The Side You Don't Hear (1D)

Chapter 12

-One Week Later-

Alice's POV

                Nothing was working.  None of the tips from fans led anywhere, none of the pictures of Clark on milk cartons or the news helped, even Liam's constant reminders to the media to keep an eye out didn't serve its purpose.  I was beginning to think that I was never going to see my baby boy again.  After days of mindlessly wandering the streets of London and practically attacking anyone carrying a child, I finally retreated to my apartment to mourn.  Peter, fresh out of jail, tried to comfort me, but he seriously wasn't helping.  I got so tired of his constant hugs that I ended up locking him out of my apartment a few hours ago, but I can still hear him talking from the other side of the door.  I don't think he has any plans to leave soon, either.

                I loved my bed, I thought, as I laid face down on a pillow, but not as much as I love Clark.  If I had anymore tears, I would have shed them after that thought, but I had cried myself dry in the past three weeks.  People keep telling me not to give up, and I haven't, but it's so hard to keep going when it feels hopeless.  I'm an empty shell of the person I once was, and everyone around me can tell.  Peter had tried to make a joke about the bags under my eyes to lighten the mood, but you can tell how well that turned out for him.  Liam has made a few remarks about how my eyes aren't nearly as green as they once was, but if that's true, they're probably grey by now.  They really could be for all I know; I don't think I've looking in a mirror since I did that interview.  Have I even showered since then?  Who knew, all I cared about was finding Clark. 

                I rolled over and starred at the ceiling, but it lost my interest after a few minutes.  I looked at the clock on my bedside table: 5 o'clock PM.  I might as well watch the news, I thought, wondering if they would still be running things about Clark even though it's been a few weeks.  I had to admit, even with everyone hating Harry after hearing my side of the story, having the father of my child be famous made the press much more likely to talk about bringing him home.   I searched through the covers on my bed for the TV remote and turned it straight to channel two where the news would just be starting.  A few stories passed and I was starting to get bored again.  Nothing seemed to interest me for more than a couple of minutes, but then the next story started.

                "Pop star and father of a missing child, Harry Styles, has been reported dead by his management company only a few moments ago.  Apparently Styles has been at an unknown location recovering from an illness for the past three weeks, but it didn't seem to help.  None of his band mates or family members could be reached for comments.  More on this story later as it develops."

Liam's POV

                The boys and I had just finished watching a movie at Zayn's place when management called us in unexpectedly.  They wanted all four of us, which is odd, as they've tended to only call me in the past few weeks to make sure I'm keeping up on my part of Harry's cover up.  None of us really want to go in, but we know we have to.  The other boys haven't been taking well to Harry being gone, especially Louis, as he's all alone in his flat now that his roommate is MIA.  He often spends the night on the couch in my flat in an effort to not be alone all the time, but I don't mind.  The last any of the boys have heard is that harry is still sick and recovering, so I wonder what has changed about the situation that they didn't tell me about in advance. 

                It was just going on five o'clock in the afternoon, which was a tad late for them to be calling us, but we all piled up into the car anyways, arriving in just a few minutes.  By the time we make it to the elevator, Niall has got everyone laughing over some joke, and I throw an arm around Louis to keep from rolling around on the floor about it.  He's not much help, as he just goes straight down with me, making everyone laugh even harder.  Barely composed and still teary eyed from laughter, the elevator doors open at our floor and we make our way out, constantly trying to trip each other.  We were all too hyped up for a long, boring meeting, so I hoped they made this quick.

                "Boys! Have a seat," an unfamiliar voice tells us right after I open the door to the conference room.  I look at Zayn, who shrugs, clearly having no idea who this man was either.  Once we were all seated across the table from him, he continued talking.  "I'm Mr. Dent, the head of this entire management firm.  I know we've never formally met, but I'm technically your boss's boss," he added the last part with a laugh.  The boys and I looked at each other with uncertainty.  This must be a much more important matter than usual for him to be here.  He sat there looking at us for a minute with no one saying anything.  What was he waiting for?

                A man opened the door, drawing all of our attention.  He simply nodded at Mr. Dent and walked back out, closing the door securely behind him.  Mr. Dent looked down at his watch and smiled.  Confused, I took a look at mine as well.  What was so special about it being 5 o'clock?  Before I could think of anything more, the man continued talking.

                "I know you all are wondering why I've called you here today, so I'll make it short and get on with it.  Your friend Harry's health took a turn for the worst this morning," he paused, observing as all of our faced dropped with sadness and concern for our brother, "There was little his staff of doctors could do for him at that point, and as a result, he passed away." he finished with absolutely no emotion.

                Harry...is dead?  Is that possible?  What about Clark?  Is this all a part of their plan and they just aren't telling me anymore?  All three boys around me broke into tears almost immediately, but I was still in shock.  I had no idea what to feel, but a few tears made their way down my face regardless.  Mr. Dent took this as his cue to leave, and the four of us just sat in the room crying.  I pulled them all into a group hug, but it was odd with only four people in our little huddle.  Better get used to that, I thought, but mentally slapped myself for it immediately.

                After what felt like forever comforting the boys, Mr. Dent popped his head in and slid something in my pocket and left, going unnoticed by the other boys.  Literally hours  later, I sat on my bed back in my flat, which would have been a good place to think and look at the contents of my pocket, but there were other people in my company.  All three of the other boys came back to my flat because no one wanted to be alone after the news about Harry.  Louis was curled up in a ball, clutching a pillow, with his head on my lap.  Niall was laying face down  at the end of the bed going the wrong direction, occasionally sniffing and coming up for air.  Zayn was sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the bed, off in his own little space.

                It took many hours of silence, with the exception of lots of crying and sniffling, before all the boys fell asleep.  I took advantage of the moment and slid my hand in my pocket to retrieve the paper the was in my pocket, curiosity of hat could be on it killing me.  It was a small piece of paper ripped from a note pad and folded in half with very professional looking hand writing creating the words inside.  It simply read: Find them, bring the child back.  I'll take care of Harry.  So he wasn't dead, I was right.  That was a huge load off my shoulders, but I knew that I couldn't tell the other boys and bring them into this mess.  This was probably part cover up and part publicity scheme, the latter needing the boys to genuinely act like Harry was dead.  I crumpled the paper up and shoved it back in my pocket, deciding that I should get some sleep as well.  The only thought plaguing my mind as I closed my eyes was how in hell was I going to find Harry?