity him, she was understanding and his heart skipped a beat at the guilt that consumed him.
It made him want to look away, but in the dark of the night her dark eyes were like coal darkened by the moon shining through the window, and he couldn't take his eyes away.
"Are you okay?" He whispered, daring to break the silence.
She swallowed and nodded once, then chewed her lip and shook her head no. He hadn't noticed before but her fingers had been picking at the bloody wound on her thigh while they were talking, and sticky smears of blood coated her fingers and had seeped under her nails.
"Stop doing that, Vi."
She glanced down and grimaced at the state of her nails before looking back at him, confusion lighting her eyes.
"Why?"
It was the first word she had spoken to him since threatening to hit him and her voice was back to it's old self. Quiet, soft, gentle.
He frowned. He considered that him telling her everything at once had overwhelmed her so much that she had resorted to old bad habits, and the thought made his stomach turn.
"You're hurting yourself."
"So?" She frowned when he leant forwards and slapped her hand away. "It'll heal."
He gave her a strange look and leant forward on his knees to look her in the eye.
She picked instead at the blood under her nails.
"When we were little, you once told me that you were so angry that everyone else was so okay with you getting hurt because you could heal."
She stared down at her lap.
He tapped her on the back of her hand, making her shakily inhales at the close gentle touch, from the same exact hands that had so easily snapped a man's neck an hour ago.
"You said just because you could heal quicker, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
She chewed the inside of her cheek, remembering saying those exact words. And to this day it still made her angry. But this was just different and he couldn't understand why. She didn't want to explain it.
"So why are you causing yourself more pain?" He implored, emerald eyes boring into hers as though searching for an answer.
A lump formed in her throat and her mind went to the mangled scars on her wrist over the warped umbrella tattoo, then to the incident years ago. She had the sudden urge to tell him, then, terrifying her. But she couldn't convince herself to say any of it and just add to the pain in his old heart.
Emotion made her voice weak, but she managed to whisper, "because this way I can control the pain I'm feeling."
Five looked sad when he looked at her, and she didn't know why. His hand brushed hers and she averted her gaze to the side, allowing him to take her hand in his. His skin was soft against hers, covered in light scars that she could barely see.
She sighed as he pulled her up and they both crawled into her bed, her against the wall and him on the outer side. He pulled the covers over them and made sure he didn't knock against her leg. She turned towards him and they lay there in silence, both unable to sleep with a slither of a gap between them.
He was on his back, eyes scanning the ceiling as hers trailed the soft edges of his face, committing it to memory.
She couldn't tell what he was feeling at that moment, and a question danced on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to disturb the rare moment between them. So instead she tried to close her eyes and focus on the fact that he was there with her.
She fell asleep with her hand held loosely in his between them.
When Five would awake six hours later, he would expect his arm to be stinging and sticky with blood, only to check and find not a single mark left on his skin.