Author's Note: Aaaanndddd guess who's back!? Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy! :)

Anne smiles at him the way she used to when he came home upset from school. "Honey, you're not spiraling. Your heart is just confused. It happens to the best of us."

Harry lowers his eyes and stares at the scars that line his hands. "What if I mess everything up and end up alone again?"

She's afraid to take his hand. The last time she tried to comfort him, he pulled away as if he'd been shot and then left home without a single announcement. It hurts to see him so broken, but it hurts more having him walk away.

"You'll never be alone. We're your family. We'll always be here for you."

His eyes burn with tears that he never wanted to shed in the first place. The entire time that he's been seeing Lola he's felt like the pain has been numbed. But now that Peggy is avoiding him, it feels like it's all flooding back. It feels like Eleanor is leaving him all over again.

"That's not what I meant."

He doesn't want to live his life in solitude. His mind is already there, coated in a dense gray fog that doesn't seem to ever lift. Lola cleared that a bit, but now he's starting to think it wasn't entirely Lola that broke apart the melancholy.

Anne overcomes the fear that kept her son away for years and reaches for his hand. "Love is complicated, but we all have someone. Follow your heart and you won't ever feel alone."

The ticking of the clock fills the kitchen.

Harry looks up at the sky with dirt in his eyes. The planes have all dropped their loads and are flying back toward where they came from, but the loud hum still vibrates in his ear just as loud as it was when they came.

There's never enough time to find cover.

Hundreds of his comrades are scattered across the base. More men are dead than living. This isn't the first time he's been terrified to go to sleep. Every night it gets harder and harder to close his eyes. Blood and bright flashes are always the first things to pull him back to consciousness after he's finally drifted off to sleep.

Someone is crying. He wants to help but of his energy evaporated when the bombs stopped detonating. Fear has fueled eighty percent of his actions since he was drafted and it's fear that's keeping him alive.

Pressure is building in his skull and there's a sharp pain in his side. Smoke is circulating in his lungs. Maybe this isn't the worst way to die. Asphyxiating in the middle of base instead of being shot and bleeding out in some area even further away from home. Here, he won't die from a mistake. He won't die from cowardice. He won't die for anyone but himself.

A broken heart won't kill him here.

The sound of his heartbeat is almost like music to his ears. It's been so long since he's heard any sort of melody that doesn't carry the weight of despair.

Far away from the chaos of the rest of the world, he closes his eyes and tries to picture colors amidst the wash of cool grays and dark blues.

War is the only thing he can see.

Emerald irises open and stare up at the smoke covered sky. A few stars peek through the dissipating violence. His breath fogs the air above him.

A voice from not too far away carries as whoever it is draws closer. "Styles? Is that you?"

"Yeah." His voice sounds foreign.

"You alright?"

No. "Yeah. Just a flesh wound."

Harry fights to control his breathing, his eyes tightly shut just in case reality isn't what he finds when he opens them. "What if my heart is wrong?"

"You'll know if it's wrong. It might take time, but you will always know once it hits you. It took me years to realize that your father was the love my heart wanted. Sometimes you have to make mistakes to gain clarity."

Slowly he opens his eyes, their soft look mirroring his mother's. "You didn't know right away?"

Anne shakes her head, "Not at all."

Maybe he's confused because he rushed into a relationship with his eyes closed. He was so damn tired of being alone and feeling empty that he didn't care who he ended up with as long as someone was there.

There are so many thoughts creating a tornado in his head and all he wants to do is run. Run away from everything and just disappear for a while.

But running won't help. He'll just end up making his problems worse and probably kill himself in the process.

His mother kisses his cheek and says goodnight before setting her teacup in the sink and disappearing into her bedroom. Harry drums his fingers on the table and watches the steam in his cup gradually fading away.

He wonders if Peggy's still awake. They haven't spoken since the hospital and he hates every part of it. It's his fault and he doesn't know how else to fix it besides falling to his knees and begging for her forgiveness.

The phone taunts him for twenty minutes before it wins and he phones Peggy. His heart feels like it's just run a marathon and he hasn't even done anything. The line rings and rings and he's about to give up when he hears a click and a soft, "Hello?"

Every word he's ever learned seems insignificant to what he wants to say. Peggy repeats herself with the intention of hanging up if no one answers.

Harry panics, his hand gripping the top of the phone like a lifeline. "I'm sorry. I know it seems like nothing, but I am so sorry, Peggy. You're right. There are other people in my life and I'm a bloody idiot for forgetting that. For forgetting you. And I miss our tea and burnt cookies and lessons and I really miss you, Peggy. I don't know what else to do. I don't want to lose you too."

She doesn't answer and he's afraid that she's hung up. Harry rests his head against the wall, "Please say something."

Peggy wants to stay mad at him, but she can't. Especially now that he's reaching out to her and practically in tears because she's been avoiding him. "Did those cookies taste better than rocks?"

With tears threatening to fall like rain, Harry laughs. "Much better than rocks. Does this mean I can come over with my textbook and show you that I can learn?"

She laughs and he feels happy. The last time he felt genuinely happy was with Eleanor that time he used all his savings to take her to France and have a picnic in a lavender field.

"It certainly does. Aren't you out of town right now?"

Harry smiles and shifts so his back is against the wall, the phone cord dangling between his fingers. "Yeah, needed to clear my head. My apartment hasn't caught fire yet, has it?"

He can picture her smiling and twirling the phone cord around her finger. "Fire? Why would it catch fire? Did you leave more cookies in the oven?"

"No, I'm just clumsy and didn't check everything before I left. They weren't that bad! They were still edible!"

"Edible enough for a drunk or a dog! Baking really isn't your strong suit. Medicine on the other hand...you can change the world."

All humor leaves his voice as blood rises to his cheeks, "Do you really think so?"

Peggy has always been honest. It's another reason he likes spending time with her. She won't hesitate to tell him he's wrong or that he's overthinking. She won't tell him he's crazy or look at him like he's lost his mind. She treats him like a person.

"I know so. How's your leg?"

"Still a mess. More than usual, but that's nothing new. The crutches however, are very irritating. I've been incredibly tempted to break them and lie in bed all day."

Another laugh, "I'm sorry, I told them to give you crutches instead of a wheelchair. Thought it would help, but I guess it just made it worse."

"Are you telling me I could have had a wheelchair!?"

Peggy laughs and Harry rolls his eyes. He can't believe that he's been stuck with damn crutches that make him want to rip his arms off because of Peggy.

"I didn't think you'd want one. I thought crutches would be less humiliating for you."

She does have a point. In a wheelchair, he would get much more condemning looks, judging him for his disabilities rather than his abilities. It's not like he asked to be part of the war. He wanted to stay far away from it after the first one took his father, but the country gave him no choice. Patriotism brought him here.

Harry sighs, "You're right. Do you think I'll need more therapy after it heals?"

If there's anything he doesn't want to do, therapy tops the list. It's humiliating and makes him feel like he's entirely helpless. Like he's learning how to function all over again in a world that seems to be thriving on dysfunctionality as of late.

"No, but it wouldn't hurt. It might help lessen the pain you still have. Do you want to have those in my apartment? It's not my area of expertise, but I'm not entirely clueless either."

He hesitates and Peggy adds, "I won't tell Lola, if that's what you're worried about."

"Lola? Why would it matter if Lola knew?"

"I know you're worried about what she thinks of you."

"How do you know that?"

Peggy's smile is sad as she looks at the clock across the room, "I pay attention."

She sounds tired. "Get some sleep. I'll come bother you when I get back. And no burnt cookies this time. Promise."

Despite the late hour, she doesn't want him to go. She's never wanted him to go. If she didn't have a late shift tomorrow night, she'd stay on the phone with him all night. Funny how even when they're both a little broken they never run out of things to say.

"Just good tea and medical books. Sleep well, Harry."

She hangs up before he can get the words out of his mouth. Wordlessly, he finishes the dishes and heads to his old bedroom for the night.

Rain drenches the city as he rides in on the last train of the night. No one knows he's coming home today, he can't even believe it himself. There are so many thoughts swimming in his head and so many emotions blending together that he doesn't know how he's feeling.

He's not going to be afraid and alone anymore. Eleanor is going to lose her mind when she opens the door. If he could run, he'd already be home, kissing her tears away and holding her close to his heart.

Losing the easy function of his legs is going to take him a lot longer to get used to. He still has to go to therapy to be able to walk regularly again and the pain isn't ever going to go away completely, but he's glad to still have his legs. He can still be a provider.

The streets are flooded and empty by the time he makes it home. All the lights are out. He hopes the doorbell still works. He fixed it before he left, but there was no telling how long it would last.

Harry knocks on the door and a dog starts barking down the street. A light blinks on upstairs. It feels like he's going to collapse if he stands here any longer. His legs aren't strong enough yet.

Slowly, the door opens. Eleanor stares at him with wide eyes.

"Hi, baby. I made it home."

She kisses him with tears running down her cheeks. He's home and there's no better feeling.

Home only lasts for a few months. Eleanor quickly grows tired of the effort and the energy it takes to keep up with him and to take care of him. He's trying his best to do all that he can, but she doesn't understand the pain he's in.

Lately she's been staying out with friends instead of spending time with him. She's upset because he can't give her what she wants anymore. He can't give her a fairytale.

He's just finished making her favorite dinner and setting the table when she makes it home. There are candles everywhere and he's put on her favorite record. Harry's smiling as she walks into the dining room, proud of all he's managed to do for her.

She doesn't look impressed.

"I made dinner. Did you have a good day?"

Eleanor smiles weakly as he kisses her cheek. "It was okay."

Harry's smile dims. She's been distant with him lately, but never this distant. "What's wrong? Have I done something?"

She shakes her head and bites her lip. There are tears in her eyes and he's terrified that she's going to tell him she's been seeing someone else. Things haven't been easy and he knows that, but he's trying the best that he can.

"No, and that's the problem. You aren't the same person anymore and it's so hard to take care of you and make sure that you're going to be alright. Sometimes I don't even want to come home anymore because I know you're going to have an episode and freak out because I made the wrong noise with a teacup. I love you, but not the you that came back from the war. It's too much, Harry."

Harry wakes up gasping for air. The pain in his chest has returned as if he's taken a step back into the past and reopened a wound that's been closed for years. He doesn't want to feel like that again and he's terrified that it's going to happen again.

Two days pass with long walks that tear his arms to shreds beneath the crutches and give him time to evaluate what he wants. He confides in his mother and she wishes him the best as he heads home with a heart full of love. He's made his choice and he hopes to God he isn't wrong.

Fred's music is floating down the hall accompanied by soft laughter. The sound used to be moderately annoying, but now it's one of the nicest things he's heard. He's home.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley and the warm cookies he picked up from the bakery on his way back feel out of place and remind him of the way it felt to hold flash grenades. It's ridiculous because they are nothing close to similar, but the importance they hold can break him.

Peggy's light is on, but there's no music coming from the crack beneath her door tonight. Harry feels like he might throw up. Maybe he should have gone back to the hospital to switch his crutches for a wheelchair.

His fingers are shaking as he quickly knocks on her door. It feels like his heart is in his throat and his stomach is in his chest. He hasn't been this nervous since he asked Stacy Williams to the Valentine's Day dance when he was ten.

There's some shuffling before the door opens. Peggy's in a red dress and she's got her hair down. Harry hasn't seen her wear it that way very often. The last time he remembers seeing it down was when he and Lola went on a double date with her and Tommy.

Her eyes light up when she sees him. Maybe this wasn't such a bad plan after all.

"You're back. And you brought cookies that aren't burnt! Who knew you had it in you!"

A nervous laugh escapes his vocal cords before he can stop it. "Told you I would. There's something I have to tell you."

He hands her the box of cookies and the book, his hand automatically running through his hair once it is no longer holding anything. "I um...I've been thinking a lot and.."

Someone flushes a toilet and it sounds like it's coming from inside her apartment. Harry's eyebrows pull together. She lives alone and it's too late for her brother to be over.

"Who's at the door, love?"

Harry stiffens and nearly falls forward. It can't be. She wouldn't after...

Tommy appears behind her and all he feels is hurt. Peggy starts to apologize while he changes his speech in his head. He's not even listening. She's seeing Tommy again. Tommy.

Fucking Tommy.

Harry shakes his head and clumsily turns himself around. "Never mind. I can tell you later. Enjoy your evening."

Peggy frowns and starts to reach for him, "Harry..."

"Have a good night, Peggy."