Mission Impossible

Chapter 61 ~ 470,000 Words

CLARA'S POV

470,000 words. That's about how many words there are in the English language. Not to mention all the words in the seven other languages I was fluent in.

470,000 words, and I can not describe how I felt as those words left Zayn's mouth.

"Harry's dead."

I think my heart stopped for a second. I think I held my breath for a few seconds too long. I think, for a second, my body could no longer go on.

"No," was all I could say. "He's a- he's a good agent, he's fine."

"He was," Zayn said. "Even good agents fall...you know that." I was not okay, but the reference to my parents pushed me over the edge.

"I don't believe you," I immediately spat. I thought back to when the three men had been talking in Maxwell's office, and they had said something about a video. "I need proof," I demanded. "I don't believe you." Zayn looked disheartened as Damian looked up at him, and I remembered how Zayn wanted the video gone, and Damian fought to keep it.

"There's a video," Zayn finally said. "But Clara, are you sure? It's not going to be easy-,"

"Show me the video, Zayn," I interrupted him. Maxwell passed his phone to Zayn, who handed it to me with a grimace. On the screen was a video, just waiting to be played. I so badly did not want to press play, but I so badly wanted to see that this was all some crazy misunderstanding. Knowing that the only way I could tell them they had made a mistake was by watching the video, I hit play.

The screen came to life as I saw a handful of workers cutting cocaine in a factory. Men with guns strolled up and down the aisles, observing the robotic motions of the workers as they prepped the product. Soon enough, a man came running in the workshop, shouting something to everyone inside. I watched as everyone grabbed a gun, but not before a team of agents in gear stormed into the drug factory. Leading the charge, was a tall, confident man, with brown hair sticking out beneath his helmet. The way he walked, slightly slanted was all too familiar to mistake him for someone else. That was my Harry.

As the drug cartel raised their weapons to shoot, they were quickly neutralized by the team. The team of agents dispersed into the factory to clear the rest of the rooms, and I watched as Harry took the nearest door, breaking open the door and sweeping his head side to side to clear the room. As he turned his body to the right, I watched as he was propelled back, slamming into the door. My hand shot up to cover my mouth, sniffling a scream, or a yelp, or maybe even a wail.

A man with a shotgun ran out of the room, making a break for the main door. Three members of the team ran after him as two agents went to check on Harry. I didn't have to be there to know.

The growing pool of blood underneath his body told me what I needed to know; he was not going to make it.

I watched as the other agents tried to stop the bleeding, and tried to keep him awake. And I watched as they eventually gave up.

I wanted to scream at them to keep trying, to keep going just a little longer, but I knew. I knew it was a waste, because I knew he was gone.

As the agents stood up and moved to the side, I saw him. He looked peaceful. Like he was sleeping. It would have been a serene sight, if the pool of blood wasn't there. The video continued on, with the agents returning and slowly realizing they had lost one of their own.

But my eyes were glued to the body on the floor. Lifeless. That was my Harry.

About 470,000 words in the English language. And not one of them could accurately describe what was happening to my heart as I quietly sunk down to the floor. Not a scream, nor a yell, nor a wail left my mouth as I hit the ground, the phone clattering out of my hand. I just stared blankly ahead. Blankly ahead into a future, that had no possibility of Harry in it.

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A/N

Very short chapter, but I couldn't leave you guys hanging for too long.

What is everyone thinking?

Is Harry faking his own death? Is Zayn? Is he ACTUALLY dead?

Let me know your theories!! xx