Chapter 8
Chapter 8
He stands atop a tower. It's raining, pouring, weeping thick drops that drench everything. He can barely see but an abrupt flash lights everything for an instant. In that moment, frozen in time and perfectly preserved, Zoey's face stands out among many. Negan, Sirius and Saviors mixed haphazardly with faceless survivors dressed in strange armour. On the far side hovers a helicopter, blades slowly whirring as the moment drags on, side door open but no one inside. Shells litter the steel floor, guns, empty clips and dead bodies lying strewn carelessly. The scene is a closed battleground and it's not yet apparent why.
Negan's mouth is wide open, doubtlessly barking orders for his men to kill the others. Sirius is feral, eyes wide and bloodshot, madness making his eyes bright and manic. He's covered in blood, the rain streaking bloodied lines down his face giving his Godfather a hellish facade.
And Zoey - she seems terrified but determined. For what isn't immediately apparent to him but the sight of her makes him feel a gut wrenching sensation. For some reason, Harry thinks - what is she doing here?!
The eternal moment accelerates back into real time. The rumble of the storm is barely loud enough to drown out the sounds of battle, screaming, grunting, gunshots and-
Zoey is screaming his name.
A gun appears next to his head. Lightning streaks the black sky in a large, branching arch and like the crack of thunder, the gun goes off. Harry jerks forward, arm out, screaming-
Time slows to a crawl again.
Zoey stumbles back a step. Her arm comes up to her chest slowly. A small round dot over her heart blooms and expands, slowly - she looks at him, hand coming away red, eyes wide with shock and disbelief before her body sways back. Hands arrest Harry before he can spring forward and he screams soundlessly, the world silencing in the aftermath.
Not her, he thinks in grief so profound it crushes his chest and squeezes his heart. Please, not her-
Harry wakes up with a scream.
He bolts upright, blind and unseeing as he reaches out. He's gasping for breath and it catches, making him cough harshly. A hand touches him, on his upper arm right where he had been restrained and Harry utters a feral sound, swiping out blindly but his wrist is caught unexpectedly. Harry reacts without thinking, his other hand whipping around but it, too, is caught. The action is so surprising he stills, staring at the familiar hand as he pants and shakes.
"-ry!"
Harry snaps his head to the sound, coming face to face with Sirius. His Godfather looks very concerned. He's holding both of Harry's wrists in a firm hold, not tight enough to bruise but enough to keep him in place. Doctor Carson is standing just behind Sirius, eyes wide and also concerned.
"-kay, you're fine. It's just a dream. You're safe, everyone is safe," Sirius' eyes are scanning him and the moment Harry is aware, he lets go. Instead, one hand grips the side of Harry's head gently as he asks, "You with me?"
Harry nods, still panting but now calming down. He reaches up to hold onto Sirius' hand, as it does more to ground him than anything else. He grimaces when he realizes he's completely drenched in cooling sweat.
Sirius' thumb rubs the skin of Harry's cheek gently as he says, "Some nightmare, hm?"
"Almost like the good old days," Harry quips unthinkingly, his throat catching on the words and making him cough. Sirius glances over his shoulder and Carson moves away.
"How bad?" Sirius asks quietly, eyes intent.
The image of Zoey being shot makes Harry give a full body flinch and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to shove it away. His Godfather's hand falls away. Sirius sighs, "It was just a bad dream, Harry."
"Didn't feel like one," Harry whispers hoarsely.
"Hey," Sirius tilts Harry's head up and the teen looks at him. Sirius, more serious than usual, insists firmly, "It was just a bad dream. Okay? It's not real."
It felt so real…
Harry gulps and nods, finally beginning to calm down. Carson appears around Sirius' shoulder, offering a bottle of water, "Here, drink Mister Harry."
Harry does as told, robotically opening the bottle and downing at least half of it in one go. The water soothes his throat and as it lands in his empty stomach, it spreads a cool sensation to the rest of his body. It's just what Harry needed to detach himself from the dream and finally calm all the way down. He recaps the half empty bottle and pants, wiping his face from some of the water that managed to escape.
"He seems to be calm, now," Carson says neutrally, seeming to be entirely unbothered by the episode. "Mister Black, if you don't mind, can you let Negan know and grab Mister Harry something from the commissary while I check him over one more time."
After Sirius hesitates, Harry nods to let him know it's fine. His Godfather stands reluctantly and, after a quick nod to Carson, leaves.
"Do you mind?" Carson asks in a polite tone.
Harry sighs and shakes his head. He just wants to get out of here.
—
After the questions and touching and studying and measuring, Carson reluctantly allows Harry to leave after he eats. Again, Harry receives strict instructions to rest and relax for the next few days and there is no doubt that Carson will be giving the same instructions to Negan and Lucille to ensure Harry listens. As much as Harry feels like they are making too much of a big deal about it, the conversations from last night are much too fresh to forget about. He resigns himself to wasting the next few days resting and rebuilding what he nearly tore down.
Sirius doesn't end up coming back. Lucille sweeps into the infirmary, looking a little hassled but toting a plate piled with food. She smiles at him when she sees him, "Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling this morning?"
She sets the plate on the chair next to the bed as he answers, "I'm fine, Lucille."
She pauses and gives him a look. Harry huffs out a breath and then corrects himself, "I'm… better."
Some weight seems to drop from her shoulders at that and she gives him a more relieved smile, "I'm glad, you scared all of us yesterday. Please don't do that again, okay?"
Harry can't guarantee anything but to make her feel better, he nods anyway. Lucille seems to accept it, smiling happily as she looks him over. The smile becomes strained as she notices his post-nightmares state, "Sirius mentioned a rough night. Didn't sleep well?"
Harry isn't interested in sharing his nightmare. He shrugs a little and looks down at his lap. He fists his hands when he notices them shaking.
"Well," Lucille says, sounding too cheerful. "I'm sure a good breakfast will help. Here, the cooks were only too happy to make this for you." Lucille places the plate on his lap, revealing actual pancakes with syrup drizzled all over them. The smell hits him right then and his stomach cramps. His mouth starts watering immediately and he takes the offered fork to dig in right away.
"Pancakes?" Harry asks wonderingly, his fork easily cutting through the soft, sweet dough.
"Mhm!" Lucille hums in affirmation, seating herself where the food had been. She looks so happy as he forks in a portion. "Certain supplies we try to put away for celebrations. One of them… Henry, I believe, was very thankful for what you did yesterday. He said he had been saving that box of pancake mix for a special occasion. He, like almost everyone, wants to thank you."
Harry pauses mid chew and sends her a pleading look. Lucille giggles at his expression, "Oh, we made them aware of how you felt about it but we can't control how they feel, Harry. Actually," Lucille seems a bit nervous but not in a bad way. She glances at the door to the infirmary, hidden behind the privacy wall making up Harry's 'room'. "It's a good thing that Carson is giving you so much bed rest. You have a lot of very grateful people out there, Harry."
Harry scratches his neck, "How bad is it?"
Lucille gives him a helpless, lopsided smile. Harry grimaces; he should have expected that.
"I guess I should warn you, so it's not a surprise. Anton-" At Harry's confused glance, she clarifies, "Our priest?" Oh, the creepy religious man. "He's been singing your praises all over Sanctuary. He's convinced you are God's messenger here to deliver us from evil or something. Some of the residents have left you… well, little gifts and such outside the infirmary since no one is allowed to come in unless it's an emergency."
Harry doesn't like it at all. He wishes that he didn't have to do this-to draw all this attention to himself, to make himself into a juicier target for anyone that happens to be looking too closely at his sister. When he discovered his ability to heal, he had been of the mind to use it as a tool to keep humanity going but he hadn't-he didn't expect how it would turn out. He just wanted to help people. Not for thanks or for praise but because it's the right thing to do. He's always strives to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is...
...but this is going to strain that conviction.
"Thanks," Harry says around a mouthful. "I don't suppose they'll stop?"
Lucille shrugs, sitting back with her hands entwined over her stomach. Harry's eyes flicker there and wonders if she…
"Probably not but maybe one day," she replies teasingly and winks.
Harry huffs, managing to finish the pile of pancakes. He's feeling quite stuffed now.
Lucille sits up and belches loudly. Harry stares at her and she stares at him, embarrassed horror taking over her features. Another, smaller one escapes, prompting her to slap her hand over her mouth. Harry cracks and laughs, finding the whole thing hilarious.
Lucille blushes as she gathers herself, "Excuse me. That came out of nowhere!" Her other hand is still on her stomach.
"That was great," Harry chuckles, very amused by the way she’s flustered over it.
Lucille rolls her eyes, "Boys," she says in a knowing tone.
"Is there something wrong?" Harry asks her, motioning to her hand still holding her stomach.
As if she just noticed it, Lucille takes her hand away and folds both together neatly, "Right as rain, don't you worry, dear. We should head back up, though. You done?"
Harry thinks if they are allowed to worry for him, he should be able to worry about them. Harry nods, allowing her to take the plate from his hand and standing. No wave of dizziness comes, so Harry is free of the infirmary.
Stepping outside is blinding in more ways than just the sun. On the ground around the door is a large, large assortment of little gifts. Most look to be knickknacks but some look hand carved and others are food or drink related, probably purchased with points. Harry feels more than a little overwhelmed by the physical manifestation of gratitude and really doesn't know what to do with all of it.
"Don't worry, we'll have someone collect them later," Lucille gently pushes Harry forward.
"I don't… even know what to do with all of it," Harry says in slight shock, going along with her prodding blindly.
"We'll figure it out," Lucille assures, her tone noticeably tighter. When Harry looks at her, she's shaking her head at the small crowd of people that began gathering while Harry was distracted. They back off, thankfully. Harry gives them a grateful bow of his head as Lucille guides him towards the building.
"Thank you, Harry!" A woman calls out in happiness, initiating a chain reaction. One after another, people call out their gratitude without approaching. Harry nods at all of them reluctantly, not wanting to make it seem like he doesn't care. They wind up the outside stairs, people respectfully moving out of the way for them to pass. Some manage to reach out and touch Harry, thanking him. Harry resigns himself to it, even though it makes his skin crawl to have people invade his space like that.
By the time they make it to the top, Harry is more than done with everything. Lucille, too, seems unhappy but she had mentioned they can't control how people feel. She's probably just as reluctant to tell them off.
There is a different Savior posted at the top. He’s an older man, greyed full beard and carefully combed salty hair. They nod to the man in acknowledgement as they pass.
As soon as the door closes, the stress slides from his shoulders. Harry asks, "Anyone else here?"
Lucille shakes her head as she steps by, another burp coming up. She huffs and excuses herself before replying, "No, just us for now. Zoey said she'll be by later and Negan doesn't typically come home until later in the evening. I think Sirius mentioned something about heading out for a run or-" she burps again, looking properly scandalized by it. "-something-excuse me. I don't know what's going on. I don't normally get so gassy. I must have eaten something funny." Lucille doesn't seem to believe her own words.
"It's not something you ate," Harry disagrees, looking at her lower stomach.
Lucille grows very concerned in moments, her face paling. She asks in a hushed, suddenly terrified voice, "It's not…" she cuts off, as if asking would make it true but her hands keep motioning awkwardly to her abdomen in the general area of her pancreas.
Harry catches on immediately and shakes his head, rushing to assure her, "No! No, no, it's not that, Lu."
Lucille deflates a little, running her hand through her regrown hair in a gesture of stress, "Are… are you sure? Like, absolutely-"
Harry steps closer and takes her hands to calm her down, "Yes, it's not cancer, Lucille. Far from it, actually."
Lucille does calm a little, grasping his hands tightly in her relief, "Oh thank God. I had hoped-" she stops, taking a deep breath and then smiling a little. "Okay, then… what is it?"
Harry isn't sure if he should be the one breaking the news to her but- "You're pregnant."
Lucille freezes, her grip tightening momentarily before going slack. Only Harry's grip on her hands keeps them connected as she processes what he just told her.
"You're around eight weeks," Harry tilts his head, the Knowledge he had gained from the first moment he saw Lucille again coming back to the forefront. Other than underweight, she's very healthy - the stress that has dragged Negan down from robust to worn seems to settle over her evenly like a blanket. Either Lucille strives under pressure or she has some effective ways to manage it, which will be good for her later down the line. Her uterus is set low, which is effectively hiding the baby bump that should be peeking out by now, especially with her lean figure. The fetus is doing well, though Lucille could definitely stand to eat a lot more.
Lucille finally remembers to breathe. She inhales shakily and lets it back out with a short huffing laugh, "Really?" She sounds so hopeful… she's practically glowing already.
Harry smiles, nodding, "Yes, Lucille."
Lucille beams, her entire face lighting up and she utters a short, happy shout. Harry is suddenly swept up in a tight, joyful hug. Harry can feel the life being squeezed out of him but happily hugs her back.
"I can't believe it!" Lucille laughs a sob into his shoulder. "I'm pregnant! Oh my-" Lucille pulls back and places her hands on Harry's neck and cheeks, raining kisses all over his face again. Harry laughs, not having the heart to stop her happiness. "Thank you, Harry! Thank God He sent you to us. Thank you! Thank you!" She pulls him back in for another, more gentle hug. She's crying over his shoulder.
There's a knock on the door, "Ma'am? Everything alright?"
Lucille abruptly pulls back, turning away to gather herself. Harry calls out, "Just a mo', please," over his shoulder and then asks Lucille, "Would you like to send for Negan?"
Lucille instantly gains an epiphany and she shakes her head, "No, not right now."
Harry nods and heads for the door. He opens the door a crack to find the guard they passed earlier. The man tries to peek into the house to see what's going on but Harry just smiles politely, "Everything is fine… I'm sorry, what is your name?"
"Henry," he replies, giving up on getting a glance.
Harry's smile doesn't move, "Thank you for checking in, Henry. I'll be sure to mention your good work to Negan when he gets back."
Hearing the dismissal, Henry smiles back and nods, "Yeah, sure. Thanks. And thanks for the vaccine."
Harry nods and then closes the door.
"Any reason why you don't?" Harry asks, keeping his tone light as he sits next to Lucille on the couch.
Lucille sighs, "I want to wait. As long as possible."
Harry frowns, "Does Negan not want-?" Was she worried about his reaction? If Harry remembers correctly, they had always wanted children but it never seemed to happen, for one reason or another. Maybe it was the cancer, of which Lucille had likely been suffering from for years before being diagnosed, or just general fertility issues. Harry can't imagine Negan being upset about this but time and circumstances change people. He's learned that the hard way these last few days.
"Oh, no, he's going to be thrilled," Lucille denies, sniffing and wiping her cheeks. Her smile is watery and wobbly from all the emotions she's feeling. "It's just that… well, sometimes the… the fetus doesn't… make it past the first trimester. Sometimes not even the second. I think it's better to wait until… until I'm sure or… I can't hide it anymore."
Harry nods, now understanding. He doesn't remember if that ever came up with Ginny, so it's new information to him. He'll keep her secret for now, though if she tries to put herself in danger - like leaving Sanctuary - Harry will tell Negan. “I won't say anything to anyone but you should talk to Carson soon.”
Lucille nods, sniffing and wiping her cheeks of the few happy tears that fell, “I will, once I've had time to process.” She looks at him and smiles. “Thank you, Harry.”
Harry ducks his head a little, “You're welcome, Lucille.”
Lucille sniffs, wiping her cheeks once more before standing, “Okay, well-I guess we should get you situated. Doctor Carson informed me that you are not to do anything strenuous and eat plenty, so I'll make you some snacks to enjoy later.”
Harry stands as well, “Let me help-”
“Next time, okay?” Lucille cuts him off gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing a little. “I just need… a little time to think. Why don't you put a movie on?”
Harry looks at the neat shelf of DVDs next to the television and then shrugs, “Alright.”
Lucille moves away to the kitchen. Harry kneels next to the shelf of movies, pausing at the sheer amount of choices. Not knowing how to start, Harry randomly grabs one and looks at it. Die Hard is the title and the picture has a man's face and a tower blowing up at the top. Harry grimaces in distaste, setting the case aside to grab another one. A portion of a blue tinged face stares out intently from the cover, Total Recall across the top. Harry is even less impressed, setting that one aside as well. The next and the one after feature a hard set, well built man that is sneakingly revealed to be part robot. Harry doesn't even look at the titles before setting them aside. He peeks at the others and figures this shelf is Negan's, as Lucille prefers movies with romance and Zoey likes her animated films.
Harry puts the movies he took back on the shelf and explores the shelf above it. He pulls out a colorful spine to reveal an animated movie. Tarzan in bold lettering with a nearly naked man crouching on a thick branch. Harry turns it over and reads the summary, finding it interesting. He sets it aside for now and goes to pull another one out. He can hear Lucille muttering to herself as she busies about the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder at her and thinks about what Sirius said the previous night.
The front door opens suddenly. Harry startles a little, head whipping to the door. Zoey walks in, a small smile in place until she spots Harry looking at her. She looks conflicted for a moment until Lucille says, “Welcome home, sweetheart. How are they doing?”
Harry sighs as Zoey turns to Lucille with a brighter expression, turning back to the shelf of movies he's supposed to choose a movie from. How do people just decide?
“Sandra and Diego are just fine,” Zoey answers as Harry contemplates the case he had pulled. It has two girls, one older than the other, surfing with a little blue creature. Harry finds himself strangely charmed by the grin on the creature's face. Zoey continues talking in the background, “Cindy is… different, though.”
Harry pauses in his perusal. He knows why Cindy seems off. He hopes she's doing okay.
“I see,” Lucille replies. “I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Why don’t you go help your brother pick a movie already.”
Harry hunches his shoulders a little. It's not like that! He just… there's so many choices. He's seen many of the titles Zoey loves the most, some more than a few times. It was always Zoey picking what she wanted to watch.
“Fine,” Zoey drawls unenthusiastically.
Harry abruptly decides to just play the movie he's currently holding. He opens the case, hearing Zoey approaching. He takes the DVD out and plugs it into the movie player.
“Oh,” Zoey utters, sounding just a little disappointed. She sits on the couch, “What did you pick?”
Harry passes her the case without a word. She takes it and a little grin appears, “Oh, this is a good movie. You'll like it.”
Harry wordlessly takes back the case and sets it on the shelf for later. Zoey's little smile is gone and now she seems awkward. Harry doesn't know how to broach the elephant in the room and it seems Zoey doesn't either. Instead, he presses the power button on the TV and then, when the screen lights up to reveal the title screen, he pushes the little play button on the DVD player just like he was shown.
Harry sits on the couch, glancing at Zoey as he does so. Zoey is preoccupied by something, looking down and away as she bites her lip. A high pitch beeping draws his attention back to the screen. The logo is bathed in green light and disappears into the ceiling of the shot. Harry finds the whole thing amusing… but that's pretty much the last thought he has. Like every other instance that he's watched a movie with Zoey, he's instantly sucked in. At some point, Zoey shuffles closer and a tray of snacks appears on the side table. Harry takes a sandwich absently and eats it, barely tasting it and takes another when he finishes it. His heart aches when it's clear Lilo cannot stay with her well meaning sister and he probably gave himself a cramp from laughing at the ridiculous scenes, especially the one with the pickle jar. At the end, Harry sits back, satisfied that Stitch got to stay with Lilo.
“I really like that movie,” Zoey murmurs.
“Me too,” Harry replies. His favourite character is Stitch because of how crazy the little blue alien is and not because he's cute.
Nope.
Definitely not because he feels a certain kinship with Stitch, seeing as they're both technically aliens. Harry isn't even from this universe and Stitch was made in a far off galaxy. So yeah, nope. No other reason than Stitch is crazy.
Zoey heaves herself up and kneels in front of the movies, declaring, “Okay, you need to watch this next. It's great!”
“Sure,” Harry replies, happy that the awkward atmosphere is gone. Zoey and he don’t have to talk about what she said because she's right. Harry was being stupid. Would he have reacted the same had they not been forced apart? Would he have gradually seen Negan and Lucille as parents naturally over the winter like Zoey has? Would Sanctuary have actually happened in the first place and if so, how different would it be? Harry and Negan were, at one point, partners in leadership when they left the house. Would they have been the same duo in this fictional Sanctuary? It troubles Harry that one bad event spirals so hard out of control, only to prove a blessing because if Harry had been with them, he never would have found Terrence and it's unlikely Sirius would ever have regained his memories and magic.
It's one hell of a catch.
It begs to question, though, why Sirius had been out there in the first place. If they thought Zoey was long dead, then there shouldn't have been Commonwealth assets anywhere near. Sirius told him where they’re located and it's not within the same state. Why were they there?
“Earth to Harry, come in!”
Harry flinches from the hand waving in his face. It's just a small one, more startled than anything but it instantly puts a hurt frown on her face. She tries her best to hide it a bare moment later but Harry still sees it.
Hoping to get her mind off it, Harry quips with a lopsided smirk, “Harry to Earth, what's your designation?”
Zoey lets out a startled laugh at the joke and then says, “I was trying to talk to you. Where did you go?”
“Mars had an infestation of nargles, so I sent my astral form there to clean them up,” Harry replies in an even tone and completely straight face. He barely remembers his old friend, much less her name but he remembers the strange little creatures she always took care to guard herself against and warn them serenely of. A cork necklace flashes clearly in his mind's eye.
“Nargles? What the fuck are Nargles?”
“Language.”
Zoey ducks her head, “Sorry, Ma.”
Harry swivels to look at Lucille at the kitchen table, notebooks and papers strewn across the surface. He feels so amused that Lucille minds Zoey's language enough to get her to stop swearing and that it's actually working.
“What are Nargles, Harry?”
Harry turns back to Zoey. She looks skeptical at his claim - for good reason - so Harry wonders how far he can go before Zoey catches on. “Nargles are small, magical creatures that you can't see,” Harry answers, trying his best to keep his face straight.
Zoey rolls her eyes, “Are you hearing things? There's a medical term for that, you know.”
“So… you've never placed something down and have it suddenly moved or gone missing?” Harry asks her, successfully hiding his devious tone. She's confused for a moment, then her eyes drift as she thinks to herself and then widen in realization. “Nargles are quite mischievous thieves and they like to mess with people for the fun of it,” Harry is just making this up as he goes. He can't remember what Nargles are actually like, so he's just talking out of his arse. It's hilarious, though, that Zoey actually made some kind of connection between his question and her own recent experience.
Zoey frowns uncertainly, “Now I know you’re messing with me.”
Harry shrugs, “You do you, Zo. Anyway, what did you pick?” Well, it was fun while it lasted.
Zoey looks conflicted for a moment. Then she shakes her head and says, “The Iron Giant. It's a classic. You'll love it.”
“Of course I will,” Harry replies thoughtlessly. “You picked it.”
Zoey brightens, pulling the tray of snacks to the couch between them, “Ready?” She's so excited for some reason.
Harry grabs a chip and sticks it out in the air, “To our movie night!”
The sparkle that lit up in her eyes at the prospect of a real movie night for the first time settles Harry's mind in a way he hasn't been able to achieve since he got here. Everything seems so different on so many levels in ways Harry hadn't expected and yet, did. Zoey grew a few inches, her hair growing back out enough to braid (by her own hands no less) and becoming proficient at her hand to hand skills in so little time. Very few things have remained the same about his sister after all this time; this world changes people in more ways than just the virus. What Zoey has experienced in the last year changed his sister, changed-well, everyone. Negan was right in that aspect. However, that sparkle takes Harry right back to the basement, where they all sit around the TV in the evening for a single movie. The times where Zoey had felt secure and happy inside the bubble they sheltered in.
That sparkle is still there. Zoey feels secure and happy and absolutely joyful that they can watch as many movies as they want. She's still Zoey and not a near stranger wearing his sister's face. The sheer relief he feels at that is palpable and he’s grateful that not everything changed.
Zoey cheers, pressing play on the machine and carelessly hopping onto the couch, nearly upending the tray. Harry is quick to clean up the few chip escapees as the movie starts.
Zoey is right.
Harry loves it.
—
Harry abruptly wakes to a hand on his mouth and his heart pounding like a jackhammer. Sirius’ face comes into sharp focus just in time to keep Harry from lashing out.
“Easy, Harry,” Sirius whispers, removing his hand.
Memories of the nightmare he had wash away like the tide of an ocean, leaving behind the soaked remnants on his sleep clothes.
“Another nightmare,” Sirius comments as Harry focuses on his breathing.
Harry looks at Sirius and croaks, “It felt so real.”
It wasn’t exactly the same as last night. There was a storm, yes but they were on a hill surrounded by trees. No helicopter but they were fighting some faceless, desperate survivors. Sirius still seemed maniacal and Zoey-
Zoey still dies and Harry can’t save her.
“It’s just a dream, Harry,” Sirius assures him, a thumb rubbing over Harry’s forehead comfortingly.
“It doesn’t feel like a dream, Sir’!” Harry sits up, dislodging Sirius’ hand. Harry buries his face in his hands and continues, “She dies, Sir’. She dies and I can’t do anything to save her.”
Sirius grasps Harry’s shoulders firmly and insists, “It’s just a dream, Harry. You aren’t a Seer, you can’t see the future. Come on, let’s head up to the roof and get some fresh air.”
Harry doesn’t fight it. He allows Sirius to drag him to his feet and to the door without another word. His Sense flares into life as they open the door and Harry senses the guard at the end of the hall before they see her. Sirius’ Will is incredibly bright and strong next to Harry, utterly outshining the Savior down the hall. The steady, gentle sway of Zoey’s Will is like a balm to Harry’s frayed nerves. Negan and Lucille’s are almost intertwined and sway together as if slowly dancing.
As they head up to the roof, Harry can sense a distinct change in the Will’s he’s been sensing since he got here. They’re far brighter and more calm now, some no longer blinking in uncertainty. The Will that had been chronically pacing in tight circles is actually still now, next to the eternally flickering Will seems far less stressed. Are these improvements due to Harry’s influence?
The skies are grey and cloudy, dimming out the undoubtedly rising sun. In the distance, light flashes, revealing a distant storm. Harry isn’t an expert in weather but with the wind blowing away from them, it’s unlikely the storm is going to head their way.
“Wanna talk about those dreams?” Sirius asks after some time.
No, Harry doesn’t want to but he figures it wouldn’t hurt. He’s hesitant at first but soon, it starts pouring out of him. The setting, the people, the fight, the bodies... Zoey. Both dreams, both hauntingly real in a way Harry is uneasy with. Sirius listens without saying a word, nodding occasionally to encourage Harry to keep talking. As every word spills out, Harry begins to feel better, lighter. The dreams stop seeming so real and Harry finally calms properly by the time he’s finished.
“Okay, I can see why you’re upset about it,” Sirius allows when all is said and done. “If I dreamt about you like that, I’d be pretty mess up, too.”
Harry half expected Sirius to point out inconsistencies to prove they’re just dreams. It makes Harry feel better that his Godfather isn’t going to do so. Harry doesn’t know what he’d do if Sirius insisted.
“I can’t get it out of my head,” Harry admits.
“Zoey is sleeping and perfectly safe,” Sirius tells him. “Remind yourself of that. She’s alive and safe. Your mind will catch up.”
Harry rubs his face roughly, trying to focus on just that. Zoey’s not dead, she’s not shot and bleeding out, they’re not on some roof or field fighting for their lives. It’s just a dream. She’s sleeping downstairs. Harry focuses on her Will and is comforted by the steady burn. She’s right there, she’s alive and she’s safe.
Sirius was right, it helps.
“Hey, come here,” Sirius tugs on Harry’s shirt sleeve and then pulls him into a hug. “It’s going to be fine, Pup. You’re just stressed from everything that’s been going on and your mind is playing stupid games with you.”
Harry squeezes Sirius as tightly as he can, needing that connection almost desperately. Sirius almost crushes Harry to himself in response, a hand cradling the back of Harry’s head. Their hug loosens a little but neither pulls away, content to just steep in each other’s comforting presence. At one point, Harry turns his head to watch the distant clouds, his mind blessedly empty for the first time since they got here. Sirius leans his head down onto Harry’s and kisses the crown of his head.
“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” Sirius promises staunchly, pulling back a bit to look at Harry in the eye. “I promise.”
Harry believes him.
---
They head back down when Harry senses the Will’s of his... family begin to move.
Lucille smiles at Harry as they enter, issuing a cheerful good morning and delivering a motherly kiss to his forehead. It makes warmth blossom in Harry’s chest. Negan grumbles his own greeting, reaching out to grasp Harry’s shoulder firmly before sitting down at the table. Zoey comes out of her room, sleepily draping herself over Harry and cuddling into his warmth with a sleepy sigh.
Harry wraps around her, taking in her breathing and her pleased mumbles and reminds himself, again, that they’re just dreams.
After breakfast, they end up in the living room, Zoey on the floor and Harry on the couch behind her. He digs his fingers into her hair and feels like he’s really home for the first time.
---
It took more like five days for Carson to clear Harry for regular activities.
It would have been three days but Harry and Zoey got into a heated argument over who was cuter: Stitch from Lilo and Stitch or Abu from Aladdin. Harry was all for Stitch and while Zoey likes him too, she absolutely adores Abu. It started out nicely enough but then Harry made the mistake of calling her a monkey and suddenly, they are rolling all over the floor trying to pin the other.
Carson found out about it not long after and put on an extra two days in his displeasure. Harry wasn't very happy at the extended rest but wasn't given a word in edgewise because all Zoey had to do was cheer, “Movie night!!” and Harry gave up.
He wanted quality time with his sister and if the rest of the household joined in at some point, it was even better.
(Sirius turns out to be really bad at watching movies with other people because he can't stop snarking about the plot, storyline, characters, everything.)