Zayn was having a British day. Sometimes he really couldn't help it and wanted to indulge in everything that was his homeland. He had already watch two episodes of Sherlock, played with his Sonic Screwdriver and drank enough tea to make him want to barf. But mostly he was talking to Leeman more than usual (which drove the agent crazy) in his normal accent.

"What's going down, Leeman?" Zayn wondered, cuddling with the lamb stuffie that he had made with Harry the other day.

Leeman sighed and put down his government phone. "What do you want, Zayn?"

Zayn wanted lots of things. He wanted to be able to go to school, he wanted to be honest with all his new friends about who he was, he wanted to see his family again, he wanted Tanner not to be dead and he wanted Harry, in every capacity. But unfortunately he wasn't going to get any of those things.

"I miss being able to just… be me." Zayn shared. "It's driving me utterly bonkers. I wish I could just have one last day as Zayn, y'know?"

Leeman pitied Zayn but knew he had to keep his professionalism in place instead of indulging in his emotional attachment to the young man he had sworn to protect. He had seen it go wrong so many times before, people step out of the shadows for even a moment and then the enemy finds them. And then he's simply assigned a new subject as if nothing had ever happened.

"Isn't it enough to talk like you don't care if people can understand you or not? And your painting must help as well." Leeman offered as a consolation prize for Zayn.

Zayn took offense to the agent's comment. "People can understand me just fine when I talk like this, thank you very much. Maybe I can call my family to show you that?"

"We can't risk that. I'm sorry." The agent responded, picking up the phone again to put an end to the conversation. "You have to learn to live as Ian, no matter how much it hurts."

He didn't want to inspire even the possibility of Zayn being able to reach out to his family or come out of hiding at all because you can't kill an idea when it begins. It is better to be harsh and cut if off before it gets out of control and costs someone their life.

Frustrated, Zayn got to his feet and stalked back to his painting room. He wasn't going to let himself go down the road where he shut himself away again but he still wanted an outlet for the array of emotions he was trying to put at bay.

He threw a canvas on the stand and put himself to work.

An hour and a half later, Zayn was covered almost head to toe in different colors of paint. He only got pulled out of his creative mind by the sound of his cell phone trilling in his pocket. He recognized the personalized ring as Harry's and his heart began to race.

"Hey, Ian. What's up?"

It stung to hear Harry call him his new name but Zayn didn't dwell long on that because he was so comforted by even the sound of Harry's voice. He suddenly felt extremely exhausted by all the work he had done with painting but only now realized it.

"Not much actually, just doing some painting. I'm just the usual boring Ian Daniels."

"Oh, really? Can I invite myself over then?"

"Huh, what?"

"You promised the first that we met that once you started painting again, I could see them and you have yet to keep that promise. So, I'm going to force you to keep it by inviting myself over."

Zayn laughed at how forward Harry was being about it but simply accepted it. He wanted to see Harry anyway. "Fine, I'll see you soon then."

"Perfect and Ian…?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you been watching too much BBC news or something?"

Zayn heart dropped as he wondered what exactly Harry meant by that. He then realized that since he had been talking with one all day that his British accent must've been showing too much in his words.

"Nope, probably just a warped connection, like it's auto tuning me or something."

"Weird…. Ok, see you in a few!"

Zayn was relieved that Harry hadn't dwelled upon the change in his voice for long but soon panicked when he realized that there were some very dark painting amongst his collection that would probably also raise some questions from his curly haired friend. He would have to find those ones a good hiding spot or Leeman might just totally lose it.

"LIAM! GET YOUR WHITE ASS IN THE WATER!" Louis demanded, his head bobbing just above the surface as Niall dangled his feet off of the dock.

Liam had a strict no dock and no water policy because of his brother's accident; even showers had been a struggle for a while. Anything that reminded him of that awful night was something he just wanted to avoid.

Whenever his friends messed around in the water of the lake, Liam tended to stay far away but today he sat down on the beach, watching at the water lapped at his toes. He ignored Louis and turned back to the book he had been reading.

Niall glared down at Louis. "Don't Lou, you know he doesn't like the water."

"Oh, damn… now I feel like a dick." Louis said, realizing how idiotic the demand was. "His brother, right?"

Niall only nodded as Louis climbed up onto the dock and out of the water.

"I'm going to go grab a drink. Want anything?" Louis inquired.

"No, I'm fine, thanks." Niall responded and Louis continued on to their shared abode to fetch himself a refreshment.

Niall turned back toward Liam and smiled at how at peace his friend looked. It was a feat that Liam was even that close to the water; it made Niall realize that Liam was finally getting better.

The blond was so concentrated on admiring the change in Liam that he didn't notice the wave from a boat (driving too close to the shoreline) crashing down toward him. It hit suddenly and Niall was helplessly collected up in its grasp.

He was swept away among the unexpected current and tumbled uncontrollably. As much as he tried, he simply couldn't find his way back up to the surface. As he struggled, he didn't see the post of the dock before he hit in head on. Everything became black and the last thing he thought about was how much he would miss Liam.

Liam looked up from his book, as the beach was flooded with a surge of water. He immediately jumped to his feet and turned his attention toward the dock where moments ago Niall had been sitting. Only he wasn't there any longer.

"No… no, this can't be happening." Liam murmured, frozen to the spot as history repeated itself in front of his eyes.

The difference was that it was daytime and now Liam could swim. He tore himself away from the fear that rooted him to the spot and jumped into action. He sprinted down the dock and dove into the open water.

As soon as he got below the surface he spotted Niall, floating unconsciously below him. Liam pushed himself through the water and wrapped his arms around Niall's waist, towing his friend back up to the dock.

By this time, Louis had made his way back outside and spotted the situation going down on the dock.

"CALL 911!" Liam ordered, his voice fueled by urgency and outrage that fate had once again betrayed him.

Louis rushed into the house as Liam began to perform CPR on Niall. Liam had done extensive research and training for this type of situation after his brother had passed. The macabre fact was that he actually had to use it.

He pushed down on Niall's chest, praying that Niall would breathe again. When that clearly wasn't working, Liam knew what he had to do. He hesitated before lowering his lips towards Niall's, preparing himself for the contact. He opened Niall's mouth and passed the breath from his own lungs to the blond.

Liam continued alternating between pushing on Niall's chest and the shared breath for what felt like forever when it probably had only been a few seconds. He almost gave up, withdrawing from his friend but he went in for one last breath and suddenly instead of sharing breath, they were kissing.

Niall woke from his state of unconsciousness and instantly fell into the comfort of Liam's lips. It was more of a relieved reaction but neither of them wanted to stop, out of fear that losing the contact would mean they would lose each other again.

"Uh…. Guys?" Louis interjected, holding the phone away from his ears up on the porch.

Niall and Liam separated quickly and Liam blurted, "CPR did the trick. He'll be fine."

Niall collapsed down on the ground as Louis let out a sigh of relief on his own. He didn't want to question what he had seen because he was fine without knowing his friend's personal business. He understood boundaries like that.

He turned to go back into the house as Liam settled down onto his back next to Niall, both of them staring up at the sky.

"I'm so sorry." Niall murmured after a while.

Liam's eyes went wide with surprise as he turned toward Niall. "It's not your fault, Nialler. Don't think that way."

"Okay…" Niall muttered before Liam absentmindedly slipped his own hand into the blonds'.

Whatever was going on between them was left unanswered for now but that was just fine. As long as they had one another, everything was going to be fine.

"So is that, like, you soul or something?" Harry teased, because he never could quite take anything seriously.

Harry and Zayn were in Zayn's painting room (much to Leeman's dismay and objection because he still didn't seem to trust Harry). Zayn had disposed of most of his darker painting and left the ones that he thought were presentable enough for Harry to see. He clung onto a mug of piping tea for the simple British comfort of it.

"Or something like that." Zayn retorted. "It's one of my more abstract paintings. Sometimes I don't feel like reflecting reality anymore and I just sort of paint what I see when I close my eyes."

"You know, I still haven't gotten around to painting anything." Harry admitted, feeling a little bit guilty about that fact.

"You should try it sometime. Your tree house has the perfect view of the lake, start there?" Zayn suggested.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe you should come over and use my supplies instead, I'll probably just make a mess of it anyway. Plus, you're kind of amazing at this."

"No, it's just a hobby." Zayn deflected, trying desperately to hide his blush.

"You know, you don't give yourself enough credit." Harry noted, turning away from the painting and back to Zayn. His green eyes sparkled with intention as he beamed at the artist that he admired so much. "Why not be loud and proud of the fact that you're talented? I would be if I was as good as you are."

"I don't know, I guess I just can't put myself out there like you can. I don't have the confidence." Zayn responded halfheartedly. He was somewhat embarrassed by his lack of ambition when Harry seemed so supportive of it.

"Then learn from the best." Harry joked, referring to himself.

Zayn bit his lip with slight envy. "I don't get how you do it, Haz. Do you never doubt yourself?"

"Only when it comes to you." Harry answered, putting himself out there for once.

This confused Zayn but also made something nervous stir inside of him. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry shrugged. "When I'm around you, I think too much because I care about how you see me. I never care what people think. I consciously make an effort to ensure that you're happy because when you smile, I don't know… it makes me happy. I guess it's a bit selfish but… I just care a lot about you, Ian."

The name stung again but Zayn didn't have time to dwell on it because Leeman quickly burst into the room, a worried look in his eyes. "Ian, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Harry gave Zayn a look of concern but Zayn knew if he didn't ignore it, he'd want to stay and disregard everything Leeman wanted. So, he didn't even dare to look at the curly haired bloke before he followed the agent out into the hallway.

"He's back, Zayn." The agent murmured to ensure Harry couldn't hear. "Tanner's killer is back."

And just when Zayn had a reason to want to be Ian, he was forced back into being Zayn. He was forced to be scared again and to remember the macabre murder of his best friend whose killer had resurfaced after disappearing for almost a year…