Safe & Sound

Gemma's feet seem to be moving without the rest of her, accelerating her to a phenomenally determined speed as she sprints from her car to his flat building. She's a woman with a secret, fresh off the new information, having only just recently processed the hour long story Kennedy told her on the floor of that waiting room. It took her ages to get her to stop crying over her confession. Eventually she got her sound in her chair beside Addison, and with a brief secret word to one of the nurses to keep an eye out for her in case she does something irrational, Gemma exited the room to go out for air. It was like Kennedy had transformed into another person entirely, suddenly silent and distant in her eyes. Leaving her in the hospital was good for both of them. When Gemma returned after a good chunk of time spent digesting the news, pacing back and forth by the front lawn of the building, Harry was gone. He’d left her a text message that he was going home to shower and get a change of clothes. Immediately, she took off after him. Without a word to Kennedy or a last glance at Addison.

Now, her heart is pounding as she rings the buzzer next to his flat number three, four, five times. She's frantic in her movements, trying to rehearse what she's about to tell him without sounding frenetic.

''Yeah?'' his voice sounds from the speaker.

''Haz, it’s Gemma.''

''Gemma?'' he repeats, instantly confused about her prompt visit, ''Come up, it's open.''

After taking a moment to catch her breath and contain her nerves, she swings past the door and goes up to his flat two stairs at a time.

''What are you doing here?'' he asks as she passes him through the doorway. He’s running a towel briskly through his wet hair. ''I thought you'd gone home to get some things as well.''

''I have to talk to you.''

He notes how quickly her words escape her. She always talks at a million words a minute when she's anxious.

''Okay,'' he laughs, shutting the door and entering the kitchen, ''I'd offer you tea but I think the milk's rotten with all the days I've been away.''

''It's fine. I don't want tea.''

''Gemma Styles doesn't want tea?'' He pretends to be thoroughly shocked. ''It's an outrage.''

She ignores his teasing and meets him beside the counter, firmly set on what she needs to ask.

''Do you love Addison?''

There’s graveness in her question. The amusement in his eyes disappears almost straight away when he sees the severity in hers. The topic throws him off guard, but he knows his answer.

''With everything I have.''

Gemma nods. ''Okay.''

He creases his forehead in confusion. She's never seemed so cryptic before.

''Why do you ask?''

''I needed to be sure,'' she tells him, keeping her stare locked on the counter, ''That you won't leave her.''

''I am not leaving her.'' Suddenly his voice raises and he turns his palms upright. ''You sound just like Kenn. I don't know why both of you think I'm so shallow that I'd leave just like that.''

''I don't think you're shallow,'' she objects quietly. It’s so hard not to shout out her reasoning. It all makes sense to her now why Kennedy has been so afraid of him leaving all this time. ''Just promise me something.''

''What?'' He’s clearly annoyed.

''No matter what happens,'' she tells him slowly, ''Stay for that little girl.''

In sudden caution, he examines her suspiciously. ''Do you know something I don't know?''

She sees her chance to tell him. The door is wide open and all she has to do is walk through it, painless and guilt-free. But she can't. As much as she wants to spare her brother this heartache of later discovering this huge skeleton in their cupboards, she can't do it. And it puzzles her. Isn't that why she chose to run over here without telling Kennedy? Isn't that why she was so keen on spilling every secret she's found out in the past few hours? If it is, why hasn't she done it yet? And why does it feel so wrong to try?

''No,'' she lies, ''I just...had a nightmare that everyone left her. And I can't let that happen.''

After that, Harry's narrowed pupils transform into cheeky ones and he's suddenly nudging her shoulder.

''Gemma still having nightmares in her twenties,'' he teases.

She forces a laugh along with him before he turns to her, closer this time.

''It won't happen,'' he promises, ''No matter what. Addie will never be alone. Not as long as I'm her father.''

His words make her stomach fall. That wasn't what her conditions were, but she can't tell him that. She feels the fear building up inside her at all of this. It's too much. Every last piece of it. She's torn between the story Kennedy gave her and the reality that once again, four years later, her brother is going to get hurt and it's going to happen in the cruelest way. She despises Kennedy, but at the same time she pities her immensely. She doesn't know how she's supposed to feel anymore, and right now Harry's kind eyes staring back at hers don't help in the slightest.



Kennedy sits with her face buried in her hands across from the still asleep Addison in her bed. Amidst brushing off the same annoying nurse who keeps asking her if she's alright and if she needs anything, Kennedy has had to devour an entire pack's worth of painkillers to soothe a headache that she now believes is a permanent part of her anatomy.

She thought that telling Gemma would be a weight off her shoulders. She thought finally telling someone her secret would rid her of some of the constant guilt she feels everywhere she turns. But from the moment she noticed her friend wasn't in the hospital when she woke up and neither was Harry, Kennedy knew she'd probably just made the biggest mistake of her life. Everything is ruined now. She should just say goodbye to Gemma and Harry for good. They're better off without her and her crazy life of lies anyway. The only thing standing in the way of her running away again is Addison's attachment to the pair. Kennedy can't bear the thought of ripping the child from those bonds and depriving her of the family she thinks she has now. Kennedy's head feels as if it's going to roll off her neck at any second, especially when a startling hand on her shoulder causes her to jump up from fright.

''It's just me,'' Gemma tells her calmly.

Kennedy catches her breath, mostly in shock that she returned. Her eyes are swimming with unreadable emotions.

''I didn't tell him,'' she assures her, ''I won't lie to you. I almost did. But I couldn't do it.''

Kennedy would sigh in relief if she wasn't so tense.

''But Kenn, you have to tell him. You have to. There's no question in my mind that he has to know.''

Gemma speaks in a rushed whisper as if the walls can hear what she's saying.

''I know,'' Kennedy replies shamefully, ''I know he does.''

''Tell him. Today. Please, I'm begging you.''

''I can't...''

''Stop being so afraid,'' she pleads, ''He won't leave Addison. That much I know. And who knows, Kenn, maybe he'll realize it's---''

''Don't say it,'' Kennedy rushes to quiet her, feeling nauseous at the mere idea, ''Even if he does, I don't deserve it.''

''What happened was not---''

Kennedy silences Gemma with her eyes, warning her that Harry's made his appearance. They both look to him with plastered smiles.

''Miranda must've left after I dozed off last night, yeah?'' He enters the room nonchalantly, clad in a fresh pair of jeans, clean hoodie, and cologne that finally got the tiresome hospital smell out.

He's looking straight at Kennedy, awaiting an answer, but she doesn't realize it's her time to speak. Gemma gently smacks her hand against her leg to get her back down to reality.

''Y-yeah,'' she stutters, ''She, um, she left late. She said to tell you she said goodnight. Or something like that.''

''I'll call her later,'' he says with a nod, ''How's she doing?''

He motions to Addison, turning his eyes soft.

''Fine,'' Kennedy answers, ''They gave her the meds while she was asleep so she wouldn't have to wake up.''

''Good.'' His gaze lands on his sister's uncontrolled tapping foot. ''You alright?''

''Yeah,'' she answers too animatedly, ''Terrific.''

Warily, he smirks. ''Okay, then.''

When it's quiet for some time, Gemma finally can't take the silence anymore and jumps up to her feet.

''Is anyone else starving? I'm starving. I'm going to get breakfast. You two stay and, uh, chat.''

Kennedy widens her eyes at her as she walks out of the room, knowing she's only doing this to force her to come clean to Harry. But she knows it's going to be the toughest thing she's ever had to do.

''Hey, um, I wanted to say thank you again,'' Harry sighs once they're alone, pulling up a chair beside her, ''For letting Miranda come to visit. It meant a lot to me.''

She forces a smile. ''No problem.''

''And I've been thinking,'' he goes on, ''It really was a jerk move on my part not to let you tell Addie with me that day at your place. You had every right to get angry. I expected you to be angrier, in fact.”

Nervously, she bites the inside of her cheek.

''I wasn't angry,'' she says, ''It's okay, really. It was your news to break anyway.''

He nods, accepting her answer before taking another breath.

''And one more thing.''

''What?'' she laughs, ''It sounds like you did some serious thinking in the shower this morning.''

''I did,'' he admits, ''And even more when Gemma just came over. It all just made me realize something.''

She fears he's going to say something sappy and send her remorse into a depression again.

''When I was in that testing room,'' he tells her, keeping his eyes on Addison's sleeping face, ''I was so happy. It was weird. I was smiling. The doctors kept asking if I was alright. But I felt great. I felt so privileged to be able to do something like that, especially for her.''

He turns to Kennedy.

''I know we don't always agree and we don't have the best relationship right now,'' he sighs, ''But you don't know how much you've changed my life for the better by coming back into it like this and bringing her with you. Thank you for her. And for being a friend to me even after what I did.''

Well, fuck, Kennedy thinks. His speech just took every ounce of guilt she feels and magnified it, zooming in until it just can't get any larger. She has to say it, even if it means this brightness she sees in his eyes every time he looks at Addison will disappear.

''Harry,'' she begins with a deep and uncomfortable sigh, unable to wrap her head around the fact that she has to explain all of this to him now. She doesn't even know how she explained it to Gemma, who barely understood amidst all of the sobbing between words. But Kennedy knows that eventually he'll find out. Eventually the truth will come out. It always does, and it's directly in her power how it does until it's too late.

She's about to open her mouth with the generic ''I have to tell you something,'' but like with most things she's been trying to say lately, she gets interrupted, this time by a nurse at the door holding a small pile of papers.

''Ms. Ellis,'' she politely calls out, ''I have the mail you asked to be forwarded here.''

''Oh,'' Kennedy rises to her feet, suddenly terrified of what may lie in these letters. Telling Harry is, once again, put on hold. Anxiety over the mail is layered right on top of the anxiety over telling him. ''Thank you.''

She's handed the thick envelopes and takes a moment to feel their weight in her hands. She dreads opening them and finding another bill she can't pay or credit card company she can no longer hold off.

''That's smart,'' Harry notes regarding the idea of forwarding mail, ''I should do that.''

''God,'' Kennedy sighs, retaking her seat and shuffling through the letters. Some of them have giant capital letters stamped on them in red ink titled FINAL NOTICE and URGENT.

''Bills?'' Harry asks.

She nods. ''I haven't been able to pay this one for two months,'' she motions to the thickest envelope on the bottom, likely her electric bill. ''I don't know how I'm going to be able to pay any of them. I can't work with Addie in here. I can't leave her. And the restaurant would never give me holiday time with pay.''

''I'll help you.''

As if it were even possible to make her feel any worse about what she's putting him through.

''You barely get by on your own, Harry,'' she reminds him, ''I have to find a way.''

''I'm serious. I can help you. I have some money saved up and my parents put some away in case I wanted to go back to school and get my Master's. I can give you that.''

She wishes with all her heart that he wasn't so sweet and in turn didn't make this so hard.

''And if it's not enough,'' he goes on, ''We'll find another way together.''

''Please, Harry...'' Her resistance fails her. She can't stand him doing this anymore.

''What?''

''I'm...I'm an adult,'' she makes up a story to get him to stop making her feel so bloody awful with his generosity, ''I should be able to take care of myself. I'm not taking your money.''

''You're not just taking care of yourself, Kenn. You're taking care of Addie.''

''And I've done pretty well with that up until now, mind you.''

''Yes, you have,'' he admits, ''You've done incredibly. But it's different now. Things have changed. Ask for help, Kenn. There's nothing wrong with that.''

She pulls out her wallet and sets the letters on the side table.

''I'll handle it,'' she insists, rummaging through it for extra cash and finding none.

''How? By charging your credit cards? Spending money you don't have? Let me help you. Please.''

''Stop being so nice to me!'' she suddenly raises her voice and then lowers it for the sake of Addison, ''I can do this myself.''

He takes a moment to scan her face incredulously. ''I know you're scared,'' he says, ''But we're in this together. At least think about it.''

''I'll think about it,'' she nods, ''But every time I do, my answer will be the same.''

His reaction is a mix of disappointment and amusement. He has to admit he expected her to say that.

''Same old stubborn Kennedy Ellis.''



Being forced to wait outside while the doctors run tests and conduct treatments on Addison has become part of the daily routine. It's been over a week in the hospital and Kennedy's surprised she hasn't lost her mind yet. In addition to worrying about her daughter, she has that dreaded pile of bills in her bag, her situation with Harry, and now an angry email from Mr. Ackerman sitting in her inbox. She doesn't know how much longer she can handle any of this; she fears someday all of the stress is going to boil over in a nervous breakdown, and something tells her that day isn't far away.

As she stands in front of the vending machine in the hallway corner, trying to decide on which pack of processed food she should force herself to eat this time, she's constantly alert. That's what happens when you have a secret. The suspicion is everywhere you turn. It was easier when no one in her life knew. Now with Gemma on the loose with the news, she doesn't know what's going to happen.

As if thinking about her suddenly makes her appear out of thin air, Gemma approaches her side and starts debating between crisps or doughnuts herself.

''Judging by the fact that I've heard no screaming,'' she sighs nonchalantly, ''I'm assuming you haven't told him yet.''

''And you haven't told him either. Why?''

Gemma turns to her after double-checking to ensure the coast is clear.

''We're friends, you and me,'' she reminds her, ''There's this thing that friends have and it's called trust.''

''He's your brother, Gemma.''

''You make it sound like you want me to tell him.''

Kennedy averts her eyes back to analyzing the sorry excuse for food behind the glass.

''You do, don't you?'' Gemma asks in amazement, ''No way, Kenn. This is all you.''

She sighs in defeat. ''I know...''

Kennedy looks on as Gemma decides on a snack and deposits change into the machine to receive it.

''But if you don't tell him soon,'' she declares, ''And by soon I mean soon. Then I will.''

''Tell me what?''

Blood rushes to each of the girls' faces as they turn and spot Harry down the hall, walking towards them with his hands hanging casually from his jean pockets.

''Um,'' Gemma rushes to think of an answer, ''How good these, uh, chocolate things are.'' She motions to the bag in her hands and forces a smile. ''So yum.''

Harry looks back and forth between them, unconvinced by their pink faces. ''You two have been acting so weird lately. And you're a bloody awful liar, Gem. Anyway,'' he sighs, pointing back to the room, ''They said we can go back in now.''

Kennedy and Gemma rush to follow him. When Addison's concerned, all other problems tend to fade into the background, even the most secretive and life-changing.

Once they enter the room, she's a shock to lay eyes on. Her skin is colorless now, completely pale and as thin as paper. Her hair has gotten considerably shorter although there wasn't much to start with at her young age. And her eyes are the picture of misery, rimming with tears and begging for some comfort.

Kennedy rushes to her side immediately, followed by Harry. They make the pain for her hurt a bit less just by being here. Harry keeps her toys close and his hand on hers loose, terrified to hurt her in any way with her body so fragile. Her bones are already protruding from places like her neck and face.

''Mama, sing,'' she asks so quietly, they wouldn't have heard it if they weren't so close.

Kennedy wastes no time in beginning the lullaby, and halfway through Harry joins in just to see that tiny hint of a smile on the child's face. Hidden underneath her fear for Addison is that flaming guilt that only ignites more when she sees how Harry looks down at her, his eyes glistening with love and affection. Kennedy shuts her eyes tightly to shield herself from it, continuing her song over and over again until it becomes second nature to mouth the lyrics.

Once Addison falls asleep, it doesn't look peaceful anymore. In fact, it terrifies Kennedy to see her eyes closed in this way. She wants her to keep them open always, but she can't tell her that. Not when it's such a struggle for Addison to even speak now. Kennedy merely has to endure the fear, like she's been doing every day up until this point.

She sits cross-legged on the chair, absentmindedly still softly humming bits of the lullaby to herself. Gemma's gone out to bring both of them some clothes from the flat and Harry's lost in thought in his chair, tapping his uneasy foot as usual.

''I have an idea,'' he tells her softly, breaking the silence, ''But you're not going to like it.''

She raises her head to meet his gaze. ''Then don't tell me.''

''You need money, Kenn. Desperately.''

''Yes, I'm poor,'' she sighs, ''Let's scream it to the world.''

''Family helps family.''

The insistent look written all over his face tells her he doesn't mean him this time. He means someone far worse and farther back in her past than she wants to go digging.

''No,'' she firmly decides.

''At least hear me out.''

''I'm not asking my parents for help. Never in a million years.''

''Kenn, look at her.'' He motions down to the toddler asleep beside the hand that clutches hers. She obliges. ''She needs you. She can't afford to see her mother constantly looking like she's about to fall apart. And she can't afford not getting a test or a treatment because those bloody card companies won't allow it. Please, Kenn.''

''You think I want this for her? This is the last thing I wanted. Ever. But I can't, Harry. I can't ask them. You don't understand.''

''At least try,'' he suggests, ''You never know what could happen.''

''I left them back at home, Harry,'' she tells him sadly, ''I know what could happen if I bring them back in.''

''What?''

''They could break me all over again.''



In the back of his mind, he knows he's dreaming. But he wishes he didn't. It would make this all seem exactly what he wishes it would be: real.

He sees one person and one person only. It's not the first time this person's been seen in his dreams, but it's the first time she's shown up looking like this. Her long chestnut waves of hair cascade down her back and the apples of her cheeks are touched with the gentlest shade of blushing pink. The white dress she's decorated in looks exactly like the one her mother once wore to a dance, embellishments and all.

He watches as she walks in sync with the man beside her, her arm neatly draped into his. She smiles at Harry and it's his smile. His dimples looking back at him. But she has her mother's eyes and that's his favorite part.

Her lips stretch into a bright grin as the man beside her takes her waist and they begin to move in sync, sharing their first dance as a married couple. Harry merely watches on, the joy in his heart the most alive it's ever been.

This is his entire dream and it lasts for hours, replaying the scene of him first laying eyes on her when she walks down the aisle. Addison's the definition of beautiful and his eyes sting because he wants so badly for this to happen. For this day to come true in the future. For her to have this life, not the one dictated by lab tests and white sterile walls.

He startles awake because he thinks he hears her cry, but his eyes open to find her still sound asleep. On her lap sits Kennedy's head, also long gone. She looks uncomfortable. Her neck is twisted in a mangled position, and Harry sees it doesn't help with her chronic migraines.

After noting the time---somewhere around seven in the evening---he rises and walks over to the other side of the bed. He reaches for her gently, setting her back against the chair so that she's properly supported. Then, he unzips his hoodie and drapes it over her to keep her warm. His fingers accidentally brush over the skin of her arm and it sparks an outpour of memories in his head. But once again, he pushes them out. Friends, he shouts in his head to remind himself. Friends.

''You ready to go?''

He turns to put a face to the voice he hears behind him, landing on Miranda and her unease. He's never seen her look more like a rigid rock than right now.

''Yeah,'' he nods, remembering their plans to grab dinner. He doesn't want to go. He'd rather stay here with Addie. But he can't neglect Miranda entirely like he's been doing and he'll admit it. ''Just give me one second.''

After picking up a spare piece of one of the old testing forms, he flips the paper over and scribbles a note for the others to find in case they awaken and wonder where he's off to. Then he leaves it on his chair and turns to the woman in the doorway.

''Let's go.''



Fearing their last encounter at a restaurant, Miranda chooses to have their meal at her place and order pizza instead. It's a nice change for Harry. He's grown tired of the hospital food.

''How's Addie doing?'' Miranda asks after chewing on a bite of her slice.

It's obvious that talking about the child now depresses him almost instantly.

''I can't bear to look at her, Ran. She breaks my heart,'' he tells her sadly, ''It's like she's disappearing in that bed before my eyes.''

''She'll be okay,'' she tries to nod.

''All I think about is her. I can't imagine what would happen if...''

''Don't think like that, Harry. She'll be okay.''

He doesn't know how she can be so casual about it. Maybe it's because the attachment isn't there. But he admires her optimism.

''I've been meaning to ask you,'' he begins, ''About the test. For the transplant. Gemma and Kenn are taking theirs soon. I talked to my mum as well. Would you consider---''

''I can't, Harry. My job would freak if I take time off.''

''It's just one day. Two if, God willing, you're a match.''

With a sigh, she looks down at her knees. ''I can't, Harry.''

''Please, Miranda, we can save her. We can do it.''

She's silent for too long and with each second that passes, his disappointment grows.

''How could you just say no? Not even try?''

As if her annoyance is on the tip of her tongue but she's holding it back with everything she has, she hastily sets down her pizza slice and turns from him.

''What?'' he notes her suddenly defensive stance.

''I have been trying, Harry. Really hard. I've been visiting and putting up with rarely seeing you and trying so damn hard to get that girl to like me, but it's not working.''

He should tell her it's not true and that Addison does like her, but he knows it's a lie as well as she does.

''She's just a little girl, Miranda,'' he says softly, ''And she's hurting. She doesn't know.''

''You're always there. You're never here. With me.''

''Miranda, she's dying. How can you be so selfish? She's my daughter and you expect me to put down everything and stay with you?''

''How do you even know?''

''What? That she's my daughter? Are you mad?''

She shakes her head. ''I'm realistic, Harry.''

''She's my daughter. I can feel it.''

''All I'm saying is after everything you told me about Kennedy, she doesn't seem like the most trustworthy person in the country.''

''I've never told you anything about Kennedy.''

''You said she was your ex and that she hurt you. That's all I needed to know.''

''I was angry when I told you that...''

''But you know what I don't understand, Harry? How, after everything she put you through, you still want to be with her.''

He feels tingles spark up the back of his neck. ''No, I don't. We're just friends.''

''I'm not blind, okay? I see the way you look at her. The way you wrapped her up in that hoodie of yours. I see it, Harry. It's all there.''

''No,'' he firmly shakes his head, ''I don't want to be anything more than friends with her. I don't.''

''That's what she wants. Not you.''

He gulps. ''You don't know anything.''

Miranda grips at the pinched space between her eyes and shuts her lids tight. ''Tell me the truth, so I can stop getting hurt.''

''Hurt?''

''Yes, hurt, Harry. She's not the only one capable of causing it.''

''Ran, I---''

''It hurts because I really do love you,'' she tells him, ''I really wanted this to work.''

He turns away from her and finally can't stand those three words anymore. ''I wish you would stop saying that.''

''What? That I love you? Are you that heartless?''

''You don't love me!'' his voice raises, ''You love the idea of me. You love having someone here that you can dress up and boss around. You'd say you love anyone as long as they do what you say. You don't even know me, Miranda. You didn't even care to try. I don't see any love in your eyes. When you love someone, they can look at you and you just know, just like when Kenn---''

Wide-eyed, he catches himself before the name is sounded in its entirety. He's taken aback by his own words, shocked in the moment.

It's quiet for a long time until Miranda finally speaks.

''Look me in the eye and tell me the truth,'' she says blandly.

Fearful of his own answer, he meets her gaze.

''Do you love her?''

He realizes in this moment that everything he's been forcing himself to succumb to has been a lie. A cold, mangled lie. He's been doing it for her sake. For Addison's sake. For selfless reasons that would be noble if they weren't so cowardly towards his own feelings.

He stares into Miranda, her blue eyes glassy with tears threatening to surface depending on what word escapes his lips. But somewhere in there he can tell she knows what it is before he says it. She's expecting it, and that's the worst part. That even she, who knows him so little, can see this and he couldn’t.

He doesn't take a breath beforehand. He merely throws down his weapons and lets it out, raw and revealing.

''Yes,'' he surrenders.