"Where is...where can I find-" I slam into someone as I'm spinning around, stumbling slightly. "I'm so sorry, really. Excuse me."

The frantic movements of my body draw the eyes of almost everyone in the room while I turn in circles, trying to figure out which way to go to find out what I need. This isn't a building I've been to a lot in the last few years of living in New York, and now my mind is reeling with thoughts of what kind of condition Harry is in. Direction is hardly my main concern.

"Miss, can I help you?"

A nurse places her hand on my arm and I finally focus on one thing. She gives me a concerned, confused smile and waits for an answer.

"Sorry, yes. Yeah, I'm um...I got a call about twenty minutes ago, they said he was...I need to find Harry," I stutter, looking around again.

"Miss, calm dow," she says firmly. "Who are you looking for? I'll help you find him."

"Harry. Harry Styles," I tell her. "They said...they said he was unconscious."

Tears form in my eyes and the pity in the nurse's eyes is almost too overwhelming. I just want to collapse in someone's arms and cry for hours, but I can't. I need to find Harry, I need to see him.

"Okay, let's go to reception and see which room he's in."

"No, they said he was in the emergency room. He just got here, where do I go?"

"This way," she says, pointing down the hall. "It's just down here."

She starts walking but I can't wait for her. I'm running down the hall before I can think about it, following the signs I failed to notice earlier. When I get there all I see are beds and people and despite the fact that it's three in the morning it's actually quite busy here. It's all a blur of images to me, but the desk near the doors seems like the right place to go with the blurry vision I can't seem to shake from the tears.

"Harry Styles," I blurt out when I get there. The startled nurse looks up at me. "I'm looking for Harry Styles, is he here?"

"You're Savannah Williams?"

Another woman behind me says it this time, and immediately my attention is on her. "Yeah, yes that's me."

"Your friend is with the doctor," she tells me.

"Is he okay? Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Slow down," she says. Why does everyone want me to be so fucking calm? Harry is in the fucking hospital and I haven't seen him in almost two days, so yeah I think freaking out is alright. "I'm sorry, but you can't see him now."

"What?" I practically shout. "Why not? Where is he?"

"He's being prepped for surgery," she explains.

"Surgery?" I whimper. "What...why is...what does he need surgery for?"

"Please, come with me," she says, holding out her hand in a gesture to follow. She leads me down the hall away from the busyness of the ER, into an elevator and hitting the button for the sixth floor. "Savannah, right?"

"Yes, please tell me what's happening," I plead, more tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Your..." she pauses awkwardly, probably noting the different last name.

"Boyfriend," I finish.

"Your boyfriend came in about an hour ago with severe injuries that didn't seem immediately recent. It seemed that they'd been inflicted about twenty-four hours earlier from what we could tell, but he saw a doctor immediately. He wasn't conscious when his friend brought him in, so he was taken for scans right away."

"Why is he having surgery?" I ask desperately. The elevator dings and she leads me down a corridor towards another quieter waiting are where there's a man sitting on his own and what seems like a couple, maybe in their thirties.

"His spleen was ruptured and he may have some internal bleeding," she explains. I can actually feel the blood drain from my face. "The doctors are optimistic, Savannah. They will have to remove his spleen and everything can be fixed fairly easily. He should be out of surgery in around two hours if everything goes well."

"What else is wrong? And where are we?"

"The operating rooms is just in the adjacent hallway," she explains. "You're welcome to wait here until he's out, then you'll be brought to his room."

"And how is he? For the rest, I mean," I ask again.

"Well, he's got some pretty severe bruising and he'll be getting stitches above his eye and on his leg while he's in surgery. He may have a concussion and a bruised rib, but we can do more tests after he's out."

"Oh my gosh," I breathe, holding my head in my hands. This can't be happening.

"Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" she asks. "It was clear someone inflicted these injuries on him. We haven't called the police, but if you'd like to investigate and press charges then-"

"No, no don't do that," I say quickly. "Just umm...I need to talk to Harry first."

She gives me a peculiar look. "Alright. My name is Julia if you need anything, okay? There's a nurse's station just down the hall and a small coffee station if you need it."

"Okay. Thank you."

She nods and walks down the hall away from me. The small waiting room would probably hold around fifteen people, and when I take my places near the end of the L-shaped section of chairs my eyes feel heavy, but the rest of my body feels more awake than ever. I've never been so anxious in my life, not ever. Harry has to be okay, there's just no other option. I need him to be okay. Sophie needs him to be okay. Baby number two needs to meet his or her father.

Speaking of baby number two, apparently this one's not taking this well. Suddenly my stomach starts spinning and the familiar nausea and bile in the back of my throat starts to rise. I'm running towards the nurse's station with my hand over my mouth.

"Bathroom," I blurt, trying to keep it down.

"Down the hall, to the-"

Too far. I see a trash can to my side and kneel in front of it, emptying whatever I'd managed to get down last night. The commotion of the nurse around me is just background noise over the sound of my retching.

"Are you okay?" the nurse asks when I've finished.

"Shit," I mutter, sitting back on my legs. "I'm so sorry."

"Honey, this is a hospital," she says kindly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We're used to it."

"Where is the bathroom?" I ask, trying to stand up. "Just in case."

"Down this hall and just around the corner," she says, pointing the opposite way of the waiting room. "Do you feel better?"

"Umm...I guess. I'm actually pregnant," I admit to her. She walks to the coffee station and fills a plastic cup with water.

"Hang on, we have some gum somewhere on the desk," she says. She hands me the water and goes to look.

"Thanks."

After a few stories from her own pregnancy and basically forcing me to take the pack of gum for myself I'm left to wait again. The middle-aged couple I noticed earlier is now talking to a doctor a little ways down the hall, the woman leaning into the man while the doctor portrays some sort of news with a somber expression. The other man looks white as a ghost, twiddling his thumbs, his knee bouncing up and down.

"Do you need some water?" I ask after a minute or two. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"No," he croaks. He swallows and rubs his hands over his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. "My wife..."

I'm not sure what to say when he doesn't continue. I don't know this person; if he wants to talk about why he's here I won't stop him, but I'm not going to urge him to tell me what's wrong with his wife. The couple comes back, the woman not trying to conceal her tears while her husband keeps his arm around her, tears falling down his own cheeks.

What a horrible place.

Instead of being depressed by whatever is happening to the strangers around me I close my eyes and try to relax. I've been told about a billion times that being so anxious is bad for the baby, and I know that it makes sense. The problems is that suddenly I find myself unable to control how anxious I am and most of the time, it's for no reason at all. It drives me insane because I want to control it, to take a few deep breaths and make it go away, but I just can't because I have no idea what the root of the problem is.

Right now, it's quite obvious. The man that I love is having organs removed from his body and other areas sewn back together after someone quite clearly beat the absolute shit out of him. Or multiple someones. How did we get to this point? Harry being too proud to ask me for help with money lead to all of this...a pregnant me sitting in the most depressing waiting room of life waiting to find out if Harry is actually okay or not. Most of all, I just want to know what the hell happened to him.

The other thing wandering across my thoughts is the question of how he got here. The nurse said a friend brought him in, but who could that have been? Where has he been for the last two days? He was supposed to be home last night, so what happened between when he left my place that morning and when he got to the hospital? None of it makes sense and it doesn't help my current state.

"This place sucks," the man says. When I open my eyes he's staring at the couple sitting opposite me. "Nothing good happens here."

"Yeah," I agree quietly. "How long have they been here?"

"Longer than I have," he says. "So at least six hours."

"Six hours?" I look over at him and he sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah. My wife...she was in an accident," he explains, twisting his wedding band around on his finger. "She was in a cab and...damn fuckin' drunk driver ran a red light."

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not for a few hours." He sniffles and I notice him trying not to cry. "We've only been married a few weeks. We haven't even gotten to live our lives together and now..."

"That's horrible," I say. Immediate regret follows. "Shit, sorry."

"It is," he says, smiling weakly. "It is horrible. It fucking sucks, actually."

"Yeah."

"Who is it for you?"

"My...my boyfriend," I explain, not sure how to even classify Harry anymore. Boyfriend seems so...juvenile. "And father of my child. And father of current growing baby." My hand rests on my stomach and he seems to understand, nodding with a sympathetic expression.

"Complicated," he says.

"You have no idea."

"What happened to him?"

"I...have no idea," I admit. "He was into some bad things...but I didn't realize it was this bad. He's having his spleen removed. He should be okay, though."

"Hopefully."

"Yeah. Hopefully."

"Weird, isn't it? How fast your life can change?"

"In the blink of an eye," I mutter, leaning my head back. He's right; things can change so incredibly fast. Two days ago I never would have predicted...this.

---

"Hey." Someone shakes my arm. "Hey, wake up."

"What?" I look up to see the man I was talking to earlier shaking me awake. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep," he says simply. "You told me to wake you up after an hour."

"Oh. Thanks."

He nods and sits down in a chair, closer to me than before. When I look at my phone I notice a text from Niall, asking for an update, and that it has been almost two hours since I arrived at the hospital. Sophie will be waking up in another two.

"What's your name anyway?" he asks.

"Savannah. You?"

"Will," he says, extending his hand. I shake it. "Sucks to meet you."

I can't help but chuckle, completely agreeing with him. This sucks, the whole situation. I'm sure in any other place we'd have a great conversation and end up parting happily, but this is just horrible. For both of us.

"I got an update," he says.

"And?"

"She's got a broken leg, two broken ribs, and they've been trying to repair all kinds of abdominal damage. I didn't get a lot of specifics, but she should be out soon."

"That's...good news?" I say carefully. He shrugs and folds his arms.

"She's alive. That's all I care about."

"Savannah?"

"Yes," I say immediately, standing from my chair. A nurse in blue scrubs stands in front of me. "Did something happen?"

"Mr. Styles is out of surgery," she says. The weight of a thousand pounds is lifted from my chest and I suddenly feel like laughing. "He'll be in pain, but he's stable. We're moving him to recovery and in a few hours we'll do some more tests."

"Can I see him?" I ask eagerly.

"Of course. Come with me, I'll take you to his room."

"Thank you." I take a step in her direction, then pause. "Just one minute."

Before I leave with her I turn and bend down to hug Will. He pats my back and when it seems like he needs to hold onto me a little longer I let him.

"She's going to be fine," I whisper. "She'll come back to you. You're going to get a long life with her, I promise."

He laughs shortly, a sad and hopeful laugh. "Thank you, Savannah. Go see him."

He lets me go and I take my phone out. "Text me, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

After we've exchanged numbers I hug him once more, then quickly follow the nurse to the elevator. We go up one floor and she leads me down the hallways that feel hundreds of miles long. Every time we pass another door I expect her to stop and tell her that he's in there, but she doesn't. It takes years to get there.

"Here we are," she says finally. "Now, he's not awake right now and it could take a few hours. Nancy from downstairs told us that you're pregnant, so we've put a cot in the room for you if you need to get some rest."

"He's going to be okay, right?" I ask. She smiles.

"Yes. We expect him to recover fully. He'll be in the hospital for a day or two, but he should be fine."

"Thank you so much," I say quietly, trying not to cry for the zillionth time. She opens the door for me and leaves me with Harry, whose appearance makes me want to fall onto the floor and never get up.

Waves of relief and concern wash over me when I look at him. There's a bandage above his left eye and his lip appears to be split. There's dark spots on what's visible of his arms and I don't want to think about what the rest of him looks like. The eye with the cut above it is already purple and I can see remnants of dried up blood they must have missed in their haste to get him into surgery.

My body falls into the chair next to the bed. My trembling hands fold around his, more gently than I've ever been with him. His large hand remains limp as mine close around it, lifting it to my lips as they quiver with the tears already falling. His lips are slightly turned into a frown, his curly hair seemingly untouched in all of this; much messier than normal and curls flying everywhere, but the only part of him that seems unscathed.

"Harry," I whisper in a shaky voice. "I love you so much."

Notes

:o

that was really hard to write because my brain is as fried as a piece of bacon thats too crispy to be enjoyable.

see? see how bad my metaphors are? this chapter is a miracle, people. hopefully its not horrible. i have a feeling im going to read it in the morning and be like...the fuck is this.

but i had to update. so i did. TECHNICALLY this would be a double update...i count it as one since i updated like twelve hours ago. so there we are.

what do you think??