seventeen | how much (family) do i have left.

They told me at 12:09AM that my family died. I can't exactly remember how it felt right after, being that I could barely breathe once the words had been uttered. 'Your family perished in the explosion'. Never in my life, did I ever think I would have to hear those words formed in the same sentence. When they left me alone in the room with Niall and Harry guarding the doors, it took every bone within me not to throw myself out of the fifth floor window.

Both of them gave their curt condolences, and as soon as Niall left the room to Harry and I, I saw him emotionally crumple. He rushed to embrace me as I fell apart in his strong hold. Though it didn't give me the escape I had hoped, I did feel the comfort of his nauseating sympathy. The sympathy that I had recieving since the day they carried me into the EYAD.

But it's not the fact that my family died in a bomb fire, why I sat up all night for a week straight. It was the fact that my family perishing was just the beginning of this mess. Losing them was just appetizer before the main course.

-

"I want to see Zayn."

My demand alarms Director Axton, and as he stands to protest, Harry bravely holds his hands up and begins to defend me.

"He just lost his family. All he requests is the see the only person that's alive, that he can consider family."

"And blow our cover to an unsuspecting citizen?!" He roars, "Are you out of your mind?!"

"I'm just looking out for the person we're currently keeping captive!"

"That's not your job Agent Styles!"

"Well if not my job then who else's?!"

Silence floods the room and Louis and Niall simply stand by, hands behind their backs in a mannerly fashion, keeping their eyes trained straight ahead of them. Their stances are rigid and stiff, as if the way they stand now is their relaxation stance.

"Agent, take a walk."

"I'm sorry sir, I'm going to have to deny that request."

"That is an order Agent."

"I'm not moving. Accept Liam's request."

"You are not allowed to demand me Agent."

"But you have ears; you can damn well listen, if anything."

Director Axton could practically shoot lasers from his eyes through Harry's heart by now. I watch as the two throw daggers at each other, until Harry requests permission to regress down to floor three, where he was before he was called to the meeting I had started myself.

It was eleven in the morning when I decided to storm down to Director Axton's office. I had basically planned my own meeting, and he wasn't very happy about it.

Once Harry is granted permission, he storms from the room, fury burning off of him as the door shuts. Director Axton turns back to where I timidly stand before him, fiddling with my hands as he interrogates me.

"Why do you request to see Zayn."

"He's my best friend." I answer him, "If I have to live down here in this death trap, while being unable to go above ground and mourn the loss of my family, I might as well have the right to see him."

Louis and Niall look up now, awaiting the director's response almost as nervously as I am. I see him almost open his mouth to say yes, but Louis interrupts us on my right.

"Sir," his voice is urgent, "there are Death Match agents closing in on one of our safe houses."

"Which one?"

"346."

Director Axton gets up from his chair, straightening his suit before stepping away from his desk and moving towards the door. Before he leaves, he turns to me, talking quickly.

"We will try to get in contact with Mr. Malik," he assures me, "it's just a matter of time."

"How much time?"

"As much time as needed, Liam."

He exits with Louis by his side as Niall escorts me to the stairwell.

"Are you going to go back to your room?"

"Can I see Harry?"

"Sure; want me to come with you?"

"No...I think I'll make it."

-

The training hall is deserted, being that the only sound I hear is Harry punching away at whatever he can find. What's new to me about him, is the temper. In Spain, everything was mellow and relaxed and Harry seemed to be the least tempering person in the world.

But here, down here where his true colors break through the black and white facade he performed for me, he's lucid. I see the anger surging through his veins every second of the day. When he looks at me even, the anger doesn't fade. Though I know it isn't towards me all the time, it's towards something. And that thought alone is unsettling.

Turning the corner, I see Harry in cotton shorts and a sweaty sleeveless muscle shirt, punching away and the bag before him. I watch innocently from the side as he pummels it, grunting with every hit he makes. My fingers tap against the wall nervously as I wait for him to stop and look over to where I wait for him.

He finally stops punching when I clear my throat, making my appearance visible. Harry visibly deflates as he looks into my eyes, dropping his guard and sauntering over to me.

"Hey..." he says quietly, "how are you...?"

"Depends on what you're asking about." I respond and he clarifies.

"Your family."

"A work in progress." I say honestly, "Why did you fight Director Axton on my behalf?"

"Because I care about you Liam, why else?"

"It's more than that," I try to pry it out of him, "there has to be. It isn't just one thing with you; there's always more. Always."

"What if there isn't this time?" He unwraps his wrists as he approaches me, "I do care about you, no matter the circumstances."

"What if--"

"Stop saying that," he stops me, "I've done this before. You're just a completely different person, with a completely different connection. Stop saying 'what if', because that's not going to get you anywhere."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Harry, I'm just so conflicted in this puzzle."

"I know you are," he says, dropping his hands on my shoulders, "I know. I just...keep forgetting, I guess."

"How can you forget, when it's always right in front of you?" I ask, caressing his hands as he leans down and presses his lips onto mine after what feels like years. The sensation of his touch brings me to tears as I reach up and hold his face, memories of our late nights in Spain flooding back in a rush. I want that; I want that serenity we had back.

"It'll just take a while," he whispers, as if he's reading my mind, "to go back."

"Back to where? Spain?"

"I... I guess, I just--"

"You--we can't go back to Spain, Harry." I realize myself for the first time of many times I could have noticed, "we have this now. Can we just make the most of this?"

"A relationship is hard to work out down here..."

"That's okay; you never asked my to be your boyfriend anyway."

"Look, just give the operation a chance to work itself out, okay? We can--"

"No no no!" I exclaim, "Stop trying to get shit together that you have no control over!"

"I need the control Liam! How the fuck do you think I survive down here! I always have control on what happens when and since I've met you the control has been spiralling from my grasp!"

He looks at me longingly, as if he's lost his own family as well. But he hasn't. Maybe he has in some distant mysterious past that I don't know and won't know about, but right now, I'm the one mourning. I'm done carrying the weight of both of our guilt.

"I'm just trying to get control back."

"You can't control everything. And you can't control me, that's for damn sure."

"If I could, I would make you find someone that could treat you better. I would make you stop waiting for me."

"No one said I was waiting on you. I don't wait for anyone. I have hope that this can work. That is different than control."

"I don't want you to be mad at me," he breathes out, "you have to understand how sorry I am."

"And I do," I say, "but at the same time, I wonder why it feels like you always find a way to put the blame on someone other than yourself."

"What? I--"

"Am I supposed to feel bad for me being the reason for your lack of control?"

"Liam, no. That's not what I was saying--"

"Take a breather Harry. Pull into the slow lane, and think about this for a second."

I walk away, and leave him alone in the room with the guilt I'd been carrying for the both of us. No matter how much he says it's his fault, he'll always partially place blame on me where there is none. It's human nature, and I need to accept that Harry may be fucked up, but he's a human just the same.

-

For the next week, I wait. I wait and wait as each day passes by, watching life pass around me. Everything moves slowly with each moment I live. I would sit in pavillion seven when I ate my three square meals. I would sit in my room the rest of the time, looking out the window at the underground, wondering if this was really it. The past week could be the rest of my life, if it came to that.

I would see Harry two or three times a day; not on a schedule, but he was a busy man. He would spend time rebriefing the plan with Director Axton, train, and he'd work the rest of the time. At night he'd come say goodnight, kissing me on the forehead as if I was a small child. The small gesture alone helps me sleep through the night though.

It's Sunday morning, a little after I eat breakfast, when they tell me that Zayn had just arrived onto base. Part of me wasn't expecting Director Axton to approve my request for Zayn to come underground to the EYAD, so when I hear he's on base, I practically burst into tears.

Louis escorts me to the second floor where they have him sitting in PV1, waiting whatever is to come. He looks icy pale, frightened for the future. He probably has no idea why he's down here, but when he catches my eye, relief strikes him.

"Liam!"

Zayn bolts from his seat, sprinting to where I stand and engulfing me in his arms. I squeeze back tightly, blessed to have him at my side again. My hands roam across his familiar body rapidly as he breathes erratically.

"Jesus Christ, Liam," he breathes, "where the hell were you?! What is this place what--th-they took me from my house and I couldn't breathe and--"

"I know I know I know," I whisper, "I swear I'll explain, I swear."

"Liam," I hear someone call me, but choose to ignore the voice, "Liam, you need to report to Director Axton's office."

"Tell him he has to wait," I stammer, "I...I need to explain to Zayn. He needs to know..."

"We got you your friend," the officer orders again, "you're not going to just defy us after performing such an unorthodox order for your benefit."

"But--"

"You'll have your time. Give us ours."

-

"What was that meeting anyway?" Zayn asks as we both sit down in my room, me fresh from my meeting with Director Axton, and he fresh from an invasive security check. I had just explained that an elite group of assassins are hunting me, while another elite group of assassins is protecting me.

"Nothing," I sigh, "they were just updating me on my family's funeral, that I couldn't go to."

"They killed your family...?"

"It's more complicated than that sadly," I explain, "they didn't kill them just because. There's a motive behind every death that surrounds me. They're trying to lure me out, so they can kill me."

"Because of the money."

"Yes."

"Did you know you were related to him?"

"I was the only one that didn't know," I tell him, "I'm the last heir to his will. If I'm dead, Drake takes the money."

"What happens if he gets the money?"

"If he does? Well...anything. Anything can be done with the money. They think he's gonna go after world powers. If he does, we're all basically screwed."

"So what's their plan?"

"Either kill Drake on the scene, or find their weapons bunker. If they find the bunker, there is no more Death Match. They can't operate without weapons."

"That's smart I guess," Zayn replies, "but I think you should have know from the start."

"That's my argument," I repeat, "but no one listens to me down here. I'm just a possession. As long as I'm here, they have the upper hand. Death Match can't win as long as I'm alive."

"How badly do you want to be heard?"

"You have no idea."

"Then don't hide behind the front line, be in the front line."