Harry bolts towards the door as I’m walking in. A large hand cups my face while jade eyes study my draining complexion. I shake my head and insist its only light-headedness from flying, not liking all the attention that’s being drawn. My color slowly returns as Harry’s lips rest on my forehead, taking my temperature, while his arms envelope my feeble body.

We soon make our way towards the gate, my emotions still numb and sight glued to the floor. I hear the thundering screaming and footwork from the fans contained to the side but I don’t care. For once my mind has shut off, yet, my heart regurgitates on the last words read. I recall not viewing these articles for a reason, even when Roger bombarded me with several of them.

How does one erase the past ten minutes? I can’t, and as much as I know not to let this get to me, it has tainted my mood. I find myself carefully watching every move and listening to every word Harry says, eagerly trying to refute the claim. It’s unquestionably false, every day with Harry has been full of raw affections without any trace of ulterior motives but the indulgence of our flesh and emotional needs.

“You can take the window seat this time, Harry.” I smile dimly.

“You sure?”

I assure him with a quick nod and he bows his head to take the seat. Once the first class section has settled, the rest of the passengers rush down the aisle in single file. I see Troy entering as he’s locked eyes with mine and my mouth parts, almost too willing to tell him about the article. He has such a trustworthy face and I can’t help want to be good friends, only I hope that doesn’t strike the wrong chord with Harry.

“Hey, I overheard that you weren’t well. Are you feeling any better?” Troy asks rapidly as he passes by.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine!” I smile brighter to strengthen my believability.

His smile is pleasant and relaxed as he disappears behind me. I act neutral, just in case, not sure why that would threaten Harry in any way. Though I choose to avoid any eye contact by closing them and resting my head back.

“Are you sure you’re all-right? I can get you some juice?” Harry insists, breaking my concentration.

“Sure, maybe later.”

His hand lands on my lap splitting my once folded hands open, playing with each fingertip, circling over every knuckle. My head turns toward his side, comforted by his boyish grin and twinkling gaze. He’s unaware of the emotional tumble I’ve just been through and if I were to explain it, I know he would say it was all “rubbish” and to not let it get to my head. So that’s what I’ll do. What I’ll TRY to do.

I smile back and feel the drowsiness kick in from the relapse of enervation. My eyelids feel heavier and take so much effort to open with every blink. Still when they do, I’m greeted with a wider dark pink smile. I give up. The rest of my body is still aware of the lift off and the commotion of Harry reaching over to recline my chair, then positioning his pillow carefully around my neck. I can only moan a quiet thank you as my memory holds Harry’s image so vividly.

As I sink into the corridor that leads me to my dream world, I keep reminding myself not to think about the haunting article. It’s to be expected that it should hide within the depths of my subconscious and while I can control my thoughts when I’m awake, I can’t say the same when I’m asleep. The last thing I remember is Harry brushing his callused fingertips over my cheek, as though he were giving me his blessing to leave him for a while.

The relaxation of a hot shower is more rewarding than I care to describe. It paralyzes my body as I lean against the tiled wall. Looking down at my pear-shaped hips, I frown at the weight I’ve gained even though I’ve been eating less than ever. My love handles are wider and my tummy is pudgier. I should start exercising more when Harry goes with his trainer. I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything, then again he isn’t that kind of guy.

Wrapping the towel around me, I remain frozen before the mirror. I examine every aspect of my upper body, from my nose and freckles to my small bust. I’m such a downgrade from that flawless damsel. The reflection is not me anymore, instead it’s replaced by a much taller mirage of a silky haired brunette with olive skin and red pouty lips. Her nose is perfect as well as the tiny beauty marks in place of my facial sun patches. I might not compare in THEIR eyes but I’m the one Harry’s with now.

My towel unravels and falls to the floor. The second I look down my eyes widen to see my stomach again. It’s grown! That’s impossible! I gawk in the mirror and turn to my side. Nope, it’s undoubtedly bigger! Looking towards the ceiling, I slowly begin to realize that I’m indeed trapped in a dream. While the thought is reassuring, the fact that I’m showing a BUMP proves that my subconscious is toying with me.
Regardless of this fictitious and temporary reality, I’m nervous for Harry’s reaction. Would he run away or be the slightest bit overjoyed? I still haven’t admitted my feelings, too stunned to process it all.

“Harry?” I call out calmly.

Should I be in more of a panic mode? I’m terrified and curious as I slowly bring my hands to circle around . . . my baby? Then it’s like right before my eyes it continues to grow. By now it looks like what I would imagine five months to appear like. I need to hurry and put some clothes on as I’m still dripping wet from my shower.

“Harrrry?”

I call again wondering if he’s even outside of the bathroom. Is there even a bedroom attached to this door? All of a sudden I hear Harry say he’s coming from a distance. The white door opens and I look up at Harry with a desperate smile and exhale the moment his face light up. His eyes are huge and his teeth are glistening through his smile until it freezes and then retreats. His brows begin to scowl and his smile fades as his jaw drops.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad?” I ask in worry.

“Sweetheart. . .” he points to the ground and I watch his lips press together. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Whaat?“ I gasp and try to look down but my belly is in the way.

I step back into the puddle only to discover it isn’t water, its blood. I had been dripping blood. The notion of this being a dream doesn’t matter anymore because this isn’t normal; panic sets in. Harry rushes to cup my face and hushes my voice that’s eager to scream.

“Sh sh sh sh, it will be alright! Look at me! Just Look at me!” Harry instructs sternly.

My body is weakening. My knees are buckling and I feel my blood draining from my face this time. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna call a doctor to come to the room. Come, let’s lay you on the bed.”

I’m frightened by how real this all seems. The iron smell from my blood, the weight within my stomach and the cramps from my uterus. Looking from my peripheral, I notice the trail of blood now leading to the end of the bed as I lay down.

“Breathe slowly, baby.”

All of a sudden I’m struck with sharp contractions and my face cringes. The groans are uncensored as I roll to my side.

“Are you havin’ this baby now?”

“I don’t know . . . but it sure FEELS LIKE IT!” I growl. How can I be imagining this much pain.

I shut my eyes although I still envision what’s going on around me. Harry is pacing back and forth making a phone call and I can hear his shaky tone. The contractions are back to back now and I find myself crawling backwards on the bed seeking a comfortable position but it’s useless. I'm crying out. Harry tugs his hair and claps his hands. Moving about in the room, he brings more towels and kneels at the foot of the bed.

“I don’t think he’ll make it in time, baby. Try pushin’, maybe you’re ready?”

I nod frantically and prop on my elbows. My face is drenched with sweat, my hair still dripping wet. The mess down there isn’t worth focusing on as I try and push against the pain. I grunt with each push, squeezing my lids and taking deep breaths to do it again. And again. Harry keeps calm, telling me to push and then the numbness returns. I hear nothing but silence which indicates that something is wrong.

Harry stands up with his arms positioned as though he were holding a baby . . . but I see nothing. He smiles at it, walks to my side to show me but I can’t see the baby, only his empty arms. I can’t even hear his voice as he articulates words. I look back at my stomach and it’s completely flat but the blood stains remain.

I hear a faint ding and feel the drift back to the airplane as a Spanish voice speaks over the intercom. Refusing to open my eyes, I’m still so wounded and I feel the pool of tears finally stream down my cheeks. One, then two thumbs catch them followed by a worried voice calling my name ever so softly.

“Jude . . . love, what’s wrong?”

I open my eyes and can barely see Harry’s blurry frame. I close them again, squeezing the excess moisture out before seeing him more in focus.

“I had a bad dream,” I whisper.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Later.”

Harry scowls and tilts his head, “I’d give anythin’ to rob you of that memory, only because it made you cry. And I’d do anythin’ to never see you cry.”

Notes

A/N: Chapter Playlist

"How My Heart Behaves" -Feist

"Teardrop" -Massive Attack

Yeay! A quick update. I had to write this fast before the scene could slip from my fingers. Its not your regular dose of fluff but we can't have that everyday. . .or can we?

Love you all :)