No Way of Knowing

“Pl-Please, James… I don’t know what I’m doing h-here,” Harry’s voice mumbled, vulnerable and shaky as he sat in the nearly empty hospital hallway. His eyes glanced around, rung with red and glazed with half-cried tears. All he could see was her face as her eyes slipped closed, all he could hear was her son crying for her just behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. The taping isn’t ‘til four, Har, I’ll be there as long as I can,” his long time friend assured him from across the phone line, his feet carrying him down a hallway of his own as he rushed to find Ben. “Just hang on, mate, I’ll be there as quick as I can.” Harry nodded his head, hanging it low as nurses shuffled past in their scrubs, holding onto their clipboards.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten here. It was barely eleven in the morning and already he felt completely unraveled. In the last hour, he’d watched someone die who he’d somehow become responsible for - and taken on her own eight year old son; the responsibility of finding him a family. A home. What was he going to do?

“Thank you, James,” he whispered, his hair falling forward and hiding his shaken face. He reached up, his pointer finger and thumb pressing into his closed eyes as he tried to push the stray tears from them, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. He and James mumbled goodbyes and he let his phone hit the seat of the chair next to him. Down the hallway, two officers had taken the small boy into a room and sat him down to talk. Harry knew he’d be next. In the room behind him, a doctor had just covered the woman with a sheet, and nothing had broken Harry that way in a very, very long time.

He’d followed the ambulance here with his hazards flashing frantically, watched the boy stare at his mother in the gurney through those small windows in the back of it. Why the hell had he made a promise like that? What could he do? He was just a man. He had no power or influence with the system, how could he involve himself in what happened with the boy?

It was just… The peace that seemed to overtake her when he promised. The look on her face, the sudden letting go of all of her fear and worry. It wouldn’t leave him for the rest of his life.

Harry let out a small breath and reached up, covering his face as he desperately tried to get a hold of himself. He couldn’t understand why this’d hit him the way it had. Why had this -

“Oh my god, you’re-” a soft, feminine voice broke him out of his corner, his head snapping quickly up and his red, watery eyes finding the gentle ones of a girl; a young nurse in light blue scrubs and a wide smile on her lips. But as soon as she was met with the broken down Harry in front of her, a frown caught those lips and her words died in her throat. “-I’m sorry, I uhm… I hope you feel better,” she muttered embarrassedly, turning and hurriedly scuffing away.

“No, no, wait,” his raw, wavering voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face him, cheeks tinted a light pink. He tried to manage a small smile, his hand pushing his long, almost unruly hair out of his face. She stepped forward a little and he glanced up at her. “A-Are you a fan…?” he asked softly. She eagerly nodded her head, sheepishly revealing a small tattoo on her wrist that read,

Written on these walls,
are the colours that I can’t change.

He nodded slowly and smiled at the tattoo, clearing his throat. “Would you like a picture, or…?”

“I’d love one,” she murmured, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Right, then, just uhh… Give me a minute, yeah..?” The girl nodded and turned, digging in her scrubs for her phone. Quickly, before she turned around and would catch him, Harry pulled down the sleeves of his flannel and reached up, wiping away at his eyes until they felt dry and clearing his throat. Keeping his head down in case she turned back around, he practiced his smile at the floor, hoping it would come through. He’d done this before, but never had it been this hard.

He stood as she came to her phone, opening it to the camera. He glanced at the camera and ran a hand through his hair. Inside, he felt his chest ache. She smiled widely and he raised his brows, smiling as much as he could for the picture. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out quite as he’d hoped. The hurt in his eyes was evident. But she brought her phone down and smiled happily back at him. “Thank you,” she said, sincerity in her tone as she bit down on her lip. She reached out for his hand, and he took it.

“Amanda,” she introduced, and he shook her hand.

“Amanda. Got it. It was a pleasure,” he mumbled back, his voice still as raw as it was before. She nodded and walked off, and he sat himself back down, his palm coming up to his forehead and feeling the warmth there. His heart had been racing. Why had he been nervous?

“Alright, just sit right here, son,” the first of the two officers said with a sad smile, just as young Anthony was sitting himself beside Harry. Harry looked up at the two men, then down at Anthony, trying to manage a small smile at the boy. The boy didn’t look up, his lips nearly sealed as he stared at the floor, his cheeks soaked through and eyes puffy. His dirty hair was matted to his forehead and Harry felt an urge to help him, to get him cleaned up and in some dry, warm clothes that were free of dirt. He hated seeing him so uncomfortable, but Harry quickly remembered that for Anthony, this wasn’t anything new.

“We’ll be right back, can you watch him?” the other officer asked Harry, his eyes trusting and mind focused. Harry nodded and folded his hands in front of him.

“Of course. We’ll be alright,” he replied as confidently as he could. The officers sighed and nodded, walking off as one of them spoke into the radio on his shoulder. Harry glanced down at Anthony and opened his mouth, wanting so terribly to know what to say.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, his hands reaching beside him for his sunglasses and fiddling with them in his lap.

Anthony didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the three gentle words, just stared at the floor with his shoulders slumped forward and nose sniffling every so often. Angrily, the little boy reached up and rubbed at the tears on his cheeks, smearing a light bit of dirt across his skin as he tried to look as strong as he’d wanted to be for his mother. But he hadn’t been, had he? He hadn’t done enough. He’d left her with this stupid stranger and when he came back, she was gone. How could he have trusted someone he didn’t know to stay with her and keep her with them? This was all his fault and he couldn’t have been angrier.

“I’m so sorry, Anthony,” Harry whispered, looking down and memorizing the lines between each fake tile of the hospital’s linoleum floor. “I…” He had never, in his life, struggled so much to know what to say.

“You let her go.” The boy’s words were quiet and short and angry and broken and shattered and Harry just stared down at him, his lips parted and tears collecting all over again and as he was going to say something, anything, something to fix this, a voice caught him, caught the words in his throat. What were they going to be? He didn’t know.

“Harry,” James spoke, immediately coming to the two sitting on chairs in the middle of the hall, “Harry, mate, I’m here.” He didn’t ask questions, didn’t do a thing but bring the younger man up to his feet and into a tight hug. Normally, Harry would have stayed in that hug for hours; James was one of his closest friends and someone he trusted with his life. And everything in him wanted to. But his mind was on the boy that had just… “Hey, is this the hero of the day…?” God, James knew exactly what to say, without being asked. Harry couldn’t have called on someone better.

James had already pulled from the hug, his attention on the young boy sitting with his head hung. “What’s your name?” he asked the boy, kneeling down to his level and smiling softly up at him. Anthony refused to meet his eyes, but it was nothing James hadn’t expected. “Hey, listen. Harry here’s a really good guy, alright? You got yourself a good friend here.”

Harry bit his lip and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to collect himself once again. James looked up at him, his hand set gently on Anthony’s knee, and sighed softly. “How long’ve you been here?” he asked quietly. Harry exhaled slowly and sat himself back down, setting his glasses onto the seat next to him with his phone.

He sniffled. “Uhm… ‘Bout an hour maybe,” he muttered, letting out one long, drawn out breath. “They haven’t told us how much longer to expect.” James nodded.

“Alright. Well, they just want what’s best, yeah?” James looked to Anthony. “So what’s your name, rockstar?” The little boy remained quiet, but was growing comfortable with this new person, this man who seemed to be nice and his accent was weird but it was fun to listen to.

“It’s uhh…” Harry paused, unsure of himself, unsure of whether Anthony wanted him just speaking on his behalf. But at the same time, he felt a responsibility to. A need to speak up for the small boy who’d just lost everything. “S’Anthony James.”

Like the wonderful father he was, James gasped in feign shock and excitement, his brows raising near to his hairline as he murmured, “Your middle name is James?” Anthony waited a moment - a long moment - but decided to break his silent streak for only a moment, nodding his head and mumbling a quiet, “Mhm.”

“Well, would you look at that,” James exclaimed quietly, “That’s my first name. It’s a good, strong name, Anthony, don’t you let them tell you any different.” Anthony almost cracked a smile at that, but his head still hung. “Although if I’m honest, my middle name’s not as cool. My middle name is Kimberley.” James made a face, scrunching up his nose animatedly.

Harry watched on as the boy let out a small giggle and assured James that his middle name was not Kimberley, when it most definitely in fact was. Inside, Harry was a jumbled mess, his heart breaking. He could never be this good with a kid he’d only just met, James was so calm and Harry could hardly get out normal words. He wanted to be there for the young boy, knowing that if that was his… his mother, God, he could barely even think about it, that he’d just lost, he wouldn’t be able to stand, much less speak or feel or. Well.

There he was, though, being distracted by James, and Harry was so grateful. What would he have done with those minutes of silence?

“Alright, Harry, right?” the officers said, breaking the three from all of their conversations (Harry’s being with himself), and Harry stood then, nodding his head and trying to show his strongest self. He had to be strong for this kid, didn’t he?

“Yes, yeah. Harry Styles.” The officer nodded, not caring for the last name just yet - at least not until it was to be written in the report - and turned on his heel in the direction of the room they’d taken Anthony to.

“Just come on with me,” he called over his shoulder. Harry wondered why the officer’s partner wasn’t coming along, but started to follow the officer, mind feeling scrambled.

“I’ll wait here,” James told him from beside Anthony, now standing. But Harry turned and looked over his shoulder to see the second officer grabbing the boy’s things, the small, beat up pack that had had the rag and water bottle in it back at the freeway. Harry’s heart stopped as he watched the officer take Anthony’s hand and start leading him away.

“Hey, wait,” Harry called to the first officer, “Where is he taking him?”

The officer sighed and turned to face him, “Protective Custody. We’ve gotta get him through th-”

“No, no, wait, no, he’s supposed to stay with me,” a confused and suddenly panicked Harry was arguing, “Hey! Stop!” He was calling after the second officer. James was watching and shaking his head and trying to figure out what the right thing to do here was, “Hey! Wait, he’s supposed to be with me!” By now, Harry was walking quickly down the hall, nearing a jog, and drawing the attention of a few other patients and the nurses at their station. One of them, Amanda, immediately made her way over. The two officers had stopped, one standing with Harry and placing a hand firmly on his arm.

“Sir, you need to calm down. You helped him and his mother, and that’s great, but you’re done here. He’s a ward of the state now.” Harry shook his head.

“No, his mother told me, she wanted me to - she said,” Harry was panicking completely now. He’d let her go, he’d let her die, the one thing he could do was fulfill her last wish. “Please, she told me…”

The other officer got a signal with the eyes from the first, and started to quietly back out of the hallway with Anthony.

“No!” Anthony exclaimed, his bottom lip quivering as he tugged away from the officer. He looked at Harry where he stood with James, the officer, and Amanda, and his eyes were on the tall, lanky 21 year old with no reserve. “What’d my m-mom tell y-you?”

Harry was breathing heavily, acutely aware of the hand firmly wrapped around his upper arm and the people standing around him. He held back a whimper and mumbled, “She said… That she wanted me to make sure you were okay. That she wanted me to take care of you until you found a good home.” Sure, they weren’t her exact words, but that’s what she’d meant. Right?

The officers both looked at each other with an expression that was somewhere between, “Oh, brother,” and “Oh, shit.” Either he was making it up, and was edging toward crazy, or he was telling the truth and a custody issue was about to arise from nothing; either way, it meant a lot of unnecessary paperwork for the both of them.

They were all silent for a long beat. “I’m sorry, sir, but you really have no proof of that. No one was there with you, correct?”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the floor and he let out a defeated sigh. It had just been him and her. Anthony had just run off to the ambulance. No one but Harry knew what she’d requested.

Slowly, he shook his head. The second officer took Anthony’s hand again.

“But wait, didn’t you stay on the phone with the operator?” Amanda suddenly blurted, wanting to help him any way that she could after the kindness he’d shown her despite his situation, “I was on that call when it came in, the operator told us she had a bystander on the phone with her until medics arrived. Was she on the phone with you still, when…?” She trailed off as she watched Harry’s brows raise and realization hit him.

“Yes…! Yes, yes, I… She told me to k-keep her on the phone, she heard a-all of it,” he bumbled tearfully, nodding his head and staring at her gratefully.

James let out a breath of relief and set his hand on Harry’s back reassuringly. “And aren’t all those calls recorded?” he spoke aloud, addressing both officers and keeping his gaze on young Anthony.

The officers again looked to each other. This time they knew they had to concede.

Ten minutes later, the officers were making calls and James was kneeling with Anthony, rubbing his back as he tried to calm him. Harry stood in the hall and gave Amanda a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said softly to her, pulling away and nodding his head. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything, Harry,” she said softly, patting his arm and sighing as she handed him a small slip of paper. It looked like it’d been ripped from a patient confidentiality waiver, and that would’ve made Harry chuckle on any other day. On it was her name and phone number. “If you need anything else, just call.”

He smiled his thanks and she turned, heading off down the hall to tend to her patients. He sighed slowly and slid the paper into his pocket, walking back to James and Anthony. Taking James’ lead, he knelt down in front of the small boy.

“Is… Is it alright with you if I ask them to… Let you come stay with me for a while? Just until we find you… Uhm…” Harry stumbled on his words. He wasn’t sure how to tell a boy who’d only just lost his mother that they were already going to find him a family, someone new, someone else.

“Harry would just take care of you for a while until things are better. Does that sound okay, Anthony?” James took over, his soft eyes glancing up at the boy’s. Anthony sniffled quietly and rubbed weakly at his cheeks. He was completely exhausted. Slowly, he nodded his head.

James glanced out of the corners of his eyes at Harry and caught him in a vulnerable, frozen state, watching his friend of the last four and a half years falter. “Good, good, right then. It’s settled. Just give us a few minutes to talk, yeah?”

With Anthony’s confirmation, James stood, taking Harry with him and out of the boy’s earshot. “Hey, mate, you alright?” His words already knew the answer, but asked anyway. Something he had to do.

“I’m fine, James, yeah,” Harry nodded, a smile made up of lots of extended practice in the mirror stretching across his lips. He didn’t quite meet his friend’s eyes, though.

“Alright, look, you,” James said, a hand firmly on Harry’s shoulder, “You don’t just get to take him home. There’s paperwork that needs to be filled out and things that have to be done. And I have to go back to the show in a few hours, alright? So listen; I’ve got a few numbers in my phone to call. We need a lawyer to draw something up, some PR, whatever, I’ll take care of all that. But do you know anyone who can help us with this? This is not going to be easy, Harry.”

The words were all very straightforward and real and heady. They made Harry dizzy. “Yeah, no, I know it won’t. I uhm…” He thought long and hard. Who did he know in Los Angeles that wasn’t… well, a musician, or actor, or agent, or writer? He didn’t know lawyers or…

“Wait, uhm… I think there is someone. Just give me a few.”

“Alright, I’ll start making calls. You just stick around that boy, alright?” James instructed. “He needs you right now.” The words were so strange. Two hours ago, that boy had no idea who Harry was. And now he needed him. How odd.

James walked off down the hall, his phone pressed already to his ear, as Harry sat beside the young boy. “I’m… I’m, we’re… I’m just gonna make some calls. Then we’ll go and you can get some rest, yeah?”

Since he’d gotten to the hospital, Harry had texted and called only a few people. Well, seven to be exact, James included. The four boys that Harry had spent the last five years of his life doing essentially everything with; his sister, Gemma; and his mum. He didn’t know what else to do, so he called and left voicemails, got through to Niall who was prepared to get on a plane, which Harry assured him he didn’t have to do. Texted Gem, and Lou and Liam. Left Zayn a message full of tears because at that point, everything to do with Zayn was still an emotional mess, and admitting he needed his best friend when some part of him was still so angry made the tears flow a little too easily. Getting through to James had clearly been a blessing, but his mum was who he needed now, for more than one reason.

“Mum?” he asked throatily, surprised she’d picked up.

“Yes, Harry, what is it? I just saw your call, I’m sorry I missed it, love, we were at dinner.” Harry choked down emotion, the sudden image of Anthony’s mother’s eyes closing flashing through his mind again as he pictured his own mother eating her dinner across the world at the same time. It was all so overwhelming. “Honey, what’s on?”

“Mum, I uhm… Things are complicated, I promise I’ll call again in a bit and explain, but I… I need something.” The woman was immediately on her feet across a continent and a half, ready to fly to Los Angeles if need be.

“What is it, Harry?” Her voice was stern and urgent.

“Do you remember the Saunders’? Uhm… Do you remember Nikki Saunders?” He cleared his throat, his fingers nervously running through his hair.

“Yes, of course, what about her?” She wouldn’t forget her boy’s high school love. The two were smitten those years ago, and frankly, Anne had always assumed Harry and Nikki would stay together a while. But, life always had a way of surprising her; that, and the young girl had moved away with her father to Los Angeles just after completing her GCSE’s, nearly vanishing from sight it seemed. Harry went to X-Factor that same year.

“She, uhm, well, didn’t you say she’s a counselor or something? Doesn’t she work with kids?” Harry knew full well that Nicole had gone on to become a social worker, but he’d never allow himself to admit how closely he’d listened that one Christmas Mr. Saunders had come by to share in the festivities, boasting about his daughter as if he forgot she up and disappeared on Harry in the midst of something so real.

“She’s a social worker, I think,” came the answer.

“I need her contact, mum, I uhm… It’s very, very important.”

Anne was always a step ahead of everything Harry did; she was already flipping through her contacts and landing on the name he needed. Minutes later, they’d hung up and the phone was ringing.

It clicked on, a voice came through. Harry glanced to his side at the young boy now leaned tiredly back into the chair, barely awake. His eyes widened as her voice, crystal clear, spoke, “Theresa Saunders."

He furrowed his brows. “Oh, uhm,” he coughed, “You’re uhm… You’re going by Theresa now,” he stated, unsure of where else to start. He winced at his own inability to be normal.

There was a quiet pause. He needed this to work, he needed her to know what to do. James was off calling lawyers and members of One Direction’s “team”, and here Harry was with one lead, and one lead only.

And someone who, once and a very long time ago, meant a little too much to him. For Anthony’s sake, and maybe a lot for Harry’s, too, he needed this to work.

He inhaled shakily as he waited for a reply.

Finally, it came through, and his breath hitched in his throat. “...Harry? Is that you?”