[✓] 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁𝐿𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ

Word count: 2993

"𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄?"

Elizabeth's eyes blinked open, rather slowly. Her back was aching, yet again, as she straightened up.

She had fallen asleep on the green sofa chair that was a few feet away from Five's bed during the early morning. It was no help to her aching body that she had been sitting there ever since she finished fixing Five up. 

She looked to the clock to see that it was only a few minutes past six, and that explained the absolute exhaustion she was feeling.

She rubbed the back of her head, her eyes drifting to the now-awake Five, whose eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at her.

"Oh, good. You're up." She stood up with a small sigh and walked over to him as he slowly sat himself up. "How are you feeling?"

He ignored her question and asked, "Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

"Because I was worried, Five," she sighed once more as she unbuttoned the bottom of the pyjama top.

"About" —his eyebrows furrowed— "me?"

She stopped, her fingers grazing his bare stomach as she stared at him incredulously. "Who else?"

"I don't know," he muttered as she checked the gauze, which, luckily, had not been as blood-soaked as she had feared. "Maybe Diego or some shit."

"Diego?" she scoffed. "I don't need to be worried about Diego. Right now, I need to be worried about the idiot who decided that shrapnel in his stomach was no big deal."

"Ain't me," he mumbled. "I don't see any shrapnel in my stomach."

"Because I took it out, dumbass," Elizabeth chided as she slapped him lightly on the arm. "Now answer the question: How are you feeling?"

"Well, my arm hurts now," he answered with an amused smile as he watched her rebutton the last few buttons. After seeing her glare, he added, "Otherwise, I'm fine."

"Good," she exhaled as he shifted over to the middle of the bed. He patted the empty space next to him, and she sat down on it, leaning her back against the headboard. "So, what happened? How did you even get hurt?"

Five waved a hand through the air dismissively. "I just blew up a couple of rooms, might've killed one or two people."

"You . . ." She stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Okay."

He was quiet for a few moments, his eyes thoughtfully watching her face as she looked down to her lap.

After a minute, he tentatively asked, "Are you . . . mad at me?"

"Hm? No." Elizabeth shook her head as she looked back up at him and murmured, "I'm just tired."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "How long did you stay up?"

"Until" —she thought for a moment, squinting her eyes up at the ceiling— "four?"

"What?" he questioned, his eyes growing wide with worry. "Why?"

"I was just worried about you," she answered with a shrug. "My mind couldn't rest."

He frowned as he shifted a bit closer to her. "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth only gave him a short smile in response.

He sighed as he shook his head and told her, "You should sleep."

"No, no, there's no time." She quickly shook her head, straightening up as she pointed out, "We have stuff to do."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What stuff?"