His Only Fear - Five Hargreeves x |Fem| Reader

I Killed Them

When you woke up, you found yourself in your room with Grace hovering over you. You groaned, covering your eyes in an attempt to block out the sun, which sliced through your retinas like a dagger.

"Eight. I'm so glad you're awake," Grace said in her usual chirpy manner, finishing tying a piece of cloth around your arm. "I was just changing your bandage."

"Huh?" you asked sleepily, before yesterday's events came flooding back to you. "Oh... shit."

You struggled to stand, but Grace immediately came to your side, holding your elbow to stabilize you.

"Please be careful, Eight. The gunshot wound was fairly shallow, and it didn't hit any major arteries, but your head wound was pretty severe. You can walk around, but take it easy. Rest often. I'll be downstairs making breakfast."

"Wait, Mom!" you called, and she turned around with a smile.

"Yes, Dear?"

"Uh, Five... did he, I mean, is he... was he..."

"He stayed in your armchair for a while last night," Grace said, cutting off your embarrassing ramble. "He only left when I told him he should get some sleep, and you wouldn't be waking up until morning."

"Oh," you breathed, swaying a little bit on your feet. "Thanks, Mom." 

For some reason, when she left you felt like crying. 

You stumbled down the steps to reveal Luther and Allison, watching Mom walk to the kitchen suspiciously.

"Luther? Allison? What's going on?" you asked, stepping closer to them.

"Oh, Eight - thank God you're okay," Allison said, pulling you into a gentle hug. You hesitated at first, before wrapping your arms around her waist. "I was worried sick, but I didn't want to wake you." She pulled back, biting her lip and glancing at Luther. "We... have something to show you."

"Okay," you said slowly as they led you to a small, dark room filled with screens and cassette tapes. "Whoa. I've never been in here before."

"Watch this," Luther said, pressing play on one of the screens. You watched in confusion as Grace handed your father a cup of tea in his bed, and a moment later he started choking while Grace watched from the doorway.

"Does that mean..." you breathed, eyes widening as you replayed the tape.

"We don't know anything for sure," Allison said softly. "But... we think Mom might have killed Dad."

"We're going to ask her about it at breakfast, if you want to come," Luther offered, and you nodded. If Five wasn't going to include you in his plans, you would find something else to work on.

Liability, my ass.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"Mom?" Luther asked as the three of you sat at the dining table, staring at her back while she cooked eggs. Glasses of orange juice sat in front of each of you, untouched. You grabbed yours and pressed it against your forehead, relishing the relief it brought to your aching head. "We need to ask you some questions about the night Dad died. Do you remember anything?"

Grace turned around slowly, her face eerily blank until she began speaking.

"Of course. Sunset, 7:33 pm. Moon was waxing crescent, dinner was Cornish Hen, wild rice, and carrots."

"No, uh, uh... later that night," Luther corrected nervously.

"In his bedroom," you added helpfully. "Did you go and see him?"