'I keep catching little words but the meanings thin'
*
Coco Chanel once said, 'My reason for choosing diamonds is that, dense as they are, they represent the greatest worth in the smallest volume.' Such small fragments worth millions and bestowed upon whoever is willing to place the highest bid. Many question the need to spend so much money on an object that will probably never see the light of day given their value, but I've never thought like that. I understand what makes someone spend such a grand amount of money on something that others see as disposable. They don't need to explain their radiance; their shine speaks for itself. In all its bright technicolour, a diamond represents strength, glory, and power. They start as something so insignificant and dark, but after enduring huge amounts of pressure they transform into the brightest light in the world. Greater than the sun, the moon and the stars. Greater than anything man could make. Entirely natural, entirely brilliant.
Diamonds deserve respect. They don't need permission to shine as they do. They create it themselves. Something that should be respected. Granted, most respect lies in their aesthetic and financial value, but to those of us that understand them, it is their endurance that makes them worthy.
It is the prospect of seeing more diamonds that finally brought me out of bed. After weeks of mourning, weeks of barely sleeping and screaming until my lungs hurt, I finally found the courage to breathe. Going through Dad's stuff was just the tip of the iceberg; the entire time I wanted to sob. I wanted to run as far away as I could until my legs could no longer carry me, and my body collapsed. I wanted to lay underneath the rain that pelted down and drown in it, just so I could reunite with my best friend.
Then the discovery of the note came. The final piece of the puzzle that Harry and I have been desperately trying to put together, now in its final glory. With this information, everything made sense. Dad had been given the one thing Steven valued, the one thing we now know Hugo is after. Hugo is Wild. They worked together and it was right under our noses. I can't believe how naïve we were to ignore such an obvious piece of information, but I believe that we were both in denial of it. To admit it meant we finally acknowledge the legacy surrounding us, that our part within this scheme is but a fraction in the bigger picture.
Upon finding out who killed his father, Harry closed in on himself. His reaction was different to mine when my father died. I suppose he's had time to process Steven's death, even if he was never close with him, but the knowledge of who killed him being the same person after us only complicates things.
I had tried to comfort him in the same way he had me, but in that moment he didn't need me. He needed to be alone to process everything that's been hidden from him all these years. He's been a puppet on a string his whole life, and just when he thought he'd broke free and taken control of his life, the master revealed himself. To Harry, the world he built up around himself has started to crack, and everything needs to be re-evaluated.
That night, he locked himself away in his office and reread every journal, every note, every plan, desperate to find something that revealed what we discovered. But, as expected, nothing could have indicated Hugo's involvement. Wild is rarely mentioned in the journals, and when he is it's usually a passing comment about his incompetence. It's clear Cassidy didn't hold him in a high regard. He underestimated him. I think we all did.
Because Hugo has been plotting this for far longer than any of us have. It goes beyond simply stealing some diamonds. This is something he's worked for his whole life, and Harry and I stand in the way of it. And he's made it very clear he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, including murdering us on the way.
So that is why I finally allowed myself to get out of bed and continue living my life. I have a purpose, as difficult as it may be to accept that these days. There is a reason for me to be alive. I am valued, I am needed. Not just to this team, not just for the heist, but to help stop Hugo once and for all. Only then will I feel satisfied at how I lived my life. Only then will I be ready to leave this Earth and reunite with my father.
Today, I shall practice my skills, get better at what I know, and move one step closer to ending this nightmare. For the past 2 hours or so I've been sat in the living room on my own, hands fiddling with some jewels and practising dislodging them from clasps that are similar to the ones used on the Cullinan set.
Already I've managed to pick up my speed, working at a faster pace than when I started. It's difficult getting the first prong released, but once that has been pulled open it's easier to get the rest. Harry had sourced a fine collection of jewels for me to practice on, taking all my research and getting what I needed to perfect my skills. I need to do so before I can train the others. When we go into the Tower to steal the diamonds, I'll have two others assisting me. We haven't decided who yet, but Harry will likely be one of them. I'd like Babz to be the third.
The rest of the team are in the house today, too, all shocked when I was downstairs as they arrived. Most didn't know how to act around me, Babz didn't make a fuss. She knows exactly how to respond to grief and has helped me immensely over this past month. Without her, I'd be lost. It's odd to think that when we first met she could barely stand to be around me due to her protective nature over those she cares for, but now I consider her family.
They've all left me alone, though, probably scared about how any words could break me. I've liked the quiet. It's been peaceful, not as mind numbing as what I've endured as of late. The windows are open, a warm breeze blowing through while the wildlife sounds around it. Every now and again I hear a laugh from Niall or Louis travel down the hallway, but otherwise I'm entirely at ease.
I pick up another ring, swiftly pulling at the first prong and dislodging the ring within a few minutes. I need to get it down to a minute, ideally less, which is going to be tough, but I know I can do it. I believe in myself, probably for the first time in my life.
As I'm grabbing another from the stack, the door opens, revealing George and Niall. Behind George's eyes I can see so much sorrow for my situation, but I don't want pity, and I especially do not want to talk about my father. Instead, I wave them over and pat the cushions next to me before continuing my work.
They watch me in silence for a few minutes, just allowing me to go about my business and do what I need to. After the diamond is dislodged, though, George clears his throat. 'How are you holding up, Atlas?'
The one question I dreaded. In truth I'm not sure how to answer it. While I'm out of bed and no longer spending my days crying in pain, the feeling still lingers. I've just gotten better at hiding it. All I'm doing right now is distracting myself from it until it's impossible to do so any longer. I'd rather that than facing it head on right now. I don't think I'm capable of enduring the experience for another day.
I sigh, continuing to move the tools around the jewellery. 'Better. Much better,' I lie, and I can tell he doesn't buy it when he places a hand on my leg, distracting me from my task. I offer a warm smile and focus my attention back on the diamond, already aware that my time will not be great this time round. 'Just trying to find other things for my mind to think about.'
'So, you've decided on these bad boys,' Niall chimes in from my right, finger pointing at the basket of jewels in front of me. I give him a nod, continuing to pull the stone from the fixture. 'That's good; we need to get a move on with this operation now we know where it's come from.'
I finish my movements, placing the components in the box near my feet, picking another up. George mimics me and finds another set of pliers so he can practice too. Even though he won't be carrying out this task on the evening of the heist, he's always been keen to involve himself in every step of it. He has such a lust for knowledge; it's one of my favourite qualities about him.
Over these months George has become a brother to me. Someone I care about deeply and only wish to see succeed. He has so much potential, I know he'll go far in life. Part of me hopes he'll move on from the team and allow himself to grow in the real world, but I know it's not plausible. He's obsessed with this life. It's everything to him. And I doubt he'd leave Harry's side. George admires Harry so much; he'd never leave him willingly. Harry gave him something he'd always craved: freedom.
I smile over at him, poising my fingers so he can copy. Then I move, without even bothering to wait for him, wanting to beat my record with an audience around so I can prove myself to them. Between each prong I never take my focus off the ring, bending each other fast enough without harming the band and ruining the fixture. Once done, I throw it into the box and look at the digital clock in the corner of the room. 1 minute 3 seconds. We're getting closer.
Niall cheers, George seeming flustered while trying to catch up. 'I must say, it is thrilling watching you,' Niall tells me, an arm wrapping around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him so he can plant a heavy kiss on my head.
I laugh at his words, pushing him away so I can assist George. 'It's thrilling being watched.'
He twiddles with one of the prongs but fails to actually pull it back safely, ultimately breaking the clasp. As he goes to throw it on the table with a sigh I grab the ring from him, guiding his hands to delicately pull another back. 'Just like that, alright. Can't be too heavy handed or it'll destroy the band. Gentle but with enough force to actually move them.'
He gives me a nod then tries again, managing to get it the second time around. His eyes beam so bright, pleased with his accomplishment for the day. It warms my heart seeing it. 'I could steal your job, Atlas. You better watch your back,' he teases.
'The only thing you're stealing from her is her patience, Georgey boy,' Niall jokes, reaching round to hit the back of his head. His face becomes slightly serious upon facing me again. 'I am really sorry about your old man, Atlas. I get it, it's one of the worst feelings in the world. You learn to manage it better, though. It's possible.'
I blink at him while I process his words. Perhaps the kindest he's been with me; the most serious he's been. I'm used to his usual jokes and banter, so to have a conversation like this with Niall is unexpected. 'Wait, have you lost a parent?' I question before even registering my words.
He nods, looking over to the window. 'I have. Lost my mum a few years back. Hit and run.' I go to interject with my own sympathy, but he cuts me off, giving my knee a quick squeeze. 'The bastard was caught, still in prison too. Just very sudden. I'm not sure if it's easier when you have time to prepare or if it hits you like a ton of bricks. Neither is a decent option. Would rather she be alive, but that's just how things go. Can't control everything.'
'You're right. We can't. I wish we could, though. Wish I could have baited time a bit longer so I could tell him how much I love him. Feels wrong that our time together ended the way it did,' I tell him. I've only been this open with Babz so far. Even my conversations with Harry have been closed off, refusing to fully acknowledge what's going through my head. He'll never push me, but I can tell he wants to help. 'I'm not sure it would ever feel right to say goodbye, though. It hurts so much, knowing I won't see his face again. I have to remind myself that he's here, he's not left my side even if I can't physically see him. But what I would give to hug him one final time.'
His arm wraps around me again, pulling me into his side to hug me. I haven't been one for hugging lately, but I don't mind it so much right now. 'My mum gave the best hugs. So warm, wouldn't let go until you hugged her back. I could still feel her arms around me in the weeks after she died. Sometimes I still do. I'll feel it again one day. If there's a God up there then he's kept me alive for a reason. Gotta respect the big man's wishes!' I smile at the thought, finding comfort in such a small act of kindness. 'I think his plan was for me to steal those fancy jewels.'
'Ah, yes! The good Lord himself placed us all here to commit a crime. Sounds about right, Niall,' I add, laughing as he claps his hands at the assumption. Moments like this help me forget the clouds that hangs above us, threatening to create a storm at any given moment. It could drown us if we don't prepare ourselves, but right now I cannot see or feel it's shadow, only the light of the sun that peeks through.
My experience with grief has been all consuming. Something that's entirely controlled my days and nights, every thought and feeling dictated by the loss of my father. It's only natural for something like that to happen, but no one can prepare you for the trauma of it. No one can accurately describe the pain and exhaustion your body goes through when dealing with something like this. It's like being strangled, close to the point of death, then at the last minute the attacker lets go, only to continue a few moments later. It's a cycle. Never being able to take a full breath before your throat is constricted again. But even that doesn't do it justice.
Yet, amidst the chaos, I have found moments where the hands are not as heavy on my neck. I have been able to experience a few more minutes of oxygen. Those minutes turn into hours, and eventually will turn into days. It is not a straight line, recovering from grief, but it is possible to get from one end of the spectrum to another. Being in this scenario, laughing with friends and looking forward to the future, I'm hopeful that my days will come soon.
After some time, Louis and Zayn enter the room. Louis carries a box over to me and places it on the table, flex his fingers once it's finally out of his grasp. I look inside, noticing some equipment from the warehouse I asked him to bring over today. I'd decided that it was time to finally test out cutting some stones so I can move towards constructing replicas of the Cullinan set.
Louis and Zayn stand on the other side of the table, looking down at me expectantly. 'What?' I ask, nervous under their gaze.
Zayn pulls at his bottom lip, eyes searching the equipment. 'Do you think you could cut some now?' he begins. 'I want to see you in action, wonder woman.' I scoff at the nickname, but it still makes me blush. So endearing. Zayn has always been so kind to me.
I move some items around, searching for something I could use. I don't want to start with diamonds just yet, but the next best thing is in here. Moissanite. A form of silicon carbide and produced synthetically. Because of its hardness, it is the closest to a real diamond's durability. This will be the best material to test on.
To prepare a diamond, there are multiple steps. There is the planning; done via a software that can map out the facets of a diamond and where is best to cut it. Marking, which outlines the shape. If cutting a raw diamond, then it will usually be sawed. Next is the table and bruting girdle, where it is buffed into shape, the table being the flat surface on the very top. You have to block the eight pavilion facets, used in all diamonds, and crown it, which is the largest facet. It is where the light enters the diamond and allows it to bend. Then it can be polished and it's brilliance defined.
Today, I won't need to actually cut a stone, the piece of Moissanite I'm using already a decent size, but it will need to be girdled to create the shape. The team help me set up the equipment, large burley pieces that take up much more space than we have in front of us, meaning I'll have to work on the floor for this. Once it's all ready, the stand above me and wait for my first move.
I take a deep breath, grabbing the stone and inspecting it first. I haven't had time to map out where and how I'll prepare it, but I can do some guess work for the first time, just so I can get the hang of the machinery. I turn the bruting girdle on, hearing it whiz into action. I look up briefly, noticing how they're all stood. Niall and Zayn lean by the back wall, a cigarette between both of their lips. George and Louis are together, holding each other close. I notice Louis place a kiss on George's head before he turns, and their lips attach. This if the first public display of affection I've seen between the two. It warms my heart to see them so happy.
I finally move closer to the machinery, the stone now touching it and pressing against the buffers. Immediately I am caught off guard by how strong it is, struggling to keep the Moissanite in my grip as it pushes against the machine. I try to hold it in place, controlling the facets and edges created, but it becomes too difficult. In a split second, I lose my grasp on it, the stone flying across the room and hitting the wall near Zayn's head. I catch my finger on the machine, the sharp stinging radiating through my whole hand.
'Shit!' I call out, bringing my finger to my mouth to try and stop the immediate bleeding. I've probably nicked the top layers of skin on my finger off. Only a small piece but judging by how much it aches I know I'll have to clean it up soon and get it bandaged to stop infection. Zayn moves to the floor beside me, Niall turning the machine off. He grabs the stone on the floor and holds it up for me to see. It's a shoddy job; something I know I can do better at.
Zayn takes my hand away from my mouth, asking to see the damage. 'Doesn't look too bad, but it's going to a pain during healing. George, can you go and get the first aid kit?' he asks, but keeps his gaze on me. My breathing has accelerated but not because of the incident, more so because of my embarrassment. This is my job, the one thing I was recruited for, and I couldn't do it.
I lean my head against the sofa behind me, allowing Zayn to wrap his palm around the finger to try and control some of the bleeding. I close my eyes start taking deep breaths, but nothing seems to subdue the panic arising within me. 'Hey, hey, look at me Atlas.' He moves his free hand to my cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin to get my attention. 'It's alright, you'll be alright.'
I shake my head, glancing over at the gem still in Niall's grasp. 'It's not that. I just- fuck. I'm supposed to be good at this. I've made you all believe I am and the first real thing I have to do to ensure this operation runs smoothly I fuck up on. How am I supposed to help if I can't even polish a piece of fucking Moissanite?'
His grasp tightens on my face, but not enough to hurt me, only to prove his point. 'Don't you dare think for a second that we don't respect your talents, Atlas. You are the key to this whole thing; we wouldn't have recruited you if we didn't think you were capable.' He leans forward, forehead pressed to my own and a small smile on his lips. 'This was a trial. It takes practice. You don't need to get it straight away, ok? There's still time.'
Niall crouches down, moving to my side. He places his hand on my knee and shows me the stone. 'Looks pretty shiny to me. I think you did a decent job before you tried to blind me with it.' I can't help but laugh at the accusation, offering a look of sympathy for my mistakes.
George returns with the kit, allowing Zayn to clean the wound and wrap it up. No one asks anymore questions or broaches the topic again, just allowing me to calm down. A few jokes are cracked, some remarks about random things to distract me. I appreciate their efforts. I don't think they realise how much I value them right now. They always seem to know what to say, always seem to calm me when everything gets a bit too much. Like Zayn once said, we really are a family.
My chosen family.
I sit back, Zayn still opposite me and hands stroking my knees. Niall's arm is around me, while George and Louis sit together on my other side. I like being in their company. It's refreshing, the energy they always give me.
Louis clears his throat, fiddling with some of the equipment still out. 'How did you learn this stuff? You're not a gemmologist?'
A smile creeps to my lips, recalling my first memories of trying out this stuff. Of course, they all involve Dad. Everything to do with my career does. He moulded me into this, but I was a willing participant, because he's my hero. Always has been, always will be. 'Dad insisted on teaching me everything the minute I started showing an interest in his work. Did some bits and pieces at work too, some training here and there. But most of it comes from him.'
They all carry some nods, hoping I'll elaborate. So I do. I take them through various anecdotes about Dad and the times he taught me things that are crucial to all of this.
I was 10 when he first let me have a go on one of the machines. He took me to work that day because I was off school for half term, and I insisted on coming with him instead of being left with a babysitter. He never protested to my requests, always indulged me. We got the train early, as he always did, and made our way into the city for a busy day. He'd been given a collection of old diamonds that needed reworking for an auction, many battered through years of neglect, some damaged in various scenarios. There were a few that couldn't be saved, and those were the ones he let me play with. His hands controlled mine as I went about buffing the stones, allowing him to do most of the work, but I didn't kind. Just holding the diamond was enough for me. We did that a few times that day, Dad allowing me to polish all of them once done too.
At 15, he started to let me do it myself. One weekend he had to go in because of some upcoming royal celebrations, and again I tagged along. I never really had many friends growing up, much preferring the company of Dad. Even then, I managed to control it better than today. I'd been watching him for years so by that point I had every technique down. I remember the feeling of the buffer dragging along the stone, feeling so much freedom in finally being able to lead on it. Dad was so proud of me that day he let me keep the ring I made. 'I still have it. It's in my old flat, though. Need to properly clean it out and bring the final bits over here,' I add, a slight pang in my chest at the thought of not having it near me. That will be my next task.
At 20 I was able to fully construct diamonds. I could plan them, mark them, cut them. Everything. I knew how to construct the bands too, a simple process that Dad trained me up on long before. I made a few for friends, and a small ring for dad to wear on a chain as well. He never took it off. Even when he died it was still round his neck. At the funeral it rested gracefully on his chest. I insisted he be buried with it, so a piece of me was always with him in the afterlife.
The group listens intently, never interrupting me, just letting me process what I'm feeling and giving me the space to remember my Dad for the person he will always be to me. My best friend, my confidante, my diamond. Zayn still strokes my knees, making sure I feel at ease while I recall memories that may hurt. For the first time, though, I didn't feel sad remembering them. They bring me comfort. I feel happy.
Zayn leans forward and places a kiss on my head, pulling me into a hug. 'You know, you don't have to do this. Harry originally intended to source someone else to cut the diamonds. You were only supposed to survey them and care for them. We can still bring in another person.'
I smile at the offer, but I'm in too deep now. 'No, I have to be the person to do this,' I say, taking the Moissanite in my hand for closer inspection. 'I think he may have been training me up for it, you know. Like one day he assumed this would fall to me. It's his wish that I pull this off. It's his legacy.'
And that is what I let motivate me. As the day drags on I continue trying to create a shape out of the gem, frequently making mistakes but I never give up.
This is all for Dad. I hope I make him proud.