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069. PRESENT // PART 001

24:00.00

"Are you princesses going to help me?"

Harry rolled his eyes, not bothering to utter a response. His attention remained on the plans laid out on the hood of the car, scanning over the information he had spent the past three days ignoring. It wasn't that he intended or wanted to disregard the pending mission – there were bigger, far more pressing things that required his attention.

Rory took precedent, no matter what. The mission wouldn't change that.

"Get the van, Dallas... make sure it's prepared, Dallas...." the man bitterly sneered under his breath, "Lift the dead body, all by yourself, Dallas...."

Without looking over his shoulder, Harry asked, "Are you trying to tell us you suddenly aren't strong enough?"

"Hey, I'm strong enough!"

"Doesn't sound like it from all the complaining," Colson chimed in.

As Dallas fell into silence, getting back to his task, Harry's sole focus returned to the plans. "Do you think we're on the right track?"

"It's hard to say. However, this is our best starting point." Colson crossed his arms over his chest. "The files from Handler tell us that MalCorp hosts an annual party to unveil plans for the next year. The guest lists include the highest of the one percent, the most twisted individuals ready to invest in a MalCorp project... and it's hosted at the private residence of Viktor himself."

"An exclusive party hosted by the most reclusive man...." Harry mumbled, eyeing the surveillance photo of the Malkovich estate. "It makes sense the key is there," he said, "If Viktor represents the pillar of innovation, there has to be a connection to this party."

"Plus, the timeline matches." Colson pulled out another page from Handler's file. "A party was hosted just days after you killed that William kid to get information about Viktor."

Bottom lip pinched between his index finger and thumb, Harry asked, "How are we getting in?"

"Besides finding the damn key, getting on the guest list is our main obstacle. Stefano's connections can't get us on that list. However, they can get us into a private poker night that has some party-goers in attendance. We're working on crafting the perfect billionaire profile to impress them and get on that list."

"And you think that will be enough to get us in?"

"It's worth a shot. Besides, most of these guys don't care what you have to say as long as you have a bank account figure large enough to back it up," Colson said. "And if it doesn't work, there's enough time between the game and the party to create another plan. But we at least need to gain face time in front of these people."

"When's the poker game?"

"End of next week."

Harry nodded, tracing the tattoo inked into his ring finger with his opposite hand. "Good. Gives us enough time to prepare." A beat of silence passed before Harry broke the quiet moment, dropping his voice to whisper, "Thank you, by the way," he said, "For what you did in the car to help Rory."

"You don't need to thank me for that."

"I do. Look, I know something has been off between us, but-"

Not one that enjoyed any discussion around feelings, Colson waved his hand dismissively. "We don't need to have a therapy session over this. As much as I don't care for her, I know she's important to you and if that means I have to help stitch her up or perform CPR on her in the back of a car, so be it."

"So be it," he repeated, clasping a hand on his friend's back with a smile.

A loud, dramatic grunt was expressed as Dallas slammed the back doors of the van shut. Turning to face the two men, he dusted off his hands. "So, tell me, did you purposefully shoot the largest fucker you could find between the eyes, or was that just a stroke of luck?"

"Keep talking, and you'll find out how fast I put a bullet between your eyes."

"You know, I miss the days when you used to get all euphoric after killing someone." Dallas sighed. "Now you're just as grumpy as you usually are."

"I'm a changed man now, Dallas. I'm sorry if that saddens you."

"I'm not sad. I'm just disappointed," the man mocked, placing a hand on his chest. "Wait. This is where my heart is, right?"

"As opposed to where?" Colson sneered. "Being in your foot?"

Ignoring the comment, Dallas crossed his arms over his chest and focused on Harry. "So, why didn't you just shoot Handler and get it over with."

"It wouldn't have solved anything," Harry confessed. "As much as it pains me to admit," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "We need her. She knows information about the people involved, she's keeping an eye out on V's movements, and most of all, she can destroy the serum."

"Have we ever considered what would happen if we kept the crazy juice? "

"Crazy juice?"

"Yeah. It's what I like to call the serum. Feels like a more proper name for it."

Harry arched a brow over the remark. "And why would you want to keep the... crazy juice?"

"I mean, it could be fun." He shrugged. "Look at what we turned into without it. Imagine us with it! We'd be-"

"It doesn't matter what we would be," Colson quickly interjected. "Stop talking out of your ass, Dallas." With a sigh of annoyance, he gathered the plans spread out on the car's surface. "Are we going to get in shit for this?" he asked, gesturing at the van.

"No. We have an understanding now."

"How is that possible?" Colson scoffed.

"Rory told me to be polite if I confronted Handler. And as it turns out, manners can get you quite far in life."

The two men exchanged a look of disbelief over Harry's words. They were both worried about the meeting between Harry and Handler, and rightfully so. Disobeying was ingrained in their minds as the worst rule of all to break throughout training. And pulling out a gun, shooting a guard, and then proceeding to threaten the person in charge exceeded a far greater punishment than a slap on the wrist.

However, Harry spoke with such confidence and a strong belief that nothing would go wrong following the interaction with Handler – which did nothing to ease their minds. Convinced he had gone insane, Dallas and Colson both forced a smile and got back to work, mentally preparing for the worst.

Harry leaned against the car and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a piece of paper.

"You were right when you said killing me now means I'd die for nothing. However, that doesn't mean I don't want to die when this is all over." Handler got off the ground with the help of her Agent's extended hand and dusted the dirt off her pants. "My brother was a boy when he left and a boy when he died – and in some twisted way, death was his freedom. Not life. Death," she explained. "Death is my freedom too. I will only live to see the serum collected and celebrate being the one to destroy it. After that," her head turned to the sky, "I will reunite with my brother."

"You don't think you'll find peace once it's destroyed?"

"We've only interacted with each other for a concise, limited amount of time, but this has consumed my world since the day my brother was ripped from my life. This mental toll takes a number on someone: the guilt, the anger, the sadness. My brother didn't get a life – and in turn, seeking his revenge has ensured I didn't get one either. I built my life and career to fund my revenge... and once that is completed, nothing is left for me here," she explained.

Handler reached her hand into an inside pocket of her jacket. "When this is all over, along with the gift of the cure, I'll give you the gift of ending my life. I'm sure you have more than enough anger inside you to accept the offer. But for now," she handed forward a folded piece of paper, "let's call this a peace offering."

Harry's brows furrowed, hesitantly reaching forward to take the item. Unfolding the paper to reveal a picture of a man, his thumb smoothed out the crease. "Who is this?"

"The second man you'll want to kill tonight."

"Dispose of the body and then meet back at the house," Harry ordered, eyes remaining on the photo in his hand. "We have something else to do tonight."

18:00.00

"Tell me, did you fall and hit your head recently, or have you always been this stupid?"

Harry walked to the bar cart without a word. Only a slight hum escaped the man as he tried to determine which bottle would win for the night's beverage. Who was he trying to fool? The trusty amber-coloured liquid never disappointed.

"You know," he finally spoke, filling two glasses, "that was the last thing I expected to hear getting out of the shower."

"I'm serious, Harry."

"So am I." Sliding the glass across the table, Harry raised his own to signal a cheers. "I'm standing with only a towel wrapped around my waist and having my intelligence insulted."

Stefano paced back and forth from the opposite end of the table, running a hand over his chin before his movements suddenly stopped. "When I hear reports that you've met with Handler without my knowledge, it becomes an issue. What were you thinking? No," he held up his hand, "I already know because you weren't thinking. That's the problem."

Hearing that left Harry needing a sip of his drink – and a long sip, at that. "You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you don't know what you're talking about."

Veins in the man's neck protruded as his jaw clenched. Disrespect. The Romano family didn't take well to it – especially not the man at the top. But knowing the skill of the killer standing in front of him, he chose to take his anger out on the glass in his hand, gripping it with such a tight hold he was seconds away from forcing a crack.

"Watch yourself."

"I was thinking," Harry replied. "I was thinking about how I would grasp her life in my hand and squeeze until she was nearing death... torture her by not rewarding her fleeting life with the final blow, inflicting her with not just physical, but mental pain. So don't insult me by questioning whether or not I was thinking - because I was."

Stefano's eyes softened, watching as the killer in front of him showed a side he hadn't witnessed. The killer was thinking – that part had been made evidently clear. But he was being careless. "Then please tell me... what on earth got you to that point of acting that way? Of risking everything?"

"Because Handler punished me by hurting Rory." Reaching for the bottle, Harry filled his glass before continuing, "I'm the reason Rory had to stay behind. I'm the reason Handler alluded to knowing private information about Rory's past – something she knew would hurt her. And why did she do that? Because Handler wanted to test me by getting me to cheat on her, and I didn't do it... some bullshit experiment excuse to see how strong I could be if someone went after Rory."

Harry paused to take a sip from his glass, draining all the liquid in one gulp.

"Yes, I met with Handler. Yes, I threatened her and killed one of her henchmen. And, yes, I pressed the barrel of my gun against her skin, ready to fucking kill her too. Was it the smartest thing for me to do? No, of course not. But would I do it all again? Damn-fucking-right, I would. So, please. Don't give me a fucking lecture. I don't give a shit if you think it was wrong. If someone hurts Rory, I will kill them. Handler was spared this time, but I won't stand for it again – and she knows that."

Stefano rounded the table with slow, cautious steps. "I understand," he replied honestly, "I would do the same. But next time, at least call me so I can help clean up the body."

"Well, we're heading out again soon. How quickly can you round up a team to head out of state?"

The older man checked his watch. "Within the hour."

"Call them up then. Oh, and one more thing," Harry said, stopping Stefano from stepping toward the door. "If someone you know may be looking to confess something about their past to Rory, I strongly advise against doing so."

Stefano raised a brow. "What are you trying to say?"

"Rory likes Doctor Khan, as do I... and I would hate for that to change."

17:30.00

"What was it like seeing Handler in person?"

"Seriously, Dallas?" Colson groaned.

"What! Are you seriously trying to suggest you aren't curious?"

"Not when we're trying to focus on our plan."

Harry picked up the large bottle from the table and unscrewed the cap – a stillness filled the room as he filled his glass with amber liquid. "She looks a lot like him. But I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge that in front of her."

"The two of you were so similar," Dallas said, leaning back in his chair. "Not in looks, but your mannerisms. I know we were all robotic back then, but you and Alex were always a perfect mirror of each other."

Sipping his drink silently, Harry attempted to stop his mind from wandering into the past. It was always dangerous territory – and the last thing he needed at this moment was to feel guilt over a period of time where he had no self-control or governance. Running his fingers through his damp hair from the shower, his eyes looked over that map on the table.

"Let's get prepared to move out. Stefano's team will be arriving any minute," Harry ordered the group. "I just have to do something first."

17:00.00

"Rory, baby," Harry whispered.

"Mm?" her half-awake voice hummed.

Reaching a hand forward, he brushed away the fallen strands of hair from her face. "I need to work for just one more day."

With her eyes remaining shut, a pout appeared from her protruding bottom lip. "Okay."

"The kitchen has been stocked up with all your favourites, and I already made you some meal options, so please eat something, okay?"

"Okay."

"Mia's going to stop by later if you're up for it," he added, "And you have an appointment with your therapist – she'll be here in the afternoon."

"Okay," the tired girl repeated. "When are you coming back?"

"Early tomorrow morning. And then I'm done. I promise."

Rory slowly opened one eye. "You have to pinkie swear on a promise," she said, slowly raising her small finger in front of his face.

"I pinkie promise," he kissed the pad of his thumb before pressing it against hers.

"Kiss."

Harry leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to her lips. "You and me," he whispered. "Be a good girl while I'm gone, yeah?"

"Mm, we'll see about that," she hummed, "You smell like soap."

"Good – that means it works."

Releasing a yawn, her eyelids grew heavy. "It's not the soap from our bathroom."

"Do you have a secret knowledge of soap scents I don't know about?"

"Mhm, I'm very smart."

"That you are." A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, watching her eyes close once again. "Go back to sleep, Rory," he said softly, kissing her forehead, "I'll see you tomorrow."

11:00.00

Pleasing. Intoxicating. Exhilarating.

That's how it felt, looking down at the sight before him.

It had been quite some time since Harry woke someone up in this manner.

Anticipation pounded against his chest.

Desire left him salivating.

Excitement rushing through his body resulted in a twisted, sinful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Harry missed this feeling.

The victim's eyes shot open, running wild with fear as they spotted the hooded figure hovering over their body. His body attempted to flail around, breaking free of his hold, fears increasing upon the realization that he was constrained. He wanted to scream and beg mercy for his life – but his mouth was muffled, containing the noise.

"Not so nice waking up this way, is it?" Harry taunted the man.

Harry removed his glove-covered hand from the target's mouth, wanting to hear the chorus of begging the man could do.

"Please, take whatever you want!" he cried, "There's m-money! On top of the d-dresser! It's-it's all yours!"

A chuckle slipped past his lips. "Money?" he repeated, cocking his head to the side. "You think I need... what? A couple of dollars? Come on, don't insult me, Jeremiah." Harry's eyes widened with delight over the man's shocked expression. "What? Surprised I know your name? Well, that's not all I know about you... I know you're a pathetic excuse for a human being... that hurts perfectly good people for your own sick twisted pleasure...."

"P-p-lease," the man pathetically gasped for air, "I don't know what you're-" he choked out, "t-talking about!"

"You don't know what I'm talking about?"

"N-no! I-"

"Let me explain it to you then."

Harry leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the pathetic, whimpering excuse of a human struggling for a breath.

"Many years ago, you thought you had the right to take something from the woman I love... and now, I'm taking something from you..." His grin widened. "Your life."

09:30.00

"Holy shit! That's a lot of blood!"

Harry shrugged, following his friend's gaze to the splatters across the wall. "She wanted him to suffer."

"Apparently, she wanted me to suffer too!" Dallas cried. "I'm going to need a bigger mop."

01:00.00

"Harry?" the sweet softness of her voice called out from behind.

The man in question had been staring down the empty glass in front of him for, well, truth be told, he didn't know. Deep in thought, Harry lost count of the minutes that passed by. But the second her voice became evident to his ears, his head turned.

Meeting her steps halfway, Harry immediately reached for her touch, pulling her body into his for a hug. "I didn't think I'd get to see you tonight," he confessed, a smile tugging on his lips. His head pulled back slightly as a hand went to her cheek. "I missed you, Rory."

Her half-awake state was still trying to piece together everything – but she knew one thing for sure; she missed him terribly while he was gone. "I missed you too."

"Yeah?"

Rory nodded. "I'm glad you're home. It's not the same when you're not here."

Leaning forward, nose nudging against his, her eyes peered up just as their lips brushed. She tried to get a read of the expression on his face, but his lips pressing against hers interrupted the moment. If there was one thing she didn't mind being distracted with, it was his kiss.

She tasted the scotch left behind on his lips while her senses filled with a smell that left her brows furrowed—the downstairs soap.

The puzzled look across her expression only lasted a few seconds before she asked,

"Why don't you have your music on?"

"I didn't want to wake you," he replied honestly.

"Well, I'm awake now. I don't mind if you want to turn it on."

Harry shrugged off the remark. "It's fine."

Resting her hand against his chest, her fingers fumbled with the collar of his fresh cotton shirt. Harry could tell she was lost in thought, going through all the possibilities. The scariest part was that he couldn't tell how many scenarios she was considering. There were too many possibilities – too many outcomes.

He did it.

Large doe-eyes finally peered up, meeting his glance. A forced smile tugged on the corners of Rory's mouth as her lips parted to speak, uttering a quiet,

"You killed someone tonight, didn't you?"

She knew.

Rory knew what he had done. She knew who the victim was. But she didn't need to say it out loud. Knowing was enough.

"How'd you figure it out?" A question asked out of general curiosity and an avoision tactic so he didn't have to admit the truth they already both knew.

"You normally have a scotch after something like that... and you smell like the soap from the basement because you showered down there to make sure there was no evidence left around the house," she explained, "The only thing that confuses me is that you didn't turn your music on."

"I didn't want to-"

"Wake me," she interjected, "I know. But that's never stopped you before." Rory leaned closer, catching the light from the lamp, illuminating his facial features and leaving her even more confused than before. "There's no darkness in your eyes," she said out loud.

"Rory-"

"There's no music because you didn't need it."

"Rory-"

"Because that other part of you didn't kill him,"

"Rory-"

"You did. You killed him."

Harry remained silent. It was rare for him not to know what to say or do. He wished his choice to stay silent was decided out of strategy. But he was at a complete loss, fearing whatever he said or did would terrify her. The only option he had was the truth.

"He hurt you, Rory," Harry began in a low tone, "And as soon as you said you wanted him dead if he wasn't already, the choice was made – I knew what I would do. I couldn't sit by knowing there was someone out there that hurt you. No voice in my head told me to do it, and nothing took over my body as I watched the life drain from his eyes. That was me," he said, "All me. So, yes, I killed him. I did. Just like I did when I killed my father for hurting my mother. And I'd do it again, every time to anyone that has caused you harm – past, present or future."

Throughout his lifetime, there were only two people Harry killed for all on his own accord. The first being his mother and the second being her.

Harry expected her to be scared. Whether she hid that scared feeling by attempting to brush it aside to sacrifice his feelings or show her emotions out for him to see, that's what he expected. Scared. He knew there was something inside her that liked the idea of death. Weeks into knowing her, he managed to kill someone in front of her and hear her admit that it turned her on. That outlook of hers on such things wasn't a shock. However, that didn't mean she was immune to all his decisions.

He always assumed Rory compartmentalized his killing activities with the side of him overpowered by darkness – a side he couldn't control and, therefore, a way for her to excuse his actions.

But Rory didn't express any signs that she was scared. Her hands didn't shake, and her eyes didn't widen in surprise. Nails didn't curls into her palms and inflict wounds against the sensitive flesh. Not even a sneer of disgust left her lips. Instead, she did something that took him by surprise.

She kissed him.

Rory only allowed their lips to part briefly so she could utter "thank you" in a soft whisper before kissing him again. And while Harry had never been so confused by such a gesture in his entire life, he melted against her touch–her unjudging, always caring, and most importantly, safe touch.

"Are you okay?"

Once again, Harry was caught off guard. There were only a few times he had been taken by surprise–unsurprisingly, all those times had been caused by the wide-eyed Bambi standing before him. But a back-to-back was new. He didn't know what to think about her power to unleash such a reaction.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

"It doesn't matter if I am. Are you?"

Raising her hands to his face, her hands cupped his cheeks. "Of course, it matters if you're okay, Harry. These past few days have been a lot... not just on me, but you too." She smiled as he tilted his head slightly to the side, leaning into her touch. "Whether it's about what you just did for me... or the past few days with how amazingly supportive you've been... I just want to check and ask, are you okay?"

"Yes," he honestly replied. "I am. Are you?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Pinkie swear?"

Hooking her finger around his, she repeated in a soft whisper, "Pinkie swear." Rory kissed the pad of her thumb and watched as he mirrored the action before pressing them together to lock the promise.

"Now, a proper kiss."

As soon as the last word was spoken, Harry closed the remaining distance between them. His lips captured hers with a soft, delicate kiss that felt passionate, even with its gentle, ghostly touch. Harry liked their routines and the things they did, like kissing after a promise and securing trust in a way neither of them would share with anyone else.

His lips pulled back to whisper, "You and me."

"Forever and always."

Harry smiled, knowing their pinkie fingers were still connected in the child-like promise. "Let's go to bed."

Rory easily followed his lead out of the living room and up the stairs. She couldn't decide what was more exciting—the idea of going back to bed or having him lying there next to her. In all honesty, Rory was happy he was home; having him around certainly eased her mind. She hadn't slept well since he left, and for the past few days, sleeping was all she did.

It was different having someone around whom she completely trusted. Rory trusted Harry, and to her pleasant surprise, that revelation didn't scare her at all. 

Telling Harry what had happened all those years ago didn't upset her. Having him know didn't make her worried or fearful over what might happen. Rory was happy that he knew. Would she have preferred it to come to light in a different way? Of course. But it wasn't an easy conversation to bring up – she hadn't spoken about it in years.

The implications the past caused her future and the desire to have children upset her, of course. But deep down, a small part of her always knew. She was glad Doctor Khan was the one to tell her. Rory felt comfortable and trusted her. She believed the Doctor wouldn't try to sugar-coat the news and give her unrealistic expectations or be cold and overly negative. Rory could still have children if she wanted. The process would just have to be more planned and thought out to limit the higher risk of complications.

However, although Rory always dreamed about being a mother, she knew that didn't mean she had to birth the child herself. Adopting, fostering, and giving birth had always been equal in her mind. It wasn't how the child came into her life that was important. It was giving a child the love, care and admiration that had been taken from her too soon from life.

Her choice being taken away – that's what upset her. That's what made her sad. That's what made her want to sleep all hours of the day. That's what exhausted her.

But as the scary, murdering, brainwashed, robot assassin tucked her into bed, placed a kiss on her forehead and ensured Pebbles the Moo-Moo was secured in her arms, Rory was thankful to have someone like Harry by her side – her partner in life and crime.

Rory watched as he disappeared into the bathroom and quickly got ready for bed. The cabinets opening and closing and the water turning on and off were the only sounds to fill the otherwise silent room.

As he re-emerged, dressed only in briefs, Harry turned off the light and walked to the other side of the bed. She noticed his skin was bare from any bruises or scratch marks and was thankful the darkness of the room hid her smile. Even if he tried, the target couldn't fight back – the power imbalance was far too favoured towards one side. And the thought left Rory giddy.

The mattress dipped as Harry made his way onto the bed. Resting his head against the pillow, his arm stretched across her waist, pulling her body against his. As much as Rory needed him back, he needed her just as much.

"If you're up for it," Harry whispered, "I would like to take you somewhere tomorrow."

"I'd like that. Where are we going?"

"Outside of the city... away from all the chaos."

"Are we ever truly away from that?"

Harry smiled. "No," he replied honestly. "But we can try."

00:00.00