Safe & Sound

''It itches.'' Addison tries to pull at the collar of the new dress her mother's slipped her into. It's a delicate shade of pink and it's bringing Kennedy to tears to see how beautiful it looks on her, but being in anything other than a hospital gown or her pajamas lately has Addison uncomfortable.

''Don't scratch, sweetie,'' Kennedy lightly catches her hand before turning the child around so she can comb through her hair. With every stroke, she tries not to notice how short it’s gotten and focus rather on how quickly it will soon grow.

''I want to wear my other dress,'' Addison whines, ''The soft one.''

Kennedy clips up a lock of hair using a white barrette and moves a few stray curls out of her eyes.

''You don't like this one?'' she asks, smoothing out the lacy hem and folding over the socks peeking out from her mini Mary Janes, ''Auntie Gemma bought it just for you.''

She can see Addison is conflicted now; she loves Gemma dearly but she really doesn't enjoy the dress. Kennedy smiles, taking her hand and slowly leading her to the wall mirror. She knows this is the only thing that will convince her to endure wearing the frilly ensemble for the evening.

Addison immediately erupts in a surprised smile, staring back at her reflection, wide-eyed. Her free hand gently trails the detailing of the garment, in wonder over the ruffles that she's only ever seen on other pretty girls on television.

''It's a princess,'' she smiles up at her mother.

Kennedy kneels down to her level.

''You're a princess.''

Addison's eyes only brighten. ''I want to wear this one.''

Her mother laughs. ''I had a feeling you would say that. Come on, Daddy's waiting outside.''

With a nod, Addison gathers Charlie in her arms, who, despite all of the new additions to the toy family, is still her favorite. She retakes Kennedy's hand and allows her to escort her out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Both of them raise their eyebrows upon walking through the doorway, thoroughly impressed when Harry comes into view.

''Daddy, you look pretty.”

He blushes a deep shade of scarlet before approaching her.

“Not as pretty as you.” He smiles at her, then widens his eyes. ''I don't think we've met though, Miss.''

''It's me, Addie.''

''Addie?'' he questions, pretending to be genuinely shocked by her answer, ''My Addie? No.''

''Yes,'' she nods excitedly.

''My Addie isn't so grown up yet wearing grown up dresses. She's still my little girl.''

Kennedy watches as he drops to one knee before the child, taking her hands in his. Addison merely giggles.

''I'll always be your little girl,'' she tells him, ''Only nicer looking.''

He laughs out loud, planting a kiss on her forehead and then rising back up. Kennedy can't pry her proud eyes away from how he interacts with Addison even now after all the time he's spent with her. Not only that, but she has trouble looking away from him when he's dressed in such an outfit: black slacks, a navy button-up, and a tie. It's sharp---much different from the many variations of jeans and t-shirts he enjoyed in the hospital---but it’s nothing too posh, which makes Kennedy thankful as she's already afraid this party is going to be far more than he's told her about.

''You look lovely,'' he tells her warmly when he rises and turns to her, kissing her cheek. The motion sends a ripple of giggles through Addison.

''Thank you,'' Kennedy blushes.

''I picked out the dress,'' Addison informs them, pointing to the sleeveless black material draped over her mother's shoulders and falling effortlessly down to just above her knees.

''See, you know style.'' Harry scoops her up into his arms, starting for the door. Kennedy pulls the keys out from her purse to lock it behind her.

''Well,'' she sighs, smiling in their direction out on the landing, “After all, she’s a Styles.''



The entire ride is spent with Kennedy in the dark; she has little idea of where they're going and Harry keeps assuring that he's not going to tell her. He insists that since he purposely ruined the biggest surprise, which was the existence of the party itself, he won't dare to ruin any more.

It isn't until they pull up to the driveway that she realizes their ultimate destination. She smiles to herself, thinking about the days she spent here years ago: Christmas dinner when her parents went out of town, Gemma's big eighteenth birthday bash, countless lazy summer evenings and movie nights on the living room floor. She remembers the house vividly, and she begins to laugh under her breath before she realizes it.

''It hasn't changed,'' she notes.

''It has a bit,'' Harry corrects her as he parks, ''My room's an office now. Gemma's is a guest bedroom. But everything else, yeah. Same old. We were going to have this at the restaurant first, but I told everyone the house was better.''

Kennedy is instantly thankful. He knows her well.

''Where are we?'' Addison's already slightly tired voice sounds from the backseat, soft and even a bit nervous.

''We're at Daddy's mum and dad's house,'' Kennedy answers.

She turns back to see Addison's eyes large with apprehension.

''It'll be fun,'' she assures her, remembering her shyness, ''You can show everyone your lovely princess dress.''

Addison doesn't even attempt to hide her anxiety. She's not good at meeting new people. She never has been and Kennedy has a feeling she never will be.

After promising her they won't leave her alone unless she gives them permission, Harry and Kennedy exit the car and free the child out as well. The walk up to the house is nostalgic; when they were seventeen, never once did either of them predict they'd someday be walking this path hand-in-hand with their daughter between them.

Upon entering through the front door, Harry volunteers to lead the way and endure the first rush of greetings. Anne is the first to kiss him hello, followed by Gemma and then another row of people Kennedy can't yet see past his tall stature.

''Oh, you both look stunning,'' Anne grins at Kennedy and Addison, who's now sitting high on her mother's hip, prepared to hide in her hair in case she's faced with someone she doesn't know.

She eventually is when Anne begins to introduce a few of the guests that the child has never seen before, among them Mr. Ackerman and a handful of Kennedy's former coworkers from the restaurant. They seem happy that Addison is well now and they make it a point to express it many times, but no one offers her the job back. No one seems concerned about her unemployment, not that Kennedy necessarily wants the job back, but she admits it would be reassuring if they at least cared.

''E.D!'' Addison squeals happily after some time, finally emerging from the crook of Kennedy's neck.

Kennedy looks on as Edith approaches them, smiling with a half-full glass of club soda in her hand. Kennedy can see she's just left her parents, who are looking on a few feet away.

''Addie, I'm so happy to see you,'' she grins at the child, softly pinching her cheek. ''Mrs. Ellis, congratulations. I can't tell you how excited I was when I heard she was coming home. You're an inspiration to me for being so strong for her all this time.''

''Well,'' she answers truthfully, ''I couldn't have done a thing without your help.''

The teen blushes, obviously touched by her words. Her presence comforts Addison immensely and the child enjoys telling her stories from her stay at the hospital, at least the few pleasant ones that she has. Kennedy lets her stay with her for a while, excusing herself to find someone she's been looking forward to seeing all evening.

''I’m not sure if you’re Gemma Styles, my best friend, or Gemma Styles, up and coming runway model,'' she mutters as she sneaks up behind one of the snack tables and eyes her dress, ''I'll settle on both.''

''Oh, this old thing? Just found it in the back of my closet and threw it on...''

Gemma’s sarcasm makes her laugh.

''Thank you for this,'' she tells her, motioning around the room full of guests who are no doubt sharing in the joy of Addison's return, ''It makes it feel like she and I have really come home now.''

''Stop it,'' Gemma pleads, ''You'll make me cry.''

She hugs her warmly, lingering for a long moment. When Gemma pulls apart, she holds her at arm's length.

''My mum and dad are in the kitchen. Robin, too.''

''I should go and say hello.''

Gemma nods. ''And take Harry. He'll put Addie at ease a bit, don't you think?''

Kennedy does as Gemma advises, finding Harry at the snack table as he gets a drink and taking his arm. When they reach Addison, Edith practically freezes in her spot and Kennedy smirks, remembering her apparently still very thriving crush.

''Hi, Edith,'' Harry greets her, unaware of the effect of his charm on her, ''Nice to see you again.''

She gulps. ''N-nice to see you as well.''

''How's school?''

''Um,'' she stammers, ''Quite plain, actually. Not that I expected excitement. School is strictly academic. N-not that there's no room for fun. I... I just... Quite plain.''

''That's...good, I think.''

Kennedy stifles a laugh, holding her breath as she receives Addison.

''See you in a bit,'' she mutters to Edith. She waits until they're a good few feet away to glance up at Harry's embarrassed blush and poke fun at him.

Once they reach the kitchen, they find Anne working in front of a counter with her back turned. If Kennedy has to guess, knowing her, she’s putting a cake together.

“Des, Robin,” she calls out to Harry’s father and stepfather, “Come round, Addie’s here.”

They follow suit, walking in from the attached dining room in the back and smiling once their eyes land on the child. Addison keeps her head down against her mother’s shoulder, but Harry’s reassuring hand on her back helps her remember not to hide completely.

“She looks just like the both of you,” Desmond Styles is the first between them to point it out. He bends his head to look the child in the eye and she studies him apprehensively; so many of these new people lately look like her father and it's puzzling to her as to why that is.

“Addie, these are Daddy’s daddies,” Kennedy simply tells her, “Can you say hello?”

Addison whispers a quiet question into her mother’s ear, asking why there are two. Kennedy merely replies that it’s one of those different types of families she told her about---Harry has a real dad and a stepdad---and Addison understands instantly.

“Hi,” she greets the men before her and their smiles widen at the sound of her voice.

“She’s shy,” Harry informs them, “But she’s smart, aren’t you, Addie?”

She cracks hints of a grin at him.

“Maybe she’ll take after you, Haz. Scholarships and all.” His father proudly jabs him in the arm.

Kennedy looks up to his face, creasing her eyebrows together. “Scholarships?”

“Yeah, a full ride for both undergrad and grad,” Des answers, ignoring Harry’s humble smile down at the floor.

“You never told me about that,” Kennedy tells him, pleasantly surprised.

“It never came up.”

She takes his reluctance to tell her as another outcome of his modesty. A question regarding why he isn’t taking advantage of such an opportunity right now arises in the back of her mind, but she has to quickly push it out as Anne ushers them out of the room before the child lays eyes on the cake. Kennedy makes a mental note to get an explanation later.



The longer she stands by the snack table, crossing her arms over each other and sipping casually on a glass of champagne, the more she thinks of the last formal she spent with Harry at their school.

He’d picked her up in his mother’s car for the first time with a fresh license. All throughout the night, although he tried not to make it obvious, she knew he couldn’t keep her eyes off her in that white dress. To him, she looked like an angel. To her, he was the one between them who looked most exquisite in his clean cut suit and shiny dress shoes.

As she remembers how he danced with her with his hands around her waist and head down against her neck even during the faster tempo songs, she can feel herself smiling. She remembers marveling over how tall she’d gotten with her high heels, finally tall enough to not have to stand on her toes when she kissed him and she took advantage of that. Many, many times did she kiss him that night.

As she remembers that time of their youth, she can’t help but draw parallels to tonight. It’s heartening to look out into the far center of the living room and land her eyes on him. His sleeves are rolled up now and his smile is blinding. She watches him sway back in forth with Addison resting protectively in his arms. Her head stays underneath his chin and eyes glued to his shirt, in awe over the softness of it against her gentle skin. He dances with her in sync with the music playing like he’s meant to do this all along, and he has. Kennedy sees this is what both he and she have been waiting for all this time, and such a sight is warming her heart.

Eventually, the child is reluctantly passed to Gemma, who assures Harry that she’ll keep the child safe as she introduces her to some of her uni friends. He takes advantage of the moment to walk back towards Kennedy, and she smiles watching him approach her.

“Hey,” she breathes, a bit taken aback by how close he stands.

She feels him wrap an arm loosely around her waist. He’s looking into her eyes and glancing over her face, not her dress, and that’s how she knows that the words that come out of his mouth are honest in the most cherished of ways.

“You look so beautiful, it hurts to look at you.”

Her blush is instantaneous. His compliment is unlike the many compliments she’s gotten throughout the night on her appearance, which she herself will admit is considerably better than the ghost of a woman she’s resembled these past few months. His compliment stands entirely alone, and he’s the only one out of this entire crowd of people, out of this entire world, who can cause such feelings of complete joy and flattery within her.

“I saw you dancing with her,” she admires.

He smiles. ''She didn't want to stop.''

''I don't blame her.''

She closes her eyes when he kisses her forehead and lets him pull her against him. The pair is entirely oblivious to the looks of admiration they're getting around the room. Not everyone knows of their eventful story. They don't know about the hardships and struggles it took for them to get here; but they do know that there's something about this couple that makes them smile without realizing it and stare because deep down, they wish someone would look at them like he's looking at her and she's looking at him.

''So,'' Kennedy reaches up to tuck in a piece of his hair, although it makes little difference with the do so naturally disheveled, ''About this scholarship...''

''It's nothing, Kenn,'' he brushes it off.

''You got a full tuition for eight years of schooling,'' she tells him as if he didn't already know, ''That's not nothing. That's amazing.''

''Honestly, I don't know how it happened. I barely got by my final year.''

She tries not to dwell on the fact that her heartbreaking departure was the cause of that.

''Well, 'barely got by' must be pretty good, then,'' she looks on the bright side, ''Why didn't you go back and finish?''

''It wasn't something I was sure I wanted, and if the money was better suited to someone who would use it, I didn't want to waste it.''

''So, it's gone?''

He shakes his head. ''I tried to get them to give it to someone else, but they just put it on hold for a year in case I decided otherwise.''

''Decide otherwise,'' she grins.

He sighs deeply; he knew she'd suggest this.

''I can't, I have you and Addie to think about now.''

''We'll be fine.''

''Four years living on campus, completely apart?''

She tries to make her smile as convincing as possible. ''We'll manage. We've been through worse, haven't we?''

''I wouldn't be able to manage,'' he admits, ''Not without you two. Never again.''

Kennedy can see the truth written all over his eyes. After knowing of such a happiness that can only be derived from having his own family, nothing can ever compare, and it's true: he can't leave them.

''Going back isn't what I want anyway,'' he explains, ''What I want is to be with you. We can put the money away for Addie, whatever you want.''

''Is that what would honestly make you happy?''

''Yes. I don't have a doubt in my mind.''

She nods in understanding, wholeheartedly believing him. It's clear how his priorities have shifted. Little does she know that he's never had such priorities before; he's never had so much to live and be responsible for, and that's worth more to him than a few tens of thousands pounds spent away at school.

She's about to press him about how his time at university before she came around had been. She knows little of what he experienced---only that he graduated early---but for the sake of her own curiosity and conversation, she yearns to know more. Unfortunately, however, the questions are short-lived. Gemma arrives beside them in a hurry and looks as if something grave has happened.

''Kenn, I need to tell you something,'' she presses.

Harry instinctively tightens his grip on Kennedy, whose eyes flash over to Addison, who's safe and sound in Anne's arms, and wonders what this could possibly be about.

''I didn't know. I swear I didn't. Neither of us did,'' Gemma ushers to Harry's confused expression.

''What are you going on about?'' he asks.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell ringing on top of the music playing cuts her off. She bites down on her lip, joining Harry and Kennedy as they look towards the door.

Des opens it and, judging by his suddenly stiff body language, the person behind it isn't someone he's gotten along with before. But he plasters a smile onto his face, following the specific instructions given to him to invite the person inside and graciously welcome them to the party.

When the newest guest arrival steps inside and Des shuts the door to reveal them in perfect view, Kennedy's heart stops and flatlines in her very chest. She grows so numb, she can't feel Harry pulling her protectively against him. He wants to save her from this potential heartache, from reliving the monstrous memories she used to tell him all about.

He wants to save her from them because they never deserved her. He wants more than anything right now to take her hand in one of his and Addison's in the other and take off running, never looking back at Dr. Richard Ellis as he stands before them, looking no different than the last time he saw him, like a lion ready to pounce on his already so damaged bait.

Immediately, he turns to Gemma.

''Explain.''

''Mum did it,'' she answers in a hushed whisper.

''Gemma, this is exactly why we agreed to keep this a secret.''

''What the hell did you expect me to do if we planned to use her house? I told you we should've done this at the restaurant. You never listen to---''

''Stop arguing,'' Kennedy puts out the flame, ''It's alright.''

''Alright? That's your father.''

''I didn't see him much but I do remember what he looks like, thank you.'' Kennedy turns to see her father being escorted into the dining room by Des. Thankfully, he hasn't yet seen her.

''Take Addie upstairs or something,'' Harry warns Gemma.

''Okay, I'll keep her there until you get rid of him, then we're having a long talk with Mum. Shit, I warned her not to do this.''

''Guys,'' Kennedy interrupts their panic, ''Relax.''

Both of them eye her incredulously. How she's the calmest among them is beyond either of their comprehensions.

''In honesty,'' she sighs, ''I'm kind of happy he's here. Let me handle it.''

''I'll go with you,'' Harry volunteers.

She smiles. ''You have to let me do this myself. My dad, my old ropes to tie up.''

He remembers how she mentioned her old ropes when he saw her in that coffee shop all those months ago.

''I'll be fine,'' she assures them.

''What if he hurts you again?'' Gemma refuses to let her go so easily. ''Or if your mum's coming as well and she hurts you? I can't stand to see you disappointed by them one more time, Kenn. I won't allow it.''

''If their goal was to disappoint me, I don't think they'd have come. I'll see you guys.''

Harry and Gemma keep their eyes glued to her back as she walks away from them towards the dining area. When she's out of view, they rush to find Addison and stay at her side. Already, they can feel their stomachs churning with nerves.

To their surprise and even hers, Kennedy's head remains held high upon reaching the small huddle that has formed among her father and Harry's parents. She sees Richard conversing with Anne, probably trying his hardest to find something about her home to compliment her on. Kennedy glances from corner to corner in search of her mother and doesn't find her; evidently she hasn't come.

''Kennedy,'' Anne sighs, suddenly becoming aware of her presence in the room. It's much quieter here. So quiet, Kennedy can hear the rapid beating of her heart as clearly as ever.

Her father turns and they lay eyes on each other for the first time in nearly four long years. He's aged considerably. There are lines and wrinkles on his face that she doesn't remember ever being there before, even during the rare occasions she saw him up close. Despite that, he looks the same. Same build, same expensive suit, same full head of hair.

There is, however, one other exception.

The eyes she remembers being cold and glaring have suddenly become soft, and the more he stares back at her, the more he looks like a gentle man she's never met before.

''Can we have a moment?'' she asks the others, surprised she can find her voice.

''Of course,'' Anne rushes to permit it, beckoning Des and Robin to follow her on her way out. She pats Kennedy's bare shoulder reassuringly as she walks out of sight.

Once they're alone, Kennedy admits she can't help feeling like she's a child again, stuck in a room with her father but feeling more like prey in a cage. It's a habitual feeling. As a kid, she consistently felt this way in his presence, and after a long while of craving his attention and a cure for her feelings of neglect, she actually started to go after it as long as it meant she had his attention. The same phenomenon is happening in this very moment and Kennedy sees that although much has changed, much also remains the same.

''Mrs. Cox here called me a few days prior,'' Richard Ellis breaks the silence. His voice is naturally projected across the room, a necessary attribute of a businessman, but for once in her life Kennedy doesn't jump at every syllable. She's been through far worse to be frightened by this. ''I was surprised.''

''I'm surprised now,'' Kennedy tells him quietly.

''I have much to explain. I hope you'll give me the chance to.''

He holds out his hands and turns his palms upright slightly as if to symbolize proof that he has no hidden motives.

She nods after some time, deciding that, although a large part of her believes he doesn't deserve it, she will give him this chance.

''I'll be the bigger person,'' she admits, ushering towards the dining table.

After he claims a chair, she takes the seat opposite from him and tucks her hands underneath her legs in an effort not to bite her nails out of nerves. Now is not the time for her to show weakness. For years, under her parents' will, she was weak, but now she's evolved. She's been through enough that has molded her into a strong woman and she must prove that to him now.

''Have you been receiving the money?'' he asks. He doesn't make the question at all demeaning, which is astonishing to say the least. Kennedy thought he'd be under the impression that he had the upper hand after setting her up with the trust.

''Yes,'' she answers, ''It's been taking care of my flat and Addie's treatment. I never got the chance to thank you.''

''Portia conveyed your gratitude.''

She realizes she hasn't missed his robotic vernacular.

''Dad,'' she sighs, ''Why are you here? Be honest with me.''

Richard is quiet for a long while, focused on a tiny speck on the table before him. The only time she's ever seen him in such deep thought was when he was examining patients, usually in life or death situations. When he lifts his head to meet her eyes, they're glossy, and Kennedy realizes this will be the first time she's ever seen her father cry.

''Anne told me everything,'' he says, ''About the illness and the financial crisis and overdose and the...''

He pauses to collect himself.

''And the rape.''

Relief flashes across her face when she sees not resentment or disgrace in his eyes but understanding and sympathy. So unlike her mother's reaction four years ago, he believes her story.

''I'm so sorry, Kennedy,'' he apologizes wholeheartedly, ''You tried to tell us what happened and we didn't listen. Your mother... She was certain your story was false for the longest time.''

Kennedy darkens involuntarily at the thought of her own mother accusing her of lying about such a thing.

''But she always kept it in the back of her mind,'' Richard is quick to point, ''I assure you, she did. When she approached me about setting up the trust, that was her reasoning.''

She creases her eyebrows together. ''It was Mum's idea?''

''Yes, she was adamant about it, but she didn't wish to admit she'd been wrong,'' he tells her sadly.

Kennedy scoffs. ''She cared more about her ego than me.''

''Forgive her.''

''Why should I? Setting up a trust fund isn't an automatic cleansing of all of her sins, as much as she may think it is.''

''Believe me, she has paid for her sins.''

Kennedy takes a deep breath. ''Sorry,'' she sighs, ''This is difficult for me. You... You don't know what I've been through.''

''I cannot fathom.''

She glances over at his face, as gentle as ever.

''Thanks for coming, Dad. It means more to me than you'll ever know.''

''I know we've always been quite distant.'' A smile is shown, but it's a sad one. ''Your mother would have wanted us to mend things.''

She's never been the best interpreter of hidden feelings, especially with her parents, but in this moment she feels something is unsolved and it makes her uneasy the way he speaks.

''Would have?'' she repeats his words.

He doesn't respond immediately and she can tell he's conjuring up the proper words to say.

''She would have wanted to attend this homecoming, I know it,'' he says quietly, ''Remembering how much she wanted it in the back of her mind, I know she's watching right now.''

The second it dawns on her, her heart falls within her chest in a plummeting spiral.

''Your mother suffered a heart attack approximately six months ago,'' Richard chokes out, ''They did all they could to revive her, but it was her time. I personally asked Portia not to mention it for your sake. That would have been no way for you to discover what's happened. I had to find the right time to tell you myself.''

''Oh, God,'' Kennedy's breath catches, ''W-why didn't you tell me sooner? Was there a funeral?''

''Forgive me, Kennedy, I couldn't find the words. It's been difficult. It's been tremendously lonely without Rosetta, I've been at a loss all of this time.'' The contrast between how controlled his face appears and how agonizing his words sound shocks her. ''We had a ceremony, yes.''

A strange sense of grief takes over and it's strange as it's unique to the grief everyone would expect her to feel.

She and her mother were never close. That's a fact everyone is well aware of. Their relationship was distant as if two random, polar-opposite beings were picked up and thrown together by fate as mother and daughter, forced to coexist despite the constant clashes.

But nonetheless, she always had hope that they would someday become more than that. Maybe time is all they needed and that's the excuse Kennedy readily gave herself each time she reluctantly allowed her mind to travel to her parents and her old life back in the lonely house on the hill.

That hope is now wasted.

She has no further chance to change her relationship with her mother. There is no more time. It's too late, and these old, damaged ropes of hers will forever be undone, sprawled on the ground, utterly lifeless.

She can't make peace with time. It's a seemingly endless concept, and yet entirely able to disappear before your very eyes.

''Dad, I'm so sorry.'' Kennedy crosses the table to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He's tense and generally unresponsive, but after a moment she feels him take hold of her arms and squeeze, giving her the first hug she believes he's ever given her.