(long chapter to make up for another wait... I'm so sorry guys. life is a bit hectic right now--school just started back--so please bear with me. BUT. there's a bunch of Hevelyn fluff in this chapter so hopefully that'll help you forgive me *wink wink* love you all. enjoy x)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THIS SITUATION WILL NOT end well for anyone. Especially not for Harry. Things are getting fuzzy again. There's a gradual throb beginning at the base of his skull. Being so close to so many bodies is taunting him. To feed. To resist. He won't be able to hold onto his sanity for much longer--it's excruciatingly exhausting. It would be so easy to just give in and...

No.

He must resist.

For Evelyn.

For Robbie.

For everyone.

He can't turn into the monster the doctor tried so hard to mold him into. He just can't. He's a monster now as it is without the aggression and inhumanity returning.

He walks carrying a sleeping Caroline since she seemed so repulsed by 752. Or "Micah," as he'd like to be called. Harry can't blame him. He hates being called 748. It's refreshing to hear Evelyn and others address him with a name that makes him feel human. A name that makes him feel normal. He almost forgets what he is sometimes.

Almost.

Evelyn walks a little in front of him with Robbie snoozing on her back. He wants to talk to her. To tell her all about his memories: who he used to be, the people he loved, the family he had. He'd like to hear about her family sometime. A part of him also wants to confide in her about the terrible thoughts circulating through his mind, the ravenous beast a ticking time bomb inside of him. Maybe she'd know what to do. Maybe she'd know how to ease the pain.

After all, she's the reason he's made it this far without losing it.

However, his throat is so dry, it feels like it's slicing open whenever he swallows. He doesn't want to increase the uncomfortable ache by speaking. Talking can wait. If things go as he wishes for them to, they'll have all the time in the world to talk.

Plus, he hasn't forgotten about the recent event where he nearly choked the life out of her. He hasn't forgotten the sound of her gasping for her last breath as she clawed at his hands. He hasn't forgotten how she whispered his experiment title to snap him out of his stupor. But, most of all, he hasn't forgotten the blankness in her eyes when her consciousness began slipping. Like she hadn't cared if that were to be the moment she died.

He won't ever forget that lifeless look.

She must feel him staring because she glances over her shoulder at him. He doesn't bother trying to hide the fact that he was, indeed, staring at her. Her heard her heart jump a little faster before she quickly tore her gaze back in front of her, her lips drawn taut and her eyes narrow. Like she's afraid of him.

He won't ever forget that fearful look either.

He hoists Caroline up as she begins to slip, then decides he can't take it anymore. It's easy to catch up with her thanks to his long legs, but the moment he gets beside her, she huffs.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop staring at me?"

Harry goes to speak, but a sharp searing in his throat halts him. So he settles with shrugging. He can't help but to stare at her.

She sighs. "You know, I almost started missing the days when you didn't talk because you couldn't argue with me. But now... I don't know. I need someone to talk to."

He frowns, quirking a brow.

She understands. Somehow, she always understands. "I know I can still talk to you, but you can't say anything back, so what's the use? That's no help. I just..." She chews her lips for a moment, contemplating. Then she speaks fast, like she doesn't want him to hear. "I need to talk to someone I know I can trust."

He fights through his sore throat and croaks, "After everything, you trust me?" Strangely, his chest suddenly feels tight and his stomach knots. He must be fighting the monster subconsciously now.

It's her turn to shrug.

He wishes he could smile without looking even more horrifying. Instead, he maintains a straight face to keep from frightening her further.

After a moment's silence, she breaks it. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she murmured, gesturing to his body. "Again."

He runs his tongue over his new row of teeth, then dares to speak once more. "I got my memories back." He shouldn't have said anything. His throat is on fire.

Evelyn turns to him with wide eyes, a smile slowly stretching across her face. "Really? That's amazing." Then her smile falls and she asks quietly, "Was it worth it, though?"

He nods firmly multiple times. Absolutely worth it. He'd do it all over again if he had to, though, he really prefers to not. But having your entire life completely erased is as agonizing as any operation the doctor could perform. He would take lashings over losing his memories. Just knowing where he came from and who he was soothes the disgruntled half of his mind. If he thinks hard enough, the pain goes away for a little while merely because of the faces that flash through his head. His mother and sister and friends from school. Anyone and everyone who ever meant something to him.

"So," she starts, "what was your real name?"

His eyebrows scrunch at this. He doesn't want her to stop calling him Harry. He likes it much better than Edward.

"You obviously had one," she remarks. "What was it?"

He shakes his head.

"You don't want to tell me?"

He shakes his head again.

She gapes at him. "But why? Aren't you glad you finally have a name?"

Now he gapes at her. "I have a name. You gave it to me."

Her cheeks redden slightly. "Well, yeah, but that was just so I didn't have to call you 'it' or 'thing'."

He shakes his head a third time. "My name is Harry."

She looks like she might argue, but then her shoulders slump with Robbie's face still on one, and she smiles again.

And as per usual, he finds himself staring at her once more.

***

He keeps staring at her. She hates it. Despises it. It makes her uncomfortable, sets her on edge. Like he knows something about her that she doesn't want him to. Like he can read right through her blank expression. She tries to let her hair fall in her face to hide, but his eyes are still burning her. The urge to dart as far away from him as possible is very strong.

But she also doesn't want him to leave again. As hard as it is for her to admit it to herself, it's true. Things just feel... simpler. Safer. He's the only person left in the world that Evelyn trusts with her life. The internal confession makes her cringe yet her shoulders feel lighter--apart from Robbie sleeping on them, of course.

She wants to know about his memories. She wants to know his real name. She wants to know him.

And she hates it.

Despises it.

God, when did she get so soft?

It's disgusting. But more so, it's annoying.

The sun is rising now. That awkward part of the early morning where it's still dark, but the sun is peeking over the trees and barely-standing buildings. It makes Evelyn realize how tired she is, for some reason. Her eyes suddenly get very heavy, and it feels like she's dragging bricks instead of her feet. Her stomach growls. She doesn't remember her last meal. When she said goodbye to Sasha, she hadn't gotten any food in the mess hall. She regrets that decision.

Her stomach growls again, a little louder.

Micah glances over his shoulder at her from the front of the group, carrying Maxie. "Why didn't you eat at dinner?"

"I wasn't hungry at the time."

He sighs, but turns forward and returns to being silent.

Michelle slows down to Evelyn's pace. "There's a granola bar in my bag," she says kindly yet almost hesitantly. She clutches her ill son tight.

Evelyn purses her lips. She doesn't want to accept food from her, but she can't deny how hungry she feels. So, a bit timidly, she reaches for Michelle's backpack.

"It's in the small pocket in the front."

Evelyn unzips the small pocket and grabs the granola bar. But before she seals the bag back up, something catches her attention. A red light. Blinking. Evelyn's eyes widen and she grips the open pocket to stop Michelle from walking, jamming her other hand down inside. She pulls out a small chip. What Evelyn can only conclude to be a tracking device.

"What the hell?" she snarls, throwing it to the ground and grinding it with her boot until it's completely cracked apart.

Michelle's face goes white. "Where did that come from?"

Evelyn barks a humorless laugh. "Don't play dumb. You put it in your bag, didn't you? You aren't really helping Harry. You're using him."

Harry's eyebrows furrow. Micah looks on, uncertain.

Michelle shakes her head rapidly. "That's not true at all! I dug Harry's chip out of his neck so they couldn't track us."

"Is that just what you wanted him to think?" Evelyn narrows her eyes, clenches her fists. She crushes the forgotten granola bar.

"No! Dammit, I swear!" Michelle huffs when no one comes to her defense. Tears well in her eyes. "I was on my last strike with that company. How do you think my son got so ill? They decreased our food and water rations the first time I screwed up from pitying an experiment. The second time, they poisoned our food. Had I not been warned by a friend in the building, my son would've... He would've..." She holds him with one hand and covers her mouth with the other.

Evelyn isn't quite buying it. She's always been a skeptic.

"I needed to get out," Michelle finally says, tears running down her cheeks and chin. "It was never my intention to help 748--"

"It's Harry," Evelyn interrupts bitterly.

"Right... It was never my intention to help Harry out of the program, but when he lost it during the simulation, I saw my chance. So you're not entirely wrong. I am using him, but only for the protection of my son. And if I could do more for Harry, I would. Whether you believe me or not, that's the truth."

The two women have an intense staredown.

Micah cuts in. "She's telling the truth."

Evelyn scoffs. "And how can you tell? Because she has a sob story? That trick has been used one too many times."

"Her heartbeat is regular," Micah says, ignoring Evelyn's aggression as usual. "She's not jittery or avoiding eye contact."

"She could be a really good liar," Evelyn counters. "It's not that hard to be believable if you're desperate enough. Besides, you're not a psychologist."

"Maybe not, but some of us learned how to interrogate. After capturing one of the enemy, you have to know how to find truthful answers rather than believing the false ones."

"She could still be lying."

"Look, Eve, if you don't like her then fine. But don't--"

"Harry?" Evelyn blurts when she notices Harry wandering towards the woods. He's set Caroline down in the middle of the road.

Michelle says, "Oh no. He may be losing control. I didn't have the right material back at the lab to make a contradictory serum."

Micah frowns. "Should I hold him down until it passes?"

Michelle opens her mouth to answer, but Evelyn speaks first. "I got this. You two just wait here."

"Absolutely not," Micah growls, catching her wrist with one hand while propping Maxie in the other.

Evelyn yanks free. "I snapped him out of it once, I can do it again."

"Yeah, you snapped him out of it after he nearly choked you to death."

She rubs her neck reflexively, but shrugs. "Hopefully I'll be just as lucky this time."

"Eve--"

"I'm not letting him go through this alone," she snaps. The words leaving her lips are so surprising and firm, he shuts up without a choice. She's surprised herself, but she acts indifferent as she stomps away from one experiment to console another.

It's obvious she's anxious, though. She crosses her arms to keep herself from picking her nails.

She's still a fair distance away when Harry mumbles, nearly incoherently, "No, Evelyn. Turn around."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, deciding that light, careless dialogue will help more than piling onto the severity. She knows that this situation can very easily go from bad to worse. She'll tread carefully, but she'll also act as if it's no big deal. Casual leads to calm, right?

Good Lord, she hopes so.

He's running his hands through his hair now, his head hanging with his back to her. She can hear him breathing heavily.

"Come on, Harry. Just pull yourself together. We can't leave Caroline sleeping in the middle of the road, you know."

He's squatting now, his hands furiously gripping his hair. His arms are quivering, whether from pulling at his hair or refraining to lash out, she isn't sure. Oddly enough, though, she knows how it feels to fight insanity. Right after her family were brutally murdered, she had found a spot in the woods, curled into a ball, and stayed there two days straight. She only forced herself up when she heard beasts approaching, and she knew right then that she refused to succumb to the temptation of dying. Not by their hands.

She realizes now that ignoring the problem may only increase its seriousness. Harry can't help what's happening to him. But maybe she can help him deal with it.

She sighs, tightening her arms around herself. "I know it's hard to fight it," she murmurs awkwardly, but pushes herself to continue. "It would be easier to just give in, but you can't. Because life isn't about taking the easy route, is it? It's only taking over because you're letting it."

He's still breathing rapidly, digging into his hair. "I-I'm not," he stammers, voice hoarse.

"Yeah, you are." She sits beside him, choosing to ignore how on edge he is. Being afraid of him won't help him at all. She's not afraid of him.

She's not.

"Evelyn, please..." He groans quietly, his hands now dragging down his face. He doesn't lift his head yet he scrambles to put distance between them.

"You know what?" she says sternly, scooting closer to him. "Stop being afraid, Harry. Fear is controlling. It wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't so frightened by it. I'm not afraid of you, so you shouldn't be afraid of you either."

He shakes his head, though still, does not lift it. "Yes you are," he whispers. "You are afraid of me."

She crawls over in front of him and snatches down his wrists to tear his hands from his eyes. There's a haze in his red irises that makes her uncomfortable, but she shoves that feeling deep, deep down where it doesn't phase her. He clenches his fists tight--too tight. Blood drips down his palm onto the dirt beneath them.

"Get over yourself," she says. "Do I look afraid to you?"

He blinks at her, then pinches his eyes shut and groans again. He struggles to get out of her grasp, but it's obvious he's scared to struggle too much. He doesn't want to hurt her. How can she be afraid of someone so careful?

"My head...," he mumbles, wincing.

"Don't focus on that, focus on me," she orders, tugging on his wrists to snag his attention.

There's a lot of blood dripping from his hands now. A low growl rumbles in his throat as he manages to tear out of Evelyn's grasp without harming her. "Please," he whispers, eyes now a dark, murderous red. "Get away from me."

Evelyn swallows, but she pushes that feeling deep, deep down too. She can't leave him alone... not like this. "Harry--"

"I hurt you once, I don't want to do it again," he grumbles, like he's trying to maintain his temper. "I almost killed you."

"But you didn't," she points out. "You fought it."

He shakes his head, jolts to his feet. He tries to walk away from her. Stupid as it may be, she doesn't let him. His hands are in his hair again, so she can't grab his arm, however, snatching the back of his shirt is just as efficient. She balls the strange hospital material in her hand. She's holding so determinedly that he'd have to cut her hand off to detach her.

"Stop running away from it!" she shouts. "You have to face it and you have to fight it and you have to win. Stop being afraid."

Another growl, louder this time, but she doesn't back down.

"I know the pain is probably really scary but you can't just--"

"I'm not afraid," he says.

"Yes you are."

He spins around so fast that her tight grip yanks her forward, slamming her right against his chest. He looks down at her, eyes such a dark red her stomach knots. She freezes up. She can't move away.

"I'm not afraid of the pain," he whispers, his voice sounding more hoarse than before. So much for obeying Michelle's wishes and not speaking much. He closes his eyes then, the skin around them crinkling, like he can't look at her any longer. "I'm afraid of hurting people. Isn't that obvious?"

She doesn't know what to say, so she remains quiet. Her wits come back some with his eyes being shut, and she releases his shirt yet she doesn't push away from him. She should. She should push him so far away, he's out of her life for good. She can't. She won't.

He opens his eyes and raises his hand, hesitant. Timidly, he runs his fingers over the scars of his nail indentations on her neck. "Look what I did to you," he says, barely speaking audibly now. Whether from the pain in his throat or the pain in his heart is unclear.

"They'll fade," she manages to respond. "Besides, it wasn't you who did it."

"Yes it was."

"No, it was an increasingly more savage you that some asshole doctor put into you. It wasn't you, though."

"You should hate me."

"Yes I should."

His eyes are gradually becoming lighter again, but she doesn't point it out. Distracting him is working, and he doesn't even realize he's being distracted.

"I told you I trust you," she says quietly, holding his gaze. "I don't lie."

He surprises her when he lets his forehead rest against hers, but it's a pleasant surprise. She closes her eyes instinctively, another action one may call stupid in such a situation. He can easily rip into her throat. He can easily snap her neck. He can easily kill her any way he wants to. But she knows he won't. She knows his eyes are closed too. But she doesn't know if his heart is beating as fast as hers.

"Can I admit something?" He breaks the silence, and she wants to tell him to stop talking so his throat can get better and he won't sound all croaky. But she wants to hear his confession a little more.

She opens her eyes to meet his, enough permission for him to continue.

Then he gets a weird look on his face. His lips trying to quirk upwards, but his teeth make the smirk look slightly deranged. She stifles her cringe. She knows he's already self-conscious about his appearance.

"Now I'm worried," she says instead, playfully almost as she raises her eyebrows.

"Well, I do remember everything now," he says.

She takes a step back. "What are you getting at?"

"Never mind. You'll hate me for it."

"I'll hate you for not saying it."

"So I'll lose either way?"

"Basically, but you better spill it."

He chuckles, and even that sounds painful. "First, let me ask you this: why did you kiss me before I left?"

Her eyes nearly bug out of her head and her lips part. She fumbles for her wits again and says, "Never mind, keep your confession to yourself."

"Oh no," he says. "Tell me."

"This is awkward now, nice going."

"Come on, Evelyn."

Her teeth grit. She averts her gaze to anywhere but him. "I told you," she mumbles. "I wanted my first kiss to be with someone I care about."

She can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't dare look up. But then he shocks her again. "I'm going to get these teeth removed. I don't know how, but I will. And when I do, I'm going to give you a much better first kiss to remember."

She gapes at him, her cheeks flaming.

He acts like what he said is normal, and nods his head back in the direction of Micah and Michelle. Evelyn had completely forgotten that she and Harry aren't alone in this world. "We should get back."

She struggles for words but mutters out a simple, "Yeah."

"Evelyn." She can't look at him, still in shock and blushing madly. He lifts her chin with his index finger and thumb, meeting her gaze. "You made the pain go away. Thank you."

She manages a nod, and as soon as he walks away, she takes a moment to lean against a tree. Did that really just happen?

Yes, yes it did.

Is she incredibly embarrassed yet incredibly happy that it did?

Yes, yes she is.