Archive of Our Own

They call the flat the ballet studio. It had been the first thing Harry had said when he walked in through the iron gate and wooden doors.

“It looks like a ballet studio, with the striped walls.”

“Christ, Harry,” the man behind him says, shoving him aside so he could be seen. “Introduce yourself before you comment on the decorations, yeah?”

Harry smiles, long and slow like a cat. "M'just sayin'." He sets down his suitcase and sticks out his hand. "I'm Harry. Nice to meet you."

Liam shakes it. It’s firm and strong. Confident.

“Did the Director send you?” he asks carefully and the other man tips his head back and laughs.

“Don’t you hope so.”

“This is Louis,” Harry tells Liam as he curls a hand around Louis’ arm. “Just ignore him most of the time.”

“Oi,” Louis protests. Hesitating, Liam offers him his hand.

“I’m Agent Payne.”

Louis cocks his head to one side with a razor-sharp grin. If Harry smiles like a cat with the cream, Louis smiles like the cat that got the canary. It’s unsettling, to say the least. "'Agent'? C'mon then, you don't have to be so formal. Not if we're all going to be living together."

"Liam," he says finally. Harry tips his chin forward in the approximation of a bow.

"Nice to meet you, Liam. Is anyone else here?"

"Not yet. I'm the first."

"Mind if we explore a bit?" Harry asks and Liam steps aside to let him through.

"Not at all."

They end up taking the green room, the one closest to the exit and to the kitchen.

Niall takes one look at the small single bedroom and shakes his head. "Can't do it," he says in his brash accent, backing up until he’s out of the room. "Too bloody small. I'll share."

"Um," Liam says, "well, you can share with me. If you want."

"Sick," cries Niall and he slings his arm around Liam's shoulders.

“I haven’t picked a bed yet,” he says, sliding away from him as he motions to the beds. Niall drops his bags on the one by the bathroom.

“This will be fun. Like uni all over again.”

“Didn’t go to uni,” Liam tells him and leaves the room before Niall had any more questions.

Zayn arrives last, true to his nature. Liam soon finds he has a habit of being almost late to almost everything.

"You can have this room," he offers, "or you can share with Niall."

Zayn barely looks at it. "This is fine. Cheers, mate.”

Niall makes dinner for them all and they end up eating together in the small dining area.

"Harry can cook too," says Louis and Harry frowns at him. "Not that this is awful. Just saying that you don't have to always cook," he amends hastily. Harry smiles, looking mollified. Niall just laughs.

"Nah, bro, I'm not offended."

Zayn slides into the seat beside Liam and gives him a thin smile. "Smells good."

"Chicken and vegetables," Niall tells him. "Simple, but I've added spices so it's not boring." He waves a hand over the table and the boys reach for the food. It is good, perfect for the crisp night out the window. The conversation around the table is polite, but Liam's reminded of a first date. They're getting to know each other and they're all cautious, only giving out vague information that won't come back to hurt them.

"I'm twenty-one," Harry tells Niall and jabs an elbow in Louis' ribs. "He's twenty-three."

"Are you partners then?"

"Of the working variety," Louis says smoothly and Niall raises his eyebrows.

"Of course. There's not much dating in our line of work, is there?"

Harry makes a noncommittal noise and spoons another helping of potatoes onto his plate. He adds some to Louis' as an afterthought.

No one else offers their age, or anything else that could be personal. Harry colours and focuses on his plate.

“This is good,” he drawls and Liam makes a small noise of agreement. Niall grins, too bright for the sombre mood.

“I’ve spent my fair time in kitchens. Picked up a few tricks on the way.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“I worked as a waiter for a while,” says Liam offhandedly. “Never was a chef, though.”

“Cooking’s nice,” Zayn says and Harry nods along.

Louis stands up from the table with a clatter. “We’re bloody talking about cooking,” he mutters and leaves the room.

“He hates small talk,” says Harry as explanation. “Especially when he feels as if it’s unnecessary.”

“What else are we supposed to talk about, then? The weather?” Niall demands.

“It is quite nice outside.”

“Fucking hell.”

“We should go for a walk,” Zayn offers and they all turn to look at him. He slouches back in his seat. “We’re living in the middle of the city. Might as well enjoy it.”

“Get fresh air,” Harry agrees and Niall nods.

“I think I saw a map in the lounge,” Liam says quietly. No one tells him to use a phone instead; they know better.

Harry coaxes Louis out of the room, and they all set out to explore Budapest. They’re in the middle of the Pest side, twenty minutes’ walk from the Danube and ten from West End on the opposite side, right in between the Opera and the Oktogon.

Zayn buys a guidebook from a little kiosk as they go and spouts off random knowledge when they pass a major landmark.

“Why’ve the lions got tits?” Niall asks in front of the opera house-- Operaház in Hungarian-- and Zayn shrugs.

“Art?” Harry suggests, and Louis breaks down into giggles before running up and standing by the lion’s paws.

“Take a picture,” he says and Harry obliges. Niall follows, and then Zayn.

“They’re children,” Liam mutters, half to himself and starts when Harry snorts.

“They can have fun,” he drawls as the trio finish. He raises his voice to shout, “I saw a Gucci store down the road, can we go?”

Louis groans but Zayn perks up.

“Sure, mate.”

“Let’s sightsee first, yeah? You’ll have all the time to go shopping,” Louis suggests, brushing his hand against Harry’s side. Harry leans in, just a little, and nods.

“Alright then. Heroes’ Square or St. Stephen’s Basilica?”

“The Basilica,” Liam decides and jumps when they all turn to look at him. “It’s closer.”

“Alright,” Harry repeats and they trudge on. It’s not that far down, just at the end of the road, and there’s more than enough to keep them interested.

“That looks like a good one,” Niall says and he points at a place that’s advertising palacsinta. Liam’s not quite sure what palacsinta are. “D’you want to try?”

Harry nods, and Louis doesn’t even wait before heading towards the little cafe.

“But-- the Basilica?” Liam says and Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“It’s fine, mate. Just a snack break. C’mon, you’ll enjoy it.”

The palacsinta turn out to be pancakes, flat and thin and very, very delicious.

“They’re crêpes,” Louis says around a mouthful of nutella and ice cream.

“Crepas,” corrects Niall and he gets a dirty look for his trouble.

“Or blini. Or palachinki,” says Harry. He’d been adventurous with Niall and had gotten the ones with ham and cheese and sour cream.

“Crêpes,” Louis insists. He shares a look with Harry before slouching in his seat.

Liam glances at Zayn and finds him with an amused look on his face as he’d finished his with strawberry jam. He looks endeared, really, like he’s watching old friends bicker.

He goes back to his lemon whatever and doesn’t say anything.

They don’t resume their march to the Basilica, Niall wincing as he gets up and begging to go back home. Already, they can’t refuse him, so they creep back and separate into their rooms.

A knock on the door makes them look up. Harry's there, leaning against it and looking hopeful.

"Louis says I'm too gangly for a good cuddle," he says with a mournful sigh. "He's tired of all my jellyfish limbs."

"Louis is a wanker," Niall tells him and scoots over so there's space on the bed.

"That is true; I've shared a room with him for years."

"Oi," Louis yelps, scowling as he comes in as well. "Don't tell partner secrets, fucker." He unceremoniously collapses on top of Liam.

Louis wiggles around in his lap until he's comfortable, moving Liam’s limbs until they’re placed exactly right. Harry coos an apology from the other bed.

"You are quite jellyfish like," Niall comments after a moment. Harry makes a face and makes to leave. "No, no. You don't have to go. I'm just saying."

"At least someone here loves me," he says happily, snuggling back into Niall's side. Louis flips him off. Liam is still frozen.

"Can I join?" Zayn asks quietly as he appears in the room. Liam nods and he sits hesitantly on the foot of the bed. Louis watches him for a moment and crawls over to sit beside him. He doesn't force his touch on Zayn like he did Liam, but sits close enough so that their shoulders knock against each other.

Liam breathes a sigh of relief.

"We need to go to IKEA," he says finally and Harry looks up. There's a grin on his face that Liam's a little scared of.

"IKEA? What for?"

"A sofa for one. More furniture for the lounge. Dishes and such."

"Where are we going to get the money?" asks Niall.

"Didn't the Director tell you?" The other four shake their heads. "We have an account for all five of us to share. For groceries and stuff."

"Fucking ace," says Louis, bumping fists with Zayn. "Let's go shopping."

"It's only for necessities--"

"Live a little, Payno." Louis kicks him gently in the leg.

"Can we go tomorrow?" Harry asks, looking very keen.

"Why're you all excited?" Niall teases and flicks him on the nose. Harry shrugs.

"I like IKEA."

"Me too! All those little houses? S'excellent."

Louis makes a face that Harry copies right back.

"I hate it," he declares and Harry's expression falls. "You go in for ten minutes and come out five hours later."

"They specially design it that way," says Zayn. Louis raises his eyebrows.

"Well, aren't you smart."

Zayn shrugs and looks back at his hands.

“I didn’t know that,” Liam says softly and he’s given a small grin. He blinks and Zayn’s fingers are brushing against his ankle, almost light enough to be an accident. Almost.

IKEA is a little bit of a disaster. Louis chases Harry away through the apartments as soon as they get there. Zayn finds the first comfortable-looking bed and curls up for a nap. Niall disappears and Liam is left to be responsible.

He evaluates the sofas and settled finally on a dark brown one, big enough for four if they squish. He finds a matching chair as well, quite pleased with himself.

"That's boring, Liam," Louis says as he ducks behind an ottoman. "Let's go for outrageous, since it's not our money to spend."

"It is our money."

"Blood money," Louis says sourly and darts away, spotting Harry's familiar head. Liam refuses to think over what he said and goes to the counter to find an attendant. Zayn finds him there, sheepishly fixing his hair.

"They yelled at me," he tells Liam, yawning, "but I don't speak Hungarian, so I don't know what about."

"Probably about sleeping on the merchandise," offers Liam and Zayn smiles.

"Nah. Probably not."

Liam rolls his eyes and turns back to the employee who is trying to get his attention.

"We'll take it."

She nods and scribbles down the call number, telling him he needs to go to the checkout. He meanders through the rest of the store with Zayn in tow, enjoying the relative peace. Zayn is content to be quiet, save for snide little comments about a ridiculous chair or a strange table, and Liam appreciates that. Oh, how he appreciates it.

They collect the rest of the boys as they go through the checkout—Niall’s remembered dishes, thank god—and the five of them find their way out onto the metro.

“We live on a street,” Niall declares one afternoon, “with five pubs and we haven’t been to any of them.”

“What a tragedy,” Harry deadpans and Niall narrows his eyes at him.

“We’re going out tonight. We’re getting drunk.”

“I haven’t been drunk in a long time,” Louis muses. “Not since… San Francisco?” He cocks his head at Harry, who nods. “San Francisco.”

“How long ago was that?” Zayn asks and it’s Harry who answers.

“A while.”

Louis grins, sharp and wicked. “There was an incident, should we say.” No one asks any questions. Not with that look on Louis’ face.

“We can start at ten, then,” decides Niall and Liam chews on his lip.

“Are we sure that’s the best idea? The Director could—“

“Just shut up and let us have our fun,” Louis says and Liam snaps his mouth shut. Zayn brushes his fingers over Liam’s tense back and he just manages not to start.

“He’s not trying to be mean,” he tells him. “He’s just not good at holding his tongue.”

Liam sighs. “Not a good habit for an agent.”

“Neither are nightmares.” Liam jerks his head to one side to glare at him, but Zayn’s biting back a laugh. “Kidding, babe.”

“I don’t feel like cooking,” says Harry and he lights up. “Let’s go out for dinner, yeah? I saw a Thai restaurant around the corner. Lou, across from the tea shop.”

Louis frowns as he thinks. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Harry glances at the rest of them. “Anyone else?”

“It’s food, I’m in,” says Niall. Liam shrugs and reaches for his jacket. Zayn pushes his lips out into a pout, considering, and then finally nods.

“I just hope it’s better than that one place Louis chose—“

“How was I supposed to know that liver wrapped in bacon would be a bad thing, Zayn?” demands Louis, hands on his hips. “It’s wrapped in bacon. What could go wrong?”

“A lot,” Niall says with a snort. “That was fucking disgusting.”

“I don’t even eat bacon,” says Zayn. Louis scowls.

“It wasn’t so bad—“

“Hush, Harry,” Louis tells him. “Your opinion doesn’t count. You like kale.”

Harry protests, pouting until Louis reaches over and ruffles his hair. Niall pulls him into his side as they go down the stairs.

Liam locks the door and leans his forehead on it.

“You okay?”

He lifts his head and smiles at Zayn. “Yeah, just needed a moment.”

He doesn’t drink that night. His training won’t let him. Louis gets absolutely plastered, hanging on Harry, who’s not much better off. He’s tactile and Harry’s giggly. Niall just gets redder and redder and Zayn goes quiet.

It’s really not that different from their sober personalities, Liam muses as he sips on another ginger ale. Just exaggerated.

Niall and Louis notice he’s drinking soda halfway through and try to swap his mug for booze. They’re not sneaky enough.

“How did you ever become an agent?” Liam mutters as Louis bangs his head on the underside of the table. Popping up and nearly spilling his pint, Louis glares.

“Natural talent.”

“Sure,” he says, putting his palm over his cup so none of Niall’s drink spills in. Niall throws his hands up in frustration and grins at the beer raining down.

“It’s raining beer!” he cheers and Harry doubles over laughing, knocking his forehead into the corner of a booth as he does.

“I think it’s time to go,” Liam decides and starts to round up all the boys. It’s like herding cats and they keep escaping from him, giggling and darting away. Finally, finally, they make it out onto the street and Liam pushes them the few metres to their complex.

The ninety-three stairs are a struggle, to say the least. Harry slips twice and Louis vomits over the edge.

When the fire alarm goes off, it startles Harry so badly that he falls off the sofa and onto the floor. Zayn and Niall don’t notice his tumble, too focused on the door. Louis makes comforting noises half-heartedly, but he’s distracted too.

When no one crashes in after ten seconds, they all move out towards the little courtyard as one.

The alarm’s coming from the flat one floor down and across the courtyard, an electrical box on fire and four worried girls clustered outside.

Louis is the first down and he smiles at them as comfortingly as possible.

“Everything okay then?” he asks, casual, but Liam can hear the serious edge running through his voice. One of the girls turns to look at him.

“Our power box just caught on fire,” she tells him, her accent strong with distress. Louis blinks.

“You’re from--”

“Yes, yes,” says another girl. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, can we concentrate on the fucking fire?”

“Have you called the fire department?” Harry asks and the girls shake their head.

“We don’t know the number,” the first girl explains. Harry pulls out his phone.

“112, for English,” Liam says and ignores the looks he gets. It’s basic knowledge to know emergency numbers. Soon, they can hear alarms screaming on the street and the girls cluster together, whispering among themselves.

“Do any of you speak Hungarian,” he asks as they wait. “Or anything close? It would be a big help.” The four boys shake their heads and Liam sighs.

“You would think with all our languages, someone would be able to at least make their way along,” mutters Niall and Louis clicks his tongue.

“Hungarian’s hard,” he says, shuffling towards Harry. Zayn tilts his head, leaning against the wall, and his breathing starts to deepen. “It’s not close to anything else.”

Niall’s face gets hard and they all glance at each other. “Well, that’s shite. Hopefully they speak English.”

They don’t, but the five of them manage between Louis’ German and Harry’s Russian and a lot of pointing.

Nothing’s really wrong, just a little bit of outdated wiring and a day without electricity. The boys make sure the four girls are okay and then head back up to their own flat.

Barely five minutes go by before there’s a knock on the door. It’s one of the four, the shortest one. Liam lets her in.

“Hello?”

“Hiiii,” she says with a big grin. “We’ve got some fish in our freezer, and now that the power’s out it’ll go bad. Can we keep it in yours?”

“I-- sure.”

“I’m Jade, by the way.”

“Liam.”

He shows her the kitchen and she starts laughing when she steps in.

“The red and black modern theme doesn’t really go with the rest of the flat, does it? Very interesting choice.”

“Erm, not… not mine. It came like this.”

“I like it,” she says with a wink and shuts the freezer. Niall wanders in, curious, and raises his eyebrow at her.

“This is Niall.”

“Jade,” she repeats, and then again when Harry, Louis and Zayn follow. There’s another knock on the door. “Ah, that’s Jesy.”

Jesy’s the one who’d snapped at them earlier, and Liam’s a little intimidated by her, even with all his training.

“Love,” she says, eyeing the five boys and Jade crowded into the kitchen, “what’s taking so long?”

“M’making friends!”

She evaluates them again and then smiles, wide and lovely. “Come on then, introduce me.”

They’ve all got their little habits that are odd, but that no one comments on. Zayn goes to bed abysmally early and gets up abysmally late. He’s still always tired. Niall checks and double checks the locks every time they go to sleep and never sits with his back to the room. Louis keeps Harry in arms’ reach if he can help it, and twitches when he can’t. Harry jumps at small noises, hands reaching towards his belt before stopping.

Liam knows he’s too straightlaced, knows it’s hard for him to take the teasing, knows that he flinches when any of the boys touch him but he can’t help it.

It’s three weeks before he starts getting nightmares. It’s a defence mechanism, maybe, that he only gets them when he’s comfortable. It’s also maybe the reason he hasn’t stayed more than a fortnight in one place for six months.

He stumbles out of his room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. He blinks at the light and at a startled Zayn.

“Er… hi,” he mumbles, flipping on the kettle. Zayn wraps his hands around his mug and a thin smile decorates his face.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks and Liam shakes his head, running a hand through his short hair. “Me either. Occupational hazard, I guess.” He pulls a face.

“So, nightmares?” he says cautiously and Zayn lets out a single laugh.

“Not really. Just don’t sleep at all. Not when it’s dark out.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yep.” Zayn doesn’t say anything more, so Liam takes his cup of camomile to the table and sits. They’re quiet, Liam still dealing with the aftereffects of his dreams and Zayn not inclined to conversation.

“Budapest is nice,” he says when his tea’s half-done. “The Director could’ve sent us someplace worse. Somewhere in the mountains with no running water or summat.”

“I like the mountains,” Zayn says quietly. “But yeah, the city is nice.” He sets his cup in the sink and glances out the window. “I’m going back to bed now.’

Liam hastily finishes the dregs and copies him, stretching his back. “Good luck?”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“It’s October 23rd,” Zayn says quietly, looking out the window.

“And?” says Niall as he shifts on the sofa.

“It’s a Hungarian holiday,” Zayn answers. “Revolution Day. When the Hungarians tried to rise up against the Soviets, and the Soviets dragged bodies down the streets with tanks.”

“What a reason to celebrate,” Louis scoffs, not even looking up from his book.

“It is, though. Because they resisted, and tried to take back their country,” Liam argues and Louis shrugs, turning another page.

“They didn’t win, though.”

“The Soviets are bastards,” Niall says in an offhand tone.

“Met up with a group once,” Harry says quietly and rubs his hand over the opposite arm. Louis mirrors the action. “They weren’t nice.”

“The Parliament’s free for the public, if you want to go.”

“Are we the public, Zayn?” Louis quips, but he gets up and pulls Niall up as well. Harry whines and gets a shove to his bedroom for an extra jumper.

“I’m not cold, ever,” he grumbles and Liam outright laughs. Harry’s notorious for going out in a sheer shirt and then nearly freezing to death fifteen minutes later. They’ve all donated scarves or jackets or a goddamned hat when Harry’s shivering got too extreme.

Louis argues him into a jumper and Niall’s bouncing on his toes, ready to get out into the city. Niall loves it here, loves the fifteen different types of food he can walk to and all the historical elements and the trams and everything. It’s a good city for Niall.

Zayn likes it too, likes all the bookshops tucked away like the little old secondhand English one behind the Operaház, and the coffee shops littered on every street like confetti.

It’s cold enough outside to be nippy, but not chilly so much, but Liam enjoys the warmth radiating off of Zayn. He inches closer as they nearly trip down the stairs to the yellow metro. Zayn smiles at him, tongue pressed up behind his teeth.

“Aw, fuck,” Louis says as he stares across the platform. “Wrong side, let’s go.”

There are downsides to riding the oldest metro in continental Europe, and having to go up and across the street to get to the right side is one of them. It’s still pretty sick, though.

They feed their tickets into the machines and nod at the guards, Harry’s back only tensing a little as they cross by. The metro’s just coming in and they patiently wait for people to spill out before crowding in.

Zayn gets a seat but gives it up immediately to the little grandmother that toddles on. She pats his arm and answers him in rapid Hungarian. He shakes his head and she realises her mistake, smiles at him again.

“We’re getting off at Vörösmarty tér,” Niall says after consulting the guidebook.

“Vurushmarty?” Liam asks and Niall nods.

“It’s the stop next to the river. We can walk from there.”

“Niall, are you sure?” says Louis, raising an eyebrow at his glare.

“I am. It’s not so far.”

“I like to walk,” Harry muses.

Zayn presses himself closer into Liam’s side and hides his smile in his shoulder.

“This is going to be a disaster,” he breathes and Liam’s the only one who can hear. Liam laughs quietly and carefully shrugs a shoulder.

Fifteen minutes of walking later, and Zayn was right; Louis is complaining every step of the way, and bickering with Harry about having a good attitude.

But they make it to the Parliament, and go inside to gape at the interior. It’s ornate and rather like a church instead of a government building.

“Freddie Mercury tried to buy it once,” Niall comments and they all turn to look at stare at him. “Queen was on a boat down the Danube, and Freddie saw it. He asked if it was for sale, and how many bedrooms.”

Zayn, for some reason, finds this hilarious and he doubles over laughing until they pull him outside to settle.

His nightmares aren’t a regular thing, but they happen often enough. Zayn’s there every time he creeps into the kitchen, wiping his palms on the fabric of his pants.

“You’re not asleep?” he asks as he pads into the room.

“Can’t,” he mutters and grimaces into his cup. “Too dark.”

“Are you scared of the dark?”

Zayn lolls his head to peer at Liam. “No.”

“It’s understandable—“

“I’m not scared of the dark, Liam. I’m scared of who’s coming when it’s dark.” He pillows his head on the table, sighing as the cool surface hits his cheek. “What time is it?”

Liam checks his watch. “Nearly three.”

“Five hours then. That’s a personal best.”

He hesitates. “Is that why--”

“I go to bed at ten fucking thirty? Yeah. Get about three hours and then I wake up, and do whatever until the sun’s lighting up the sky and I can rest.”

“What do you do when you’re awake?”

Zayn traces the grain of the table with a fingernail and smiles, just a little. “Read. Draw, a little. Watch telly, whatever I can do.”

Liam scrubs at his face with a hand. “I hate this part,” he says in a low voice. “I can handle-- can handle most of the rest, but the nightmares…”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zayn says and Liam cocks his head. “Don’t get nightmares, I just can’t sleep.”

Liam can still feel the shadow of his dream on his neck and he shivers, trying his hardest not to think about it. Zayn gives him a little smile, that’s not pity but understanding maybe, and switches on the kettle for another cup of tea.

Liam picks out another chamomile and Zayn snorts.

“Seriously? We’ve got all the specialty tea from that little shop, and you go with the Tesco offbrand chamomile?”

“Dunno. The flavours are a little… strange.” Harry and Niall are eclectic in their tastes and bring home little sachets of unique teas-- spiced orange and chocolate bourbon and others that Liam haven’t even touched.

“The marzipan really nice. Are you allergic to almonds?”

“Not that I know of?”

Zayn nods to himself and he gets to his feet, pulling out the diffuser and two clean mugs. He taps his fingers on the pot as they wait for it to seep, little ticks in the otherwise silent room.

A clatter startles them from the table and they freeze looking at each other. Crossing to the hallway on light feet, they peer out.

“S’just Niall,” Zayn sighs as he straightens. Sure enough, the blond is standing outside the flat, staring up at the small piece of sky and heaving in deep breaths. Liam watches his back shake.

“Niall?” he asks quietly and the boy jumps. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiles weakly.

“Evening, lads. Sorry, I just needed some air.”

Liam doesn’t ask if he’s okay. That’s a stupid question. “Can I do anything?”

“Just… give me a moment.” He turns back so he can see the sky, still breathing heavily, still shaking.

They step back into the flat and leave him be. Liam pulls down another cup and Zayn checks the teapot, pouring it out. They sit and they wait.

Niall comes in a few minutes later and accepts the offered cup of tea. His hands are trembling.

“I forget where I am sometimes,” he says in a small voice.

“We all do,” says Zayn. Niall laughs, but it’s breathless, and pulls a hand through his hair.

“Too small,” he lets out and neither of the other two say anything. They know about Niall and his claustrophobia, how he tenses when there’s too many bodies or an enclosed space. This is new. Expected, but still new.

It takes fifteen minutes to get Niall to his semi-normal self again, cracking a half smile and gulping down his tea. It’s good, Liam’ll admit, but it’s bitter from the taste of worry in his mouth.

He resolves to send an email to the Director about it in the morning.

He’s coming back from the little grocers across the way, loaded down with whatever vegetables Niall’s sent him away for, when he meets Bruce.

He’s distracted and doesn’t hear him coming up until there’s something warm pressed against his leg. He reacts instinctively, leaping back and reaching for his belt. His hands are halfway there when he realises it’s a dog, a very furry and happy looking dog.

“Ooh, I’m so sorry!” a girl shouts, rushing around the courtyard to scoop up his lead. “I was talking to Perrie and didn’t notice-- you’re not afraid of them, are you? Or allergic or anything like that?”

“Um, no,” he says and pretends his heart isn’t racing. “I was just… startled. Sorry.”

She smiles at him and offers her hand. “I’m Eleanor, by the way. I live just there. And this is Bruce” She points across the balcony to an open door, where a blonde’s just starting to make her way over. “Are you one of the five that lives here?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I know you!” the blonde says, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re one of the lads that helped we when our electrical box blew. And you kept our fish!”

“Right,” Liam agrees and he vaguely remembers her. “Jade’s flatmate, then?”

“Her roommate as well. Thank you for helping us, we meant to come up and like, properly thank you. Still should, really. I’ll talk to Leigh about it.”

Eleanor giggles at his no doubt befuddled face and Bruce barks once. Liam pats him on the head absentmindedly.

“Are you lot uni students then?” she asks as she looks him up and down. He resists the urge to shift.

“No, we’re just living here. Taking a gap year, I guess.”

“In Budapest?” Perrie says with a somewhat amazed expression. “That’s proper nice.”

“Sorry, but aren’t you the one that’s doing a year abroad in Budapest?” Eleanor points out and Perrie makes a face.

“Well, yes, but I’ve got to do class and everything like that. It’s not just being able to live, or whatever.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes, but nudges Perrie with her elbow.

“Oi, Liam, are you alright? You’ve just been standing out there and you rung in ages ago,” Zayn asks as he leans against the doorframe. Eleanor and Perrie both look at him, and then at Liam, and then at each other with a smile. “Is that a dog?”

“His name’s Bruce--” Eleanor says as Zayn crouches down, and Bruce rips away to launch himself at his new friend. He laps at his face for a moment before darting into the flat.

There’s absolute silence for a second until Harry shrieks “why is there a dog?!” and Louis starts cooing.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” she gasps and runs for the door. “Can I?”

Zayn steps aside to let her in and Liam gestures at Perrie to follow. They find Louis flat on his back with Bruce sitting on his chest. Niall’s nearly in a ball, he’s laughing so hard, and Harry’s just staring at them all with a confused expression.

Liam watches it all for a second and then sighs.

“Eleanor, Perrie. Meet the rest of my flatmates.”

Zayn knocks softly on his door and peeks his head in.

“D’you want to get some food?”

“What kind?”

“Dunno. There’s the Turkish place, or a hummus bar with good falafel. Or that Mexican restaurant on the way to West End.”

Liam stretches and closes his laptop. “Hummus sounds nice.”

“Sick, let me grab my coat,” he says, grinning. They walk to the place because it’s not too far, and the metro would take longer anyways. It’s a side street off a side street, with complimentary cups of mint tea and really large portions. The falafel is excellent, the best he’s ever had this side of the Black Sea.

He doesn’t want it to end, that’s the thing. Doesn’t want to go back to the chaos of their flat, with Niall and Harry being silly and Louis shouting and egging them on in turn. Zayn’s quiet, he’s rest, even among the bustle of the city.

“What about a coffee?” he asks and Zayn agrees. They wander through the neighbourhood, past the giant synagogue with the silver weeping willow at the back. Zayn pauses to look at it.

“They say that when they go to look at the list of people killed in Auschwitz, every Hungarian knows--or knows of-- at least one person,” he says quietly and a shiver goes down Liam’s spine. “Can you imagine? All those people, dead?”

“No,” he answers, because he’s seen enough death and it doesn’t even come close to the destruction of the Holocaust. It’s sobering, and he’s transfixed by the silver tree as well.

Zayn shakes himself out of his stupor and turns to Liam. “I’d still like a coffee, honestly. Bluebird Cafe or My Little Melbourne?”

“My Little Melbourne,” he decides and they start on their way again. Zayn reaches for his wrist and wraps his fingers around it, squeezing gently before letting go.

He’s still caught up in his thoughts in line as Zayn orders. There’s a group of teenagers behind him chatting about school. Americans, if their accent is any indication, and two boys and two girls. He wonders if they’re on a date.

The barista looks at him expectantly and he blushes a little as he steps up to the counter. “Jó napot kívánok,” he says, the words clumsy on his tongue. “én kérek egy cappuccino, kérlek.”

“Igen,” she says and taps in the order. “Your Hungarian is very good. Do you speak it?”

“Csak kicsit,” he tells her, his blush intensifying. Only a little. Enough to get by.

“Most people don’t learn. It’s too hard.” She hands him his receipt with a “tessék.”

“Köszönöm!”

“Szívesen.” His coffee’s ready, and he makes his way over to the table where Zayn’s already sitting. Zayn takes a sip and pushes up his sleeves. Liam’s drawn to the tattoos littered across his skin.

He’d been surprised by the policy on tattoos when he’d joined the Agency. They were allowed, as long as they weren’t on the face or neck or hands. Liam personally didn’t think it made much sense, but he’d gotten a few of his own so he couldn’t complain.

“What’s that?” he asks, reaching over to tap at one particularly prominent design. Zayn glances down at it and goes a little red.

“A tattoo.”

“I realise that, Zayn. What of?”

He angles his arm so Liam can see clearer. It’s a little comic book bubble.

“Zap?”

Zayn nods. “I like comics.”

Liam smiles, reaching out and raising an eyebrow. Zayn shifts forward, just a little, and it’s enough permission. He traces over the word with a gentle finger.

“Me too.”

There’s a thunderstorm one night, as they’re watching movies. Zayn’s stayed up past what he normally does, and they’re celebrating by marathoning the Ocean’s Trilogy.

It’s halfway through Thirteen when the first crack of thunder sounds and sounds loud. Harry stiffens next to Liam, relaxes after a moment.

Liam glances over to see Louis holding one of Harry’s hands in both of his, stroking the skin gently. Another bolt of lightning and a crack of thunder, closer and louder. Harry goes white as a sheet.

“Lou,” he whispers, and it’s barely audible.

“Yeah,” Louis says back and nudges Niall away from his legs. “Harry and I are going to bed.” The other two start to protest but shut their mouths when they get a good look at him.

Harry’s never looked this small before, but he’s half-hunched over with eyes as big as saucers and lips white from his teeth.

“Lou,” he says again and is pulled out down the hallway and into their bedroom.

The next day is hard. Liam gets up early to go to the farmer’s market; Harry had wanted to go and Liam’s the only one that gets up that early. He wanders into the kitchen to find Louis sitting with his hands around a mug.

“Harry’s not going,” he says.

“What?”

“He’s sick. He’s staying home today.”

“I don’t… Is he okay?”

Louis smiles, and it’s thin and tired, but it’s there. “He’s fine. Or will be, he just needs a day to rest.”

“Alright. Do you want to go instead?”

He shakes his head--not that he expected him to agree--and Liam goes by himself, picking out an extra nice pumpkin for Niall to bake tonight.

They don’t see Harry for two days, he stays in his room and Louis doesn’t let anyone near the door.

“Let him be,” he insists and they listen. It’s the only thing they can do, really. So when Liam comes back from his morning run and Harry’s curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, he blinks.

“Hiiii,” says Harry like nothing’s wrong.

“Hi,” Liam says back, a little cautiously.

“I got you coffee from the shop the next street over? Gábor says hello, by the way.”

“Who?”

“The barista at Coffee Cat.” Harry nods at the cup that’s steaming on the coffee table. “It’s the one with hot chocolate and espresso.”

“Alright,” Liam says and picks it up. Harry stretches his legs over Liam’s lap and hums to himself, flicking through the pages of a book. It’s poetry, maybe.

“Hey, Hazza?” he asks quietly. Harry glances up. “You okay?”

Harry smiles, just a hint of his dimple showing, but it doesn’t set Liam to ease. “Course I am, Liam.”

Jade knocks on their door sometime in the middle of November.

“Do youse lot have plans for tea?” she wonders as soon as Zayn opens the door. He glances back to where Niall’s just pulled out a saucepan and Liam’s rummaging in the fridge.

“Nialler, do we have plans for tea?”

“Easily changed ones,” Niall answers back and Jade nods.

“We’d like to have you over then, as a thank you. Also Perrie’s made a lot of food-- is spag bol alright?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Lovely. Come down in an hour, if youse can wait that long. She’s got to make the garlic bread and I think Leigh’s making a cake.”

“Fancy,” Liam comments and Jade laughs.

“We’re trying to impress you, I think.” With a wave and another giggle, she walks down the flight of stairs to her own flat.

“Did you hear that lads?” Zayn calls and it brings Louis and Harry into the kitchen. “We’re going to eat real food today.” He ruffles Niall’s hair, and Niall scowls.

“Fuck you, I make excellent food.” Zayn curls an arm around his shoulders in apology, Niall leaning into his touch.

“Do we need to bring anything?” Liam says quietly and Harry chews on his lip, thinking.

“Have we got any wine? That’s nice. Or chocolates?”

“Louis ate the last of the chocolate the other night when he was watching Survivor,” says Niall and Harry shrugs a shoulder.

“I’ll go get some more. Liam, would you like to come?”

“Yeah,” Liam says and goes for his coat. He grabs one for Harry too.

“Get some milk at the shop, yeah? We’re almost out,” Louis tells them as Harry collects some forint from the jar. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“What a tragedy that would be, to be out of milk and so you couldn’t have your tea.”

Louis pinches his arm, laughing when he jumps. “It would be, yeah, and it wouldn’t be such a problem if you didn’t bloody drink all the milk in the middle of the night.”

“That’s the only reason I get up,” Zayn says solemnly, but his eyes are twinkling. “To drink the milk so you’ll be even grumpier in the mornings than usual.”

“Fuck off.”

Liam helps Harry into his coat and Harry shoves his hands into the pockets, beaming at Liam.

“Ready?” he asks and Liam nods.

The closest shop’s not too far away, only about a two minute walk. But it’s nippy outside and Liam can feel a chill creeping in through the wool of his coat.

Harry shivers once and fiddles with a button. “Not as cold as Moscow, but it’s still chilly. Then again, I never did get used to that sort of cold.”

“I’m used to hotter temperatures,” Liam says, and he can deal with the heat of the equator. Well, he can deal with almost anything, but he prefers not to be in the bitter cold.

Budapest is grey in the winter, almost straight through October until April. It’s a little oppressive after the near-constant sunshine. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, just glances up at the sky once and then focuses on the ground.

Milka’s the safe bet, so they get a few bars of their favourite. Harry argues for the ones with Daim but then again, Harry also likes the chocolate with the puffed rice. Liam gets it just to humour him, and a bar of the Oreo kind as well. He lets Harry pick out the wine.

They’re halfway home when they remember the milk and trudge back again, not willing to deal with the fit Louis’ll pitch if they come back without it.

The girls’ flat is nice, a little more eclectic than their own, perhaps, but warm just the same. It smells like pasta and garlic, and the boys take in a deep breath when they step in.

“Welcome, welcome,” says Perrie. Her hair’s blonde now, and shorter than usual. She smiles at them as they toe off their shoes and put on slippers, or papucs as Niall insists on calling them.

She leads them to the lounge where there’s a great many girls and three other guys.

“Do we all know each other?” she asks and Jesy pipes up from the corner.

“Better still do introductions, love.”

“You do, and I’ll go pull the bread out of the oven so it won’t burn.” She leaves before Jesy can argue.

“Well then. I’m Jesy, that’s Jade, that’s Leigh pulling the face, you know Eleanor, and that’s her boyfriend Max, Nick, and Greg.”

“Sorry, but is that a Britney Spears shirt?” Harry asks, pointing at the one Liam thinks is named Nick. The guy looks down at himself automatically and then back up, grinning.

“Yeah?”

“Brilliant,” Harry breathes and crosses over to start up a conversation. Louis follows him, but grimaces at Nick and talks to his friend instead. Niall gets roped into a conversation with Jade, Jesy with Max, and Zayn disappears into the kitchen.

Eleanor gives Liam a shy smile and he steps forward.

“How d’you know them, then?”

“They’re in a few of my classes,” she says, nodding towards where Perrie’s form can be seen through the doorway. “All of them are, and all the expats kind of band together.”

“Community,” Liam agrees and Eleanor lets out a little laugh.

“Not all of us are lucky to move with our friends,” she says. He thinks about correcting her, but it’d cause too many questions. He stays quiet.

“You alright, love?” Jesy asks in a low voice, appearing behind his shoulder. He jumps a little at the shock and covers it up with a warm smile.

“Yeah, course.”

She studies him for a minute and he refuses to squirm under her gaze. A smile spreading across her face, she squeezes his arm.

“That’s good then. Too cold? It’s been rather chilly, hasn’t it?”

Agreeing, he steers the conversation away to the weather.

They should’ve brought more wine and chocolate, but it’s alright because they scrounge for some more. They don’t fit around the table, and there’s not enough sofas to sit on, so they all sit on the floor and eat in a circle.

Nearly everything Nick says offends Louis in some way or another, and vice versa, until Eleanor draws him into a conversation so Harry and Nick and Niall can speak in peace. Zayn and Perrie sit with their heads close together, and Liam inserting commentary every once in awhile. Jade and Leigh rile each other up until they’re shaking with laughter, and so is everyone around them. It’s the hardest Liam’s laughed in quite a while, with Leigh on one side and Louis on the other.

Jade gets up in the middle of the meal to show off her dance move and puts her foot in some pasta, shrieking at the feeling. It makes Greg laugh so hard he knocks over his wine and Leigh nearly climbs into Liam’s lap so it doesn’t stain her white trousers.

It’s a wonderful night.

Liam shuffles out into the lounge before the sun rises, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He’d made himself get up to run this morning, wanted to see the city in the light of the new day.

A quiet cough makes him stop and he glances over to see Zayn wrapped up on the sofa. He looks pale, washed out against the dark colour of his blanket.

“You okay?” he asks quietly and Zayn’s eyes flick over to him. He shakes his head.

“Tired,” he croaks.

“Did you sleep?”

“Not since Tuesday.” It’s Friday.

“Zayn…”

He shrugs. “Can’t.”

Running a hand through his hair, Liam heaves a sigh and toes off his trainers.

“Budge up, then.” He sits on the end of the couch and pulls Zayn down so his head’s in Liam’s lap. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

He can feel Zayn’s grin pressed into his leg.

“Going to fight the bad guys, are you babe?”

“Shh,” Liam tells him with a smile, sifting his hands through Zayn’s hair. “Go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” he repeats, quieter this time. “It’s still too dark.”

“That’s okay. Rest, then.”

Zayn shifts closer and they watch the sunlight start to play on the wall. It’s only when the room’s golden that Liam hears a tiny little snore, glances down to see the other boy asleep. His face is haggard and exhausted, screwed up even as he’s supposed to be sleeping. Liam brushes at the furrow between his eyebrows and tries to send him good dreams instead of bad ones.

“I want to go to the Christmas market,” Louis announces. He’s flat on his back on the carpet, a hand wrapped loosely around Harry’s ankle.

“It’s cold outside,” says Harry.

“But Hazza,” he whines, letting go and propping himself up on his elbows, “it’s a market dedicated entirely to Christmas.”

“You’re a child,” Zayn mutters, barely hiding his laughter. Louis flips him off over a shoulder and continues.

“I want to go.”

“They’re lighting the tree,” adds Niall. “Cos it’s the first day of Advent.”

That settles it, even though they don’t say anything. Harry just sighs and gets to his feet, hauling up Louis as well. Niall flexes his knee before standing.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks and Niall smiles.

“Just a little twingy. The rain, I think.”

“Tell us if it gets bad, yeah?”

He nods and hands Liam a jacket, pulling out a hat and a scarf for himself.

It’s not as cold outside as it should be, but it’s still chilly, and they huddle together as they make their way to the metro. It’s crowded, people in their winter best and getting ready for Christmas. The cars are packed, nearly shoulder to shoulder, and Liam sees Louis push Niall to the least crowded space, talking to him in a low tone. Zayn curls a hand around Liam’s elbow.

The market isn’t much better. The little aisles in between the stalls have barely space enough to breathe. Niall goes a little pale.

“I’m going to stay at the edges, lads,” he says and Zayn stands next to him, grinning at them all.

“We’ll see you later, yeah?”

Louis tugs Liam along before he can volunteer to stay along as well.

“What’s that smell?” Harry asks, taking in a deep breath. Liam points at a sign.

“Mulled wine, I think.”

“We should get some. Later. For now I want to look at the stalls.”

He stops at one that’s selling handmade stationery, notebooks bound in rich colours and silvery designs on the front.

Liam leaves him be and goes to the next one over. They’re selling furry hats and felt ones, all handmade. They’re sick, but bloody expensive. He puts the one he’s holding carefully back and turns to see Louis at his side.

“Zayn’s just texted. They’re getting some wine and maybe a sausage, and they want to meet us there.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Liam and they push their way over to the centre of the market, where all the food stalls are. The smell of grease and wine and meat and vegetables mix in the air, with orange and spices from the wreaths next to them, and it smells like Christmas.

Niall and Zayn are standing in line, huddled together, and heads bent together. Louis grins and sneaks up behind them. They both jump.

“Alright there lads?” he says cheerfully and they both roll their eyes. Whatever Niall’s going to say is interrupted by Harry’s cackle.

“Look what’s on the menu,” he says in between his giggles. “It’s cow testicles.”

“No fucking way,” Louis breathes, leaning in and staring at the chalkboard. “I’ll give you five hundred forint to try it, Payno.”

Liam snorts. “I’m not going to eat cow balls for the equivalent of a quid. Bloody hell, no.”

“They’re like, a Hungarian delicacy? Maybe they’d be good?” Zayn says with his nose wrinkled.

“You can give them a try, then.”

Zayn just shakes his head and orders a kolbasza when it’s his turn. Liam gets some sort of cabbagey-soupy thing with chunks of meat. It’s wonderful, warming and filling and heavy, and he slumps against Niall with a full belly. Niall slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer, wincing when Liam presses his cold nose into his skin.

Niall wakes him up this time, running out of the room at fuck o’clock in the morning until he’s standing outside. Liam rubs his eyes and follows him.

Zayn’s in the kitchen as always, wrapped around a book and a cup of tea, looking mildly concerned.

Niall’s worse than before, he’s heaving in great deep breaths and crying silently. Doubling over, he holds his stomach and gags a little.

“Nialler?” Liam asks softly, standing just in his eyesight but not coming closer. “Nialler, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he chokes out but he’s too pale to be convincing.

“Can I help?”

“Where am I?” he asks and Liam blinks at him for a minute.

“Erm… in Budapest?”

“No, no I mean-- I’m outside, right?”

“Yeah. You’re on the balcony outside our flat. Outside in the open. There’s a garden in the center of the block, and you can see the sky if you look up.”

“I’m not in a cell?”

He pauses, looking closely at the other boy. Niall’s eyes are still focused on the ground, chest is still heaving, and he’s looking washed out. “No. You’re not. You’re out in the city; you could walk outside and go anywhere you want.”

Niall thinks about this for a moment and nods once. He loosens a little and straightens, swaying on his feet.

“Are the stars out?”

“Yeah,” says Liam, a little cautiously.

“Do you know that every star has the same composition? They’re all made of the same things, almost exactly.”

“I didn’t know that.” Niall wraps his arms around himself and nods, twitching a little. Liam frowns. “Come inside?”

“Okay,” he mumbles and Liam’s hand closes around his elbow, leading him back into the flat. Zayn’s got three mugs out, and Louis and Harry are in the kitchen as well.

“You alright love?” Louis asks softly and Niall offers him a weak smile.

“Fine,” he says with a little shrug. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Zayn smiles and passes him a cup. “Was already awake, anyways. Don’t worry about it, babes.”

Liam sits next to Zayn, the other side of the table as Niall, and watches him. He’s pale still, twitching every few seconds like he’s going to jump out his skin.

“We can talk--”

“No,” Niall says firmly, knuckles going white on the handle. “We can’t.”

Liam drops it.

They’re all too lazy to cook, so Louis sends Liam out for a curry. Harry volunteers to help him carry the food and they both set out for the takeaway place five minutes away.

There’s something strange in the air when they step out onto the street. It’s still and quiet, too quiet for a Saturday night, and Liam instantly wishes he’d brought along his gun. Harry’s a little twitchy beside him, fingers tapping against the leg of his trousers. He smiles at Liam when he catches him looking.

Andrássy is dead empty. Liam’s never seen it like this, without a car in sight. There are people milling around on the sidewalks, but no cars. It’s… eerie.

They get through the restaurant quickly enough, juggling two bags of takeaway boxes and a two litre of coke. It’s when they’re crossing the main street to get back to their own that the people start to come. Groups of them, wrapped in their coats against the winter chill, looking solemn and not speaking.

“Liam,” Harry says uncertainly, even as he changes directions to follow them. Liam does as well and keeps close to Harry’s side.

There are buses parked along the sidewalk, blocking the street so cars can’t go through. Down the centre of the major road, are hundreds of people protesting.

“Liam, what’s going on?” Harry whispers, curling a hand into Liam’s coat.

“M’not sure,” he says as he eyes a sign. It’s in Hungarian and he can’t read it, not with his limited vocabulary.

They watch everyone for a while, shuddering in the cold and uneasy in the quiet. A group that large saying nothing at all… it’s unnatural and the foggy air only makes it even more so.

A bus starts, and it’s loud. Harry jumps. Liam pats his arm absentmindedly while watching a driver get out and start yelling.

Harry whimpers and Liam cranes his head to look at him. He’s pale, eyes blown wide and teeth digging into his lip. The driver lets out a curse and Harry blanches even more, if possible.

“Mate, are you okay?”

“Louis--”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get you back. It’s just there, Harry, don’t worry.” He babbles a little more, nonsense to keep Harry’s mind off of whatever’s scaring him.

He practically pushes him up the stairs and into the flat.

“Louis,” he calls as soon as he’s got the door open. Harry flinches. “Louis, come quickly.”

Louis skids out into the corridor with his joggers tucked into his socks and a wide smile on his face.

“Did you get-- shit.” He rushes to Harry’s side and puts his hand on his cheeks, looking him in the face. “Fuck, Liam, what did you do? Hazza love, deep breaths. C’mon babe, that’s it. You’re safe, yeah?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Liam mumbles, feeling completely helpless. He tries to explain what happened outside, can’t get the words out right. Louis isn’t paying much attention, anyway, trying to draw Harry’s attention back to the present.

They’re all here for a reason, Liam’s not stupid. They all have reasons to be in a safe house in the middle of Budapest, and here’s proof. They might need to talk about it soon. Not now, though, when one of them looks to be shaking apart at the seams.

Harry’s fingers are white on Louis’ arm; he dropped the bag of takeaway when he started talking, and his breaths are shallow and hurried.

Louis starts to lead him to their room, but Harry gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Haz?” he asks quietly, soothingly. “Where do you need to go?” His eyes flicker to the lounge and Louis catches the movement. “Alright, love,” he says and gently tugs him into the room. Liam follows.

Zayn and Niall sit up when they all come in, looking for the food no doubt, but their smiles fade away when they notice Harry.

“Everything okay?” Niall carefully and Louis shakes his head, pushing Harry down onto the sofa. He curls up into his side, threading his hands through his hair. Harry’s lips move and Louis lifts his head to glance at them all.

“Can you boys come give us a cuddle?”

They immediately crowd in, gentle and soft. Niall and Liam squeeze themselves on what’s left of the couch and Zayn goes to lean against Harry’s legs. They’re all touching him somehow, hopefully in a way that’s comforting.

Eventually, the tension seems to leech out of Harry and he sags into Louis, tucking his face into his shoulder and falling asleep.

No one moves until a while longer, when Zayn stands and goes to reheat the forgotten boxes of curry.

Liam shuffles into the kitchen early on Christmas Eve to find Louis sitting there, staring into a cup. He freezes for a second, blinking at him, before shaking off the sleepiness and ruffling Louis’ hair.

“Morning, Tommo,” he says and Louis jumps. “What’re you doing up so early?”

Louis shrugs a little, taking a sip of his tea. There are circles under his eyes. Liam lets it go, preparing his own breakfast. It’s Christmas Eve, he thinks they’ll do something special. He pulls out the eggs and sausage.

“I haven’t talked to my family in a year,” Louis says, almost inaudible. “My mum had twins and I found out through a text the Director sent me.”

Liam doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to.

“They must think I hate them. Fuck. Fuck.” His voice cracks.

“Louis--” Liam says, turning around, but Louis shakes his head. Getting up from his chair, he dumps the dregs of his cup into the sink and flips on the kettle. “Um. How many sausages should I make?”

It takes a minute for him to answer, collect his breath.

“I’m not hungry, but I reckon Niall will be. Maybe the whole package?”

Liam nods and unwraps them, sliding them into the pan. The kettle starts to sing and he turns it off absentmindedly, reaching over to pour Louis a new cup. “Will you want coffee later?”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet, but Liam doesn’t comment. There’s a rustling behind him and then Louis presses himself into his back. Twining his arms around him, Louis buries his face into Liam’s neck and breathes. Liam freezes again, and tries to tamp down the sudden rise of panic.

“Louis?”

“Thank you,” he whispers. Liam’s skin feels a little damp. “I just… thank you.”

He’s gone nearly as quickly as he came, stepping out of Liam’s space with a tiny sniff. Liam turns around to see him but he’s focused on cracking the eggs into a bowl, ducking his head. There’s a splash of pink high on his cheeks. Liam goes back to the stove.

Louis is quiet for the rest of the day, enough to make Liam worry. He says something to Harry and Harry brushes him off with a little frown.

“He’s fine, Payno. Maybe just a little tired.”

Liam doesn’t get to reply, interrupted by Niall shouting about starting their movie. Harry frowns a bit more and lopes towards the sofa, tugging Louis into a cuddle and Liam down next to him.

Liam doesn’t flinch when Zayn curls into his side and rests his head on his shoulder. Harry’s solid beside him as well, with Louis and Niall just in reach.

Zayn’s got joggers on, and there’s a little stain at the knee that looks like pen. Liam thumbs at it for a moment. Catching his hand, Zayn gives it a little squeeze before he starts to trace the tattoos on his wrist.

Liam shivers, and can feel him smile.

Halfway through the movie, Harry yawns and shifts closer to Louis.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbles and Liam snaps his head around fast enough to catch him pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple.

“Harry,” Niall says, sounding strained, “did you just say it’s Louis’ birthday?”

There’s a pause.

“...no?”

“Tommo, why didn’t you tell us?” Zayn asks, leaning around Liam to look at him. Louis looks very small for once.

“Dunno.”

Zayn checks his watch and then looks at Liam. “There’s still time for a party,” he says slowly. “I don’t think the girls downstairs have gone out. We can do something.”

“Um,” says Louis and he’s blushing again. Liam’s almost never seen him blush, and this is the second time in a day. A Christmas miracle, maybe. “Okay?”

With a muffled sound of excitement, Niall hops up and heads for the kitchen. “I can make a roast, I think! Hazza, come start on a cake.”

Harry kisses Louis again, so briefly Liam almost misses it, and gets up too. Zayn heads down to the level below them to get the girls and suddenly it’s just Liam and Louis on the sofa. Louis looks a little shellshocked, and Liam wraps a hand around his arm.

“Why, Lou?”

Louis meets his eye for a moment and then looks away, plucking at his trousers.

“Didn’t really want to be a bother.”

“You could never.” Louis smiles at that, but it’s self-deprecating and accompanied by a shake of his head. “Is that why…”

“Why I was up and upset this morning? Um, yeah. It was.”

“Would-- would you like a hug?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes and he collapses into Liam’s arms, hiding his face in his shoulder and taking deep, shuddering breaths.

They stay like that until Harry comes back in and pesters them to tidy up.

“Happy birthday,” Jesy crows as she comes in, hugging Louis fiercely and kissing his cheek. She laughs at the face he makes as he scrubs off the lipstick, only to repeat the process after Leigh Anne and Jade give him one as well. Perrie just squeezes his hand and he gives her a thankful look.

“Why haven’t you gone home for the holiday?” he asks Leigh later, around the nice dinner Niall’s managed to throw together. She makes a face.

“Mum and Dad thought that it was their turn to do some exploring, since I’m here in Budapest. They’ve gone to Morocco for the winter and didn’t fancy coming back.”

“That’s a bit shit,” he says and Leigh shrugs.

“What about you?”

“Kind of the same, really. No one to go home to. My sisters are off with their own families and it would’ve just been weird, us three at home.”

“There’s always next year, then.”

“Mmm,” Liam hums and sighs when Zayn shifts closer.

They’re all soon warm and giggly off of the wine and food. Louis’ cheeks are permanently stained from lipstick and alcohol, and he’s happier than he’s been all day.

They pull out Scrabble after dinner and Harry plays with Leigh, wearing a flower crown Jade made out of twisted-up napkin. Perrie and Louis, accents strong on tiredness and proximity, are talking about something Liam can’t catch, talking too fast for him to catch up with. They remind him of kittens, somehow.

It’s not until Zayn snorts that he realises he’s said that out loud.

“You’re a bit strange,” Zayn tells him, face scrunched up in a grin. He rubs at his neck.

“Yeah, well.”

“You’re cute,” he says, standing up to get more cake, and Liam is frozen for a good fifteen seconds.

Niall slides into his recently vacated seat, smelling like outside and incense.

“Where did you go?”

“Midnight mass,” Niall says simply, sticking a fork in his mouth. “S’Christmas Eve, me mum would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

Liam kisses his cheek and steals a bite off his plate.

There’s a loud clatter from outside and suddenly, everyone is on edge. Niall’s the first to the door and he wrenches it open, the yelling getting louder as he does. It’s two men on the floor below, obviously drunk and fighting. They’re boisterous and loud, and it’s a little funny until one of them throws a punch and the other lunges at him. They both go stumbling into the railing overlooking the communal courtyard.

“If they go over that, they could die,” Leigh Anne says, a little appalled, and Niall is already on his way. He sprints down the stairs--Liam distractedly praying he doesn’t slip on the worn-down stone-- and over to the brawl.

“Hey mates,” he tries, but they don’t speak English. Perrie pulls out her phone and dials the police. Niall tries again and manages to coax them away from the railing and away from each other.

“I swear, he’s got some sort of magic,” Louis mutters under his breath, because Niall does have the ability to charm the pants off of anyone. The men are still shouting at each other in Hungarian, too slurred for Liam to make out any words, and Niall just shouts back in English.

“Should we help him?” Zayn asks mildly and Harry shrugs.

“He’ll call if he needs it.”

Sure enough, after a few minutes the men lope back into the house, and Niall comes towards them with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. Liam’s a little bit in awe.

“Bastard,” Louis spits at him without any real fire behind it. Niall rolls his eyes.

“Conflict resolution’s part of basic training, Lou. Nothing I did should’ve surprised you.”

“Louis didn’t do too well on conflict resolution,” Harry puts in helpfully. “He tended to punch people for being stupid instead of working out any real problems.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Louis says sarcastically, but it makes Harry grin. Louis tries not to smile, but he fails after a few seconds. “What did I tell you about telling partner secrets?”

“There are no secrets in the flat,” says Zayn, with his eyes solemn. Liam snorts. There are many secrets in the flat, but that’s the way it should be. An occupational hazard.

He doesn’t bother correcting him.

They get a envelope the next day, shoved in between their door and the cast-iron gate that locks over it. Louis opens it, and a set of car keys fall out into his palm.

They all look at each other with wide eyes, before Zayn plucks the keys from Louis’ hand and runs downstairs, the others hot on his heels.

He clicks the unlock button, and a nice nondescript Volkswagen beeps back. Staring for a moment, they crowd into the vehicle, inspecting every part of their new car. It’s standard, big enough to fit seven people. He wonders why they’re getting it now.

There’s a note on the dashboard.

“Happy Christmas,” Liam reads. “From the Director.”

“We should go out for New Year’s,” Harry says. “I’m sure they’ll do something at the Oktogon.”

“Harry, there are fireworks on New Year’s,” Liam tells him and Harry raises an eyebrow.

“I know that.”

“But--” he trails off at Harry’s look.

“I want to go.”

Louis gives him a nasty glare and Liam shuts up.

“I’ll go with you, Haz,” Niall says as he closes his book. Liam opens his mouth so say something and Zayn shakes his head imperceptibly.

“Let them be. Their own choices yeah? We’ll just be here to support them.”

Liam nods once and watches everyone get ready for the evening. They troop out fifteen minutes before midnight, and the square is seething with people. They’re everywhere, loud and drunk and carrying firecrackers on sticks. It’s chaos.

The boys all crowd together, hands fisted in each others’ coats to keep close, and slowly move towards a less-crowded place. Someone shoots off a mini firework and it explodes against the building behind them, high above their heads. Harry jumps.

Liam watches them closely, but Niall and Harry are grinning, elbowing each other and hardly paying mind to the people and noises around them. Zayn meets his eye and smiles.

“See?” he mutters, low enough that Louis can’t pick it up. Liam inclines his head; it’s all he’s about to give. He shivers.

Someone starts counting down from fifteen, and the boys pick up the chant-- tizenöt, tizennégy, tizenhárom, tizenkettő, tizenegy--

There’s a man next to him who’s got an arm wrapped around a girl, looking at her glossy lips with a smile. Liam’s forgotten about that, looks around for someone to kiss--

Tíz, kilenc, nyolc, hét, hat, öt, négy--

Everyone around them’s already paired up, with the exception of the lads and Liam decides he’ll just watch the fireworks instead--

Három, kettő, egy--

There’s a hand on his cheek, pushing it until his lips meet someone elses. He starts, and then relaxes when he recognizes the person in front of him. Zayn, he’s kissing Zayn and oh my god. He’s kissing Zayn.

It’s over before he can do much more than flounder, Zayn stepping away with a wry smile.

“Happy New Year, eh Payno?”

Liam doesn’t respond, too busy checking to see if anyone had seen, anyone had cared. They’re all absorbed in watching the fireworks, or snogging people, or trying to light their sparklers in the middle of a crowded square.

“Everyone’s busy.”

He turns to look at him and catches Harry and Louis just looking at each other, tiny little smiles on their faces.

Shaking away the shock, he shrugs.

“That was a good kiss, though.”

Zayn grins, his tongue pressed against his teeth and shrugs himself. “Might’ve had some practice.”

And yeah, Liam can see that, see where Zayn’s kisses could be a valuable asset and his face even more, and it makes something twist in his stomach. He drapes an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.

The fireworks explode above them and people scream, spraying beer on their legs and shooting off those goddamn handheld fireworks. One lands near Niall’s foot and they only just kick it away in time.

Zayn lets go of Liam’s coat to slip his fingers into his hand instead, squeezing lightly when Liam cocks an eyebrow.

“Comfort.”

“Cheeky,” Liam says instead and Zayn doesn’t even have the decency to blush.

The crowd is slow, shuffling along at a snail’s pace as they crush onto the trams and metro, being pushed back when there’s no room.

Finally, they break out onto their side street where they can let go and breathe. They’re dizzy with the fresh air and the new year. Louis lets out a whoop that Zayn echoes, leaving Liam cringing. But he’s laughing, not upset, and Harry looks over his shoulder to roll his eyes with Liam.

“I smell like beer,” Niall grumbles when they get to the flat, a little breathless from the stairs.

“Don’t you usually?” Harry teases.

“Fuck off, I don’t.”

Louis clicks his tongue and slumps against him. “Whatever you’d like to tell yourself, Nialler.”

Liam stumbles from his room, rubbing at his eyelids as hard as he can. Trying to get the images out. Those fucking images--

“Hey, babes? You alright? Stay with me, Liam.”

He hears the voices, feels the fingers on his shoulders, can’t work up the courage to open his eyes.

Explosion fire fire fire Sophia Sophia fire SOPHIA--

Soft hands catch at his own and pull them down. His forehead is pressed against someone else’s.

He pries his eyes open and is met with Zayn’s worried expression, not the agonized one of his partner. He takes in a breath. Zayn’s hands are still holding his.

“Are you back now?”

He nods, once, and gasps.

“Can you move?”

He shuffles forward as an answer and lets himself be led to the table. Zayn pushes him down, hands him a chocolate biscuit.

“Please eat that.” Liam does, but only because he knows Zayn’ll shove it into his mouth if he doesn’t. A glass of water is placed at his elbow and he smiles his thanks.

“Nightmare,” he manages to mumble. “Bad one.”

“Can I help?”

“Just… talk to me about something else?”

Zayn hums, tracing the grain of the wood. “Thought about kissing you to stop your panicking.”

The bit of biscuit in his mouth is dry when he swallows. He thinks about how soft Zayn’s lips are. “Why didn’t you?” he asks before he even realises he did.

“Figured that would make you panic more. M’not sure what made you…” he trails off, but Liam understands.

“I would’ve liked it,” he says, very, very softly and the corners of Zayn’s mouth crook up into a smile.

“Maybe that’ll be my birthday present.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Today.”

“Since when?”

Laughing, Zayn checks his watch. “Since three hours ago?”

“And I didn’t know?”

“I don’t know yours,” Zayn points out which, fair point.

Liam leans out of his seat and presses his mouth to Zayn’s. It’s quiet and gentle and soft, things he thought he had lost until this moment. He cups his jaw, and Zayn’s hand comes up to run through the hair at the back of Liam’s head.

They pull away, and Zayn’s lips are so so pink. They tangle their hands together and Liam rubs his thumb against Zayn’s knuckles.

“Happy birthday.”

There’s no shiver of anticipation when the knock sounds at the door. No one flinches, it’s not out of the ordinary. Louis throws a pillow at Liam and makes him go get it.

Liam’s still grumbling when he pulls open the door.

“Um,” he says when he sees the unfamiliar face. “Who are you?”

“Not important, Agent Payne. The Director’s sent me.”

Liam straightens his back, and the hair on his arms rise. “Identification?”

The man’s lips pull tighter and he sighs. “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori; mors et fugacem persequitur virum.”

He nods. “Why are you here?”

“I have to speak to someone,” the agent says, giving him a dirty look. Liam steps aside and follows him into the lounge.

Louis cranes his neck as they come in, trying to glimpse the newcomer.

“Who was at the--” He’s on his feet in a second, pulling up Harry with him and eyes flashing. “What do you want?”

“Agent Styles,” the man says, ignoring Louis, “you have a new assignment.”

“Fuck no,” snarls Louis. All the colour drains from Harry’s face, but his voice is steady when he speaks.

“What are the details?”

The man spares a glance for the four others in the room, sighing when they just blink back at him.

“Kosovo. You’re to infiltrate--”

“Fuck. No.” Louis repeats, louder this time. The man doesn’t listen.

“--and gather information about the potential crisis--”

“He’s not going,” Louis says, stepping closer to the agent so he can’t be ignored. “Did you hear what I said?”

“He’s been given an assignment.”

“Give it to someone else.”

“Can’t,” the man says cooly. “Not after he’s already heard the details. You’re to report at the Embassy in the morning, Agent.”

“He was fucking tortured,” Louis’ voice sounds like the crack of a whip in the room, and it makes everyone freeze. “He was tortured not six fucking months ago on assignment and you’re going to put him under again?”

“The Director--”

“Fuck the Director. The Director promised us a break.”

“You’ve had it.”

The rage on Louis’ face looks like a thunderstorm, like a wildfire, like everything dangerous and angry.

“He was fucking tied down and nearly drowned, beaten to an inch of his fucking life, and fucking deprived of food because the fucking Director gave him orders, and we’re not allowed time to heal?”

“It’s not the Director’s fault he was caught.”

Louis stiffens at that, a muscle clenching in his jaw, and it’s only Harry’s hand closing on his arm that stops him from killing the man.

“Lou,” Harry says softly and drags him away. “Thank you for the assignment.”

“Harry--”

“How sweet and honourable it is to die for one's country; Death pursues the man who flees,” he recites and Liam winces at the translation of their identification phrase. “And he’s right, it was my fault. I’ll be more careful this time.”

“There won’t be--” But Harry’s already taking the file and flipping through it, and there’s no going back once he’s accepted.

“I’m going too, then.”

“It’s a single mission.”

“Listen, you dickwad. I am going with him, I’m his fucking partner, and he will not go without me.”

“Either you comply to the protocol, or we will neutralize you.”

There’s only two ways that can end-- years in a prison somewhere, or death. Louis isn’t going to back down and Liam can’t let him self-destruct.

“Call the Director,” he says to the man. “If Harry’s going to be on this assignment, I want to speak to him right now.”

“You don’t have the authority--”

“Right now,” Liam repeats and there must be something in his tone that makes the man pause. He pulls out his cell and dials.

“Agent, did you give the assignment?”

“What you did is awful.”

There’s a pause. “Payne, why are you on this phone?”

“Because you’ve given an impossible assignment to someone who shouldn’t be doing them at all. Director, he can’t.”

“I can,” Harry says, but it’s weak and Liam ignores him.

“He’s the best one--”

“Tomlinson wants to go as well.”

“Not necessary,” dismisses the Director. “Styles will go alone. He’ll have someone over the comms, but him and Tomlinson are not to go together.”

He glances over at the boys. They’re all standing together, fierce and angry, and as they lock eyes with Liam, he sighs.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he forces his tone into something polite and focuses on not breaking the phone. “Either you release Harry from his duty, or you let all five of us complete this assignment.”

“Agent Payne--” The Director’s voice is steely, so he matches it.

“Those are the terms.”

“Styles has already accepted the assignment,” the man says, looking smug, and Liam raises his chin.

“Your choice, Director. All or none.”

Liam counts to five as the Director weighs out his options, breathing quietly over the line. Finally, he makes a quiet noise.

“Fine. All of you are now assigned to Styles’ mission. Do not mess this up, Payne.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

The Director hangs up and Liam hands the phone back to the agent.

“Harry,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to go alone.” Harry doesn’t relax with relief, but Louis does and nearly falls over. Zayn catches him around the waist. The man screws up his face and growls quietly.

“I’m leaving now,” he announces and Liam thinks about letting Louis go.

“I’d say it was a pleasure, but…” Zayn tells him and he shuts the door firmly behind his back. They all freeze for a second, watching everyone, before Harry lets out a single sob. Louis has him gathered in his arms before anyone can blink, but the others are not far behind.

“We’re in the field again,” Niall says, a little dumbly, and they curl in on him a little tighter. Harry’s shaking beneath them, and Louis is too, and no one can quite wrap their minds around the fact that they’ve been brought back.

Harry raises his head, lips caught in between his teeth and face still blanched.

“You didn’t-- I could’ve--”

“You really couldn’t have,” Zayn says. “And even if you could, we wouldn’t let you go alone.”

“Those bastards,” Louis bites out, pressing his face into the curve of Harry’s neck. He sounds like he might cry. “They were going to set you up again.”

“I could do it.”

“Well,” Liam says and it’s the end of the conversation. “There’s no need for you to do that now. We’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Louis goes to bed early, almost as early as Zayn, but Harry curls up into Niall’s side to finish reading. After yawn three, he looks at Liam and smiles.

“Wake me up when you go to bed, okay?”

Liam nods, and so does Niall, pulling his hands through Harry’s hair.

As soon as the screaming starts, Liam and Niall are out of bed and halfway out the door, running for the source to see what’s wrong.

Louis, it sounds like Louis, and he’s shouting stop, over and over again.

Liam almost collides with Harry in the living room; he’s darting from where he’d fallen asleep on the sofa and tripping over his blankets. Liam steadies him and keeps running.

Zayn’s in the room with Louis, words tripping over themselves in an effort to quiet him down. But Louis isn’t having any of it, staring blankly at the wall and thrashing away from Zayn’s soothing hands. The room smells like sweat and piss and fear.

“HARRY! PLEASE DON’T, NOT HIM,” he shouts, and his voice cracks on the last word. It’s the most terrified Liam’s ever been. “No, don’t!”

Harry pushes past them all, almost knocks Zayn off the bed, and tackles Louis, putting their faces close together.

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” he murmurs, “I’m here, I’m right here.”

“Harry,” he begs, and Harry picks up his hand, holding it against his heart.

“I’m here, I’m fine. Look all fine. Heart beating, no one’s hurting me or you. No one’s here but us.”

Louis’ fingers scrabble at the hem of Harry’s shirt and Harry lifts it up. Louis runs his hands down his chest, almost like he’s searching for something.

“See? No cuts, nothing. I’m here, I’m fine.”

He reaches up to trace at Harry’s face, rubs his hands over Harry’s wrists.

“Don’t panic, love, don’t worry. I’m here, I’m not in pain, I’m not going to be taken away. We’re safe, remember?”

“You--” he says in a shaky voice, and collapses into tears. Harry gathers him up and presses him to his chest, right near his heart, and gives him a kiss every few seconds. He’s still murmuring reassurance, not flinching when Louis’ grip digs into his skin.

Zayn taps Niall and Liam both and they back out of the room, taking five steps down to the kitchen.

They don’t speak, too shaken from the sight, and just sit around the table instead.

Louis is the strong one. The unshakeable one. The one who fixes everything when it's gone wrong. What do they do when their fixer needs fixing?

The shower starts, startling all of them, and it breaks the spell of stillness. Niall lets out a breath and rolls his shoulders. Zayn shivers once, violently. Liam stands up to pace.

“Should we…” Niall asks, voice cracking with disuse, but he cuts himself off with a shake of the head. He taps at the table quietly, a rhythmic thump that’s somehow comforting. Grounding, maybe.

Switching on the kettle for lack of anything else to do, Liam pulls out the teapot and the biscuits and milk. Louis’ll want tea, maybe.

The water cuts out and they can hear low murmuring. A minute later, Harry shuffles in, holding Louis by the hand. They’re both flushed pink from the shower, hair wet and Harry’s is tied back in a bun.

He sits down at the table and Louis ignores the empty chair to climb in Harry’s lap instead, burying his face in his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach. Harry rubs calming circles on his back, humming a little under his breath.

Liam passes over the biscuits and a mug, and Harry nods his thanks.

They sit around the table, wide eyed and no words coming to mind.

Harry’s the one to break the silence, speaking quietly but lightly, and it startles all of them again. “When I was, um,” he flaps his hand around for a moment and then rubs at his forehead. “When I was tortured, they, uh, made Louis watch. All of it.”

Louis whimpers a little and seems to curl up tighter, set his body closer to Harry’s. Liam blinks, exchanging a look with Niall. Zayn’s fingers tighten where they’ve rested on Liam’s thigh, but that’s the only sign of emotion he shows.

“That’s why he doesn’t like me to be very far away. And like, tonight he woke up and I wasn’t there ‘cos I had fallen asleep on the couch, so he panicked.”

“Are you… is he okay?” Zayn asks carefully and Harry nods.

“Just shaken, I think.” Louis nods too, breath steadying. “I don’t think we’ll be sleeping again tonight.”

“We’ll stay up,” Niall says and when Harry starts to protest, he cuts him off. “Can’t sleep after that. Fully awake and full of adrenaline, mate.”

“I don’t sleep, anyways,” puts in Zayn and Liam just shrugs.

“I’d rather be with you lot.”

Cautiously, Harry lets go of Louis for a second to sip at some tea. “He’ll be okay,” he says as he puts the cup down, “after a while. When I don’t disappear.”

“Christ,” Liam says under his breath, looking at the scar that peeks out of Harry’s collar and then at the ones the tattoos on his wrist don’t quite cover. “They must’ve done a number on you.”

Harry smiles again, but it’s tight and absent of any humor. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.”

“Christ,” Liam says again. Louis snakes out a hand to punch him lightly in the thigh, and something in Liam relaxes with the familiarity of the action.

They sit until the morning light starts to pour through the window, until their fourth cups of tea have gone cold and there’s nothing but crumbs left on the table, until Louis relaxes enough to slide from Harry’s lap to his own chair pulled up close. He offers them a tired smile and lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, and Liam leans into Zayn’s touch.

They’re not alright. But they’re surviving.

Louis spreads the file’s contents out on the kitchen table, a jumbled mess that’s also weirdly organised. Maybe this is what the inside of his head looks like, Liam thinks.

“Okay,” Louis says, pointing at one pile, “here’s background information, there’s objectives, there’re targets, there’s plans, and that,” he waves at an empty part of the table, “is for unnecessary information.”

“Isn’t all the information necessary?” Liam asks and Louis raises an eyebrow.

“If that’s what you’d like to think, Payno.”

Frowning, he shakes his head and picks up the one-page overview that sits in the centre of the mess, the hub of all the rest. He starts to read.

“Different groups are vying for control of Kosovo, including those that want it to be a part of Serbia again, the extremists who want it closed off from the West, and the renegade groups that want to take over neighboring countries so it’s a strong kingdom again. The KFOR troops can’t handle all of it.”

“Which group are we neutralising?” Zayn asks. Liam scans the paper and frowns.

“The extremists, they’re the most pressing. They almost poisoned the water supply of the capital a few weeks ago.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry whispers. He looks small, so small, and Liam wishes he hadn’t accepted this.

“There’s a party, a gala, in two weeks. You’re going to attend, figure out who’s the leader, and take him out.”

“They’re not even sure who the leader is?” Niall asks incredulously and Liam shakes his head. “That’s bullshit.”

“They really are trying to set you up again,” Louis says, a little in wonder and a little in disgust. “Christ, this is a suicide mission.”

“It’s not,” says Zayn quietly. “We won’t let it be.”

Harry nods once and Liam can see the steel creeping into his expression.

“We’ll give you backup,” he promises. “You won’t have to go in there by yourself.”

“Me,” Louis says instantly. “It’ll be me, I’ll go with you.”

Niall, Zayn, and Liam all look at each other, silently agreeing.

“Lou, you can’t,” Niall tells him and Louis presses his lips in a line.

“Why the fuck not?”

“You’re the sniper. You’re the kill shot in case Harry can’t finish it.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Zayn shrugs once. “It’s the truth. I can’t shoot for shit, and you are the best.”

“I am going in with Harry, and you cannot stop me,” Louis enunciates, every vowel sharp and deadly. Liam throws up his hands.

“Louis, you can’t, not if you want Harry to be safe. No, no, listen to me. If you go in with Harry and he fails, what will happen? If you go in with Harry and no one takes a sniper shot, what will happen? You need to be out on this one, and I know it’s awful and goes against everything, but you have no other choice.”

A muscle in Louis’ jaw works as he glares at Liam. He’s not usually rendered speechless, but he’s so angry he can’t form the words.

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ cheek and turns his head away towards him.

“Louis,” he says softly, “they’re right.”

“Hazza--”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You keep me safe by being the kill shot, okay?”

Louis stares at him for a moment before lifting his chin. “Okay.”

“I can do comms,” Zayn says suddenly. “I know the equipment.”

Liam frowns as he rereads the summary. “It’s a mission that’s more about talking than action, right? That’s why Harry’s the main?” The other boys nod. “Right. Nialler, I think you should be the other backup. You’re the best, after him, and you’d do a better job than I would. I’ll be the driver.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Harry says, as brightly as he can manage. Louis snorts and picks up a pile.

“Start studying, lads. We’ve got a week and a half.”

Liam drives the car the nine hours to Prishtina. He has to get used to it before the mission. Zayn’s in the seat next to him, flicking through the radio stations to try and find one that’s half-decent. He doesn’t succeed.

They’re driving the entire length of Serbia, and nearly all of Hungary to get there. Liam thinks it’s a bit excessive, but they’ve no choice. It’s the shortest route.

The guards at the Serbian border squint at their UK passports and Hungarian car, ask a few questions that Liam manages to brush off without too much suspicion. It still takes an hour, to cycle through every car and then all of their passports. He holds his breath until the fakes clear.

They’re whizzing down the highway, just out of a tunnel through the mountains, when Niall begins to gasp, shaking.

“Out, out, let me out,” he chants. Liam finds a place for them to pull over and Niall tears out of the vehicle. They watch him from inside as he lays on his back in the grass.

“You alright, mate?” Louis says carefully when he finally gets in.

“Yeah, yeah, just. Do you know it would take 70,000 years to fly to the sun?”

“That’s a long time,” says Zayn and Niall laughs breathlessly.

“It is.” He pauses for a moment, still sucking in lungfuls of air and staring up at the sky.

Zayn glances at him and leans out to yell. “Would sitting up front help? With the windows in front of you?”

Niall hesitates. “Maybe, yeah.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and comes around to his side. Niall sighs when the car starts up again.

“I’m sorry, lads. The tunnel reminded me too much of the cell they kept me in. It was underground, I think.”

“How long?” Harry’s voice is soft, quiet. Not threatening.

“Dunno, really. I was fine for a while after they lost contact with me, and then when I was caught, they didn’t really have anything to measure day and night with. Headquarters says I was unreachable for four months, though.”

Louis whistles.

“I’m fine now, promise. Just can’t do small.” He chuckles once and picks up Zayn’s habit of fiddling with the radio. Finding one that’s decent, he makes a pleased noise and leans his head back.

“Do the star facts help?” Liam asks and Niall blinks one eye open to look at him.

“Yeah. Reminds me that the universe is big, bigger than where I’m sitting. If that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“Not as trapped when there’s billions of stars out there.” He closes his eyes again, and Liam lets him rest.

Hours and hours later, when the sky is hazy with night approaching and they’ve sunk into the strange half-sleep that comes with travel, Niall cranes his head back to look at Louis and Harry.

“You don’t need to hide it, you know,” he says quietly and Louis sits up from where he’d been leaning against Harry. “Not from us.”

“Hide what?” tries Harry, but Niall just shakes his head.

“We’re not stupid, and you’re not subtle. Just… don’t worry about it, yeah?”

They both nod and twist their hands together. Niall smiles and turns back to Liam.

“You too, mate. Dunno what you’ve got with Zayn but you don’t need t’hide it.”

“Honestly,” Liam says, glancing at the sleeping boy in the back, “I don’t know what’s going on between us either.”

Chuckling, Niall flicks his ear and pats his shoulder. “Maybe you should figure it out?”

“Working on it.”

“What’s keeping you?”

Liam snorts. “Bit busy at the moment, mate. Assignment and all?”

“Right, right. Forgot about that.” Grinning, he tips his head back and adjusts his snapback over his face. His breathing drops off after a few moments, and Liam reaches for the radio. He adjusts the music so it’s playing quietly and lets himself concentrate on the road.

Niall takes one look at the rooms given at the hotel and bagsies the single, leaving Liam and Zayn to share one. Liam blinks a little in shock, but there are worse things than sharing with Zayn. Much, much worse things.

He stretches out his back, sore with hours of sitting, and his eyes are gritty with tiredness.

“Bed then?” he mumbles and Zayn mumbles his agreement back, dragging his shirt over his head. Liam sucks in a breath.

Zayn’s chest is littered with the tiny scars they all have, souvenirs of their various assignments. The silver contrasts with the black ink sprawling across his chest, and it’s breathtaking. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but Liam’s stunned.There’s one that looks like a bullet wound on his hip.

“Can I?” he asks, half reaching out. Zayn nods, cheeks flushing pink, and shifts closer. He doesn’t flinch at the touch, but Liam does.

If they were normal people with a normal job, if their stories were different, Liam’s fingers might slip further, past Zayn’s waistband and down. But here, they stay at his hip, thumbing over the scar and listening for the change in Zayn’s breathing.

“Niall reckons we shouldn’t hide it,” he says quietly, smiling a bit at Zayn’s little complaint.

“Hide what? There’s nothing to hide.”

“M’not sure. How we feel maybe?”

Zayn’s voice is so so soft, like speaking above a whisper would ruin the moment. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like you chase my nightmares away, when I wake up too scared to even see.”

Zayn doesn’t speak for a minute, and then lets out a tiny laugh. “That might be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” he tells him and kisses his cheek. “But, I know what you mean.”

Liam steps away to pull his own shirt off, wriggle out of his trousers. Zayn flips the light and feels his way back to the bed.

“It’s dark,” he says with a little laugh. Liam helps him under the covers.

“Oh,” he says, blinking up at the ceiling, “are you okay sleeping?”

“Yeah, I, um, I have medicine I take sometimes. I don’t like how it makes me feel after a long time, but it’s okay for emergencies.”

Liam opens his mouth, closes it, and then tries again.

“What are you scared of?” he asks quietly and Zayn stills beside him. “You don’t have to tell me,” he adds in a hurry, after there’s silence for a few seconds. “I just, like, thought it might be easier if I asked.”

Zayn shifts so he’s on his side, breath warm on Liam’s ear, and sighs.

“I was home, after completing an assignment, and they told me I was okay.” He takes in a deep breath. “Wasn’t, actually. One of the hitmen followed me and waited until I was out of the house.”

“And?” Liam whispers, the word sticking in his throat a little. He doesn’t want to know, but he does.

“Killed my family,” he says simply, but Liam can hear his breath catching. “It was revenge, or something. All of them, while I was out. I have--had-- three sisters. Two weren’t even old enough to know what I did, shit.”

“Shit,” Liam echoes and reaches towards him, tugging him in close. “Shit, Zayn.”

“Can’t sleep after that.”

He makes a low sound and Liam smooths a hand down his back.

“Sometimes, I just want my mum,” he mumbles, voice slurring from the medicine taking effect. Liam can’t let him sleep like this, so he closes the little distance between them and kisses him as gently as he can manage. Trying to pour all his courage and kindness and happiness into it, they kiss until Zayn goes limp and falls asleep.

Liam presses one final peck to his mouth and lays awake for a while, jumping whenever something creaks outside his door.

“The leader could be anyone, but we suspect it’s one of these three people,” Liam says as he steps out of the way. Zayn takes his place to fiddle with the mic wired into the knot of Harry’s tie. He adjusts it a little, nestling it closer to Harry’s throat, and then checks the earphone in his ear.

“I know, Liam.”

“Niall’s already there, as staff. If you get in any trouble, he’ll help. Find the leader, take him out, and get the hell out of there.”

“Okay.” Harry’s voice is the whine of one who’s heard the same thing dozens of times. Liam can’t help it, though; he needs to know that this will go as smoothly as possible. That Harry will be in the line of trouble as little as possible.

“Are you okay, babes?” Zayn asks quietly, smoothing his hands down Harry’s shoulders. Harry nods and does a good job of pretending he’s not shaking.

“I’ll be fine once I get in, I promise.”

Zayn kisses him once on the cheek, for good luck, and stands next to Liam.

“We’ll be here listening all the time, okay? If you’re in trouble, just say so. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Louis’ voice crackles over the speakers, harsh with emotion.

“Hazza--”

“Don’t worry, Lou.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Harry lights up at that, a smile spreading across his face and looking calmer than before.

“Never.”

“Love you,” Louis says softly and Harry glances at Zayn and Liam briefly before answering.

“Love you too.”

He waves goodbye and hops out of the van, walking confidently towards the house where there’s a party happening.

“If there’s any danger,” says Louis, fierce and deadly, “I’m fucking shooting everyone and damn the consequences.”

Liam can’t blame him. He’d do the same, if he was in Louis’ position.

Three hours later, and there’s been no progress. Zayn plays with the comms while Liam flexes his hands on the steering wheel next to him. Louis complains every once in awhile about the fucking cold. Niall and Harry check in occasionally, a snort at a comment or a quiet “all good.”

Until--

“Shit,” Harry breathes. “All three just came in. Shit.”

“You can do this,” Liam practically croons, his fingers digging into the wheel. “Go do what you do best.”

“Right.”

They listen as he chats with the three, casually talking about anything and everything.

“How can he know who it is? They’re talking about the weather.” Liam whispers to Zayn, who shrugs.

“He’s really fucking good.”

“What do you do again?”

Zayn snorts. “He sounds like he’s chatting him up.”

“Ooh, that sounds really interesting! Do you get out a lot?”

“He is, in a way.”

“Not in a ‘I’m going to take you home and fuck you’ way, though.”

“He’d better not,” Louis mutters over the static and Liam jumps. He hadn’t realised he could hear.

“Boys, uh, I think there’s a problem,” Harry interrupts. “It’s all three, they’re all three the heads of the terrorist group.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course he’s fucking sure,” Louis says.

“It looks like it?”

“Seconded, Haz,” Niall says, and they all jump. He’d been mostly quiet all evening. “At least, that’s what the staff think.”

“Okay, well. You know what to do, right?” says Liam. Harry sighs.

“Yeah, just like. Wanted to check in.”

“Do it, babe,” Louis tells him. “Do it and get the fuck out of there.”

“I don’t know-- three?”

“You can do it.”

“I don’t--”

“You’re a trained spy, Styles. You can take down more than that, easy,” Liam puts in, ignoring Louis’ sharp Liam.

“But like, that was before.”

“Muscle memory. You still have those skills.” Zayn’s shaking his head, and Liam knows he’s probably got that wrong, but it’s not important right now. “Finish the job, Agent.”

There’s been silence for ten minutes. Liam’s getting antsy, they all are. Nothing’s been heard from either Niall or Harry and Liam’s about to go in there himself. He wonders how Louis is feeling.

Zayn’s fingers tighten on his thigh, and he doesn’t hold back a wince.

The clock switches over to a new number.

“Boys?” Harry’s voice comes chiming in, and Liam nearly brains himself on the ceiling sitting up. “Boys, are you there?”

“Here, Harry,” says Zayn, leaning in towards the comm set. “Status?”

“Complete.”

“Targets?”

“Eliminated.”

Louis whoops and Liam can already hear him packing up. He lets out a breath, feeling the stress drain out of him.

“Very good, Styles. Get Niall and then get the fuck out of there. We’re waiting at the meeting point. As soon as everyone’s back, the better.”

“Understood.”

“He fucking did it,” he chokes out around a laugh, wanting to scream. Zayn nods, dragging a hand down his face.

“I know.” He surges forward and kisses Liam, but it’s more laughter than actual kiss. They’re too bloody relieved.

A knock on the door announces Louis’ return, and he’s literally bouncing with pride.

“He did it. Fuck, he really did it,” he nearly crows. Liam reaches back for a high five, and they’re all laughing, ready to go home.

“Shit,” Zayn mutters, leaning forward and checking the console. Liam stops immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just lost Niall.”

“What?” Louis says in a dangerous voice.

“He’s not on the line anymore, I can’t reach him-- fuck.”

“Louis?” Harry says and Louis leans forward to speak into the mic.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“They--” There’s a burst of static, and then he comes again, wild and out of breath. “---Louis!”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” he demands, nearly ripping a hole in the car seat. “Harry, tell me now. What’s wrong.”

“I--”

“Fuck,” Zayn bites out and his fingers fly over the controls. “Fucking shit, I’ve lost him too.”

“What do you mean you lost him? Get him back. Now.”

“I can’t, someone’s tampered with the equipment.”

Liam’s watching Louis and catches the dangerous look in his eye fast enough to grab his wrist.

“Louis, you can’t.”

“Watch me,” he spits, and Liam tightens his grip.

“You can’t.”

“Liam, I swear to God, if you do not let me go…”

“You don’t know what’s happening.”

“Harry’s in trouble and I need to be there.”

“But you don’t know that,” Liam argues. “You could be putting him in more danger if you blow his cover.”

“I could also be letting him get fucking tortured again-- Liam, let me go!”

“We’re going to wait the standard twenty-four hours, Louis, and then we can go in. If Harry and Niall aren’t in trouble now, they will be when we get in there.”

“I’m going in there now, and getting them out,” Louis snarls, and Liam thinks fuck it all.

“You will not, Agent Tomlinson, not if you want to disobey a direct order--”

“Don’t you dare pull rank on me now, Payne, don’t you fucking dare.”

“--from your superior.”

Louis is practically vibrating with anger now, eyes furious enough to kill. “Fuck you,” he says and wrenches his hand from Liam’s grip. He doesn’t go anywhere, just slumps against the seat and glares. “If they’re not back in twenty four hours precisely, I am getting them back with any means necessary. I don’t care who I have to kill.”

“We know,” Zayn says grimly, looking over the headrest to lock eyes with Louis. “We’ll help, too. But we have to wait.”

“I’m going to lose him,” he shouts, banging his hand against the window. “He’s my fucking partner and I’m going to lose him if you don’t let me go and it’ll be your fault.”

“Listen to me, Tomlinson,” Liam sneers, twisting so they’re face to face. “Don’t you realise that I know that? I know it’ll be my fault and I know what the consequences are, okay? It’s not my first--” His breath catches in his throat. Zayn’s fingers come up to brush his arm and he twists away.

“What am I going to do--”

“You move on. You hate yourself, and you try to sleep around the nightmares, and you keep going.”

He closes his eyes and all he can see is fire fire fire and Sophia’s hand reaching towards him. The heavy weight of a scream tucked in his chest, unable to claw its way out.

“Babe?” he distantly hears, feels a hand on his face. Zayn.

He shakes his head clear and sees a very pale and a very determined Louis staring back at him.

“I know, okay? But you can’t be reckless now. And that’s an order, Agent.”

Curling his lip into a snarl, Louis turns his head to watch out the window and doesn’t say another word for four hours.

They’d sent in Niall. Liam feels a little bit sick thinking about it, because of all of them, they’d sent in Niall as backup. Not that he wasn’t qualified, or whatever, but he’d seemed the most fragile with his wonky knee and easy laugh. And they’d let him go.

Liam really should be knocked down a few ranks for how he handled this assignment. Sloppy, all the way around. Something twists in his stomach when he thinks about how wrong it’s gone, and the inevitable lecture he’ll get on it.

He might just take a sheet out of Louis’ book and damn the consequences if Niall’s been hurt. Hurt under his watch.

There’s nothing in his stomach to sick up, so his abdomen just cramps painfully. Zayn rubs his back.

“Deep breaths, love,” he whispers and Liam would but there’s still the weight of that scream sitting in his chest and he can’t.

“What’s wrong?” Louis says, a little gruffly.

“He’s panicking, I think. Liam, it’s okay.”

Louis clambers out and throws open the driver’s door, letting the cold air come through. His hands tug Liam’s chin up and suddenly he’s looking into Louis’ serious eyes.

“Hey now, what’s got you all het up?”

It sounds quiet over the rush in his ears, his throat’s all blocked up, but he manages to stutter out-- “My fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

“All… all of it.”

Louis’ eyes soften for a moment, and then sharpen into something fierce.

“Liam, listen to me. It's not your fault.”

“Harry and Niall-- Sophia-- I couldn't--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” shushes Zayn.

“Sophia, it was my fault--”

“Sophia?” Louis asks over Liam’s head. Zayn shrugs. Liam concentrates on breathing, on not passing out. “C’mon, lad, c’mon.”

He lets himself be led out of the front seat and into the back, pillowing his head on someone's jacket. Niall’s, if the smell is any indication.

“Did he talk to you about any of it?” Louis murmurs to Zayn, almost inaudible to Liam.

“No, not really.”

“Shit,” Louis breathes and pounds his hand on the wheel. “How are we going to fix him if we don't know what’s wrong?”

“Louis,” Zayn says in a low voice. “He's not broken. None of us are.”

“Yeah, but this situation needs to be fixed and if Liam’s not able to handle it, then it makes everything worse.”

Liam buries his head in the jacket and thinks in for five, out for ten.

They hadn't been stupid, they'd packed for every emergency. Zayn hands back a granola bar and three squares of chocolate. Liam’s hands don't shake in unwrapping it, and he counts that as a small victory.

“I'm okay,” he says quietly. “You don't have to be gentle around me anymore.”

Zayn and Louis exchange a glance.

“We're all a little fragile at the moment,” Zayn tells him. Liam nods and takes a bite out of his chocolate.

It's one of the longest days Liam’s ever sat through, and there have been a lot. All they can do is watch the light shift through the van as the clock ticks closer to the twenty-four hour mark.

They don’t talk. Louis taps his fingers on the wheel, Zayn bites on his lip, and Liam checks and rechecks their weaponry until his heart’s beating normally.

“Sophia was my partner,” he says twenty hours in and the boys in the front jump. “I, uh, gave her bad information and she got caught. And then when I went in for her, they...”

“It’s okay, Liam.”

“They detonated a bomb. Cause I was coming in, and cause I told her it was safe to go in the first place.” His voice cracks and Zayn reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. Zayn brushes his thumb over Liam’s knuckles and it’s grounding. Keeps him in the present.

“That’s all of our stories, then,” he says drily and the hint of a smirk creeps across Louis’ face.

“Nah, mate. Still don’t know what happened with Niall.”

“We know parts,” argues Liam. “He was underground for a while.” Louis shakes his head.

“That’s it, though. Don’t know much besides that.”

“Niall’s the mysterious one,” Zayn muses with a sparkle in his eye. Louis looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Thought that was you, Malik.”

“Reckon he’s just quiet,” Liam says. “But mysterious? Nah.”

Zayn laughs as Louis grunts, rolling his eyes and flipping them off.

Liam’s checking the handgun for what feels like the fifth time in an hour when static crackles over the comms.

“What the fuck?” Zayn mumbles, leaning forward to peer at the display.

“--iam?”

Louis sits up straight in his chair. The voice is riddled with static, weaving in and out of focus but it’s clear enough to tell. “That’s Harry.”

“--ayn? Louis?”

“Harry!” Louis shouts, looking seconds away from lunging over the console to grab at the comms himself. Zayn’s fingers fly across the panel and Liam holds his breath.

“Harry? Harry, come in!”

“Zayn, we need--”

The sound of a gunshot rings outside, then again through the speakers.

The three boys freeze before exploding into motion. Liam slips the gun into his waistband, passes another up front.

“Louis,” he demands when he sees him getting ready to open the door. “Stay here.”

“The fuck I will.”

“You’re the driver, you need to stay. I’ve got this.”

“Liam, that’s Harry.”

“I know, and I’m going to find him. Zayn, see if you can get him to respond.”

Zayn doesn’t waste any time. “Harry, come in. We need your location to help you. Harry?” A second gunshot sounds and he swears, jamming his finger over a button. “Harry, I need your location.”

A bang on the side of the van makes them all jump, and Liam’s gun is aimed at the door before he can even register raising his hand. He eases it open and gets out, looking around.

“Liam! Get back in!” Harry shouts. There’s blood matted into his hair, and he’s swaying with the weight of Niall on his back.

“Are you okay?”

Harry shakes his head, and stumbles a little at the movement. “Niall’s unconscious,” he says. Liam rushes forward and eases Niall into his arms, climbing back into the van as carefully as possible.

“Go, Louis,” he says, laying Niall out across the backseat, head in Liam’s lap and feet in Harry’s. There’s blood pouring from a bullet wound in his leg, flowing fast.

When the engine doesn’t start, he looks up. “Louis, leave!”

“Harry--” he gasps and Harry squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m here, love, but you have to go,” Harry orders. “Like, now.”

Louis nods and turns the key, stepping on the gas as soon as he can. They’re out as fast as they can, shouts and guns going off behind them. One takes out their lights.

“Drive fast, they’re on our tail,” says Liam, watching the cars behind him.

“Liam,” Harry says in a strangled voice, “he’s losing a lot of blood.”

Attention returning to Niall, he notices the blood still flowing heavily.

“Shit,” he grinds out, tearing off Niall’s sleeve and handing it to Harry. “Tie it in a tourniquet, quickly. Is he hurt anywhere else?”

“Broken ribs, at least two.”

“Apply pressure on his leg as soon as you’re done. Shit,” Liam repeats as another bullet lodges in their bumper. “Zayn, call into headquarters now.”

Zayn does, dialling quickly on his phone. “This is Agent Malik requesting an extraction immediately. Assignment Mike-Sierra-Golf 3-12-12… what do you mean we’re not authorized for an extraction?”

“Fuck,” Louis growls as he switches lanes, scowling at the windshield.

“We need an help, we’ve got an agent down-- then bloody get someone down here!”

“Give me the phone,” Liam demands, and Zayn passes it back. “This is Agent Payne demanding an extraction immediately for Assignment Mike-Sierra-Golf 3-12-12.”

“We’re sorry, but we can’t authorize--”

“I’m authorizing it.”

“You can’t--”

“I’m a Clearance Level Gamma, yes I can,” he shouts down the line. There’s a weighted silence, presumably as the agents checks out his clearance, and Liam chews his cheek until he can taste blood.

“What’s your location, Agent Payne?”

“Outskirts of Prishtina, Kosovo, headed towards the Hotel Liberty. Three vehicles in pursuit, armed. We’ve got one agent critically injured and one moderately at the moment.”

“Reroute to the airport, we’ve got a ‘copter at the Macedonia border that’s headed your way. Twenty minutes, max.”

“Make it ten. Call the airport, tell them to shut down for half an hour. We’re in a black Volkswagen Sharan; we’re to be let through without being stopped. Agent, make sure the ‘copter is there before we are.”

“Yessir.”

“Louis, the airport! Now!”

Liam hangs up and throws the phone back at Zayn, glancing down at the boy in his lap. Niall’s still unconscious, skin nearly translucent and deathly still.

Louis obeys immediately, following the instructions the GPS spits out.

“How’s he doing, Styles?”

“So much blood,” Harry says weakly and Liam whips his head around to look at him. He’s also pale, and his hair is nearly black with blood.

“Are you okay?”

“Head,” he murmurs.

“What’s wrong with him?” Louis yells, jerking the wheel as he tries to turn around to see.

“Probably a concussion. Concentrate on driving, that’s the most important thing right now.” He doesn’t argue. “Harry, don’t go to sleep,” Liam snaps when his eyes dip down. “Keep pressure on Niall’s leg.”

“Okay.”

“Zayn and Louis, you’ll have to cover me as I get these two into the helicopter, alright? There’s a team, but I don’t know how many or how armed they are.”

“Got it, Payno,” Zayn says and he takes the guns Liam passes up.

“God, I hope they’ve brought a medic,” he mutters as he brushes away some hair from Niall’s face. He’s still, so still, and there’s a horrible thought niggling at the back of Liam’s head that he might be dying.

Harry’s motions are jerky when he moves, and he groans a little when Louis hits a bump. Wincing, he presses a hand to his head and then winces again when he grazes the cut.

“I’m tired,” he slurs and Liam reaches over to shake his shoulder.

“Awake, you’ve got to stay awake.”

“Liam, I’m cold.”

“I know, love. The adrenaline’s wearing off but we’re almost there and you can sleep.”

Harry whines a little, eyes dilated wide, and he starts to shake. He’s going into shock, Liam realises. Rooting around for the jacket he used as a pillow earlier, he hands it to Harry.

“Put that on. Louis, how long?”

“Three minutes,” he replies through gritted teeth, and his hands are white on the wheel. Liam cranes his head to look out the back window.

“I think you’ve lost them.”

“I hope so. Fuck.”

Zayn checks the barrel of the gun and nods to himself, curling his fingers around the handle. Louis slides one into his lap, balancing it on his thigh.

The gates to the airport are open, and Louis presses down on the gas as they skid onto the tarmac towards the black helicopter at the end. Liam’s shoulder thuds into the side of the door at one of the turns and he flinches, hoping it didn’t jar Niall too much.

Louis slams to a stop and doesn’t even bother turning the car off, jumping out with his gun cocked. Zayn follows, and Liam manages to manoeuvre Niall into his arms.

“God, I hope I’m not hurting him more,” he mutters as he runs, half bent, towards the helicopter. The doors open and a pair of arms reach out for him. Liam hands Niall over and whirls around to help Harry. He’s stumbling, looking so incredibly lost, and Liam urges him on with a hand at his back.

Three cars pull up just as Harry’s hoisted in. Three more pull up just behind them, and there are men spilling out of the vehicles with guns already firing. Liam ducks as a spray of bullets hits right above him.

“Agent, we have to go,” the pilot yells. Liam shakes his head.

“Not without them. Louis, Zayn, c’mon!” he yells as Zayn neatly takes out two men. It gives Louis enough time to dart to safety, and then he’s covering so Zayn can come as well.

“Shit,” he mutters as another car comes, this time on Zayn’s unprotected side, Liam can see more in the distance. “Liam, I’m out of bullets!”

“Get another clip then!”

“Can’t, left them all in the van.”

“What?”

Louis grimaces and throws the gun into the corner. “I didn’t know there’d be this many! I thought it was just the three cars.”

“Zayn,” Liam shouts out the door, leaning out as much as he dares. “Zayn, get in! Now!”

He’s crouching behind the open door, only darting up to fire at a few, and then back down for cover again.

“He can’t,” the pilot tells him and there’s a frantic feeling building in the centre of Liam’s chest. “And we’ve got to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without him.”

“You have to,” says the pilot grimly. He starts the engine.

“Zayn!” Liam shouts again and Zayn looks up, catching his eyes. There’s defeat there, and it makes everything worse; he wants to yell at him to fight, run, don't just give up. He lunges for the door and is caught by someone. Louis is shouting beside him and then there’s a prick on his arm that makes everything dim and the world is sliding away.

The last thing he sees is Zayn drop his weapon and stand with his arms in the air.

He wakes up groggy and disoriented in a sterile room.

“What?” he mumbles, and it’s hard to move his lips right.

“Agent,” someone says beside him. He lolls his head towards the sound and raises an eyebrow, or tries to.

“Jesy?” he says, tongue thick with sleep and medicine. She smiles, and it’s tired and drawn. “What are you doing here?”

She laughs once, it sounds more like a cough, and rubs at her forehead. “Well, someone had to make sure you were alright after that disaster of an assignment.”

He winces, screwing up his face at the memory.

“Shit,” he gasps, sitting straight up. Dimly, he registers the heart monitor beeping wildly behind him and Jesy looks ready to spring up. “Shit-- Zayn. Where is he?”

Her face falls.

“He wasn’t extracted with the rest of your team.”

“You left him there? Is there a rescue planned?”

“Currently, we’re not aware of his whereabouts and cannot perform an extraction at this time.” It’s mechanical and stiff, like she’s heard it several times. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and when they do, they knock him back against the pillow.

“You’re leaving him there.” Jesy doesn’t answer. “Fuck,” he manages to breathe out around the familiar weight in his chest and it feels like his heart is going to race out of his skin.

“Agent Payne, are you alright?”

What a stupid question. He’s not alright, can’t be alright, not when he’s failed again and left Zayn there-- Zayn.

“We have to go back, we have to go get him. He can’t be there.” He knows he’s babbling but he can’t quite stop. “I can’t leave him there.”

Mustering his strength, he sits up and swings his leg over the side of the bed.

“Liam, what are you doing?”

“Getting Zayn,” he grunts out and Jesy stops him with a hand.

“You can’t.”

“Can.”

“Liam--”

“I can’t leave him there!” he shouts again and Jesy flinches. He repeats it once more, quieter this time. “I can’t.” He tries to get up again and Jesy pushes him back with a surprisingly strong hand, hitting a button with her other one.

Five seconds later, he feels the drugging sleepiness flooding his veins once more.

When he wakes up again, Jesy’s still there and he’s handcuffed to the bed.

“Was this really necessary?” he croaks, tugging a little at it. It jingles.

“You’ve been ordered to stay in bed.”

“Really?”

“No,” she admits. “But it was the only way we could think to stop you, until you saw sense.”

“My teammate and friend is potentially dead. What sense?”

“Listen, I know it’s shit. I want to go find him too, yeah? But we’ve gotten orders from high up that we have to stay here, for right now.”

“But--”

“Liam. For right now,” she stresses and gives him a meaningful look. He nods and lays back a little. Everything starts to sink in now, everything he had missed because he just wanted to get Zayn back.

“Why are you here?” he asks and turns his head to look at her. She smiles a little and clicks her tongue.

“I’m your case manager, love. Assigned to you while you were recovering in Budapest.”

“Case manager?”

“Yeah.” She pauses and tilts her head to the side, sharp eyes inspecting him. He fights the urge to duck under the sheets. “You didn’t think the Agency would just drop you off and leave you there, do you?”

“No?” Except… he sort of had. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Orders,” she says, “straight from the Director, no less. You’re important people.”

Liam shrugs a shoulder. Not important enough to rescue, apparently.

“Why am I in the hospital? I wasn’t hurt?”

“You’re under observation, Agent. You’ve had a traumatic twenty-four hours, and a year before that. They’re going to watch you and the rest of your team for a few days. And you’ve had some stress on your back.”

“The rest of us?”

“Fine.”

“Niall--”

“Broken ribs and a bullet wound, plus some internal bleeding from what we can tell. But we’re still waiting on the doctor to check. He’s unconscious until then. And Harry’s got a little bit of a concussion.” She spreads her fingers apart. “But only a little one.”

“Where are they?”

“In their own rooms.”

“Can I see them?” She hesitates. “Please.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says finally and unlocks his handcuffs. Leading him out the door, she takes him to Louis and Harry first.

They’re squished together in the single bed, Louis curled up around Harry. His eyes are rimmed red.

“Liam, how nice of you to visit,” Harry says with a wave, and Liam frowns at the bandage around his hand.

“What happened?”

“Broke it a little.”

He frowns more. “I don’t remember you saying anything about that.”

“I didn’t notice it before, really. Too much adrenaline.”

Louis sighs a little and Harry’s arms tighten around him.

“Have you seen Niall yet?” Louis says, tilting his head to look at Liam. He looks so, so tired. Liam shakes his head.

“Jesy took me here first.” He looks over his shoulder but she’s not there, standing outside the door to give them the illusion of privacy.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks and Liam hesitates, shrugging a shoulder.

“We just left him,” he whispers and he can feel the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. There are hands pulling on his arm and he’s awkwardly pulled onto the bed, face pressed into their chests.

Harry pulls his hands through Liam’s hair, and Louis strokes his back until he’s got a little bit of his composure back. Their shirts are damp, but they don’t seem to mind.

“It sucks, it fucking sucks,” chants Louis and Liam can see the anger gathered on his face.

“Louis had some choice words for Nick when he was told we can’t go.”

“Nick? Grimshaw?”

Harry nods. “He’s his case manager.”

“Just my luck.”

“Hush, he’s nice.”

Louis buries his protest in Harry’s sleeve, and Liam closes his eyes when he remembers that they’re four now, not five.

Niall’s still sleeping and hooked up to a few beeping monitors, when they let them visit. He looks small, so small in the hospital bed and Liam can’t breathe for a moment.

“Hey now, hey,” someone says, and there’s a hand wrapped around his arm. “Breathe, love.” It’s Perrie, her smile not quite big enough to disguise the worry and tiredness in her eyes. “He’s alright, I promise. The doctor’s just on his way, don’t worry.”

Liam manages a big breath like she ordered and it helps.

“Are you his, um…”

“Am I assigned to him? Nah, that’s Jade. She’s just going to fetch the doctor, so I came back to wait. Zayn’s my boy.” She says it with a bit of pride and a lot of sadness in her tone, and Liam pushes away the little spark of pain he feels. She squeezes his arm a little. “We’re going to find him, yeah. I promise.”

He can read the sincerity in her face and it puts something in him to ease, but he wants to go now.

“For fuck’s sake, Grimshaw. Just because you’re assigned to my case does not mean you have to walk directly behind me at all times,” Louis snaps as he comes in, Harry and Nick exchanging tired but amused glances behind his back.

Perrie drops her hand and goes back to stand by Leigh Anne, accepting a hug from the other girl. Liam feels rather cold all of a sudden, and even though they’re almost all there, it feels wrong. Harry reaches out and slips his fingers into Liam’s and Liam holds on, thankful for the grounding.

Niall whines, shifting on the bed, and all the eyes in the room snap to him. His brow is furrowed, like he’s in pain, and it’s only Harry’s hand in his that’s stopping Liam from going over and trying to smooth it out.

He blinks awake and squints up at the light, then at the group of them in the room.

“W’sgonon?” he mumbles, hardly recognisable as words. “Ouch.” He shifts again, like he can’t get comfortable, and it breaks the spell. The boys all crowd around him. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hi, Nialler,” Liam says. “You scared us.”

“Scared m’self,” he slurs and blinks sleepily.

“Excuse me,” someone says and they step aside to let the doctor through. He’s a big man, towers over them all. “Oh, Chief. What did you do to yourself this time?”

“Hiya, Head,” Niall says as he attempts to smile. Liam’s not surprised, somehow, that Niall knows him. He knows almost everyone, it seems.

“Are you in pain?”

He thinks for a minute, lips pushed into a pout. “If I say yes, will you kiss it better?”

The doctor’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

“Well then. Right here,” he taps his own mouth and beams when the doctor gives him what he asked for. And well. That’s new. Liam stares for a minute, and then at the other boys. They’re just as confused.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your team? After you practically snogged me in front of them?” the doctor asks and Niall huffs a laugh, face twisting in pain when it jostles his ribs.

“This is Bressie,” he manages to get out and Bressie rolls his eyes.

“Niall Breslin, doctor and this one’s fiancé.”

“And guardian angel,” Jade pipes in and Niall shrugs when everyone titters, albeit a little uncomfortably.

“You’re engaged?” Harry whispers to him when Bressie’s talking to the girls. “And you never told us?”

Niall goes a little pink. “You never asked?”

“We didn’t know,” Louis says, a little viciously. Shrugging, Niall reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Louis deflates almost instantly, tightening his grip. “You’re never allowed to get hurt again.”

“Alright then,” he says amicably and smiles up at them. “Hold on, where’s Zayn?” Everyone in the room freezes and the smile slips off Niall’s face.

Niall doesn’t cry, but he does go quiet for a little while, and Liam’s worried. Bressie shoos them out of the room after a few minutes with the excuse of Niall needing his rest, but he hears a few sniffles over Bressie’s soothing voice as he leaves.

Louis catches him in the hallway, a determined look on his face.

“Are we going to talk about the fact that you’re Clearance Level Gamma?” he says bluntly and Liam winces a little bit.

“Um.”

“I knew you were higher up, but not by that much. Bloody hell, Liam. A Gamma?”

Liam shrugs, but it’s jerky. “So?”

Louis watches him, gaze sharp and a little bit haunted. When he speaks, it’s slow, weighted.

“I’ve eliminated thirty targets. They moved me to Zeta after the twenty fifth. Fucking-- how many people have you killed?”

He flinches again, and straightens his spine.

“I’ve done my job, and I’ve done it well,” he says in a low voice and it’s enough to make Louis take a step back. “I’ve killed exactly how many people I was told to kill, and how many people it takes to ensure the safety of everyone else.”

“Liam--”

“I’m a good agent, and I’m trying to be a good person too. I don’t need your judgement.”

Louis takes in a deep breath, steadies himself.

“I wasn’t… I’m looking out for you. You don’t need that blood on your hands.”

“They’re just as bad as yours,” Liam argues and Louis gives him a small smile.

“It’s a little different for me, Payno.”

He doesn’t offer anything else, and Liam doesn’t press. Louis might break if he does.

“Agent Styles, from the beginning,” the man in the suit says. They’re all crowded into Niall’s room again because the boys had refused to let him be moved.

Harry runs his thumb against the seam of his jeans and straightens his back a little.

“Agent Horan and I went into the building, fully prepared and assigned to take out the leader of the this extremist group. We had three suspects and during my time, I realised they all were in some position of leadership. I lured them to a back room and eliminated the targets, circling back for Agent Horan as I did so.”

“Why was he in the building?”

“Backup. He was my backup.”

The man makes a note on his notepad, while the lady clears her throat beside him. “Proceed.”

“Right,” Harry says, looking distinctly unsettled. Louis circles his wrist with a hand and Harry seems to grow steadier. “Um, well. I circled back for Ni-- Agent Horan and we called in our success. It was then that two masked assailants stepped out around the corner.”

“Why did you not scan the premises?”

“We did. They were anticipating us--”

The lady frowns, looking fierce. “No conjecture, Agent. Just facts.”

Harry nods. “They surprised us and we were unbalanced enough for them to, uh, capture us.”

“They held you for how long?”

“Nearly twenty-four hours.”

“During which they…?”

“They handcuffed me to my chair, and punched Niall in the chest.”

“Why?”

Harry looks at his hands and then at Niall, who nods encouragingly.

“He resisted the restraints.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was...incapacitated.”

“By the guards?”

“Uh, no.”

The man arches an eyebrow and Harry shrinks back into his chair. Liam resists the urge to grab him and run away, far from the condemning looks and judgemental people.

“By what then?”

Harry hesitates. “My, um, previous experience. And a head wound.”

“Explain.”

“I’m sure you’ve read his file, sir,” Louis interrupts, glaring daggers at the man. “Let’s not make him relive all his tragedies today, alright?”

Both the agents make a face at that, like they’ve just tasted a lemon, but the woman nods at Harry to continue.

“After Agent Horan was subdued and restrained, they sat and watched us for the majority of the time. The guard changed about every two hours, as far as I could tell, and they allowed us some water when we asked.”

“They beat me again,” Niall says quietly from his bed. “Because I panicked a little. M’claustrophobic.”

Bressie makes a small noise and Niall tugs him down to peck him on the cheek.

“Did they ask you anything? Or say anything about why they’d caught you?”

“Standard stuff, who we worked for and what we were doing. Why we took out the targets.”

“Why didn’t they kill you? They found you practically redhanded.”

Harry cocks his head to the side and chews on his lip for a moment. “They thought they could use us as blackmail or collateral, I think. I didn’t catch why, exactly. But they thought we’d be useful.”

His gaze is heavy, heavy enough that it makes Liam squirm a little. The agents lock eyes with him for a moment before breaking the contact and turning back to their notes.

“How did you get free, Agent Styles?”

“They didn’t tighten the handcuff enough. I had enough room to wiggle out.”

“Of handcuffs?” the man asks incredulously.

“I broke my hand,” Harry tells him without batting an eye, “and that allowed me to slip out of them. I got Agent Horan out and we ran. My comm set was broken, but I managed to readjust it enough to get a signal to Agent Malik. They spotted us at the boundary and fired twice, one hitting Agent Horan in the leg. I got him on my back and managed to make it to the meeting point, where the other agents were and where Agent Payne’s story continues.”

The man writes something down in his notes and caps his pen, looking a little grave.

“Where Agent Malik was captured, yes?”

Harry pales a little and digs his teeth into his lip. “Yes.”

“Thank you for the account. We’ll review it, along with your official statements.” He stands and offers his hand to the woman beside him. They leave in silence.

“That was strange,” Niall remarks. “Like, it isn’t usually protocol to have an interview in front of all your mates.”

“They wanted to see if I would relax and change my story. Let something slip,” Harry says blankly, not looking up from his hands. “Or if someone would react to a part that they know is a lie.”

“It’s good you told the truth then,” Louis says fiercely, catching Harry’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

“You lied about it all, didn’t you?” Nick asks, a little bored from his spot in the corner. Louis levels a glare at him but Harry’s mouth tugs up in a little smile.

“Blatantly,” he deadpans and Nick chuckles. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Nah, you told the truth. No one’s that good of a liar.”

Harry inclines his head and everyone laughs, familiar with his shit lying skills. Niall gasps in pain and Bressie stops immediately, leaning forward to check the monitors. Satisfied, he gives Niall a little kiss.

Liam turns his head away with his belly twisting, and tries not to vomit.

He’s staring at the cuts on his hand, little places where the glass sliced into his skin, when someone knocks on the door.

“Ready to go?” Leigh Anne asks.

“Um, yeah,” he says with a start.

“What were you looking at?”

He looks at her for a minute and then stretches out his hand to show her. She runs her fingers against it and frowns.

“Why didn’t you get this checked out?”

“The other boys had worse.”

“It still could’ve used medical attention.”

“Eh.” He shrugs and drops his hand to pick up his jacket.

“Liam,” she says solemnly, serious enough to make him pause. “You do know that none of this is your fault?”

He shrugs again. “But I could’ve done better.”

She fixes him with a glare and shakes her head wildly. “You completed the assignment. That’s a success in my book.”

“I didn’t, though. Zayn’s still gone, and Niall was so hurt--”

“Babe,” she says and tilts his chin up with gentle fingers, “you did well. Believe me. And don’t give up hope on Zayn yet, yeah? You know we won’t just leave him; Perrie’s gotten very fond of him and won’t let him go that easily.”

“Yeah, okay.”

It’s not convincing but she drops it, stepping away. “C’mon then. Everyone’s heading out, and we should be too.”

“Where’s Jesy? I thought she was in charge of me.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes, and hooks her arm through his elbow. “Just because you’re her assignment doesn’t mean I can’t look after you too. We all help each other, and she had to take a phone call.”

“The Agency?”

“Boyfriend,” she corrects with a smile. “She’s head over heels for him, and I can’t bear her whining when she misses one of his calls.”

Harry skids to a stop in front of the room, alone for once. “Oh, there you are! Um, I think Perrie was looking for you? Something about the keys to something or other? It’s an emergency?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Ugh, if she’s lost them…” she mutters as she leaves. Liam grins at Harry and nudges his shoulder.

“M’ready to be in my own bed, honestly.”

“Liam,” Harry says, catching his arm. “I just… I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting Louis go in there. I know he wanted to, when I lost contact, but he would’ve died, so.”

“Harry, you don’t know that. Maybe we could’ve stopped Niall from--”

“No,” he interrupts, looking at him earnestly with his lips bitten raw. “No, I’m sure. That was what they wanted. They didn’t know it was you and Zayn out there as well, they thought it was just him, and they were prepared to take him out.”

“Louis? Why?”

Harry smiles, a thin one that’s razor sharp. He looks like Louis in that moment, just for a second. “He’s the best sniper in the Agency, and he’s a loose canon. Not safe, for anyone.”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell them that?”

“They knew I was coming, and they knew I’d have Louis with me. Liam, they knew. And I just think… I wasn’t given that assignment by chance.”

Liam stares at him for a moment before raising his eyebrows. “Are you still on those painkillers, mate?”

Something crosses over Harry’s face briefly, something Liam can’t place before it clears and he’s all sunny again.

“Maybe, yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “Paranoia, I guess.”

“Probably,” Liam agrees and nothing more is said.

He’s an agent, he should be able to compartmentalise. The other boys have, they act like very little is wrong. Liam tries, he does, but there’s something numbing inside his chest.

If he didn’t know better, he’d scream at Harry and Louis and Niall for keeping it together so well, for sliding over Zayn’s name like their heart doesn’t tug at the sound, but they’re doing what they were trained to do. He still wants to scream a little.

Bressie comes to keep an eye on Niall, and Liam moves into Zayn’s room. The smell nearly drives him mad; Zayn is everywhere and he can’t escape it. Doesn’t know if he wants to.

There’s no boy greeting him when he stumbles from his room with a nightmare, no one to drink tea with every night in the weird hours of the early, early morning. The strangeness settles on his skin like a coat.

The girls are in and out of the apartment always, and Nick pops in every once and while too. They’d found he lives downstairs on the ground floor, had been the entire time and they just hadn’t known.

“I did my job right, then,” he says with a wry smile when Harry pouts. “You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“Can too,” says Harry but his pout smoothes out into a smile. Louis sniffs from the couch and scowls when Nick laughs.

“Have you heard anything?” Liam asks, because he can’t stop himself. Hesitating, Nick shakes his head.

“They haven’t told us anything. We’re trying.”

“I know.”

The fact that they are still on leave, even after that assignment, and can’t file for information smarts. Liam’s fingers itch with restlessness. He goes to knock on Niall’s door for want of something to do.

Bressie’s out, something about being needed somewhere else, but just for the day. Niall grins when Liam comes in and settles himself carefully on the bed.

“Still being lazy, then?”

“Not my fault,” Niall retorts, wincing when he gets a little jostled. “I wish I could get out of bed. I’m tired of staring at the same thing all day.”

“Want to watch a film with me?”

“Can we cuddle?”

He could never say no to Niall, especially now when he’s so battered. “Of course.”

The other boys trickle in, situate themselves carefully, and watch the screen as well. Harry’s tucked in between Niall and Louis, and Liam’s very carefully wrapped himself around Niall. It’s a little precarious, but it’s like they’re starved for touch, desperate to be as close as possible.

The shadows blend until they’re all that’s left, and the film flickers across the screen, and they breathe and try to hold themselves together.

He wakes up to gasps, heaving breaths from the chest under his head.

“What?” he mumbles, blinking in the darkness and sitting up a little.

“Liam,” Niall spits out and he’s instantly awake.

“Niall, are you okay? Where does it hurt? Niall.”

“Small,” he hears and oh. That’s a different story. He reaches over and shakes awake the other boys, pushing them away from Niall.

“Is that helping?”

“N-no.”

Harry rolls off the bed and runs to the window. Throwing it open, he leans out and starts describing outside in quiet, careful tones.

“There’s traffic below us, just a little. The stars are out and I think there’s a stag party in one of the pubs. They’re all wearing the same shirts.”

Niall’s chest doesn’t slow and Liam glances at Louis.

“Can you help me pick him up? I can carry him outside, maybe.”

Louis nods and crawls up to straddle Niall’s chest, holding himself carefully so he’s not putting any weight on the other boy. “Nialler, listen. We’re going to move you, okay? We’re going to help but it might hurt, ‘cos of your leg.”

Niall makes a little noise of assent, or what sounds like it in between his shudders. Louis grabs his arms and Liam slides his hands underneath his shoulders.

“Gently, gently,” says Harry from the window, one hand in his hair. They manage to sit him up so Liam can hoist him into his arms.

“Louis, grab a chair and put it outside,” he huffs out and Louis is gone like a shot, leaving the doors open behind him.

Niall’s not heavy, really, but Liam’s so so scared of hurting him even more. His face is drawn with pain and fear, and he’s shaking hard enough to make him nervous. Holding him tighter, he staggers to the door and sits him down in the chair.

“Look,” says Louis quietly. “Look, there are the stars. Right there. And down in the courtyard, there are flowers growing. See, Nialler? You’re in a flat, in Budapest, and you’re looking up at the stars.”

“Can you tell me something about them?” Harry asks and Niall manages to breathe out an answer after a few seconds of thought.

“Most stars are two systems, but they’re so far away they look like one.”

“Sick,” says Louis.

Liam twists his fingers with his, doesn’t flinch when Niall squeezes hard. He just runs the tips of his fingers up his arm and waits for Niall’s breathing to slow.

Eventually, he’s shivering from the cold and not from panic, enough to grin weakly at them.

“Thanks, lads.”

“S’okay,” Harry tells him, dropping a kiss onto his hair. “You feeling alright?”

Niall shrugs and winces at the pain. “Don’t really want to sleep any more.”

“We can sit you at the table, if you’d like,” Liam offers and he agrees, so they carefully transfer him to a kitchen chair. By silent agreement, they all stay with him, flicking on the kettle and pulling down mugs. It feels an awful lot like routine.

“Sad that we have to have a routine after one of us has a panic attack,” he mumbles to Louis, whose lips twist.

“Sad that we even have panic attacks.”

“Occupational hazard, Tommo.”

“Maybe,” Louis allows with a sour expression. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Liam doesn’t respond, just touches his shoulder briefly. Louis shudders, like he’s getting all the negativity out, and scoops up the mugs.

They sit and sip for a few minutes.

“I miss Zayn,” Harry says suddenly, sadly. “I miss him so fucking much.”

“Hazza--”

“It’s not fair,” he interrupts Louis and he looks like he’s desperately trying not to cry. “It’s not fair that he has to be alone, and we all get to be together. It’s not fair that they won’t let us go rescue him.” His voice breaks on the last word. Louis reaches for him but he shakes his head and dodges his hand. It might be the first time Liam’s seen him refuse to be touched.

“Harry,” Louis says again and Harry gets to his feet. Dumping his mug in the sink, he rushes out and leaves a stunned silence behind him.

Liam looks at Louis, who slumps down in his seat and looks miserable. But he doesn’t follow Harry out, and Liam figures that they both need to be left alone for a while.

“Are you feeling better now, Niall?”

Niall swallows his drink and flashes a tired, strained smile. “Think so, yeah. Achy, like.”

“Oh no, is it your chest?” Louis asks.

“Nah, stress I think. Tension.” His eyes flit to the door where Harry left, and then to Liam and Louis. They settle on the fifth chair.

Liam’s tea is almost gone when Harry slinks back in, eyes red and shoulders hunched. He stares at the table when he sits and doesn’t say anything. Louis hesitates before he wraps a hand around Harry’s elbow. He resists for a minute before going pliant, letting himself be tugged into Louis’ hug.

Liam gets up to refill their mugs, absentmindedly frowning at the darkness outside. It seems omnipresent, bleeding through their window, and he tamps down the urge to switch on every light in the flat.

“I miss him,” Harry says in a very small voice.

“We all do, pet,” Niall tells him, just as quietly. A muscle in Louis’ jaw works and he presses his lips together.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says. Liam’s not sure for what, but there’s a look to Louis’ eyes that tells him not to push. He taps his fingers against the wood and ignores the lump in his throat.

Once, early on, when they were walking along the bank of the river, Zayn had turned to him and said, “They say the Danube only looks blue to people who are in love.”

Liam had glanced at the muddy-grey waters with a skeptical look.

“Could the river ever be blue?”

Chuckling, Zayn had shook his head and continued to walk. “I guess we know that you’re not in love.”

Liam wonders if the Danube could be blue to him when he comes back--his brain doesn’t let him say if Zayn comes back--, when all five of them are fully together. If the Danube will reflect the family love they’ve created within the walls of the ballet studio flat, nestled in the heart of Budapest.

They’re all a bit fucked up, maybe. Definitely. Won’t ever heal fully from some things, and he doesn’t think they can really start until Zayn’s a part of the pile, wrapped up with them and breathing.

But for now, it’s the four of them sitting in the kitchen in the dead of night, hands wrapped around mugs of tea, and shaking off the past by basking in the warmth of each other. It almost works, except for the empty chair at the table.

And life goes on.