KILLSHOT // [H.S]

066. HOUDINI

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066. HOUDINI

Houdini.

With each minute ticking by as she stood alone in the shower, Rory wondered if Harry had taken his new nickname to heart. She only used that name earlier to tease him - the last thing she wanted was for him to embody it.

She didn't know exactly how much time had passed. But, considering she was going through her shower routine very slowly and was nearing the end, Rory knew he had been gone for an unusually long time. 

Maybe one of the boys needed something, she thought to herself, attempting to ease her mind. He's fine. Daddy Harry was just called for duty.

Running her fingers through her hair, Rory inhaled a deep breath. 

It's fine. Everything is fine.

Rory typically used a shower to rid her body and mind of that panicking, chest-tightening feeling - something about standing under hot water somehow always did the trick. It wasn't a perfect remedy, but it did enough to suppress, and sometimes heal, the feeling. However, she wasn't used to it festering while standing under the water.

The shower walls surrounding her no longer feel like a safe box - it started to feel contristing.

Stop. Just calm down. Focusing her attention on the tiled wall before her, she concentrated on her breathing. Don't watch the door. Just relax. Harry is fine.

No matter how many times she tried convincing herself, there was nothing as relieving as the sound of the shower door opening behind her.

"There you are," Rory said, a smile tugging on her lips, "I was starting to worry you disappeared on me again, Houdini."

Expecting his entrance to end the loneliness and fear thickening the air, Rory was left confused. The relief she felt moments ago evaporated so quickly that she wondered if it had been there at all. She at least expected a rebuttal over the nickname - although she quickly regretted the use, fearing it may speak it into existence.

Cautiously turning her head, she looked at the man near the glass door. Her chest tightened, breath catching in her throat, as she met his glance. Standing before her was a man she knew but hardly recognized. They had met a few times before; it had been so long that Rory had forgotten this side of him existed.

"What's wrong?"

Harry immediately shook his head at the question. "Nothing."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Insult me by acting like I don't know you, Harry."

Watching him, she noted how his brows knit together, and his attention drifted to the tiled floor. Something was wrong, but what that was, she didn't know. And by the looks of things, Harry didn't either.

Stepping forward, a silent gasp escaped as she caught a better look at him. It wasn't until she was up close that Rory realized she hadn't met this version of him before. It wasn't darkness behind his eyes – it was fear.

"Harry-"

"I can't." His brows furrowed, face contorting with pain. "I can't talk yet."

"You don't have to."