Blacklist [h.s]

fifteen

hi friends, i love you all. thank you so much for all the reads and the votes and the comments. you're all amazing, i broke my laptop awhile back so I couldn't post but here is the next chapter!! I'm also struggling with how I want this story to go now, but yk it's fine we'll figure it out together. Also do you like having the gifs with the stories or no?

Harry

Watching Grace sleep peacefully in the backseat seemed ironic; she looked so peaceful in a jumpsuit, her brown hair a curly mess, with her. I wasn't worried that they would blast her face all over the news because they wanted to keep this under wraps. I sat quietly in the seat across from Grace. The highway passed us in silence for a long time before we drive down a pot-hole filled dirt road.

There's a thing called the butterfly effect where, in simple terms, a minute change can have large effects elsewhere. And I can't help but think that I've created a butterfly effect on Grace's life. I've completely uprooted it to the point that she was a prominent FBI agent just a few days ago and now she's probably wanted for capital murder.

I suppose blaming her for Cooper's murder would be easier for the FBI to explain than the black site (which I'm pretty sure was almost illegal). But ruining her life at the expense of their mistakes pisses me off to the core. I have to take a deep breath and remind myself why I'm here. To protect Grace. And nothing more.

I'm lurched out of my seat, my head nearly hitting the seat in front of me because of my lack of care for a seatbelt. I glance over at Grace in the to see that she's jolted awake. Unlike me, she's wearing a seatbelt. She stretches her arms above her head, eyes wide, shirt sliding up her stomach a little. We catch eyes for a quick moment and I swear I see a smile tug at the corner of her cheeks as she pulls her shirt back down but my lips stay in a straight line. Our driver steps out of the car and walks around to the back. He's tapping on my window seconds later and I roll it down, the cool Pittsburg air hitting my face.

"Looks like we have a flat, sir." He mumbles.
"How long to fix it?"
"We don't have a spare in the back." He mumbles.
I glance around the street curiously.

Cars line the road on either side, making it almost impossible for two cars to squeeze through at the same time. Boarded up houses, houses that looked like they were seconds from falling down and empty lots line the street with them. I take a deep breath, pursing my lips at our driver. I don't know his name and he doesn't know mine (at least he is pretending that he doesn't), it's safer that way.

"Fix it," I nod and roll up the window.

"What's going on?" Grace asks. I shake my head. "Just a flat," I mumble. I don't look back to see if she nods or not, but her silence is all I need. I watch the man in the mirror talk on the phone. It's making me nervous that I can't hear what he's saying, but I keep my demeanor calm.

Police sirens round the corner and I swear Grace's eyes are going to pop out of her head when she sees the red and blue lights flickering. I stay silent in my seat. They weren't here for us, otherwise they wouldn't have their sirens on, but she doesn't know that. And I know she'd be too zoned out to listen to me. So instead I watch her watch the police car idly glide by us and watch her chest fall with a breath. I've taken note that you can tell Grace the same thing a thousand times over and she won't learn until she does it herself. You can tell her a blade is sharp but she's still going to touch it to make sure. I don't know if it's independent or trust issues.

"Why are you being like that?" she asks me. I furrow my eyebrows and turn to face her, the two of us alone in the car in the backseat.

"Like what?"

"Like... I don't know, weird. Quiet? Calm?"

I shrug and turn back around. "Like that," she mumbles.