the song for this chapter is "The Scientist," by Coldplay :)

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Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start

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Harry

When we landed back in London, the rest of the boys took their own car, and Tate and I took mine. I knew that I would probably be joining them back at the Fort later, but I was definitely looking forward to a few brief moments completely alone with Tate.

   We pulled up to my flat and I parked my car, getting out to grab both of our bags. I couldn't help but double-check my surroundings as I guided Tate to the door with my hand on the small of her back. 

   I knew now that the chase for this software wasn't something new, it had been going on for over two decades, which made the situation a million times more serious than I had originally thought it to be.

  If someone had spent that long going after something, there had to be a reason that people tried to hide it from them. 

    We entered the flat and I placed our bags on the couch, turning my attention to Tate.

  "Come here, baby," I whispered, holding out my arms to her. 

 She quickly made her way over to me and wrapped her arms around my body, nuzzling her head against my chest. 

   "This is insane," she chuckled against me.

 "I know," I laughed weakly.

   Who would have thought that the girl that I kidnapped because I saw her as a suspect, would now not only be my girlfriend but potentially the Bonnie to my Clyde if it became necessary? 

 I couldn't believe that I had admitted out loud that if we found something that we didn't like, that I would willingly run from Whit. The same man who had taken me in all those years ago, who had acted as a father figure to me, who had made me the person I am today. 

  Sure, we all had our faults. We weren't exactly in the most honorable line of work, but aside from that, he really did look out for me. He gave me a home when the only home I knew was the unforgiving streets of London. 

 I could only hope and pray, that if we had to run, that someday, he would understand. But as much as I didn't want to lose my relationship with him, I was much more concerned with losing the girl in my arms. 

    I couldn't help but think back to how Tate said that the men who kidnapped her never learned who her father's partner was. Assuming that it was my own father, I found it odd that they wouldn't have come for me as well. I was far more well known than Tate was, which I would have thought would have placed an even larger target on my back, but I guess not. 

   Tate suddenly pulled away from my chest to look into my eyes instead.

 "Do you have any idea where your father's key could be?" She asked softly.

   I paused for a moment at her question. I had spent the last six years trying not to think about my family. The only time I did let the thought enter my brain when it involved the possibility of vengeance for my mother's death. I would always remember the pain that I felt when I lost my mother, but I tried to not reflect on the happier times I spent with her, as it only made everything hurt more. 

     And when it came to my father? I really never pondered it that much. I knew that he died when I was a baby, but that was about it. I knew that it hurt my mother too much to talk about him, and therefore, I never really asked. I just let her talk whenever she felt comfortable with it. The only thing I really remember her telling me about him was-

     I suddenly felt every muscle in my body tense. I hadn't meant to do it, it was just a reflex, and so I hadn't realized that I had tightened my hold around Tate's waist until she bumped into my chest. 

  "Harry? What is it? Are you okay?" She asked hesitantly, and I managed to pull myself back to reality long enough to loosen the grip I had on her. 

    My head felt like it was a revolving door, and the thoughts kept just spinning around within it, making me feel like I could throw up at any moment from the dizziness.

   "No fucking way," I breathed out.

  "What?" Tate asked again, but it was like I was having some sort of out of body experience, and without even being conscious of what I was doing, I let go of her and walked over to the couch, sitting down on it and placing my elbows on my knees, reaching up to grip at my hair. 

   Tate was still speaking, but I couldn't really hear what she was saying. Her voice was being drowned out by the ringing in my ears. It was loud, so loud. I wanted so badly for it to stop. I tugged my hair and felt my heart twisting around inside my chest. 

     "No. It can't be that. It has to be something else," I mumbled to myself, and I'm sure I looked insane as I sat on the couch, talking to myself and pulling at my hair. 

    This had to be the universe's way of playing a practical joke on me. A sick, twisted, and absolutely and entirely vile joke.

   Suddenly, the ringing stopped and was replaced with something much worse.

     My mother's voice. 

  I felt as though I were fourteen again. Walking around the house with my mother to prop open the windowsills to provide some relief from the stifling summer heat. I could see my mother's face clear as day, smiling back at me as we laughed and chatted, just as we always did. 

    I remember grabbing the stack of old books and carrying them over to the window, and I remember my mother abruptly stopping my actions.

    And I remember her voice. Gosh, how I missed that voice. 

"Harry, no! Not that book! That book is special!"

"Mom, is it actually special, or is it just you being your good old sentimental self?" 

"Okay, smart ass! For your information, it is special. It actually..."

"It actually what mom?"

"It was your father's."

Memories of what happened that night prior to my mother's death flashed before my eyes, and I had to force myself to stop on the one memory I seemed to be searching for.

I remember reflecting on the one thing that I actually knew about my father, something that my mother told me all the time when I was little, something that I reflected on the day that I accidentally found his journal. 

   The same journal that would be controlling my life over twenty years later.

   I remember that night thinking back to the same little anecdote my mother would always tell me when I was younger, a short but sweet sentiment that always managed to provide me with comfort.

   And once again, my head was flooded with the sound of my mother's voice, and it sounded so real, I swore it was like she was speaking into my ear at this very moment.

   "He had your eyes, bright, glimmering, and green, and even though you don't remember him, from the moment you were born, he loved you so deeply. You and I were his whole world, and even though he had to leave us so soon, he still watches over us, like a guardian angel."

I tried to stop the thoughts right then and there, but they demanded an audience.

  I remembered the gunshots, I remember the blood, I remember the absolute agony I felt when I found her, and most of all, I remembered our last words to each other.

    "I love you mom."

   "I love you right back."

I hadn't even realized that a tear was sliding down my face until I suddenly felt a finger wiping it off.

   I snapped out of the nightmare of a daze I had been in and looked up to see Tate sitting right next to me, concern flooding her face.

      My mouth was very dry, so dry that when I tried to speak to her, no words were able to come out. 

  Without me having to say anything, Tate stood up and walked into the kitchen. I heard the clattering of cabinet doors being open, and then the sound of the sink being turned on, and then off.

     She was quickly beside me on the couch again, although this time, with a glass of water in her hand, holding it out to me. I reached out my unsteady hand and grabbed it from her, the water sloshing around in the glass as I shakily brought it up to my lips.

     It felt so real.

I, of course, had remembered that night before, but never had it felt so real. I felt like I just lost her all over again. 

    "Harry, baby, what is it?" Tate asked softly, running her hand softly up and down my rigid back. 

  I never thought I'd have to go back there. I thought that when I left that place six years ago, that would be the last that I would ever have to see of it. I thought that I wouldn't have to be surrounded by the walls that once made me feel safe, but after that night, left me drowning in fear. 

    I never thought I'd have to see the bloodstains on the kitchen floor, the stains that I had tried so desperately to scrub out as if getting rid of them would eradicate the pain as well. 

     At this moment, I no longer felt like Harry Styles: the notorious assassin who could kill a man with his bare hands just as well as he could with a gun or a knife. The man that so many people feared, the man who could break a twisted bastard's neck without even batting an eye. The man who had no fear, because he was fear. 

    I felt like Harry Styles: The cheeky little boy from Holmes Chapel. The little boy who put on concerts on top of the coffee table for his mum and all of her friends when they would have a girl's night. The little boy whose only worry in the world at the time was whether or not the cute girl in his history class would go on a date with him or not. The little boy who's resting face was a smile. The little boy whose world came crashing down the night that he held his mother in his arms as she died.

     I felt terrified. 

   "Harry?" Tate asked again, lightly squeezing my shoulder, and I finally met her gaze. 

 I gulped down the lump in my throat that seemed to be increasing in size with each second that passed and opened my mouth to speak. 

    "I know where the key is," I spoke, although it came out more like a whisper.

 Tate pressed her lips together and nodded at me, waiting a moment before speaking again.

  "Where is it, Harry? Why are you...why are you so scared?" She whispered.

    I closed my eyes and exhaled a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding in.

"M-My mum, she used to tell me this little story about my dad when I was little. She...she never liked to talk about him too much, it was too hard on her. But, when I was really young, and I would ask about him, she would tell me that..." I trailed off, taking in a deep breath so that I could finish what I needed to say.

      "He had your eyes, bright, glimmering, and green, and even though you don't remember him, from the moment you were born, he loved you so deeply. You and I were his whole world, and even though he had to leave us so soon, he still watches over us, like a guardian angel," I recited, looking back up at Tate.

     Her face softened even more than it had been, and she scooted closer to me, grabbing the water glass out of my hand and placing it on the coffee table, so that she could replace it with her fingers, intertwining perfectly with my own. 

    "I'm sorry, Harry, but...I don't understand. How did that make you realize where the key is?" She asked gently, and I weakly chuckled. It was only natural for her to be confused. She had no idea what my childhood was like, what my home looked like. I mean, I lived there for fourteen years, and I never thought that something so small would end up impacting my life in such a big way.

      "Sorry, I'll explain," I replied, lightly squeezing her hand, and then bringing it up to my lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it, before bringing our hands back down to my lap.

    She nodded for me to continue, and so, I did.

 "My mom told me that little story more times than I could even count. It always made me feel safe for some reason. I liked the thought that even though my dad wasn't there physically, he was still looking out for us, like a guardian angel. But at the time, I had no idea that the little story my mother told me had some literal aspects to it," I chuckled softly. 

   "How so?" Tate asked, furrowing her eyebrows at me as she tried to make sense of my words.

 "Well, you see, the night that my mother..." I trailed off, not wanting to finish my sentence.

     Tate just nodded at me as if to say I didn't need to further elaborate on the matter, and for that, I was extremely grateful.

    "Well, anyway, that night...that night was the night that I first found my father's journal. I remember when my mum told me that it was special, I teased her about it, questioning how special it really was. You see, my mum was a very sentimental person. She was sentimental about the weirdest things. She wasn't a hoarder by any means, I mean, that woman would clean the house so aggressively that no spec of dust dared to settle on the furniture," I laughed, remembering how my mother could spot a mess in the most sanitary place in the world. 

    Tate smiled softly as I laughed, and I don't know why, but it made it a little bit easier to continue what I was saying.

   "She was kind of like your uncle, I guess. Your uncle had so many beautiful things in his house, like some sort of collection. My mother was kind of the same way. She would collect things that I found pretty random, but to her, they were special. Whether it was a book, a mug, a map...you name it, she had this gift of finding significance in the things that most people wouldn't look twice at. I remember one item, in particular, was a little porcelain sculpture of an angel. We had a small little fireplace in our living room, and she always kept that little sculpture smack dab in the middle of the mantle," I explained, and I glanced up to see Tate's lips slightly parted.

   "So...So the key is in..." she began, not able to finish her sentence.

   But I nodded at her, confirming her thoughts.

       Confirming that I would, in fact, have to go back to the one place I thought that I would never have to return to. But I had to, and I could only hope that it was still there.

   "Yes, Tate...the key is in that statue. I guess my mother was right when she said that my father was always watching over us.." I trailed off, but I managed to pull myself together enough to finish what I was saying.

    "Just like a guardian angel."

AN: I TOLD YOU ALL THAT PAYING ATTENTION TO DETAILS WOULD BE IMPORTANT! DOES THIS CHAPTER REMIND YOU OF ANYTHING? THE PROLOGUE, PERHAPS? BECAUSE IT SHOULD!

        THIS CHAPTER WAS SAD I AM SO SORRY! BUT ALSO WHAT?!?!? I BET YOU ALL NEVER SAW THAT ONE COMING AHAHAHA! YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON ME TO THROW YOU A GOOD OLD CURVEBALL! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT! ILY ALL SO SO MUCH!  xx