Safe & Sound

Kennedy takes a deep breath to calm her sudden nerves and nearly laughs. The mask bunched in her hands is folded over multiple times as she shakes her head in disbelief. She takes the nearest seat out of fear that she may collapse at any moment and the last thing she wants right now is to attract attention to herself, especially from Harry, who would undoubtedly come to her side and ask what's the matter. And she can't guarantee that she won't scream out the news at him at the top of her lungs with the biggest smile she can possibly muster up. Of course, that's what she wants to do in this moment. More than anything. But there's a tiny, alerting voice in the back of her mind, growing louder with each passing second, that warns her to wait a moment. Breathe. Think it through.

He's made one thing clear: he doesn't want to know. Besides, what if she's rushing to conclusions? Maybe, for whatever the reason, that's not what Dr. Holmes meant at all. There could still be a mystery surrounding Addie's birth father, a mystery that Kennedy has lived with for the past three years and can manage living with it for a bit longer until it's more than absolutely certain that Harry is the answer and no one else.

But the more she thinks about it, the more she wants to tell him. The more her heart swells at the idea that it's him. It's always been him and, now, it will always be him. She's smiling in her seat and she doesn't even realize it. He may have said he doesn't want to know because he'd love Addison all the same, but Kennedy sees that, in wholehearted honesty, who wouldn't want to know?

Although one side is clearly being favored more than another over whether or not she should tell him, she's still at a crossroads. She understands that the most important thing at this point is not to get his hopes up. Not again. Not after all the brokenhearted disappointments she's caused him. This time, she has to be sure. She has to tell him the entire truth. No more secrets, no more lies. So she sets off for the only way she can give that to him: back towards Dr. Holmes' office.



Gemma sits with her laptop balanced on her knees; the fan blows out hot air onto her forearms and it got uncomfortable after the first few hours. She makes a mental note that once her little brother's drama boils over and Addison is well at home, she has to head back to school instead of relying on doing everything online.

To save himself the hassle of having to remove his sterile gear and come out to ask her, Harry types a message to his sister from Addison's room and she swiftly turns to read it:

Have you seen Kenn?

Her eyes, nearly cross-eyed from staring at the computer screen for so long, roll melodramatically.

She texts: Lost her already?

He doesn't respond and, amused, she knows he's simply awaiting a serious answer.

She gives him one: Haven't seen her. Bathroom maybe. Least she doesn't have pills...right?

None that I know of. Ok I'll wait.

Gemma gives him ten, maybe fifteen minutes of patience before she predicts he'll message her again. But to her surprise, an hour passes and she's heard nothing. Once she sees Kennedy turn the corner and enter the room, she chuckles under her breath.

When evening rolls around, visiting hours are nearly up and Gemma's too enthralled in an essay to notice her mother going into Addie's room to bid everyone goodbye and coming out much too quickly. Her boots make quite loud meetings with the linoleum as she scurries in her direction.

''Gemma.''

Gemma doesn't remove her concentration from the screen. ''Night, Mum. Coming back next week, yeah?'' she mumbles distractedly.

Anne doesn't reply. Instead, she struts over to the chair and stands directly in front of it, too fuming for her thick coat and scarf.

''Please,'' she begins, her voice low, ''If you could be so kind, explain to me why in the bloody world that little girl just used the word 'daddy' to refer to my son.''

Instantly, Gemma feels the color begin to drain from her face.

''What?'' she attempts to be as equally as surprised, ''When did she say that?''

''Just now,'' Anne answers in a rush. Gemma can see the shock in the pupils of her eyes even from this distance. ''I went in to say goodnight. Harry and Kennedy were asleep in their chairs, but Addie was awake and asked if I wanted her to tell her daddy I said goodnight when he woke up next.''

Gemma gulps, cursing under her breath that it had to happen this way.

''I had my feelings, Gemma, but they were just feelings. I thought they were ridiculous because of course you lot would tell me if such a thing had happened, but evidently I was wrong.''

''Mum, please, it's a very long, complicated story---''

''That you are going to tell me right this second.''

Gemma widens her eyes. ''I don't think it's my place to explain it all, Mum. Please, understand.''

''Gemma, it's my Harry! My baby boy! Don't you think I have a right to know if my baby boy has...had his own baby? That I'm...a grandmother?'' Anne seems to freeze in her spot as something dawns on her. ''Jesus, is that why she left?''

Gemma bites her lip violently and shuts her laptop, beginning to shove books into her bag. She knows she has only one option at this point.

''I'll explain,'' she promises her mother, ''But not here. Not where Kenn can hear. She doesn't need to be put through all of that again.''

Gemma's swift hands pushing her belongings into the tote bag prevent Anne from seeing the graveness of the situation in her eyes.

''All of what?'' she asks, suspicious.

After slinging the bag onto her shoulder and taking her mother's hand, Gemma starts for the exit.

''You'll find out,'' she answers as they pass the room, glancing past Harry and Kennedy both seemingly fast asleep on either side of the child.



In comparison to what she's used to, this is entirely different. The walls aren't angled up towards the sky. The desks aren't uniform in color and style, and there's no navy blue tie round her neck or knee-high socks hugging her calves. The students are free to dress how they wish, which is new for her. None of them carry around briefcases or totes that match their blazers. They talk in small groups scattered around the hallway, most of them smiling. Laughing. Gossiping. Sharing stories. It's strange to see such interaction when what she's used to involves both silent lessons and silent halls.

She tells herself to stop being afraid. After all, she asked for this. Her mother's voice rings in her head: ''You'll see, Richard, she'll come running back to the academy in a week.'' She can't let that happen, especially after all the begging she endured to finally get her transfer.

It's a struggle to find her first classroom even with the map that's already wrinkled up in her nervous hands. Thankfully, she's not the only first-year student. A handful of others look a bit lost as well, even if it's already a month into the school year. She guesses that's what she gets for transferring late.

After spotting the room she believes to be hers, she realizes she's early. Much too early. There's no one in the room, not even the professor. She eyes the clock and sees the class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes.

Understanding that she has nothing else to do, she decides to wait. She finds a seat somewhat comfortably in the back and tugs uneasily at her sleeve.

It's a scare to be fifteen and the new kid.

After a long, useless while of staring around the room and imagining the seats soon being filled with strangers, she reaches into her bag and pulls out the textbook for the class. She has no idea what sections to read, but she wants more than anything to look busy instead of like a fish out of water when the other kids arrive.

Soon, amidst the low commotion of the hallway, she hears footsteps enter the room. She looks up from the random page she opened to to lay eyes on a boy most likely her own age, but he looks as if he actually knows what he's doing as he takes his seat a few chairs up and to the left.

She resumes her memorization of random words on the paper, but not for long. She glances in his direction and is somehow very curious to know what he looks like. His head is angled in such a way that she can't see his face, just the disheveled waves of hair framing it from the side. She sees he's reading a book, but it's not the same one as hers and suddenly she's nervous.

She clears her throat softly.

''Excuse me?''

She's granted access to his face as he turns in her direction. His eyes are alert and they're the most striking shade of green she's ever seen.

''Hello, um, is this English 107?'' she asks, forcing as convincing of a smile as possible to hide her nerves.

He seems to smile because it's obvious she's shaking in her shoes.

''Yeah, you're in the right place.''

''Oh, good,'' she breathes, ''Thanks. Sorry for disturbing you.''

Quickly, she returns back to her textbook and wonders if those were dimples she just saw or not. Some time passes before he turns to her again, this time marking his page and closing the book onto his desk.

''Are you new here?'' he asks out of curiosity.

She laughs halfheartedly. ''Is it that blatant?''

''Just a bit,'' he answers, smiling.

''I just transferred from St. William's. It's my first day.''

His eyebrows rise in surprise. ''You left St. William's to come here?''

She nods.

''Not to be rude or anything, but why? That school's one of the tops in the country.''

''It just wasn't my thing,'' she answers. She doesn't want to pull out the rich-kid-hates-her-parents-and-just-wants-to-rebel thing so early in the conversation.

''Well, you'll like it here. It's a bit different than private, but I've been here a month and it's not half bad.'' He tries his best to encourage her after seeing how her eyes fell onto her lap after he asked. ''I'm Harry, by the way.''

She smiles because his name seems to fit him so well.

''Like the prince?'' she teases.

''Yes, like the prince.''

''I'm Kennedy,'' she answers.

''Like the president?''

''Yeah,'' Kennedy laughs, ''My grandmother had a slight obsession with the presidents. She fancied JFK. I'm surprised my middle name isn't Roosevelt.''

Harry laughs and she decides she likes the sound very much. She wants to ask him more, maybe about what he plans to study later or some other aspect of small talk just to get him to keep talking. It's nice to now know at least one person. But the rest of the class seems to swarm in all at once, taking their seats and erupting in low conversation amongst each other. Others, mostly girls, begin talking to Harry and Kennedy returns her lonely attention to her textbook, oblivious to the glance he throws her way every now and then.

+++

It's a weekday, late in the afternoon. Her first term at her new school is nearly finished with the exception of her final exams, which she's been putting in overtime in the library to prepare for. After a dreaded glance at the time on her watch, she realizes she better get home before Florence tells her mother that she was late coming from school. She pulls her jumper over her shoulders and grips her bag, departing from the library.

On her way round the corner, she spots someone who has become quite a good friend to her over the months, especially with their English class. He's sitting on a bench with another girl, this time a blonde, but he's quick to stand and approach Kennedy instead.

''Hey,'' he waves.

''Hi, Harry.''

She doesn't ignore the subtle roll of the eye she receives from the girl he's just blown off.

''Studying for the English final?'' he nods to her laptop bag.

''Oh, no. Anatomy. I'm planning on doing English tomorrow.''

''Oh, alright,'' he smiles, ''So, where are you off to now?''

''Home.''

He notices her drop in tone instantly. He has yet to figure out why she hates going home so much. He has yet to figure out a lot of things about the girl who's sparked his interest like a firework.

''Are you walking?'' he offers, ''I'm about to leave myself. We can walk together.''

She notes his green eyes and how almost hopeful they look. The girl behind him takes it as her cue to scurry away. Kennedy's decline is on the tip of her tongue, but her heart makes her say it.

''That'd be nice, thank you.''

He's walked her home before and the first time he convinced her, he told her it was convenient because he lived nearby. But as time went on and she learned more about him and his sister, who's also beginning to become a good friend, it became obvious that he lived nowhere near her house on the hill. In fact, he lived all the way across town, and the only reason he ever offered was because he needed an excuse to see her more.

As they walk into her neighborhood, talking now about Gemma wanting them all to see a movie soon, Harry can tell that Kennedy's on edge. She always seems to change into her own nemesis when she enters the certain boundaries of her home.

''So, what do your parents do?'' he asks, slowing his pace a bit.

''They're doctors, naturally. Dad's a cardiovascular surgeon and Mum's an endocrinologist. If they bothered to tell me, I'm sure they'd want me to be a Dr. Ellis as well someday.''

''Kennedy Ellis M.D. has a nice ring to it,'' he tries to make her laugh but fails miserably.

When they reach the corner where Harry usually departs and they usually go their separate ways, he can't bear the sight of her dark eyes dreading walking up to that house any longer. He wants to buy her time without making it seem obvious.

''Hey, look.''

He starts for an open field he's located just off to the side of the footpath. It's decorated with small flowers, white ones today, and he beckons her to approach him.

''Nice space to play football, if you ask me,'' he smirks.

She tries to smile back equally as amused, but he doesn't buy it.

''Kenn, can I ask you something?''

Suddenly very self-conscious, she wraps her arms across each other and nods.

''Why are you so afraid?''

The question throws her off balance for a moment. She wasn't expecting him to care this much, despite them being friends. No one ever cares this much.

''I'm not scared,'' she mutters.

''You are. I can see it in everything you do.''

She can't tear her eyes away from the ground out of shame. The last thing she wants him to do is pity her.

''I'm just not a big fan of going home, that's all.''

He wants to press the subject and ask why, but he can guess. In the months that he's gotten to know her, she rarely ever speaks of her parents and when she does, it's as if a dark overcast shadows itself over her. It saddens him to see anything but a smile on her face.

''Okay,'' he nods nonchalantly, ''Then we'll stay out here a bit longer.''

She hears his bag drop and watches him take a seat on the grass, eventually stretching out his long limbs to lie down.

It surprises her that he's not embarrassed they'll be seen like this. ''What are you doing?''

''Do you ever just lie down and look at the sky? I feel like we all should more often.''

She laughs, mostly because he's acting odd.

''Are you coming?''

''No,'' she shakes her head.

''Come on, Kenn. The cloud over there looks like our professor.''

This time, she bellows out loud. He's genuinely strange to just want to lay out like this and do nothing. Surely, her neighbors will talk. They'll probably tell her parents on their occasional gossiping in the garden. That part appeals to her more than she realized it would.

''Oh, alright...''

Kennedy joins him swiftly, stretching out along the grass, unintentionally pressing her shoulder against his. She tries to see what he sees. She tries very hard to overcome her embarrassment and lose herself in this moment.

''See, look,'' he extends his arm to point to the cloud, ''It's got the hair and everything.''

She squints her eyes to see it, but no matter how she turns her head, she can't make out the outline of the woman who teaches them English Lit.

''Harry Styles, you're the strangest person I think I've ever met,'' she laughs under her breath.

''Well, are you at least glad to have met me?''

She takes a moment to glance over at him, scanning over his eyes that stare up at the blue sky. They seem brighter and she nearly stares for too long.

''Yeah,'' she smiles, turning her head back, ''I have to admit this is sort of nice. Just lying here.''

''It is. It's relaxing, although I think it's more for you than it is for me.''

She sighs, realizing she needs to explain this all further before he gets under the impression that her situation is worse than it actually is.

''My parents are just never at home,'' she tells him softy, ''They're busy. We've always been detached in a lot of ways. Sometimes the house gets a bit lonely, that's all.''

He turns so that he's on his side, resting his head on his hand towards her.

''When do they get home?''

''Really late. Usually after I go to bed. On their days off, they're in their offices or throwing fancy parties for a hundred of their closest friends.''

He smirks. ''Lots of suitors?''

''They've tried to set me up with so many,'' she rolls her eyes, ''I remember one owned an entire fleet of motorboats.''

Harry chuckles for a moment, but once the laughter dies down, it's quiet for a moment. Naturally, like they've done since the day he met her, his eyes find themselves gazing down at her face. She has her eyes closed now, taking in the breeze, and he has to admit she looks effortlessly beautiful.

''But this is nice,'' she begins to smile, ''It makes me feel like a little kid again.''

She opens her eyes to meet his and is momentarily taken aback by how he's staring down at her. But to her surprise, it's a good feeling to see him like this. In fact, she believes it's the best feeling she's experienced in a long, long time.

''Thank you,'' she tells him in a soft voice, not wanting to ruin this moment.

He doesn't respond verbally, but she doesn't need him to. She knows he's about to show her how much she's welcome by the way he slowly leans into her.

Their first kiss is perhaps the sweetest thing in existence that she can fathom. The way he brushes his lips against hers is ever so gentle, but she knows there's untapped potential in it that could someday become fiery and red hot. The voice inside her is screaming at her to give her the chance to find out.

''What was that for?'' she whispers when he pulls apart, just inches from her face.

Neither of them ignore the sparks that still seem to be ignited between them like electric magnets, waiting to be joined back together.

''I've been waiting to do that since you said hello.''



The morning sun shines through the blinds-covered window across the room and Kennedy slowly stirs. Her neck is stiff from yet another night on the chair, but nonetheless she feels well-rested. Her news from the evening before gave her perhaps the best night's sleep she's ever had.

As she feels the rest of her body awaken, the excitement jolts inside her. She searches for him immediately, looking to the still dreaming Addison first, but sees he's nowhere to be found. She rushes out of the room and pulls off the mask and gloves. She's about to start asking around for him when she sees Gemma walking over to her, surprisingly still dressed in her clothes from yesterday.

''I need to talk to you,'' Gemma tells her. The closer she gets, the more Kennedy can see the dark circles under her eyes.

''Are you alright? You look like you've been up all night.''

''Because I have,'' she laughs tiredly, ''I was at Mum's place.''

Kennedy creases her eyebrows together. ''Why?''

''I had to tell her, Kenn. She went into the room last night and Addie let it slip. I had to explain. I'm sorry I didn't clear it with you first but you were asleep.''

Kennedy feels her stomach fall a bit, but she must admit underneath it she's somewhat relieved.

''It's alright, at least she knows now.''

''She didn't take it well. She started crying. When she finally dozed off, I left her a note and came back to tell you.''

''She'll be alright. I'll talk to her,'' Kennedy nods, ''Listen, have you seen Harry?''

Gemma groans. ''You lot are constantly losing each other.''

''I have to tell him something.''

Kennedy smiles in such a way that suddenly makes Gemma think of her as the young Kennedy Ellis, young and carefree and even in love. She studies her face for a long while, sparkling eyes and all, before it dawns on her.

''No way,'' she mutters under her breath.

''I made certain. Last night. Had a long talk with the doctor and she showed me everything. I wanted to tell him when I came back to the room, but I couldn't wake him.''

Gemma erupts in a grin. ''No fucking way.''

Kennedy chuckles as she hushes her to keep down her excitement.

''You have to tell him now. Oh, God, he's going to cry.''

''That's what I'm trying to do,'' Kennedy laughs, ''But I woke up and he was gone.''

''Oh, he went to the flat. I saw him on my way in. Said he needed to get some things and didn't want to disturb you.''

''His flat?'' Kennedy clarifies, ''I don't know where that is.''

''Come on, I'll take you.''

She shakes her head. ''No, stay with Addie. Please. I'd feel so much safer with you here.''

Gemma groans. ''And miss this? Ugh, fine, but I want details later.''

Hurriedly, she gives Kennedy the address and, after a shower and proper change of clothes, Kennedy's on her way. She hails a taxi from outside the hospital and twiddles her thumbs the entire ride, wondering how in the world she's going to break such news to him in the best way possible.

He turns out to live not far from her own now abandoned flat. It baffles her to think that, all these years, he's been just a few streets over. She spots his car out in the parking lot, the Honda still as silver and sparkling as ever, and quickly gets out of the taxi as if her shoes have suddenly caught fire.

After she pays and mutters a quick thanks to the driver, she takes off for the building. The button with the flat number that Gemma wrote on her hand is pressed and it takes a brief moment but his voice soon sounds from the intercom.

''Yes?''

''Harry, it's Kenn. Can I come up?'' she tries not to sound too excited but she doesn't believe she's doing a very good job.

''Is Addie alright?''

''Yeah, yeah, sorry.'' She jumps to answer. ''She's fine. She's with Gemma.''

''Oh,'' he sounds a bit perplexed, likely towards why she's here then, ''Yeah, come on up.''

He unlocks the main door for her to enter and she's proud that he's found such a nice place to live. She has little time to marvel over the sleek staircases and clean, minimalist design of the building as she jogs to find his door. He turns out to be waiting for her in front of it, a towel draped over his shoulder.

''Hey,'' she grins and pulls him into a very unexpected hug. From his spot atop her shoulder, he's pleasantly surprised.

''Not that I'm not happy that you are, Kenn, but why are you here?''

She waits until he shuts and locks the door to smile once more.

''And why are you so happy?'' he asks with a laugh.

The towel catches her attention and she's quick to realize he has reasons to stop at home this morning.

''Oh, sorry, you were busy,'' she jumps to apologize.

''I just came back to get some things. Figured I'd shower as well. The gym one at the hospital is impossible for me.''

''Of course. Go on, it can wait.''

''Are you sure?''

She nods fervently. The last thing she wants is to tell him this in a rush. Waiting would buy her time to think it through as well.

''Alright,'' he smiles, motioning to the living room,''Um, make yourself at home. Sorry, I would've cleaned if I'd known you were coming. I'll be ten minutes tops.''

After assuring him he can take his time, she takes a seat on the couch and awaits his return patiently. Amidst running through all the ways she can tell him, her eyes glance over the flat. It's nice. Spacious. She can tell his parents have a hand in paying for it, but she's happy for him nonetheless.

The mess is a different story. She laughs to herself as she looks around at the untidy piles of CD's and magazines sprawled across the coffee table. The remote control is lying clumsily on the floor and there are three unfinished water bottles on the television stand. It's amusing at first, but to her it's also disheartening. She imagines him lying here all those weeks he spent away from her and Addie, missing in action from even his sister. He must've been distraught for him to be this careless about his flat. Kennedy feels the hard sting in her chest at the guilt.

''Do you want something to drink?''

His voice startles her when he emerges in the doorway through which he went through just a few minutes ago. He's in a new long sleeve shirt and his hair is wet, and she wonders how quickly he jumped into and out of the shower just to be back in her company.

''Sorry,'' he laughs, his teeth bright. He's much too happy to see her here for the first time. ''I do that a lot.''

She smiles back, equally as amused. ''It's alright.''

''I can make us some tea if you'd like. And maybe give you a tour.''

''Water's fine, but I'll take that tour.''

He beckons her to follow him and she does, straight into the kitchen. There are a few glasses in the sink but he's thankful that he at least tidied up this room.

''Well, here's the kitchen,'' he states the obvious, opening the fridge to pull out two bottles of water and hand one of them to her. ''Rarely used but good for microwave dinners.''

''Don't tell me you only make omelettes for other people,'' she teases.

''Okay, you got me.'' He smiles before ushering her back into the living room. ''Living room slash dining room,'' he points to the table in the attached space, ''Again, rarely used.''

''You never eat at the table?''

''When Gemma or my parents come, yeah. But otherwise, no.''

She can't help but feel sorry that he's been so lonely all of these years, even with Miranda somewhat keeping him company.

''There's the balcony,'' he points to the sliding door, ''It's too cold out now, but around summer it gets nice. There's a cherry tree right across and it blooms like nothing you've ever seen. Addie told me she wants to see it one day.''

Kennedy smiles, envisioning Addison here in this flat before envisioning herself and Harry, one little family, all under one roof.

She follows close on his tail as he leads her down the hall. She doesn't ignore the subtle shift in his tone of voice, low and nearly anxious. His hands delve into his jean pockets.

''And here's my room,'' he tells her.

It looks almost identical to the room back at his mother's house. The room she escaped to with him on days when it was much too lonely at hers. The room where, on days when they'd get rained out from their flower field, they'd run into, entirely wet through and laughing and holding each other despite getting rain droplets all over his floor. This room here, with the exception of it being slightly bigger and slightly less lived in by an angst-ridden teenager, is exactly the same, and she's taken back instantly.

''You kept that,'' she points at the poster on the far wall of David Beckham that she bought for him on his first birthday that they spent together.

''Yeah,'' he nods, ''I've kept a lot. Didn't really feel like buying new furniture all over again.''

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. He admits that if he'd known she was coming today, he'd probably have spent hours redoing everything just so that she wouldn't know he really has been stuck back in those years all this time.

His nerves only heighten as he watches her walk around with half a smile. She examines everything, glancing over the desk and the bookshelf and the mirror by his closet. She used to check her hair in this same mirror all those years ago, and now she can't help but widen her eyes when the reflection staring back at her suddenly looks so different.

A few things scattered here and there are new, like his bed set and desktop computer. When her eyes land on the side table, she sees a picture frame and enclosed in it is an image of him, his mother, and Gemma at Gemma's first graduation. Kennedy smiles at it because they look so happy, but the smile quickly fades when she spots the box sitting beside it.

She feels her breath cease as her fingers trace along its edges. She's shocked he's kept it all this time. From his place leaning against the doorway, he bites down on his lip and curses at himself for leaving it out.

''I haven't seen this in ages,'' she whispers.

He watches how her hand shakes as it touches the seam between the lid and the box as if she's questioning whether or not she should lift it and uncover what's inside.

''I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them,'' he tells her as he slowly approaches her side, ''They mean too much to me.''

He helps her to pick it up by taking hold of one side. Together, they usher the box onto the bed and Kennedy reaches for the lid.

''Are they all in here?'' she asks as she opens it. The pile before her eyes answers the question before he does.

''Yes.''

She holds the first photograph she sees gingerly between her fingers. It's one of the many shots he captured of her in their field. The yellow flowers surrounding her face tell her this picture was taken sometime in the spring.

''This looks like a completely different person,'' she sighs, taking a seat. He's quick to follow on the other side of the open box.

''Still as beautiful, if not more.''

She can't fight the slow hints of a blush creep onto her cheeks.

''You looked so nice that day, look at you.'' She holds up a photo of them at one of their dances, her in that classic white dress he still dreams about and him in a suit he wonders if he still has somewhere.

They go on for a while, digging into the box and sparking reminiscent conversation about each image. It warms him to look through them like this with her, seeing her laugh every now and then at certain photos and sometimes nearly cry at others. It's an entirely different feeling compared to the last time he looked through them when he thought she'd never love him again. It feels different now because it is different, but underneath everything, he's realized he likes the change.

''We were so happy back then,'' Kennedy sighs, glancing over the lot of the pictures laid out now along the mattress. ''It feels like it was another life.''

''It wasn't. That was us, Kenn.''

She gazes up to meet his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn't ignore how she subtly reaches for his hand.

''Harry, I want you to stay,'' she tells him.

He doesn't think he's ever heard such beautiful words.

''It's entirely up to you, I know that. But I want you to know I want you to stay with me and with Addie. If you want to.''

''I want to more than anything,'' he grins.

Her smile grows to match his.

''She really is yours, Harry,'' she tells him, ''After everything that's happened, she's yours.''

First, it's shock across his face. Pleasant shock, but shock nonetheless. He can't feel his fingers as she tightens her grip on his hand. It doesn't change how he feels about the child; like he's always said, he loves her regardless. But it makes something light up inside him that he didn't know could ever light up. A sense of belonging, a sense of the greatest form of happiness he's ever felt in his life, mostly for Addison and the bright future ahead for her full of wellness and love from a family that she never has to question is her own.

But underneath that purest form of bliss, fear is emerging. He rises from his seat, untangling his hand from within hers.

''What's wrong?'' she asks.

He takes a few imbalanced steps and then turns to look at her in sadness that makes her want to hold him more than anything.

''Harry, what's the matter? I thought you'd be happy.''

''I am,'' he says shakily, ''I've never been happier in my entire life. But is that why you want me to stay? Because you feel...obligated or something? Because, Kenn, I can manage, you know. You don't have to---''

''No,'' she rushes to stand before him, ''No, of course that's not why.''

''The only reason you've come to tell me is because you found out Addie's mine,'' he tells her, ''Would you still want this? Would you still want me to stay if she wasn't?''

''Yes,'' she answers wholeheartedly, ''Harry, listen to me. I promise you I've wanted you to stay long before I found any of this out. I've always wanted you to stay, even when I knew I didn't deserve you to. This, finding out the truth, only makes it clearer. I would've been happy spending my entire life with you not knowing because it doesn't matter. I wanted you in my life forever. I... I still do.''

She reaches upwards and cups his face, letting her fingers disappear delicately into his hair.

''Do you remember how you told me it was fate?'' she asks, ''It was fate that gave us Addie and brought us back together? It really was. I believe it now. There's no other answer but a miracle that this happened. The odds of it are out of this world. This was meant to be. And even if it wasn't, even if it was just nature's strange coincidences all working against us, it doesn't change how I feel.''

She pauses, reveling in the moment of being absolutely sure of what she's about to say.

''I love you, Harry. I'm so sorry I've waited all this time to tell you I want you to stay.''

Instantly, he laughs through the tears that have built up in his eyes and she matches the sound.

''Really?'' he clarifies, still slightly taken aback.

''Really. Now, are you going to kiss me or what?''

She feels him take her waist gently, but he does nothing else.

''I promised I wouldn't try again, remember?'' he smirks, ''Can't risk being rejected again. I don't think I'd be able to handle it a second time around.''

''Shut up,'' she smiles, standing on her toes to meet him halfway.

Even in all the time that's passed, kissing him feels the same, if not better. Their touch radiates with the feeling of that empty space of loss and loneliness inside them both finally being filled. For him, it's something that he always yearned for with Miranda but never once even came close. It's certainty that now he can move forward. Now, he can live his life because she's finally back in it. For her, it's something that can't be compared to any other form of pure and unconditional happiness she's ever felt. It's entirely on its own. She loses herself in how he pulls her against him, his hand firm on the small of her back. The other reaches up to the side of her face, and he's not being gentle at all in expressing how badly he wants this. But the roughness is assuring to her. Here, with him, she feels safe for the first time in four years. The last time someone touched her, they hurt her. They made her beg and bleed and cry out because it was the most terrifying experience of her life. But with his arms wrapped around her and his lips kissing away all of those fearful memories she has, she's protected. That darkness tried once to take him away from her, but she realizes now that it will never win and she was foolish to ever let it try.

Slowly, he rests his forehead down against hers, and their heavy breaths fill the room.

''I've waited four years for that,'' he tells her.

She wants to tell him she's sorry she made him wait. She's sorry for everything, for hurting him, for abandoning him, for not telling him the truth that he deserved all of those years ago. But she can't find the words. She merely wraps her arms around his neck and lets herself immerse in him, breathing in his scent and taking this entire moment in because she knows now that this is the starting point of the rest of their lives. This is the beginning of a time when they can finally tell Addie that yes, they are in love. Yes, they are her parents. Yes, they're never going to leave her and she will never be parted from either of them again.