Safe & Sound

The morning has been difficult. Excruciating in every way possible. It starts in the early hours of what most would still consider nighttime when Addison woke up in a painstaking frenzy. No one knows what’s happening as she shakes, dropping her toys and pillows to the floor. No one has any explanation for it other than she’s in pain from the treatment despite it being the most advanced stage they have to offer her. The doctors merely settle on sedating her again to put her out of her misery for a while until they can figure out what's going on and what more they can do. But deep down, everyone knows there will always be more questions than answers.

After the child's traumatizing outcry, neither Kennedy nor Harry can fall back asleep in their respective chairs. They simply stare off at random places like the far wall or the dull laces of their shoes. If it were under circumstances even remotely resembling normality, they’d talk. They’d comfort each other and soothe the awful thoughts spinning around in their brains. But they don't say a word to each other. Not one syllable.

All Kennedy can think about is finding a way to tell him without running out of time. That and the grueling sight of her daughter's body writhing against the sheets from moments before.

All Harry can think of aside from Addison was his realization with Miranda. She'd timely excused herself from the meal after his answer to her question last night and they haven't spoken since, but that much doesn’t bother him as much as what that answer had been.

Eventually, come afternoon, it’s time for Kennedy to do her test for the transplant. The doctors are thorough, taking blood samples and saliva swabs and never leaving a single stone unturned. All the while she imagines Harry in this chair, happily giving his blood, unknowing what dreadful news it might lead him to.

Now, as Kennedy sits in the waiting lobby, she can't fight the hot tears streaming down her face. She buries herself into the crook of her elbow, hiding from the outside world, wishing so much that she could fall out of it and escape to someplace else where this kind of heartache doesn't exist.

''Addie's still asleep, but she was shivering so I got an extra blanket,'' she hears Gemma's voice a few feet away, gaining on her. Her tone livens the moment she sees. ''Kenn? What's wrong?''

Kennedy feels her take the seat beside her and start to rub her hand over her back.

''They told me I'm not a match,'' she cries into her sleeve.

Gemma holds her tighter, knowing the feeling. She was told she wasn't a match either.

''We're never going to find one,'' Kennedy whimpers, ''Or when we do, it'll be too late.''

''Hey, no pessimism is allowed here. Don't say that. We are going to find one. We still have plenty of people to test, alright?''

''I'm her mother. I should be able to give her whatever she needs and I can't give her this.''

''Kenn, stop it. You've given her everything she could possibly need. This one thing that you can’t isn't your fault. So your tissues aren’t compatible. Remember they said it’s not rare that even the closest related people aren’t matches?''

Kennedy looks up from her hiding spot, revealing her wet and swollen eyes.

''What if we don't find one?'' she asks quietly.

''No 'what if’s,' okay? We're living in this moment. Not a hypothetical one. Hey, look at me.''

She meets her eyes once more, reluctantly at best.

''She'll be fine. We'll find a match. Have faith.''

Kennedy nods, trying to accept her optimism but knowing that nothing can make this awful thought in her mind go away. This thought that the rest of her innocent daughter’s life can lie in someone who, for whatever reason, won’t be found. It terrifies her to her core. It’s the most frightening thing she’s ever experienced, and it’s safe to say that she’s seen quite a few frightening things that would come close.

After Gemma excuses herself to return to the room with a last squeeze of her hand, Kennedy asks for a moment by herself. She needs to sort this problem once and for all. She can’t afford to have anything happen to Addison just because there’s no money for more tests to be done or treatments to find. She makes the decision after much argument with herself, declaring that she’s not doing this for anyone but that sick child in that room who desperately needs it.

She slips her trembling fingers into the front pocket of her jeans and pulls out her phone. Does she still have the number? She almost hopes she doesn’t. It would be an excuse not to do this. But her pride is shoved aside when the names pop up on the contact list and she presses the device to her ear.

Each ring is louder than the one before it, ramming unwanted vibrations into her head that she wants so badly to silence. She expects it once she hears a gentle voice.

“Ellis residence, this is Portia speaking.”

The woman is unfamiliar to Kennedy but she instantly knows who she is: yet another house maid. Her mother’s been known to go through them like a growing child buying clothes. When she was a child, she had a Maria, a Danielle, and a Florence, among the handfuls of others who were around for such a short time that she didn’t even learn their names.

“Hi,” Kennedy nervously breathes, “Is Richard or Rosetta available?”

“I’m sorry, madam. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis are out at the moment. Can I take a message?”

She clears her throat. Of course they wouldn’t be home. They’re never home.

“Just, um, tell them their daughter called.”



Gemma slouches back uncomfortably in the sunken lobby chair, balancing one of her psychology textbooks on her lap and clutching a highlighter in her hand. She's behind on schoolwork. She's been behind since she decided to return to London and involve herself with her brother and his dysfunctional life. She's stressing about the workload, but she has to admit she doesn't regret coming down here one bit. Not for Harry, not even for Kennedy, and especially not for Addison.

She hears footsteps approaching her from the main hall and assumes it must be someone she knows. It's too late in the evening for anyone else to be waiting in the lobby like this. All the parents of the other ill children are in their rooms, sleeping in their own rickety chairs and having their own fair share of nightmares. She looks up to spot Harry and it's hard to analyze his expression, but he's holding a folder of papers in his hand, papers that Gemma recognizes from the testing room.

''Have you seen Kennedy?'' he asks in a monotone. ''I need to talk to her. Now.''

Gemma's heart instantly jumpstarts like sending electric currents through a car, so fast she can feel the nausea building already.

''Last time I saw her, she was heading to the restroom,'' she tells him nervously, ''What do you need to talk to her about?''

He doesn't answer. He merely turns swiftly on his heel and stands in front of Addison's room to wait for Kennedy. His foot taps uneasily and from back in her seat, Gemma crosses her fingers that what he needs to discuss isn’t what she thinks it is.

Harry sees Kennedy walk down the hall from the restroom, looking down at her shirt to fix the hem neatly over her belt. When she's feet from the door, he takes her arm.

''Harry,'' she gasps, taken aback, ''God, are you trying to give me a heart attack?''

''I need to talk to you in private,'' he tells her, escorting her to one of the smaller waiting rooms and shutting the door. Her palms are suddenly sweaty.

He looks unreadable. She can't tell if he's angry or nervous or what. She's never seen him act like this before, completely still as he stands before her and just thinks. It isn't until she notices the papers in his hands that she feels like she's going to collapse to the floor.

''I have something I need to say,'' he tells her after a deep breath, ''And you just need to let me say it, okay? All of it.''

Nervously, she gulps. Her arms instinctively cross over each other and out of suspicion she keeps her eyes locked on him even though the width of his pupils is scaring her to death.

He’s uneasy now. He's fidgeting until he firmly grips the back of a chair with both hands, holding on so tightly that his knuckles turn a dusty shade of white. She's terrified he's going to confront her about her secret, and straight afterwards he's going to walk out.

Strangely and suddenly, his eyes begin to water. Her guilt begins to boil. He looks to her in agony and the words that escape him are the last thing she expects.

''I love you.''

Her breathing ceases.

''I'm a damn good liar, Kenn,'' he shakes his head, ''I can't pretend to be your friend anymore. I never could. I don't know why I even tried.''

The words are coming out in shambles now. The more he says, the quicker they shoot.

''I never stopped loving you. And I never can, I never will, and I never want to,'' he tells her with glassy eyes full to the brim with tears, ''I've had four years to wait to tell you and every year, I thought it would go away and I wouldn't have to say it, but it was always there. I just pushed it aside and I was wrong to because it hurt so much. It ruined me. I was a mess every single day because I couldn’t be with you.”

Now, she can't look at him at all. He notices and approaches her, forcing her to have to bear the raw pain written all over his twisted features.

''You can tell me you don't love me all you want, but it won't ever change the way I feel,'' he pleads, ''Because I can't shut this out anymore. It's killing me. I thought I could do it but I can't. I... I love you too much.''

She shuts her eyes tight, wanting to wake up from this torturous nightmare already. ''Harry, please...''

''I can't make you love me back,'' he goes on, louder to overtake whatever she has to say, ''I know I can't. But I had to tell you. You have to know. It's killing me to be around you and have to forget everything we had. It can’t be that easy for you either, no matter how easy you make it look.''

“I have to---''

''Let me finish. Please.'' He reaches to her sides and takes her hands, his voice gentler. ''I think it was meant to be. You having Addison. Maybe not exactly the way it happened, but it was fate, Kenn. That you and I would be together again like this. That even after all of those years, we’d wind back up in each other’s lives. With her.''

She wants to scream.

Her hands are freed when he returns to the chair where he set down the folder of forms. He picks it up and holds it gingerly in his hands.

''I'm a match, Kenn,'' he tells her with bright eyes. He grips the folder like it’s the most valuable thing he’s ever held.

He ushers it to her and with shaking fingers, she takes it and flips through the papers. In them lies only the tissue results. No blood. No DNA. He doesn't know.

She could have kept her secret all along. She could have gone about the rest of her life with him not knowing and she would've been happy because he loved her.

But she can't do this anymore. Not when her guilt is boiling over and there are plenty of other ways in the world for him to someday find out the truth. The folder drops to the floor and her hands fly to her head, pulling at the roots.

''Oh, God,'' she cries out, ''This can't be happening.''

She knows the moment she tells him, there's a chance her daughter will die without this match.

''God, I want to die.''

He's silent before her.

''I can't take this anymore!''

Almost immediately, she removes her hands from their spots tangled in her hair and shuts her eyes, trying to contain herself.

''Harry, please,'' she whispers between deep breaths, ''Please listen to everything I'm about to tell you. I'm begging you.''

She can't look at him. Not even for a moment.

''You... God, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.''

''It's okay,'' she hears him say, ''You don't have to say it back.''

''No!'' she shrieks, swinging her eyelids open and meeting his through the blurriness, ''Of course I love you, Harry!''

The breath is knocked out of him.

''But you're going to hate me! You're going to wish you'd never met me because your life would've been so much better off without me and my lies!''

''I'll never hate you,'' he rushes to hold onto her arms, ''Never. I'll always...''

His voice draws out to a silence as he clarifies what she's just said.

''Lies?'' he repeats in a whisper.

''Yes!'' she cries out, mentally exhausted, ''Lies, Harry. About everything.''

''What are you talking about?''

''I don't know who it is!'' she screams, ''I don't know who Addison's father is!''

Seconds pass and it hasn't sunken into him yet. It takes a moment to delve through to his bones and then his heart, slowing it until he can't feel any part of his body at all.

''What?'' His voice is so small, he can't even hear it.

Slowly he removes his hands from her trembling shoulders, suddenly not wanting to touch any inch of her. He doesn't even want to be in this room anymore.

''No,'' he shakes his head, ''It can't be. It’s me. It has to be.”

''Please,'' she begs, ''Please do the transplant, Harry! She's going to die!''

He backs away from her, against the wall.

''Did you cheat?'' he asks in horror, “When we were together?”

''Please---''

''Because that’s the only way… She had to have been... It had to have been at that time... That same...''

''Listen to me, Harry!''

''No!'' he suddenly yells out, ''Why is there even a chance that it’s not me? How could you do this to me? I trusted you! You said the word and I believed you! I believed you in a heartbeat, Kennedy!''

Violently, he turns the knob of the shut door and storms out, leaving her shrieking after him not to go. He doesn’t care if he follows her. He doesn’t care if she doesn’t. He doesn’t care about a single thing in this moment but getting the hell out of here.

''Did you know?'' he bellows at Gemma, who's still sitting in her chair, frozen.

''Harry, take a deep---''

''Gemma, don’t fucking test me right now! Did you know!?'' His voice fills the walls to the brim and the pain in it is heartbreaking.

Gemma remains silent.

His tears flow without end, his entire body shaking and pounding with anger and sadness and the worst kind of heartache he's ever felt in his life.

“How could you still be here, knowing all this time?” he speaks in a barely audible voice, twisting his face into the deepest, purest look of shame and disappointment towards Gemma that she’s seen in her life.

He begins to turn on his heel when she cries out.

“You promised me, Harry! You promised you wouldn’t leave her!”

He says nothing in response. Without a second thought, he leaves his sister and walks out, numb with each step he takes, turning his head firmly away from the room when he walks by Addison and keeps going without a glance back.