The Shield (Prince Harry fanfic #2)

Chapter Eight

Harry slept a little but was awake a lot. His finger scrolled the screen to find any more news about Lucy, and there was none. There were no pictures of her, not until someone was able to talk to her old life. She didn't have that life anymore. Her life was to be ruined.

Slowly, his eyes closed and sleep took him. He fell into sleep. Soon enough, he jerked away, out of the feeling of the outside world. He looked around. He was alone.

When in Africa, Lucy was the one to jerk away at night, but she did it silently and gracefully, rising and then falling. He wondered if she did that now, every night she was alone. In Africa, Harry had gotten used to sleeping in a room with Lucy, and now he was alone. The quietness was too much. The air was too heavy. The heat took a hold of him.

A burning sensation started in his abdomen, where he had been stabbed. His fingers pressed to the wound and there was no blood, not that he expected there to be. The skin had healed over and together. Now he just had a scar, which was nothing compared to Lucy's scars.

Harry laid against his bed again and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply. His heartbeat was too quickly, and he closed his eyes and tried to slow his heart down. He failed. He only felt a strange fear inside of him. He didn't have this before, and therapy told him that he had quite a fright. It was to be hard for him to get back into the world. He almost died, the therapist said, he a traumatic experience and there was no way to forget it. He wondered how Lucy did it so well.

Imagining Lucy, his heartbeat got slower, more regular. His eyes still stared at the ceiling but his mind wandered on Lucy. He wasn't concerned about her anymore, but she still was the apple to his eye. Sighing, his eyes closed. She faded out. He fell asleep.

Soon, the sun hit him, as it started to grow cooler outside. Still, it was too early in the morning on any accounts. Harry thrashed around in his bed all night, pushing and pulling his covers, and rolling again. When the sun hit him, he groaned, not wanting to get up. It took him a moment but he remembered. He sat up straight in his bed and turned on the television.

The screen was still red from breaking news. "This is from an earlier news conference, translated into English."

The screen cut to the mountains behind with the sun starting to rise. Wind whipped around everyone, and you could hear it on the screen. The language was spoken before English was placed over it. "We have all the information needed. The suspect is in custody."

"Was Miss Smith released into American custody?"

"Miss Smith was free to go whenever," the female agent said. Her eyes were hard, as if they were diamonds. "We did not keep her against her will. We were done with her, so she left, into no one's custody."

"Did anyone from the U.S. come to collect her?"

"They did, and she chose to not go with them."

"Where is she?"

The female agent, followed by other agents and police officers left the crowd of reporters. Camera lights continued to flash upon them, but no one was bothered by such a thing. More yells happened, in English and in the other language.

The screen was cut back to BBC and the reporter. "As the agent stated, American Lucille Smith was released upon having shared all her information. She did not go with American agents." She breathed. "It was believed that Miss Smith was gone before even the reporters showed up in the small town. We have no pictures of her, but we are working upon it."

If Lucy hadn't been in one of these situations before, if she hadn't come out as a hero, she wouldn't be known. It surprised Harry that they hadn't found her yet. Lucille Smith didn't seem like a popular name within the U.S., but maybe it was. Both were common names enough, but Lucille wasn't used that much anymore. Her picture was coming.

Harry stood up and pulled the shades back. The sun hit him. Stretching, the TV buzzed behind it. He smiled into the sun, because at least Lucy felt the same sun. She was here somewhere. Perhaps she had gone into hiding or perhaps she walked away. Her face was unknown yet to the public, so hopefully she was able to get out before it was notice. Harry gave it to midday, when her face would be everywhere. By nighttime, there would be history about her. It was a secret about Harry's work, because it still wasn't fully known to the public how he was injured. People were more concerned that he was all right, which he was. However, Prince Harry with Lucy was bound to come out next.

From his bedroom, he was able to see the garden of Kensington Palace, and then elsewhere, beyond the gardens, were the skyscrapers of London. He was supposed to go out again today, for another charity event, but after yesterday and currently with Lucy, he was probably not allowed to go out. His father was the first one to talk to him today, he assumed, with the sadness of maybe more time was needed.

He wished to go out into the world again, but perhaps that was it: Harry needed more time. He didn't recognize this city as much as he used to, and he needed to breathe again. The relaxation that some people might have said he needed was wrong. He wanted to be apart of the world again.

Everything glittered outside his window as the sun draped across the glass. It almost blinded him. Heat was already starting to rise, and it came inside of his room through an open glass. Today was a sunny day, different than others. He sighed, believing something was good going to happen, like someone was waiting for him out there.