Despite already knowing the worst had come to pass, it never made it any easier to accept, and for all that he had been told, Fives still couldn't help but feel some sort of responsibility for it. He didn't know the details firsthand, so he could only wonder that maybe something else could have been done.

     Wonder and regret. It might be strange to regret something that you hadn't even experienced, but it was there, and Fives had no other word for it. He was a soldier, he had a duty. He had his loyalties, and for all that he had apparently done, he had failed. That had hit him harder than to know that he'd died.

     "...I'm...sorry, sir," he found himself saying, his gaze drifting towards the ground. As if words could do anything, could change what had happened.