Harry's POV

We were nearing the fourth hour and we had just reached the border, piled behind cars in the lineup to get to the true north before dark. It was nearly ten at night; Sperling peered out the window in distress.

"We won't make it in time!" she worried, pinching the skin on her wrist to relieve herself of the anxiety building in her. We still had a full hour before we had to get there, but I didn't blame her for being scared.

"I've got a Nexus card," Bria replied, making a turn into a faster lane with only five cars in it instead of fifteen or twenty like the rest, "we'll be out of here soon."

How Bria managed to acquire a Nexus card—identification that held all of your information and let you pass the border without getting questioned like everyone else—was beyond me, but I didn't question it, and Sperling didn't either.

Once we passed into Canada, Bria sped down highways and winding turns to the city of White Rock, BC. It was on the beach, with million dollar homes overlooking the sea into the night. Streaks of purple and deep blue painted the sky, as if to remind us that there was still beauty in all of this; a tragic, horrible beauty that found itself in the dingy, dirty corners of the earth where scum like the man that had called us dwelled.

White Rock was a hilly place, and for the most part, we were driving downwards towards the waterfront. I could see that the tide was full, threatening to spill over and crash along the planks of the pier that was set at least ten feet above the observable shore line. There was a train track that ran along the beach, a little higher up, and was guarded by a blue rail to stop kids from playing near them. The city was quaint, complete with little waterfront shops and gelato places, and (had it been any other time) it would have been a nice vacation spot.

The city was quiet; nothing more than one person biking along the sea wall caught my attention. All the shops were closed and the pier was illuminated by faint lights hovering above the planks of wood. Bria pulled up to a curb and parked momentarily.

"Clarine, you drive down to the pier with Harry. I'm going to see if I can get to the roof of one of the shops so I can get a better view of what's going on. Harry,"- she turned to me- "if it gets to a point where they threaten to kill, give yourself up but walk slowly. That'll give Clarine time to shoot. And Clarine, once you shoot, I'll step in. Are we clear? The first thing you do is save your family, okay?" she directed. Both of us nodded. Bria and Sperling stepped out of the car, shaking hands before Bria ran off westward into the darkness. Sperling took the driver's seat.

"Before we go down there and...well...I just want you to know that I love you far too much to let you think I can live without you," I started. "We'll be fine, Sperling. We will."

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice a little shaky. "How about this: once it's all over, you and I will get some gelato in the morning, okay? And I'll take a leave from work and we can just stay here for a bit. That'd be nice, right?"

"That'd be perfect," I replied with a weak smile. Sperling started the car and drove down to the parking lot right across from the pier, and sure enough, Sperling's family- her dad, her sister, her sister in-law and niece- were tied together right at the end with a guard standing in front of them, and another man- older and well dressed- standing a few feet away, staring at his watch. The end of the pier wasn't lit and made it quite hard to see. Sperling and I raced out of the car, our shoes clunking on the wooden planks, until we stood within focal range.

I recognized the man, and it was clear that Sperling did too.

"Chief?" she called, disgusted, confused and appalled that he was the one holding her family at gunpoint. All of them had duct tape plastered over their mouths.

"Evening, Officer Sperling. I told your family you'd be here; a good cop follows orders, right?" he sneered. The Sperlings were terrified and Mabel had been crying the entire time; I saw Sperling's jaw clench as she raised her gun at him. The guard raised his gun at Hyacinth.

"You let them go, Redmond. My family has nothing to do with this—"

"Nothing to do with this? You mean they don't know that your little boyfriend is actually Harry Styles?" he enunciated and made sure her family knew exactly what was going on. I could see their expressions change from horrified to hurt. "They didn't know that you were harbouring a fugitive to get him back to another wanted criminal? They didn't know you were hiding him in your house? Such a pity they had to find out this way, huh?"

"They didn't know any of it, so just let them go," Sperling demanded. I saw her eyes darting back and forth between Redmond and the guard, trying to memorize the distance between the two.

"You see, I can't exactly do that. Your family knows who I am and I can't just let you waltz around with my name on your tongue and ruin my reputation. I took you off the case for a reason, officer, and you just had to push my authority, didn't you? Had you followed orders, no one would be in this mess. So be a good girl, huh? Hand Harry over and we can get this done quickly. Wouldn't want to make a mess for these lovely Canadians, now would we? They're far too nice—"

And then a gunshot.

And another.

My heart nearly stopped in my chest and the hairs on my skin stood on edge. I looked to Sperling, and she was breathing far heavier than I was.

Sperling fired her gun right at Redmond, then at the guard a split second later, watching both their bodies drop to the planks with two distinctive thuds. The third thud came from her gun clattering at her feet. Her family sobbed, maybe out of shock and fear, or relief—most likely relief. I certainly wouldn't have been able to get that shot, and the fact that she did made me feel so, so proud of her.

"I—I—" she stammered, "I did it."

"You did," I confirmed, just as blown away as she was.

She rushed over to her family and kneeled beside them, undoing the knots formed in the ropes used to keep them stationary and taking the tape off their mouths. She kissed them all and held them close; for a moment, I felt quite alone in seeing she had four others to lean on, while I only had her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I'm putting all of you into witness protection; I didn't mean to get you into any of this—"

"Clarine, please, just take us home," her dad demanded between gritted teeth. "It's bad enough you meddled around with him."

Quentin looked at me with such disdain, like my own father used to when he was disappointed in me.

"Dad, Clarine must've had a reason for taking him in—" Hyacinth tried to speak up for her sister, but he cut in with more fury than before.

"What's the point of becoming a cop if you're going to break the law? I'll have no daughter of mine—"

"Dad, stop!" Hyacinth snapped. "Trev—I mean, Harry—has been nothing but kind to us. He's been nothing but kind to Clarine too and—"

"Well that's not an excuse for anything!"

"Please, we need to leave," I interrupted, looking around. Where the hell was Bria? "Sperling—Clarine, I mean—stand behind them. I'll lead."

"No, no, I have the gun. I'll lead. Where's Bria?" she asked, standing on her toes and squinting at the buildings in the distance. There were no figures that stood out to me.

"Dunno," I answered, but paused to come to a very frightening realization. I looked at Sperling, and I knew she was thinking the same thing.

What if Bria had been killed?

"We have to go," I repeated, dismissing the lump that was growing in my throat. This family was my priority right now; I have Bria the benefit of the doubt and prayed that she was just as good as she was before we parted ways—she could get herself out of any situation, I was sure of it. Sperling picked up her gun and filed to the front while I moved back. I distanced myself from the Sperlings, quite sure that they hated me more than I could possibly fathom.

But Hyacinth held my hand, flashing me a brief smile before turning and following her sister. Sperling led all of us back to the car, getting us to stand back as soon as she could. She remained adamant that we stay by the blue rail, but, knowing her, she was probably trying to be a hero.

"I said get away, Harry," she snarled, pushing me back once I approached her and taking her hands off the car door.

"What do you think you're doing?" I retorted.

"I can do this myself—"

"Are you looking for a car bomb?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I don't want them to blow up while they're driving—"

"Then let me do it—"

She pushed me away again and I grabbed her wrist in order to stop her from doing so. I wouldn't let her risk her life; I'd rather her be safe instead of me.

"Don't be difficult; the sooner I do this, the sooner they can leave and we can find Bria—" she gritted, tugging her hand away from my grasp.

"I'm not letting you do it," I spat, forcibly pulling her away. I heard a siren in the distance, and, out of habit, I turned my head in its direction. Before I could react, I was pushed to the ground a few feet away from the car and heard the car door open with a click.

Nothing. No explosion whatsoever.

"Hurry!" Sperling called, beckoning her family to speed up their pace. They ran over to her and she shoved the keys into Hyacinth's palm.

"Aren't you coming with us?" she asked, looking at Sperling and then at me. The rest of them had gotten into the car.

"I'll put you in danger—"

"Sperling, just go—" I said, picking myself up.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry!" she yelled. "Hyacinth, just go. I'll call you as soon as I can—"

"Clarine, please—"

"Just listen to me! Please!" Sperling started to cry, pushing her sister into the car. "Don't stop driving until you find shelter. My wallet's in the backseat—I've got five-hundred in there; use it for a motel and food or something. Don't use your cards or cellphones unless you absolutely need to. Stay in crowded areas when you're out. I'll call you as soon as I can. If you're able to, contact Tomislav from my work and tell him everything you saw, okay? Absolutely everything. I need you to trust me, okay?"

Tears streamed down Hyacinth's face. She shook her head and refused to budge, but Sperling was determined to get them to leave.

"Okay?" Sperling egged on.

"Okay, okay. If you get yourself into any more trouble, I swear to God—"

"I know, I know—"

"I love you, Clarine."

"I love you too. I love all of you. Now go—go!"

The Sperlings drove off into the night. I had seen a side of Sperling I hadn't seen before—one that was defensive and dominant and demanding—and as much as I wanted to be angry at her for not getting in the car, I couldn't push myself to be anything but awestruck.

"We have to find Bria," she said, pulling her gun from her pocket. I started to cough again, but this time it didn't stop at just five or six; I turned away, choking on the gasps of air I was taking, and lost my balance, falling to my knees. All I could taste was the metallic tinge that blood possessed, and my throat was getting dry and sore.

Sperling dropped to her knees too and rubbed my back, but I waved my hand to get her to leave.

"Fuck—go, go—" I coughed, clutching my chest. Everything was throbbing and I felt like my lungs were going to implode.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "We're in Canada—we can get to a hospital—"

My head was spinning; I couldn't even pay attention to what Sperling was saying. I kept telling her to go, but she didn't move. She tried to heave me up, but she was no match for me. She was crying even harder than she had been a minute ago, begging me to get up.

"Please, Harry, we don't have time, just try to get up, please—"

"I love you," I choked, trying to spit out all I had to say before my time was up, "I love you, Sperling, I love you—"

"Don't you even try to pull that on me," she scolded, brushing my hair back. "You are not going to die on me, not here, not now. I'll—I'll punch you in the fucking face if you give up on me. We're going for gelato tomorrow, okay? We'll go back to Vegas and we'll spend a month there and it'll be just you and me; you and me, just you and me, I promise. Please, Harry, please—"

I was choking. I felt so dizzy, and I wasn't sure if I was taking in nearly as much oxygen as I should have been, heaving through my coughs as if it were my lifeline. I held her hand and squeezed it as tight as I could.

"Harry, don't you fucking dare," she cried. "I love you so much, I do. Baby, please, just—"

Then, a phone came flying through the air, clattering just underneath a car parked close by. 

I heard Bria's scream coming from a distance behind me, and then it stopped.

I used all of my strength to turn myself around, hearing multiple gunshots, then another clatter, then feeling Sperling's hands push me into the ground, her small frame covering me from behind.

Liquid seeped into my shirt and an excruciating pain shot through my body; a vile, "Phoenix wishes you well, Styles," came from behind me, my legs went numb, and then a final bang.

***

I had never seen such a bloody crime scene in a decade, give or take a couple years. Citizens of the town talked about two loud gunshots at around 10:30 at night, but, being a city by the sea, they figured they were just fireworks being set off by the younger generation. They were always doing that, especially on the weekends. It wasn't until fifteen minutes later, when they heard another string of gunshots and a multitude of police sirens, did they get up and peer out their windows to see not one, but six bodies strewn across the seawall pathway.

"Rachel! Rachel, I need you to work on that guy right now," Harlow ordered. I nodded my head and got to it right away. I overheard commotion from the rest of my colleagues—something about how he was some guy that broke out of jail a couple of weeks ago and the girl was a cop or something. However, it wasn't my job to make judgments; it was my job to save lives, regardless of who they were. 

I grabbed my things and stepped towards the two bodies laying in the ground; the female was sprawled out on top on the male, almost as if she were shielding him from...from what looked like a bullet wound in her back, right where her heart would've been. It looked like something I had seen in a history textbook; it reminded me of a picture of two skeletons excavated in what used to be Pompeii; the loveliest sacrifice I had ever come to know. The girl was young—no older than twenty-one or twenty-two—with messy blonde hair and cheeks stained with runny mascara. The male she was laying on top of had a kind face framed by brown hair.

My colleagues rushed over with a stretcher, synchronizing themselves to carefully move the girl onto it and set her on her back, but, as soon as her weight had been lifted, the male awoke and screamed in pain.

"Fucking hell! Fuck—" he cursed, trying to move himself and observe what was going on. He groaned and I quickly knelt down to him to keep him calm.

"Sir, my name is Rachel Sikora—"

"Sperling, where's Sper—?"

"Sir," I quickly scanned his body and saw the fragments of bullet lodged into his lower back, surrounded by blood, "can you feel your legs?"

"Where is she? Is she okay? You have to get her to a hospital," he demanded quickly, still trying to push himself up but collapsing soon after.

"You have bullet fragments in your lower back, sir, the more you move, the worse it'll get!" I snapped, holding his arms down. He gasped in pain and clamped his eyes shut—why was he acting this way? His mental state wasn't stable at all. "Sir, are you—?"

"I'm gonna forget, I'm gonna forget," he panicked. "Do you have a pen?"

"Sir—"

"Her name is Clarine Sperling and I love her. I met her at...at the bank and she's...we just went to Vegas, I think, and...and she smells like pine needles and mint. We're going for ice cream or gelato tomorrow, she said—"

I hesitated, listening him continue on with how much he loved this Clarine Sperling he talked of. He seemed unsure of what he was saying, trying to recall every single detail to their relationship. He said something about magnesium and someone named Bria and a peculiar story about him trying to stop a phoenix, whatever that meant.

"Sir, you're not making any—"

And then he turned his head, seeing the girl he was talking about. What I saw next tore my heart in half. It didn't make it any better that the news crews had arrived and were filming everything.

He screamed, using all of his strength to drag his body over to her, pushing the paramedics away. He touched her face and brushed her hair away from her eyes, kissing her cold, blue lips again and again, as if he believed it would get her heart to start pumping again so she would wake up. 

"Sperling, please," he cried, pressing his forehead to hers. Some tried to pull him off, but he refused and clung onto her. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I love you—get off of me!" he roared at the people grabbing at his arms. "Get her to a hospital! She's still alive, I know it, I can hear her breathing—"

"Sir, she's not—"

"Shut up! Shut up!" he yelled, "Please save her—I'll do anything! Arrest me—throw me in jail—please, just help her!" He turned to her again and kissed her, harder this time, and let his tears fall onto her skin. "You'll make it, Sperling, you will. You can rest now, okay? It'll be over in the morning and you won't even know what happened and I'll be there for you when you wake up and we can go for breakfast in the morning and I'll get you some honey puffs because you love them—"

There was a period of time when all of us went silent, listening to him profess his love for her in was none of us could describe. It took so much for me to stop myself from crying, but I eventually gave it; there wasn't a dry eye at the scene. Nobody had the heart to tell him he was talking to a dead body.

"Someone sedate him," Harlow said quietly, pitying the distraught man.

It wasn't long before Thompson came by with anesthesia. The man tried to fight Thompson off; "I'm gonna forget!" he yelled, "Don't put me to sleep—I'm gonna forget!", but orders were orders, and the sleeping gas knocked him out cold. Others carried him off in a stretcher too.

"Video feed was sent to the police. Some guy held a family hostage and the girl and that guy helped rescue them," Harlow explained briefly, watching as the man was placed in the ambulance and driven away.

"What's that got to do with—?"

"There's a shitload that went on in a very short span of time, Sikora. The guy's a con artist. Broke out of jail and that girl's the cop that helped hide him. One of the guys on the dock is the Chief of Police in Oregon, the girl further along on the seawall is a con artist that used to work with this guy, and the other guy is the head of some international crime ring or something. Look, everything's real confusing..."

I drowned him out and looked over to the girl's body on the stretcher, now covered by a body bag. My chest heaved as the man's words replayed in my head.

Her name is Clarine Sperling and I love her.

***

man, this story makes me hate myself and i'm sorry.

i don't even have announcements man, i'm really sad.

the second half is a POV switch to the paramedic bc i thought it'd be more powerful coming from an outside character.

one chapter left.

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