Agent Kelly Tomlinson

Fifty Six.

Harry helped me clean up the apartment as best as our lazy bodies could. Yeah, I probably should have left everything where it was so that the police could analyze the scene, but since I already knew who it was, I let my OCD get the best of me and cleaned it up anyway.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked as we moved the coffee table back to its original position in front of the couches. Harry didn't like that I was moving heavy objects with my bad arm, so I've been doing the heavy lifting with just my good arm, making Harry take most of the weight for himself.

"Anything."

I hesitated before opening my mouth. I was afraid to ask this question but I could help but constantly think about it. "The other night in Ireland... You shot a couple of people because I handed you a gun and told you to." Harry looked down at the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. My heart cracked a little bit at his reaction but I continued. "Do you still think about it?"

Harry didn't answer for a couple of long seconds. I thought I could hear my heart pounding against my ribs, or feel the air become thicker because of some possible tension. But I let Harry ponder my question and think of an answer without pestering him to hurry up before I combusted with anxiety. Despite how much I wanted to yell at him to think faster.

"I think about it all the time." Harry looked up. His eyes were glassed over with tears. Blinking, they started to fall down his cheek one by one. But he kept himself calm and and took deep breaths to steady his voice and breathing. "I think about how easy it was for you to choose me over Louis. You wouldn't give him a gun even though he asked for one. I thought that was weird. And then I think about how easy it was for me to pull the trigger at some stranger and how oddly satisfied I was that he went down with a bullet perfectly shot through his chest - right where I was aiming." He paused. "It's because of my Aunt Lydia. Right?"

"I knew that if Lydia trained you that you would have a perfect shot. And although you never knew it before, you know your way around a standard hand gun. That's why I chose you instead of Louis. I'm sorry." I spoke softly, close to a whisper.

"I can't help but feel massively guilty about it. I mean, I killed two people! Two people I didn't even know because all I could think about was them hurting you. And for that reason, I don't feel as guilty as I should...which makes me feel even more guilty!"

"I understand." I said. And I did. Guilt was one of the most common feelings I felt during my time at the agency. So many people I had to kill, so many decisions I had to make, rules I had to break, people I had to hurt, and people I had to lie to. That was my life. That was what was considered normal.

"But I don't blame you," Harry said. "It was my choice to shoot, and it was my aunt's decision to implement that kind of instinct in me."

"Yeah but - "

"But you came up with a good plan. If you hadn't given me that gun, who knows how different the situation would have turned out. Maybe we wouldn't even be here right now."

"I'm still sorry." I frowned.

"It's okay. I'll be okay. I promise."

I didn't want to put more on Harry's plate. He already looked so sad and tired from this week alone, and anxious about the week to come. I wanted nothing more for him than to be happy and continue leading his normal pop star life, so bringing up this next topic was going to be difficult for me.

"I think I should go into the office tonight." I said. "Ryan will probably be there and I can end it all tonight. Your aunt will probably be there too..."

Harry licked his lips and fumbled with his thumbs. "I don't know if I'm ready to see her just yet. I haven't even talked to my mom about it."

"That's okay. I understand."