049

sorry for the wait. i have been dealing with school, sports, and personal issues. but tonight i'll try to update everything as though i feel more at peace with myself when i write.

as a recap, Harry has been sent off with Niall, Jinx, and Devon to Paris (a 13 hour drive from Italy, where they reside) and their plan is to take over an under-the-table bank.

hope everyone's doing much better than i am. much love,

- zeffervescent

A boisterous storm broke out around us. It kind of worsened my mood. I was anxious already, and with the mere thought of an accident with water and slipping roads deteriorates the conditions of any over thinker.

I was sent to my bedroom a few hours later because my interest was interfering with my sleep. Inside that bedroom, all I could think about was Harry and his touch and his scent. And how damned I'd be if it were to disappear.

Eventually I fell asleep. Quite suddenly, though, I wake up to silence. The peaceful tinge made me nauseous. I got up and pushed my body off the mattress, sighing heavily. The bad taste in my mouth induced my need to brush my teeth.

Leaving the bathroom, I started down the quiet halls. Downstairs, the men were still glued to screens, surprisingly holding themselves up despite the early hours they woke up.

"Miss, I thought we said you should sleep?" Marco says behind me as I stand in the middle of the set up.

I glance around me, wrapping my arms around myself. "I did. What time is it?" I ask, my voice on the more hoarse side.

My tired eyes glance around me, feeling a tinge of relief that no one is remotely close to looking alarmed. Marco states, "It's ten twenty in the morning. You've slept for four hours."

"Four hours is enough." I reply with a sigh, eyes glued to the monitors. I briefly glance at the guy that is in charge of Harry's mic. He seems casual and relaxed. Good.

A minute of silence progresses until I hear, "You seem to really care about Harry."

In the moment, I snap my eyes towards him and quickly say, "He took care of me. I'm grateful."

"I suppose. He did do a very brave thing," he comments casually, then adds, "Look, Miss Gates, I am no idiot. I know where there's love and where there's not. Gratitude and love are two very distinct things."

"Love?" I sputter out, stunned, as if it were not already established between Harry and I. "Never was there love between us."

But he doesn't fall for it. Marco looks at me. His green eyes were much vibrant than Harry's in a way that expressed a more sympathetic, cheerful man. At the same time, his held a strong rejection towards pain.

"Yes. There was not, but there is now. You don't have to hide anything from me," he says almost in a whisper, the conversation strictly between us two. "I get that feeling from you two. It's very obvious, but everyone else in here is immune to anything nowadays. Their eyes are on the money."

My eyebrows raise and I wonder if I should say anything in return. Reject the idea or admit it. I stick to silencing myself, because I tend to screw up nearly everything. I look away from Marco, jaw clenched in half rejection and half 'you caught me'.

"I am convinced. I don't think it's any good, but at the same time I think it's all the good here."

He nods at me and walks away. I look in his direction for a moment, deep in thought. I didn't know whether to be alarmed that he suspects or be relieved that at least someone else knows. But by his words, I'm convinced I don't have a choice but to accept it.

"Alright," one of the men monitoring announces. At this hour, it's been exactly thirteen hours and ten minutes. The clock reads two p.m. Around stand my father and his 'associates'.

I resist the urge to pull at my damp hair from a recent shower as the man continues. "In fifteen seconds we will lose all communication with them."

The three, two, one came too early. I sit on edge, though I try to contain my anxiety. They won't be back until dawn tomorrow. But there's this voice at the back of my head reminding me that there is a chance they won't come back at all.

That he won't come back.

"If the calculations are right...we should turn communication on in three hours and ten minutes." The same man tells us.

The rest is just discussion between my father and others getting up to follow. They leave their set up there as I sit down and try so terribly hard to avoid any negative thoughts. I've seen Harry in these positions. He knows what he's doing. He must.

Everyone turns off the lights inside. The men are suited up and on high alert for anything that could suddenly come towards us. I know by now that there must be some changes that are pissing other organizations off while we thrive off of their anger.

I am consumed in darkness in a room which's bed smells like Harry's cologne and his deadly, addicting warmth. I lay in it, refusing to withdrawal from the blankets I've wrapped myself in. My eyes are shut tightly.

The blinds in every room are shut. Lack of light produces an even darker, uncomfortable surrounding for me, but I know better than to complain. I am too busy thinking about what could be happening.

A knock on the door pushes away my gruesome thoughts briefly.

"Yeah?" I call out.

"It's me," Marco calls, "I thought you could use some company."

For once, I am pleased and find it somewhat kind of him to come talk to me. Though, for a brief moment, I accuse him of being a traitor and wanting to kill me or destroy the organization -- previous thoughts that were marked all over Harry in my mind.

I sigh heavily and allow him entrance. He walks in, though I can barely see him. I frown slightly when I hear a thump, and as I see his figure, he has sat down on the floor.

My soft laugh nearly echoes in the silence. "You're sitting on the floor?"

"It's inappropriate for me to sit too close to you, Miss. Although I am aware you don't mind if it were Harry." I swear as he says it, there is mockery in his voice.

I blush in the darkness and huff. "Are you teasing me?" I question him firmly, though I'm amused.

"No," he chuckles lightly. "-- maybe. But I'm a man who enjoys gossip. Before I enlisted for this job, my wife and I used to watch plenty of soaps."

The thought makes me curious. "Your wife?"

"Yes. She was amazing. So were my two daughters."

Was. Were. I know that in order to enlist, you must nearly wipe your existence off this planet. Everyone who once knew you must forget you one way or another. My mouth dries as I murmur, "I don't get it...you had family. Why did you enlist?"

He's silent for a few moments before he quietly says, "My wife had bone narrow cancer. And you know...the usual. The average husband cannot supply for the family from bills upon bills upon medical bills. I...had to enlist because your father thought I had skill, and he was the only one who paid for the surgery she needed."

"My dad? He paid off your medical bills and the surgery? Only to have you enlist?" I asked him with a frown. However, neither of our facial expressions were too visible. It's as if through our voices, our faces were practically vibrant.

"Yes. I myself dropped off a check in their mail from a new bank account three days after I faked my death. To my family...I don't exist. In a way...I had to die for the only good purpose in my life."

It saddens me to know this. I lay down and analyze, as usual. Over the course of these several months, I have paid little attention to things like these. I haven't really soaked in the similarities all these men surrounding me to protect me have in common. And that common thing is the most bothersome; loss.

We don't say anything along those lines anymore. I grow more sympathetic for him inside, but I don't mention it. In the lightness of our pleasant conversation, I am allowed to put my anxiety to rest, and eventually, I fell asleep again.

When I woke up, this time, there was no Marco and there was nothing but silence again. I got up and slowly made my way downstairs. There was light, meaning they turned on the lights.

I quickly jogged down the stairs, turning the corner to arrive where everyone once again stood. I looked at the clock. It's been three hours. I'm here just in time to find out the news.

The ten minutes passed by as I anxiously played with my fingers, throat in my heart. Everyone was on edge to see who's mics would respond first. And when they did turn back on wave communication, Niall's guy was the first to try and communicate.

After several calls, the man shakes his head. "First mic is not responding."

"Second mic isn't responding." Jinx.

I widen my eyes as the words slip his mouth. Third mic was Harry.

"Third mic," he murmurs, "Is not responding."

Marco snaps his head towards me and I can't help but clench my jaw and resist the cry pushing up my throat. The hard feeling pressing against my chest nearly suffocates me. A lump ripping through the muscles in my throat won't let me be. As a result, there are tears forming in my eyes.

"Fourth mic...we've got a response!" The man shouts. "Devon, are you there?"

He turns it up louder so we can all hear. But, I don't care as much as I would have. I'm almost crying and falling apart in silence because I can't allow it to be public.

"No...it's me," a raspy, husky voice says. My heart sinks to my stomach and I am an immediate emotional mess. Harry.

"Harry? Why are you on Devon's mic?" Another men asks, the brunette curious.

"Everyone else's mics were broken by bullets," he informs us. "Jinx is injured in the leg, nothing we can't fix. Devon got skimmed. And Niall's fine."

"What a son of a bitch!" Marco chokes out a relieved laugh, and a couple of men laugh with him. My father sighs and nods his head. "Thought you guys were dead there for a second, Harry."

"We're heading back south to you guys, though we're running into some obstacles."

"What obstacles?" My father butts in.

"Apparently, Niall is useless behind the wheel," he dryly says, acting as a comic relief for the rest of the men listening. In the background, we hear, "Hey, I'm fucking severely near-sighted."

"Did you guys get any information on Fray?"

"Plenty. More than I knew myself," he tells us.

"Good. Congratulations, boys, the ops was a success."

note; might update later. thanks for reading ya'll :)

- koolaidkrusade