Elle's apartment was dark except for one lamp in the living room.
I knocked three times. No response. The door was unlocked—unusual for someone who'd been attacked in this same space six weeks ago. A sign of how far she'd already fallen.
I pushed inside.
She sat on the couch in the same spot where she'd bled on the floor when Garner shot her. An empty wine bottle stood on the coffee table, a half-full glass beside it. She wore the same clothes I'd last seen her in three days ago, wrinkled now, slept in.
She didn't look up when I entered.
"I told you not to come."
"I know."
I closed the door behind me, moved to the chair across from her. Sat. Waited.
The silence stretched between us—heavy, charged, full of things neither of us wanted to say.
Finally, Elle spoke.
"It wasn't self-defense."
Her voice was flat. Dead. The voice of someone who'd already processed the worst and come out the other side with nothing left to feel.
"Tell me."
"William Lee. Released on a technicality. Same night, a woman named Sandra Davis was attacked in her home. Same M.O. Same brutality. But no evidence to connect him. Nothing legal we could do."
She took a drink of wine. Her hand was steady—too steady, the kind of control that came from having already broken completely.
"So I went to his house. Not as FBI. Just... as me. I told him I knew what he'd done. Told him I knew he'd keep doing it. He laughed at me, Ethan. Laughed and said there was nothing I could do about it."
[RECORDING: INACTIVE]
[THIS CONVERSATION: PRIVATE]
[NOTE: CONFESSION INADMISSIBLE]
"He answered the door," Elle continued. "I went in. We talked. And then I started pushing him. Verbally. Physically. Making him scared. Making him defensive."
"He grabbed a knife."
"Eventually. Because I made him scared enough to think he needed one." She finally met my eyes. "I wanted him to grab that knife. I wanted a justification for what I was already planning to do."
The words hung in the air between us—admission, confession, truth that couldn't be unsaid.
"So you shot him."
"Three times. Center mass. Just like they trained us." A ghost of a smile crossed her face—bitter, broken. "Perfect technique. Clean kill. The only thing not clean about it was me."
I sat with the silence for a long moment.
What could I say? I'd known this was coming. I'd watched her spiral since the Fisher King, seen the darkness growing, felt the trajectory building toward exactly this moment.
And I hadn't stopped it.
"You're not surprised," Elle said.
Not a question.
"No."
"How? How did you know this would happen?"
The question I'd been dreading for months. The one that demanded answers I couldn't give.
"I saw the signs," I said carefully. "The aggression in Richmond. The way you talked about Reston. The darkness that's been growing since Garner shot you."
"That's not enough." Elle leaned forward, suddenly sharp despite the alcohol. "You always see things coming. You knew about Garner before anyone else. You know things you shouldn't know. How?"
"Elle—"
"No. I just confessed to murder. The least you can do is be honest with me." Her voice cracked on the last word. "Why didn't you tell me what I was becoming?"
The weight of every secret I carried pressed down on my chest.
Tell her. Tell her everything. The transmigration, the system, the meta-knowledge that let you see this coming.
Or lie again. Protect what's left of the cover you've built.
"I didn't think I could," I said finally. "I thought I could protect you instead. Keep you from crossing the line. Be there when you needed someone to pull you back."
"Protect me?" Elle laughed—the sound was awful, bitter and broken. "You couldn't even be there. You were in Colorado chasing kidnappers while I was here executing a rapist."
"I know."
"I called you. That night. Before I went to Lee's house. Your phone went straight to voicemail."
The words hit like physical blows.
"The compound was in a dead zone. No signal."
"I know. I know there are reasons. But the result is the same." She set down her wine glass with deliberate precision. "I needed you, and you weren't there. Just like you weren't there when Garner came for me. Just like you're never really there when it matters."
"That's not fair."
"Maybe not. But it's true."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to explain the impossible choices I'd faced, the information I carried, the weight of knowing futures I couldn't change. But what would that accomplish? The damage was done. Elle had crossed a line she couldn't uncross, and I'd been two thousand miles away when it happened.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"IA is treating it as a clean shoot. Morgan backed my story, even though I know he doesn't believe it. Hotch will have questions, but nothing that can't be answered." She paused. "Professionally, I might survive this."
"And personally?"
Elle was quiet for a long time.
"I killed a man, Ethan. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. Because the rage that's been building since the Fisher King finally found an outlet." She looked at her hands—the same hands that had pulled the trigger, that had held mine, that had traced patterns on my chest in quieter moments. "I don't know who I am anymore. The person I was before Garner... she's gone. And the person I'm becoming..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
"I'm sorry," I said.
It was all I had. The only truth I could offer without destroying everything else.
Elle didn't accept the apology. But she didn't throw me out either.
"Stay," she said finally. "I don't want to be alone tonight. But I can't be held either. Just... be here."
"Okay."
I moved to the couch—the opposite end from where she sat. Close enough to reach if she needed. Far enough to give her space.
The hours passed in silence.
Elle finished the wine. Stared at nothing. Eventually, her eyes started to close, exhaustion winning over turmoil.
I stayed awake.
Watched the sky lighten through the curtains as night became morning. Listened to her breathing even out into something like sleep. Felt the weight of everything that had broken and everything that might still break.
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: ELLE GREENAWAY]
[STATUS: CRITICAL]
[TRUST: SEVERELY DAMAGED]
[FUTURE: UNCERTAIN]
[DREAD METER: 28 → 32]
Some nights don't end—they just become morning.
And some wounds don't heal.
They just stop bleeding long enough for you to pretend you're okay.
The sun rose over Virginia. Somewhere, IA was preparing their final report. Somewhere, Morgan was questioning his decision to support Elle's story. Somewhere, the team was processing a tragedy they didn't fully understand.
And here, in this apartment where everything had started to fall apart, I sat beside a woman I loved who no longer trusted me, waiting for whatever came next.
"I'm still here," I said to the silence.
Elle didn't respond.
But she didn't leave either.
For now, that would have to be enough.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes .
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!