twenty-seven ◌ payne and panic

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It had been two days since arriving to Toulouse, and I had yet to leave this room. Wanting some fresh air, I volunteered to grab late lunch for the boys and I. However, because my French speaking skills suck, Liam thought it'd be best if he or Harry retrieved sustenance to better blend in with the locals. Not wanting to argue with him, for the mere fact that he was still upset with me, I agreed to let Harry venture into town by himself.

So that left me, sitting on the bed flipping through the ten channels on the television. Liam on the other hand, had just stepped out of the shower smelling like a spring day when his phone began to violently ring on the bedside dresser. He pounced towards the device, grabbing it and swiping a finger across the screen.

"Hey Aliana," Liam answered, holding the phone in front of his face as oppose to his ear.

FaceTime, I assumed.

"Oh! You received the package I sent for Lila," the smile across Liam's face was the biggest I've seen in a long while. I silently observed the sudden bout of happiness exuding from the boy. "Aliana? Lila? Where ya at?"

Liam's grin faded into smooth lines as an expression of confusion drifted onto his face instead. He scrutinized the screen for a moment, till a loud crash exited from the phone's speakers. Liam let out a deep gasp as his eyes widened with fear.

"What's wrong?" I jolted out of my position on the bed, and hurriedly joined Liam.

"Aliana! Where are you? Where's Lila?" Liam screamed at the phone, his worry growing more intense as the milliseconds passed by.

I studied the scene playing on Liam's phone, finding a large, open box at the center of the screen. The package was destroyed, a black, heavy-duty boot crushing the cardboard box before stepping on top of a familiar object.

A Carebear.

The bright blue stuffed animal laid on its side, as the monstrous foot came in contact with the plush toy. My breathing hitched as I watched the frightening scene unfold before me. Liam continued to bellow at his device, demanding for an answer. As he did, the hotel room door opened wide to reveal Harry.

"Sorry I took a while, couldn't decide on poached eggs or—" Harry stopped dead in his tracks, shutting the barricade behind him. He eyed Liam intently, "what's going on?"

"Something's wrong with Liam's family," I answered urgently, and like reflex, Harry ran over to Liam's side.

We continued gawking at the phone screen, memorizing every single aspect about the scene for analyzation later. The heavy boot no longer invaded the setting, and instead my eyes zoned in on a peculiar object off into the distance. A messy, black lump sprawled on the beige carpet captured my attention, as did a fallen lamp with its shade aimlessly tossed off to the side.

Suddenly, that lump moved.

That object was not an object, but a human. It was a body belonging to a kind mother who I only met several days ago. Aliana's head lifted off of the floor slowly, as she begun to observe her surroundings.

"Over here, Aliana! Look over here, sweetie, come on! Damnit!" Liam hollered, his voice sounding rough from the harshness of his shrills.

Aliana slowly came to her senses, and upon doing so, an unnerved puff of realization fell from her mouth.

"Aliana, look at me! Where's Lila?" Liam continued his efforts to snatch the woman's attention, but no matter how loud he yelled, or how much he howled her name, it seemed like the young mother could not hear his voice. She scrambled to get off of the floor when an ear-piercing wail filled our ears.

"Lila!" Aliana shrieked, her face contorted with absolute fear. "Lila! Baby, where are you? Call for mommy if you can hear me!"

The screen cut to black, and the video call abruptly ended, causing Liam to spiral into total panic.

"No, no, no," Liam tapped his phone screen and began to dial Aliana's number. However, instead of a dial tone, an automated message echoed from the device.

"The number you are trying to call has been disconnected."

"Fuck!" Liam threw his phone onto the bed, grabbing his hair and violently pulling at his dark strands.

"Liam, breathe," I placed my hands on either side of his shoulder, attempting to console him.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do," he snapped, though I didn't blame him at all for being irritated and angry.

"We'll figure something out," Harry added. "We've got your back."

Liam let out a groan, plopping down onto the bed and burying his face into the palms of his hands. Harry and I sat on either side of him, non-vocally showing our support for our distressed teammate. As we waited for Liam to speak up, hopefully with some kind of strategy, a jingle suddenly filtered from his phone.

We all turned over our shoulders to gaze at the phone behind us. Liam quickly snatched the device and unlocked the screen. Then, we were met with a disturbing photograph.

"Lila," Liam breathed heavily.

In the back of a van, sat Lila. The once bright, brown eyes I remembered were now red and full of tears. Fear plagued those eyes, as a piece of duct tape covered her tiny mouth. Lila's fragile arms were bound to her back by some kind of restraint we couldn't see, and the dark brown hair curls that matched her father's were in a messy ponytail, its ribbon hanging by a few loose strands.

"Those fucking monsters," Harry hissed, turning away from the image in pure disgust.

Another simple chime trickled from the phone and an audio bubble popped up onto the screen. Without hesitation, Liam pressed it, only for the eeriest voice to trickle into our ears.

"Liam James Payne. Born in Wolverhampton, England to Karen and Geoff Payne. Blood type A-Positive. Martial arts master, specializing in hand to hand combat," the chilling voice was deep and menacing as his words filled the room with frenzy. "We have your daughter, Lila Alejandra Ortiz-Payne. If you want her back, alive, you'll join us. Wait for further instructions. And Liam, we only have enough of your daughter's medication to last three days."

And just like that, havoc ransacked our lives.

The voice memo ended and Liam dropped the phone. It crashed onto the carpet with a loud thud, before he stood from the bed to take a few strides towards the window. He stared out the glass, our view facing an alleyway rather than anything significantly picturesque. Harry and I looked at one another, engaging in a non-vocal conversation. The conclusion of that discourse? Neither one of us knew what to say.

"I used to be a bartender," Liam suddenly spoke after several minutes of utter silence. He turned away from the window to look at Harry and I with a reddened face. "When I wasn't serving shitty beers or making fruity cocktails for busty women, I was doing underground MMA competitions."

"Is that where you learned how to fight?" I asked.

Liam shook his head, "it's where I got good."

"Underground MMA combats sound illegal," I commented.

"It is," Liam simply answered, letting out a heavy sigh. "But I needed the money. You know Lila's sick. She was born with a heart abnormality and needed surgery, and all these medications, and x-rays every other week. Plus there's diapers, food, clothes, toys... there were so many expenses. Despite the ocean that separated us, Aliana and I tried our hardest."

"You did the best you could for the situation you were in," Harry consoled. "You're a brilliant father."

"Thanks, I really tried," Liam shot him a tight-lipped smile, the first in several days. "But between my bartending gig and Aliana's job at a cafe, it wasn't enough."

"So you beat people to a pulp for money?" I guessed.

"I got the shit beat out of me at first before I actually got really good. But for every match, whether I won or not, I'd walk away with a huge chunk of change," Liam explained. "But if I won, which I eventually did... let's just say it was enough to pay for Lila's medical expenses."

"If that's the case, then why work for my father?" I questioned. I gazed at Liam with an ache in my chest because like Harry, I poorly judged him too.

"Lila's heart was rapidly failing and needed an emergency surgery to temporarily fix the issue while we waited for a heart donor," Liam continued. His face fell, the color drained, and all I saw in his eyes was pain. "Your dad saw me fight one night and offered up a deal. He did heavy recon on me and knew about Lila's issue."

"He paid for her surgery, didn't he?" Harry speculated.

Liam nodded his head, "he had already paid for it before even meeting me. He paid for the surgery, the medication, an upgraded hospital suite, and even a nurse who would come visit Lila at home to make sure she was recovering well."

"Damn," I breathed.

My dad was quite the human, and generously paying above and beyond for Lila's treatments wasn't out of character. That's exactly what he would do for any stranger, but the part that didn't bode well with me, was the exchange. My dad would never do something for someone and expect something in return, especially if it involved risking one's life. But as I stared at Liam, and mulled over the current situation he was in, I had a hunch that I didn't know my father as well as I thought I did.

"Lila was gonna get better... I had no choice but to work for your dad," Liam concluded.

"Liam, I'm sorry," my words, though genuine, lacked impact. I wished there was something I could say or do that would be of great significance; something that could be deemed useful.

"Not your fault," Liam shrugged. He rubbed his face in frustration before walking to the door, "I'm gonna take a long walk."

Before I knew it, the wooden slab hinged to its frame slammed with a deep thud, leaving Harry and I to our swirling thoughts. Plopping on top of the bed, I looked at Harry with guilt splashed across my face. I opened my mouth to begin a conversation, however I couldn't get a single word out.

"Whatever you do, don't try to sway Liam's decision," Harry advised and I grimaced.

"What makes you think that'd I do such a thing?" I questioned with an irritated scoff. "It's Liam's life and he can do whatever the hell he needs to do to save Lila."

"Good," despite the positive word, Harry's stern tone and furrowed brows anchored hostility. "Because Liam's probably going to choose ANTI over us."

"I don't blame him," I admitted with a defeated sigh. "His daughter is on the line— my dad would do anything for Kat and I. As a father, Liam is no different."

Someone was bound to betray me sooner or later. I knew that from the start, and maybe ANTI knew that too. Technically, I broke a major rule by discussing my matters with the boys. Niall paid for it, Liam will soon, and it's only a matter of time till this hits home for Harry too.

"Harry," I directed my attention from the dirty carpet, to him. "I wouldn't blame you either if you wanted to bounce from this mission."

"I told you once already that I'm not abandoning you," Harry reiterated. "If Liam leaves, then you won't have anyone to help you. And I hate to bring it up, but if it's what gets it through your head then I will."

I stayed silent, patiently waiting for Harry to continue. He loomed before me, his jaw tight and eyes ablaze with an overwhelming truth. Taking a stride forward, feet heavy and shoulders weighed down, Harry made his statement.

"Your inability to accept the help of others, is only going to bring you down, and that is evident in the fact that Niall is no longer with us."

There, he said it— it's my fault Niall's dead. Harry denied it once before, and though he didn't flat out declare it, I knew that's exactly what he thought.

"Yea," I nodded my head in agreement, much to Harry's surprise. "You're right. So you're sticking around, then?"

"You're stuck with me, Tash," Harry concluded with a small smile, and an innocent tilt of his head.

This became the start of a new chapter. A reconstituted point in the timeline where I did what I could to let go of some of my not so great qualities. Starting with the help thing. I grew up to be independent; not because I was neglected, but because I spent the majority of the time with my mother, who was as self-reliant as they came.

I had to come to terms with the fact that accepting help didn't equate to weakness, but courage— courage to admit that you're in need of guidance. Courage to put one's ego aside, and welcome some assistance. Courage to admit that you're human, and everyone needs a little help sometimes.

"You're a fucking cock-waffle, Harry. You're totally cheating!"

Just because I was willing to fix some of my flaws, didn't mean I'd include cursing like a sailor— baby steps.

"How do you cheat while playing Goldfish?" Harry argued, flashing the stack of cards in his hands.

"I don't know, but this is the third round you've won," I pointed out. With an annoyed groan, I threw the playing cards onto the carpet like a child having a tantrum.

"Don't be a sore loser, Tash," Harry chuckled.

"I hate losing," I huffed.

It had been almost four hours since Liam's dreaded phone call from ANTI, and the somber atmosphere needed to be lifted. Nothing said elevating the morale better than sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet while playing a simple card game. However, because this was Harry and I, a juvenile game of Goldfish quickly morphed into quite the clash.

"You know what Niall would say if he were here?" Harry smirked. Though his question rhetorical, I knew exactly how to answer. A smile of my own creeped onto my face, and I rolled my eyes from the sweet memory.

"That we're just hangry and need food," I reminisced with a giggle. Niall was as pure and wonderful as a fresh blanket of snow, yet warm enough to be the sunshine on a Sunday afternoon in the summer.

"Exactly," Harry stood up and held his arm towards me.

I looked at his open palm with hesitance, but reluctantly, I took it. I grasped his large hand, and he gripped mine, pulling me up with ease.

"There's a cafe around the corner that looks promising. We should go get food and some fresh air," Harry suggested.

"Is that smart?" I questioned. "Showing our faces, I mean. What if someone recognizes us? I'm pretty sure all of France is alert."

"We'll be fine," Harry assured. "Besides, we can't starve and I'm tired of smelling your sweet pea body wash in this confined space."

The obnoxious laugh that exited my body, and reverberated against the walls was unexpected. Harry's face contorted upon witnessing the demonic shrill, holding a hand against his chest as if he just experienced a small heart attack.

"What the fuck was that noise that just came out of you?" Harry questioned. He continued to stare at me with fear.

"Nothing, nothing." The words came out in fragments, in between bouts of hysterical laughter. I shook my head and my hands, attempting to convey the non-severity of my amusement. "You just mentioned sweet pea."

"Is that some weird Filipino joke I'm supposed to understand?" Harry lifted a brow.

I shook my head, my laughter gradually subsiding. "No, the sweet pea scent you're smelling is Liam's body wash that I stole from his bathroom before we left on that first mission."

"You what?" Harry's jaw dropped. "Breaking into banks is one thing, but deliberately swiping a man's most prized aroma? Tash, I thought you were a better person than this."

Harry's disgusted expression soon morphed into a playful grin, as a stream of chuckles caused his shoulders to bounce.

"It was a small travel sized bottle. Liam had like, fifty of them in his drawer," I explained, remembering my first shower in the Payne residence after being carelessly flung into this unfortunate situation.

"Wanna see something funny?" Harry grinned.

"No, I don't want to see your weener," I shot back without missing a beat. A smug look filled my face, as Harry's softened into smooth, displeased lines.

"Ha, ha. You're so fucking funny," Harry stuck a tongue out like a child, and I continued to smirk in response.

I watched Harry take several steps to the other end of the hotel room where his bags all sat on the floor against the wall. He bent down to unzip a bag, rummaging around for a moment before standing back up. When he turned, he brandished two, small, plastic bottles. Pink, viscous liquid slowly sloshed inside and when I looked back up at Harry, he had a tickled glint in his green eyes.

"Wow," I laughed. "I only stole one, but you took two! Two. Who the hell are you Harry Kitson!"

"One of these," Harry held one of the bottles higher, the content inside less than the other. "Is actually a bottle that Niall stole from Liam's drawer too."

"We're terrible," I declared, before snorting. Harry grinned at me, chucking the sweet pea scented body washes back into his bag.

Slowly but surely, I was beginning to see a different side to Harry. A side that I could tolerate and appreciate. Don't get me wrong, Harry will always be asshat Harry, but he had elements about him that weren't bad at all. Instead, they were my favorite traits about that boy with the curly mop of hair.

Toulouse was beyond beautiful, and being immersed in a city filled with culture made my toes tingle. However, despite the French delicacies served on every corner, and the specialized food fit for a fancy dinner date, there was something that our tastebuds craved: greasy pizza. Fortunately for Harry and I, there was a pizzeria only three blocks away from our hotel. After spending a short thirty minutes indulging on a couple of slices, we knew it was best to go back to our room.

"Where are you headed?" I called after Harry. He strolled across the street, in the opposite direction of where our hotel was.

Harry stopped in his tracks, in the middle of the street, and turned around. He didn't say anything, and instead head nodded towards his direction.

"What?" I spoke to myself, gawking at Harry who only had this goofy smirk plastered across his face.

"Come on, Tash! Before before the street lights switch," Harry insisted.

I flickered my eyes over to the black pole on the corner of the street, where its mechanical component flashed a numerical countdown. With only six seconds left, I had to make a quick decision. So, with a theatrical groan, I rolled my eyes, and ran towards Harry, who was already on the other end of the street.

"I just scarfed down five slices of pizza. I do not need to be doing any cardio right now," I slowed down my steps, meeting Harry at the concrete curb. "What's up with you? Where are we going?"

"Follow me," Harry simply replied, and began to saunter down the sidewalk. 

"Why? Where are you taking me? Are you going to try to kill me?"

My questions spewed out of my mouth like wildfire in hopes that Harry could answer at least one of them. But to my dismay, he just ignored me. So rather than arguing, I just mused the boy and followed suit. It didn't take long for us to arrive to wherever it was Harry was taking me. A silent five minute walk atop cobblestone streets and golden lampposts, all came down to this: a beautiful gradient of lights fluttering within the water's dark ripples.

"Welcome to a piece of French architecture I know you'd appreciate," Harry announced, his arms open as he gestured for a wondrous stone bridge, with asymmetrical arches.

"It's so pretty," I was awestruck, as I gazed so lovingly at the structure. Pink, purple, and blue neon lights adhering to the very top of the arches, created this enchanting glow. It was so mesmerizing, I had a strong urge to leap into the river, and swim beneath the arches.

"I knew you'd enjoy this," Harry boasted, a satisfied timbre to his voice.

I caught glimpse of him in my peripheral vision as he stepped forward to stand next to me. I took a moment to refocus my gaze from the fluttering lights on the water, to Harry. The golden illumination of the nearby lampposts, casted an angelic glimmer on Harry's face. It accentuated the beauty I normally suppressed, however with the dimple on his cheek, and that damn smirk planted on his face, I couldn't deny that Harry was actually a handsome fellow.

That fact is something I'd never admit to him out loud though, because I knew his ego would kick up a few notches, and that's something I didn't need to deal with. There's also the other fact of our almost-kiss instance. That tiny moment detonated several emotions I had yet to decipher. I still didn't know what to make of it; what Harry was thinking when he instigated the gesture. And if Niall never interrupted, would I have let Harry continue? I honestly had no clue.

"Harry, I'm going to ask you a question," I hinted.

"You know the drill Tash," he began. "You can ask it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to answer it."

"Fair enough," I agreed.

I gave myself a moment to collect myself before delving into my thoughts, and Harry seemed patient because he didn't push it. Maybe he himself was nervous of what I would ask, because my track record showed a lack of boundaries.

"When we were in the car after battling Interpol outside the bank, and I begged you to take Niall to the hospital, he said that you knew what he wanted," I recollected. I sucked in my breath, closing my eyes as my entire soul filled up with pain from that singular moment. A heavy breath escaped my mouth, and I opened my eyes to look at Harry who was already gazing down at me. "What did he mean by that?"

Unexpectedly, Harry blew out heavy air, his cheeks puffing out. He hesitated for a while, opening his mouth then closing it up again. He ran his fingers through the curls atop his head, messing with them like a nervous habit. Then Harry looked at me with the most sullen expression, yet.

"Part of the requirements of working for your dad, is to create a will," Harry revealed. "You are also required in that will, to thoroughly explain what you'd like your final moments to be like, in the event that death is imminent."

"D-did Niall sh-share his will w-with you?" The words refused to flow smoothly, and instead, they tripped out of my mouth, like missing a step and tumbling onto the ground.

"Yea," Harry nodded his head. "Everyone has to share theirs, so as a team, we can fulfill those final moments."

"What did Niall ask for?" I questioned. Harry subtly smiled to himself, a light laugh filling the evening air around us.

"He was so simple," Harry hummed. "I mean, if you've only got ten minutes to live, there isn't much you could actually ask for."

I mulled over Harry's statement for a quick second, wondering what I'd ask for in my final moments. What would I choose to see, hear, feel, for the last time ever? What singular memory would I choose to die with me?

"What did he want?" I asked again.

"Friends, fresh air, and a pretty view."

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I feel bad for Liam & for his family. ANTI is no joke, and it looks like they're after the squad, fam.

Even though I've had this chapter written for a while, I wanted to wait till. Sometimes I get so excited that I just post, and I don't think about how it'll affect the rest of the story. I try to have at least 5-10 chapters completed in advance, in case something doesn't flow well & I need to go back to alter some things.

Also, in case any of you are interested, I started compiling my own personal tips for fanfiction writing. I've created a new book for it called "How To Be A Boss Bitch Fanfiction Writer." Check it out on my page!

Thanks for all the support & love on this book! I'm glad so many of you like it. <33