Safe & Sound

The atmosphere in the room is tense. Both Harry and Addison have been whisked away into separate departments: Harry to put him under and extract the marrow. Addison to conduct the last round of radiation to prepare her body to receive it. Kennedy, Gemma, and Anne are left with no choice but to wait, and despite having each other to lean on, ice cold apprehension lies in all three.

''I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my life,'' Gemma utters, rendering her magazine useless and tossing it to the side.

Beside her, Anne is restless as she rises from her seat and begins to pace. Kennedy sits in her usual chair, trying to remain as calm as possible as she huddles Charlie and Henry on her lap. The white bear not yet named sits on Harry's empty chair, waiting for him to return.

''It'll be fine,'' Anne assures, mostly to herself, ''Everything will be alright. No big deal, just like he said.''

As much as Kennedy cares for Harry, at this point she's more worried about Addison's recovery than his. She signed a long list of possible dangers that could arise for the child after the transplant, stating that she understands the risks. All Harry has to face are rare, merely plausible anesthesia complications.

It takes not even an hour for him to be brought back. The trio runs to check on him despite him still being unconscious. The doctors warn against a fever and a bit of discomfort, but otherwise he's done well and should be awake soon. Instantly, Anne exhales deeply in relief. But Gemma's and especially Kennedy's fears only strengthen when they hear Addison return a while later, her whimpers leaving a trail behind her as she's wheeled back into her room.

Kennedy rushes to her bedside in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe the pain away. The child is too weak to show her pain as evidently as she used to. There's no writhing or thrashing about or clinging to whoever she can get her hands on. She has no strength for any of that. There are only tears. But the same pain, if not worsened, is clear in her eyes.

''Please be brief,'' one of the doctors advises her. He's a new one Kennedy hasn't seen before, but she doesn't bother with introductions when he so hastily rushes her along. ''We need to give her the cells as soon as possible.''

Kennedy nods, accepting his instruction and returning her attention to Addison. The rest of the buzzing room around them seems to disappear as she leans into her daughter.

''You'll feel better after this,'' Kennedy promises.

Addison's breaths are shallow. Kennedy can tell even underneath the oxygen mask.

''And when you're all set, you can see Har---Daddy again.'' Kennedy ignores the shiver across the nape of her neck and focuses on flashing the child a convincing smile. It seems to be successful. She swears she almost sees the edges of Addison's mouth curl upwards.

''Be brave, my love.'' Kennedy presses her lips to her forehead and lingers for a moment. ''Everything will be okay.''

She feels Addison gently tighten her grip on her hand and knows that it's her way of telling her that she believes her and that she'll do as she says.

''I love you,'' are the last words she says to the child before the doctors ask for family to step out, the fearful onlooking Gemma included. Despite her obvious nerves, Gemma takes Kennedy's hand once she's out in the hall and assures her she doesn't need to worry.

''I wish it was that easy,'' Kennedy mumbles into her sleeve, fighting the tears already, ''I hate not knowing what's going to happen.''

''I'll tell you what's going to happen,'' Gemma objects, ''She's going to get better after this. I looked it up. These transplants are almost always successful, Kenn, especially with patients her age. The odds are in our favor.''

Kennedy nods, knowing all of this already. She practically has the success rate speech she was given memorized. But her love for Addison makes her concern inevitable, and as long as Addison's ill, she's inconsolable.

Giving Addison the marrow works differently than expected. She doesn't need to be put under like Harry. The procedure is more like a blood transfusion than the surgery Kennedy was expecting. She's happy about that much. But the fear returns when Gemma ushers her away, telling her it's no use waiting out in the hall by herself while the doctors do their work. She leads her back to Harry's room where she can at least try to keep occupied. Anne looks up from her book when they walk in and instantly asks about the child.

''She's okay,'' Gemma answers, ''They wouldn't let us watch.''

''I didn't think they would,'' Anne sighs. Her eyes scan over Kennedy's obviously unstable demeanor, but Kennedy doesn't notice.

Gemma turns to Harry, who's propped up now to ensure he can breathe while he's sedated. He looks peaceful with this eyes closed gently in sleep and face void of any lines. To Kennedy, this is the closest thing to seventeen-year-old Harry that she's seen since that last night they spent together up in her bedroom.

''How's he doing?'' Gemma asks, shaking off Kennedy's reminiscent thoughts.

Anne smiles. ''Good. He's coming round soon, I think. Been mumbling a bit here and there. Shouldn't be long. Kennedy?''

It takes a moment, but her attention is finally caught. ''Yes?''

''Can I talk to you outside?''

Kennedy feels her eyebrows press together in surprise. ''Sure,'' she nods.

Gemma can only look on, equally as confused, as Anne leads Kennedy out into the lobby. She's nervous for a reason that Kennedy's too distraught right now to see. She's worried that Anne suspects something, and if she does, that's one more person Kennedy has to relive her awful story for in order to explain everything.

But once the two are alone, ironically situated in front of the women's restroom where Kennedy downed those pills just a few days ago, Anne's eyes are sympathetic rather than accusatory. She examines Kennedy first, skimming over her sullen face that's grown nearly permanently frantic these past few months. She wastes no more time in extending her arms out and pulling her into her embrace.

Once the shock over the unexpected hug wears off, Kennedy nestles her forehead against her shoulder. She smells of flowers and delicate perfume, everything she remembers her smelling like. And she's warm. So very, very warm.

''When Harry was a baby,'' Anne tells her without loosening her arms for even a second, ''And he got his first fever, I was upset for days. Des kept telling me it's alright and that he'd be fine. Everyone gets one sometimes. But I couldn't help it. I was worried sick. I kept him with me constantly and he never once left my side until he was better than recovered. The same thing happened with Gemma.''

Her hands lower to take Kennedy's hands and hold her far enough to see her face.

''A mother's pain is immeasurable,'' she goes on, her eyes glassy, ''There's nothing like it. Now, I know that a bit of fever is nothing compared to what Addie is going through, but I want you to know that there's nothing wrong with worrying for her. Gemma and Harry love her as well, as do I, but what we feel isn't the same as what you feel. Just like how Des's concerns for Harry were different from mine. Not any less important or valuable, but just different.''

Kennedy understands exactly what she means, and strangely she feels more connected now to Anne in a way that she hasn't felt with anyone before. This is something only a mother can relate to, and despite how close she is to Harry and Gemma, this is something Anne shares with her that they can't.

''I can't imagine what you must be feeling,'' Anne continues, shaking her head, ''I don't know what I'd do if that were Harry or Gemma in that room. Just having Harry do this has got me on edge. But just remember this, alright, sweetheart? Your love for that little girl surpasses everything else and it's more powerful than you might think.''

Sympathetically, she smiles, and Kennedy musters up as much effort as she can to smile back.

''Thank you,'' she tells her. After an uneasy sigh, she adds, ''You're the mum I wish I had, Anne.''

She's hugged again and while her hair is patted down from the back of her head, she goes on to say, ''I appreciate the advice. It helps more than you know. And the hug as well.''

Anne chuckles softly, cupping Kennedy's face.

''You looked like you needed one,'' she says.

''I did.''

Staring back into her reassuring smile, Kennedy suddenly gets the urge to ask Anne a plethora of questions pertaining to parenthood, like how she dealt with her children growing up or how she built up the courage to watch them leave home or, to her dismay, even see their hearts broken. Anne is a box of wisdom and experience that she's dying to delve into. But the spinning questions in her head are ceased when Gemma jogs over, breathlessly yet happily utters that Harry is waking up, and returns to the room in an instant.

Anne and Kennedy jump to follow her. When they enter, a doctor is standing over him, bellowing loudly over and over, asking if he can hear him. Gemma stays glued to his side and Anne is quick to stand beside her.

''Mr. Styles, can you hear me, sir? Can you hear me?''

''Mate, the whole floor can hear you,'' Harry groggily answers after a few moments.

Even Kennedy cracks a smile. She watches as his eyes open in squints at first; the bright light is blinding. But soon he's conscious enough to make sense of the fact that the deed is done and the blurry faces surrounding him are his family.

Anne and Gemma are ecstatic to see him awake, kissing him and hugging him without end. Kennedy's heart is still a few doors down with Addison, but she's overwhelmed with a new sense of awe whenever she looks at him. He's a savior after what he's done, there's no doubt about it.

''How do you feel?'' Gemma proudly asks.

''Fine,'' he answers although it's mostly a lie. He has a headache, the anesthetics make his body feel floppy, and there's a strange pain in his hip that literally goes to the bone. But he doesn't complain. These petty side effects are well worth it.

''How's Addie?'' He turns then to Kennedy and she can almost smile at how hopeful his eyes look.

''They're doing it now.''

Instantly, he throws his head back against the pillows, biting down on his lip as he prays with everything he has that this goes well for her.

The doctor soon checks Harry's vitals and assures he'll be back later for a follow-up. But it isn't until he mentions that he should be up and discharged in a few hours that Harry sighs in relief.

''And Addie, too?''

''She'll need to stay for a few more weeks to monitor how she reacts, but if all goes well, yes, you can take her home.''

Everyone but Kennedy smiles at the idea. Addison has been in this hospital for far too long, suffering through far too much. But Kennedy knows of things about the hard journey ahead that the others don't. She can't even think that far into the future, as much as she so badly yearns to take the child home, far away from this deadly life of radiation and transplants and cancer. There are too many obstacles in their way until then, obstacles that she can't help but worry about.

Kennedy leaves Harry after some time and retrieves back to wait outside Addison's room. He's in good hands with his family and, oddly, being in their company at times feels like she's intruding. She gives them time to be a family and herself time to be alone.

Sitting in a chair outside where they're keeping her daughter, she rests her elbows on her knees and shuts her eyes. It feels strange not having a bottle of painkillers in her hand or back pocket anymore; the hospital confiscated the ones she still had. It's not easy for her to cope with all of this without them.

With her foot tapping uncontrollably, she hopes this will be the last time she feels this way. She convinces herself that it is. It has to be. Addison can only get better from this point onwards and she has to use that to fuel up some much needed optimism.



Unluckily for Anne, when the end of visiting hours comes around, Harry still hasn't been discharged. Reluctantly, she has to leave him until morning when the hospital reopens for guests. But with him acting so normal ever since he woke up, she's worrying less and leaving isn't as difficult as she foresaw.

As it's been for the past few weeks, Gemma is permitted to stay, but she spends most of her time now in the lobby, typing away term papers and online lecture notes on her laptop. There is little activity in the hospital with Harry basically on bed rest and Addie being monitored by technicians and nurses and oncologists, one after the other, each taking extensive notes on their uniform clipboards and insisting to everyone that they can't see the child until the first 24 hours of her assimilation are passed. The news is brutal to Kennedy. She has no idea how she'll manage an entire day in that kind of agony. But instead of sitting alone with her mangled thoughts, she retires back to Harry's room.

When she enters, he's asleep. But she doesn't mind. All she wants is the company and Gemma can't afford to be bothered with her schoolwork. Besides, watching him sleep is peaceful. He looks young again, as if all the worries he's ever felt, most of which were caused by Kennedy at some point, have been wiped away and in their place exists the youthful face she spent years memorizing in that flower field.

After the first hour of quiet, his eyes open to see her staring blankly at the far wall. It always scares him how she permanently looks like she's just seen a ghost walk by.

''Hi,'' he greets her.

She jumps at the sudden noise.

''Sorry,'' he chuckles.

Her hand reaches for her chest as she regains control over her breaths.

''Any news?''

Solemnly, she shakes her head. He's been asking about Addie practically every half an hour when he's awake and each time she has to give him the answer that neither of them likes.

''But no news is better than bad news, I guess,'' she points out quietly.

The room is silent for a moment until Harry suddenly smiles at a memory still fresh from not too long ago.

''When she opened her eyes and saw me,'' he explains, ''When I came back, I don't think I've ever seen anyone look that happy to see me in my entire life. Even Mum.''

That, Kennedy can smile about. It warms her to think of how much joy it must have brought to Addison to see that he'd returned for her.

''She asked me if I'd gotten sick again,'' he continues, his eyes darkening instantly, ''She could... She could barely get the words out. I was ashamed to answer, so I didn't. I just held onto her, and I told her that it wouldn't happened again and that this time I meant it.

''I didn't know where you were when that was happening but you weren't there. I looked for Gemma to find out why and that's when she told me about you. About the pills.

''I don't really know why I'm telling you this, but I feel like you have a right to know.''

Her eyes remain glued to her hands and she picks anxiously at her fingers. ''I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have Gemma and you, especially when that happened. I was so stupid. I should've just counted the damn pills.''

She shakes her head, unhappy with herself. It seems she's always unhappy with herself.

''And it looks so bad because everyone thinks I did it on purpose. You believe me, right?''

He's hesitant to answer. The question has been bouncing around in his mind for a while. There are many possibilities that he honestly wouldn't rule out when it comes to Kennedy. If he had to guess, he'd say that her overdose was more of a cry for help than anything else. And sufficiently it worked. It got him to come running.

''I believe you,'' he partially lies.

''Good, thank you.''

''But please, Kenn. Be more careful.''

Stiffly, she nods. She's been told this too much for the past few days. She doesn't need to be. She knows that she serves no good purpose for Addison if she's lying in her own bed next to her, unless it's for a deed as crucial as the one Harry has just performed.

Before she has the chance to thank him for the millionth time, she hears him hiss and stir uncomfortably under his blanket.

''What's wrong?'' She eyes how his hand flies to his side.

''Nothing,'' he tries to say as convincingly as possible, ''It just hurts a bit. Can you hand me the medicine on the table? Please.''

She rises and walks toward where he points, reaching for the small cup of water and another smaller cup of little white pills. These pills look new to her. They're probably much stronger than what she's used to. Vicodin, perhaps. Harry's been prescribed it for his pain. They look tempting, to say the least. Surely they'd ease the throbbing in her head. They might even completely get rid of it for a while. All she'd have to do is take one, easily concealed inside her sleeve or between her fingers. No one would ever know and Kennedy could finally get a sliver of peace of mind.

Harry is aware of all of these very plausible ways for her to get her hands on painkillers. His eyes bore holes into her back as he tests her.

But, much to his pleasant surprise, she passes.

He's handed both the water, full to the brim, and the cup of pills, all three of them that he saw his nurse bring in still in tact.

He smiles at Kennedy, but she's oblivious as to why.

''Thank you,'' he sings when he takes them from her, downing the pills with satisfaction knowing that after all of this, there is hope that she's finally going to be okay.



''Kenn, wake up. Kennedy. Ellis. Wake. Up.''

The sudden jerking of her shoulder startles her, but she's thankful of it. It saved her from yet another nightmare. They've become nearly constant now and she must admit she prefers not sleeping at all over this.

Gemma is kneeling before her with a gentle smile.

''Morning, sunshine.''

Kennedy rubs her eyes sheepishly. ''Morning?''

''Well, two in the morning but morning nonetheless.''

Her shoulders are covered in something soft that wasn't there a few hours ago when she so reluctantly fell asleep. She looks down and sees it's a hoodie. Judging by the size and the subtle scent of cologne coming from it, it's Harry's. She looks to him immediately. He's out of his gown now, eating one of the cupcakes casually on the bed, dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a beanie. He grins, mostly at her look of confusion.

''He can't leave yet,'' Gemma explains, ''But they let him shower and get dressed. No more IV's either. Anyway, get up.''

''What for?'' Kennedy fears she's about to be forced to eat another meal she can't finish. But the answer that Gemma gives is the one she's been hoping for for ages.

''To see Addie.''

Kennedy can't ignore Harry's widened eyes. She knows how difficult it must be for him not to be able to see her yet.

''God,'' he groans impatiently, ''It's mental. I'm perfectly fine and they won't let me walk a few feet to see her. At least tell her I'm here, okay?''

Gemma assures him that they will before taking Kennedy's hand and beckoning her forward. Just for a sense of comfort, Kennedy doesn't leave behind the hoodie and Harry notices.

The pair walks down the hall, all the while Kennedy pulls the garment over her head. It brings her down to Earth and she desperately needs to stay here, especially now.

When they reach the room, Kennedy freezes in her tracks.

''It's empty?''

The blood begins to drain from her body the more she stares at the made bed and machines turned off.

''Okay,'' Gemma quickly breathes, looking around the department, ''Okay, let's relax. She's probably been moved. You'd think they'd mention that to avoid this exact dilemma...''

As usual, Gemma is the rational one and starts for the front desk while Kennedy remains unmoved in her spot in front of the room. It's too much of a scare for her. She sees the chairs that she and Harry and Gemma spent so many sleepless nights in have disappeared and it quickens her pulse to a rate she can't handle.

''Come on,'' Gemma soon hooks her arm through Kennedy's, ''She's in the ICU.''

She uses the walk down the stairs to thaw out and clear her mind of the grueling scenario she just thought out. Gemma pulls her along and when they reach the Intensive Care Unit, she's the one who asks for Addison.

''Right this way,'' one of the nurses urges. They expect her to take them straight to the child's room, but they take a detour to someplace that looks more like a big metal bathroom than anything else.

It's explained that they have to be properly sterilized before going in to see her. That means washing hands and taking every precaution necessary, all to make sure Addison doesn't get sick.

''She can't afford an infection,'' the nurse tells them as they roll up their sleeves, ''Even an easily treated one for us would be dreadful for her, so please be thorough.''

Kennedy takes double the time washing up that she's encouraged to take, and when she and Gemma are ready, they're escorted to Addison's new room.

It's a bigger one. With glass walls and a glass sliding door. She has three more intricate looking machines keeping her company and a doctor's already in there, looking quite identical to them in their swishy blue hospital smocks and white masks. They enter and instantly Kennedy is by Addison's side.

''Addie,'' she sighs in relief, relishing in the sight of her eyes open and alert.

Gemma shakes the doctor's hand through the gloves and walks around the other side.

It's hard for the child to recognize her visitors underneath their masks and it takes her a moment to identify the familiar waves of her mother's hair that she so used to love playing with.

''Mama?'' she asks in a hoarse voice.

''Yes, it's me,'' Kennedy smiles even though she can't see it. Her eyes already start to water. ''Do I look funny?''

Addison's voice is drawn out but she's able to speak many more words compared to yesterday.

''A bit,'' she answers.

Kennedy brushes a stray strand of hair from the child's forehead and wishes so badly that these awful latex gloves didn't prevent her from feeling her skin.

''Hi,'' says quite a cheerful voice from behind them. Gemma and Kennedy turn to acknowledge the other person in the room that they were too hung up to greet.

''Oh, hello.'' Kennedy extends her hand.

''I'm Dr. Holmes. How do you do?''

The woman shaking Kennedy's hand has a certain vibe to her that makes her suddenly feel very calm and it's not just because of the fact that this is the first time in weeks that one of Addison's many doctors has thought to properly introduce themselves.

''I'm Kennedy, Addie's mother.''

''Lovely to meet you,'' the doctor answers. She can't see her face entirely, but she can tell by her eyes that she's smiling.

When she turns to Gemma, Gemma struggles with how to exactly introduce herself.

''I'm a, um, family friend. I think.'' She coughs awkwardly. ''Anyway, can we call you Sherlock, then?''

Dr. Holmes merely laughs at Gemma's attempt at a joke and lets go of her hand.

''Watson was the doctor, actually, but I get that a lot,'' she answers, ''Anyway, Miss Addison here looks great so far, but we're going to keep watching her to make sure things stay that way.''

After many thanks from both parties and a long list of do's and don't's for when entering and exiting the room, Dr. Holmes departs and leaves her young patient with the family she's been asking about for hours.

''Look, they even brought Charlie and the gang.'' Gemma points to the toys on one of the chairs and brings Addie's best bear to her.

''Thank you, Auntie Gemma,'' Addison breathes shallowly.

The word threatens an emotional outbreak in Gemma but Kennedy controls it.

''How do you feel?'' she asks the child below her. Her skin is still as pale as ever, nearly translucent. Patches in her eyes are bloodshot. Her left arm looks entirely dressed in needles and tubes going in every which way. The sight itself tells her the toddler feels awful and yet she still asks.

''Maybe a five,'' Addison answers.

Her mother tries not to be too saddened by the fact that she's now using her pain scale for even things like this. Before, it used to be ''good,'' ''bad,'' ''fine,'' or ''awful, Mama, please make it stop.'' But now it's become numbers. Now it's a five or God forbid someday another ten.

''Where's Daddy?''

Gemma clears her throat in preparation, used to answering this when Kennedy lacks the courage to. But this time, Kennedy surprises her.

''He's here,'' she tells Addison with a reassuring nod, ''But he can't be here in person right now. He will soon.''

Slowly, Addison's free hand weakly travels to the spot over her heart.

''He said he's here,'' she says softly before moving that same hand and pointing it to the bed, ''When he's not here.''

Kennedy smiles, nodding encouragingly. ''Yes, he is.''

Weakly, Addie's eyes look around at the area surrounding her mother's head. ''It's new.''

''The room?'' Kennedy clarifies, ''Yes, sweetheart, you have to be here for a little while because it's safer. It's bigger, too. Isn't it nice?''

''Am I going to get better now?''

Kennedy swallows hard. The child asks the hardest questions even when she doesn't realize it.

''Yes. You want to know how?''

Addison is too weak to nod, but she tells her yes.

''Because,'' Kennedy sighs, taking her hands, ''Daddy gave you a very special present.''

The toddler's eyes fall questioningly to Charlie and the other toys as if expecting another.

''Not that kind of present,'' Kennedy shakes her head, ''You can't really see this present.''

''Why not?''

''Because, Addie, he gave you a part of him.''

Gemma has to hide as she wipes the corner of her eye. The way Kennedy explains it in such terms is heart wrenching.

''What part?''

''The very best part,'' Kennedy smiles, ''The center of him.''

''But... Why?''

''Because he loves you.''

She can see Addison is still trying to figure out how it all makes sense in her tiny brain.

''I love him, too,'' she says before her head falls slightly to the side, pressing her cheek against her mother's hand. Kennedy caresses her skin, knowing how difficult and frightening all of this must feel for her.

''I want to go home,'' Addie says suddenly after some time and it breaks Kennedy's heart into a billion pieces.

''Soon, sweetheart. Soon.''