agent 99 - h.s.

five

Harry moves every muscle in his body unsurely, measuring what’s broken. When he can’t move his wrist, he looks down to see a wrap around it. Only a sprain. He breathes a sigh of relief, wincing immediately. Ribs are definitely gone. He slowly sits up and promptly rips the IV out of his arm. In the process, he notices the bruises littered across his arms and the stitches on his hand. He rolls his eyes and sets his mind to taking out the stitches himself, but multiple footsteps stop him from doing so.

To his dismay, Zayn barrels into the infirmary room, drowning in an oversized white lab coat. Violet appears from behind him, at a slower pace, and Harry notices the few stitches peeking out from the bottom of her skirt. His eyes find hers and he is both surprised and a little annoyed to see a flicker of concern in them.

“Harry,” Zayn starts to say something, but then his attention is drawn elsewhere, “did you take out your IV?”

“Obviously,” Harry mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the too-clean infirmary sheets.

Zayn exhales with exasperation. “I have to go get a new one,” He grumbles as he brushes past Violet, leaving the room. She crosses her arms and walks closer to the patient.

“So it worked,” Harry remarks.

Violet is about to ask what he’s referring to, but as she watches his green eyes glint with smugness, contrasting the bitten red of his lips, she can take a wild guess as to what it is. Her blood begins to boil. “Have you seen yourself?” She asks, voice involuntarily rising.

“The associate is dead and we’re both alive,” He says and she scoffs.

“Barely.”

She looks at him for a moment, studying how her response has absolutely no effect on him. His indifference reaches something inside of her, and she feels compelled to ask, “Would you have cared if it ended differently?”

Her anger subsides at his silence, and she slides into a creaky chair next to his bed. “There’s a fine line between martyrdom and suicide,” She says softly.

“They go hand in hand with this job,” He replies, stone cold.

“Why did we split up? You were adamant about sticking to this…partnership and you tell me to leave you? Rookie move, don’t you think?” She uses his own words against him in an attempt to get a reaction, any reaction, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

“They only wanted me. When Iris called, she said the associate was there for me, just me. You weren’t a part of it.”

“I am now,” She counters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He watches as hazel eyes dart to his, but they seem to look right through him, as if he isn’t there.

“Bolton. He told me Victor knows we’re working together.” Her voice is apologetic, as if what she’s saying is her fault.

“Shit,” Harry curses, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fight is between him and Victor, and he had intended to keep it that way. He had wanted to keep her away from him, avoid tangling her in his mess, but his plan backfired completely. That’s why he resented the idea of a partner in the first place. He should deal with his own problems; it always worked better when he did. And now he has not just a partner, but an entire fleet behind him, and he’s thrown them right in the line of fire.

Zayn reappears with a new needle in his hand, ending their conversation. He says to Harry, “Okay, hold still.”

Harry reluctantly does as he’s told, and Zayn secures the IV into the vein in his hand.