The Rise Of Glory.

Until I see you again, again.

I enter Harry's meeting, and he glances over at me, raising a brow and giving me a stare that I know all too well— He's using his eyes to tell me that there better be a good fucking reason for interrupting. "I need you," I simply whisper, unsure of what the hell else I'm meant to say.

I don't think 'I just saw your dead brother' would be such a good thing to start with.

I'm not sure how to even begin to explain to Harry what the hell is going on.

Harry turns to Niall, promptly signalling for Niall to take the lead for a moment before he excuses the two of us and leads me out of the meeting room, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong? Are you alright? Is it Alex?" Harry inquires, but I can't obtain my words as I head towards his office, "Elle, are you okay?" Harry questions.

He's not used to me barging in on a meeting and pulling him away. It isn't something I do. I rarely bother him in a meeting. I like to deal with things myself instead of running to Harry when he's occupied.

I don't know if I'm okay. It's not a question I can answer.

"I'm not sure," I respond while I shift the office door open and step inside.

Logan stands to his feet from his sitting position and turns to face Harry and me.

Harry benevolently grabs me and carefully draws me into him in a protective way, "Is this some sort of fucking prank?" Harry spits out immediately. He's angry, and I don't blame him for his choice of emotion.

"Before you call security on me, can we talk?" Logan quickly asks, holding his hands up in defence.

Harry shakes his head, "This has to be a sick joke. Logan is dead. Get the hell out." Harry gestures towards the door fiercely.

"Harry, it's me. In my letter to you, I signed it 'until I see you again'."

The room grows silent, so silent that I can hear my heartbeat.

It's an eerie feeling that washes over me as the silence whistles around us. I don't think either of us knows what to do or what to say. I can't help but stare at Logan, hoping that I'll wake myself up from this nightmare. Surely this isn't waking life.

Logan shouldn't be standing in front of us; we left him buried in Cheshire years ago.

"We watched them bury you, literally," Harry shakes his head, grappling to come to terms with what's going on. I don't even think I can come to terms with this, and I'm the level-headed one for the family concerns of Harry's past.

Logan shakes his head, "Will you let me explain, please?." ... "It was all a setup. I had to fake my death before Dad did kill me. I couldn't stay here. I staged everything and had vowed I'd never come back."

"So you were never sick?" Harry question without much emotion on his face.

"I was," Logan nods, "I figured out what was happening; Dad or someone changed my meds and was trying to bump me off. Once I was strong enough from the transfusion, I left."

"How? How have you survived? You left all your assets. What the fuck Logan."

"I moved to the southern states of America, bounced around before settling in Destin, Florida, where I worked on a charter boat to pay for expenses," Logan explains, sending sincerity with each word he says. Still, I can't wrap my head around things.

How does someone up and leave without a trace? All this time, I've been running his business, and he has been running from his life. How ironic, Logan runs from his family and troubles, and Harry always talks about running from the shadows of his family. Maybe they do have something in common besides a raging alcoholic, good for nothing, father.