054

I almost dropped the anxious attitude of mine when we came to rural regions. Having successfully escaped from my father (hopefully not temporarily), I knew we were back to some old habits. Yet, this time, I knew the truth. Again, hopefully.

"Relax," Harry advises with that monotone of his, which as a result does absolutely nothing to comfort me. Only agitates me further.

Regardless of his weak attempt, I turn my head and face the window. An hour flew by in the car and our current position was tranquil, more than usual.

Harry drives fully focused on the road. I depart my reckless thoughts and continue to stare out the car window.

"Cata," he speaks again. "I know that look on your face."

"This isn't a particular look," I respond without any hesitation. A sigh blows from my lips.

He heavily sighs, squeezing the steering wheel briefly. "Don't," he warns. It's all he says for a while, though. Neither of us speak due to the lack of energy. It's obvious he knows, I know, we both know we're just going to get into an argument of some sort with whatever topic comes up. I need none of that and neither does he.

Despite our lack of conversation, which I hoped wasn't permanent, he reaches for my hand and gives it a light squeeze. His attention remains on the road while his free hand entwines its fingers with mine.

I glance at him briefly, my eyes trailing down the seemingly doubtless side profile of his.

If I was going to survive, I had to realize this man is no longer just a guard, he is the man I'm in love with, and I don't plan on his death nor do I plan on mine.

The rural grounds were vast; fact that was made pretty evident throughout the four hour trip. By now, they should know we're gone.

Between impressively long grasses and tall trees, we hid the car pretty well in an attempt to remain isolated and completely unreachable.

Further down was a neglected brick house. The size was small, and it relieved me for once. Not other huge chamber of secret hallways and deception.

Grey chipped at the bricks, vines spiraled up the sides and the front. Harry walked before me, bag strapped on his right shoulder while the other gave the door knob a tight nudge.

When it didn't, he forced his foot against it, the latch falling apart instantly.

Inside, there are simple details. Old, dusted furniture. A faded floral couch and a coffee table. An old tea cup settled in pieces on the table.

Harry throws the bag onto the couch, pulling a pistol from his back pocket and unloading it, setting it carefully onto the coffee table.

"How long are we going to be here?" I ask lowly, shutting the door behind me. The lock was useless and in two pieces now.

"Five, six hours," he responds, unzipping the bag to reveal guns after guns. Weaponry sure was abundant. "The flight is in six hours. I got it exactly six hours from now, considering there's still much we need to find out before we even think of leaving Italy. We've got six hours. Possibly eight before they find us."

I nod slowly, crossing over my chests before I let my eyes roam the dull setting. "How'd you know about this place?"

He continues to sift through the guns. "It was three days before I got assigned to your father. I was eight at the time, and I was still in training. My first knife wound happened here."

My eyebrows furrow, frown intact. "Harry...you were eight years old," I say softly, something along the lines of heartache was surging inside of me. "Eight year olds don't get knife wounds...they fall from slides and trip over their own feet."

I watch carefully as he sighs heavily, letting down a gun he held and looking up at me, pale green eyes focused solely on me.

"You should know, Cata. And people wonder why others have such motivation to be the bad ones, and immediately point fingers...without knowing the fight or the suffering it took to get so motivated in the first place," he replies lowly.

I stared at him when he says, "It takes a very strong person to feel real pain and yet still be the good one, and I don't mean the pain you feel from rejection or envy...or heartbreak."

There is little tension, odd for such a deep conversation. I say nothing I don't mean. "I don't think you're the bad one," I stated as if I knew it meant something to him.

Harry shakes his head, gazing down at the unzipped bag with a stolid expression. "Even the bad ones are good for someone," he murmurs.

I'm silent for the most part as he continues to search the bag. I stand beside him while he reaches different paper work. Eventually, he pulls out graphs and large maps that are marked with the colors I remember explicitly.

"Back to the maps," I smile faintly, taking a seat on his lap. He shifts a bit, setting me comfortably onto him while his arms winded around my waist. This was usual for him and I. I end up on his lap quite a lot.

He hums huskily, murmuring, "Yeah. Can't really do much else but understand the issue. The codes you know could be for anything, but that doesn't matter as of right now."

I can feel his lips move and his hot breath near my shoulder as he spoke. I nod my head in agreement.

Within a few minutes we're searching through the maps.

"All were most likely hired by Fray, yes?" I question, studying the maps that were marked in blue.

Harry shakes his head, leaning it against me. I find it endearing as he racks his brain for some answers. Turning to the side a bit, I end up placing my arm over his shoulders, his head against my chest.

"No. Fray wouldn't team up with so many of them. He's not exactly very good with people and agreeing to any negotiation. The Russians live for the hiring, I'm almost certain he's working with them," he explains.

My fingers run through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly to almost relax his tense, stressed body. I nod my head slowly, processing the words.

"So...Louis? I doubt Blackpool is with Fray. Clearly...he seemed like he was on his own with this one. When he spoke, he kept a dominant stature. Like he was searching for the control," I tell him.

"Yeah," he lowly says to himself. "That's what I thought, too. See, Louis was too frustrated already. The man sounded absolutely mad. I doubt he could withstand working with anyone."

I sift through the maps and find the red ones. "Make a pile, baby, the colors don't matter as much anymore. We've just got to group the from what we know," he states, and I do as said.

"You remember the men from Malawi? We hid from them behind a steep hill in Texas? One of the men said you gave him a scar," I remind him.

Harry nods his head. "Atticus. He tried to kill me three times when I was sixteen. Never got the chance, and I swiped a knife down his left eye. Left a huge reminder."

Choosing not to react, I inquire, "You think he's working with Fray?"

He sighs and leans his head into my touch. I know he's tired. The man barely sleeps, even when we've been sharing a bed for weeks now. As much as I try, he's always got something ticking back and forth in his focused mind.

"No. Remember he said something about Jasper? Well, Jasper is the boss. And he is too self-absorbed, confident, and selfish to share his work with anyone. Any benefit from this, they'll want it for themselves."

"Okay, so Malawi and Doncaster are on their own. The Russians are working with Fray," I restate, summarizing it for myself to better process this. "Okay so, Los Angeles, California. What could their deal be?"

"Working with the Germans. Hannah Diamond is head of them. Los Angeles...I don't know much about. But I know Hannah loves working with them," he clarifies. "Put those two together as well."

We finished arranging the maps that we had. Only problem was we didn't know who else was involved. I still didn't know what the codes were for, but we know that is most likely why they're looking for me. That and Fray loves to play dangerous pain games.

I couldn't decipher their purposes, but in my mind I mentally got an idea. Typical things that would come to mind, but I somehow felt doubtful about them.

"Harry, you should just rest a bit, okay?" I gently offer. I lied down against the old faded floral couch, where Harry lies down on top of me. His body rests between my legs, while his head remains lazily onto my chest.

My fingers run through his hair as he dryly states, "I am. Have no other choice since I can't focus right now." He confesses, "I am constantly thinking about losing you. I can't let that happen, baby. I just can't."

"You won't," I whisper, stroking his hair. "You won't," I repeat. Yet, I was just hoping that I didn't end up losing him, either.

note: thanks for reading. i promise the next chapter will be a lot more fun and interesting to read.

i am leaving the fandom on the third July of August the fifth.