Harper walked into the living room, pulling on her light jacket, when a light knock sounded on her front door. She raised an eyebrow, but opened it. Bryan smiled a small, closed-mouth smile at her. "Hi, Harper," he greeted. "Do you have a minute?"

"Actually, I was just heading out," Harper said, mainly an excuse not to invite him in. Bryan noticed the suspicious and all telling twitch of her eyebrow, the slight quiver up of her bottom lip when she spoke. His expression was a knowing one, and Harper knew she'd been made. The truth was, she was glad Bryan had stopped by. She'd been wanting to meet with him for a while now, but she could never make herself do it, that and her sister was in the ICU.

Harper stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, and he returned the fond gesture. "Come in," Harper said, stepping back, pulling the door with her. Bryan stepped inside and she closed it behind him. He'd never been to her apartment before, he realized, glancing around the small living area. It was quaint. Harper gestured toward the couch, moving in that direction. "What brings you by?" she asked, her tone light, secretly hopeful.

Bryan sat on the couch, and Harper followed suit, sitting closest to the door. He noticed the behavior instantly, but didn't comment. "I wanted to ask…how have you been lately, Harper?" he asked, his tone calm. Harper thought about how to respond. "Don't sugar-coat it. Just lay it on thick if you have to."

She inhaled. "It feels like I'm trapped inside this never ending whirl-wind or at the bottom of a swimming pool with a weight on my ankle."

"How would you most accurately describe this feeling?" he asked, curiously.

"Like…um…" Harper tried to think, wanting to use the best words possible to describe it. "…like I'm a claustrophobic in an air-tight box." She suddenly paused as it dawned on her. Her foster father, the physically abusive foster father who was rotting away in a prison cell somewhere, used to keep her in a box. It was a punishment of sorts for the smallest of things. Things that were only seen as wrong in that twisted man's eyes. "And that means something to you?" Bryan asked, knowing.

He didn't want to say too much and scare her off from saying anything else. But he wanted to get to the root of the issue. And the only way to do that was to ask the hard questions. Harper nodded a little, thinking. Her chest felt tight and she struggled to keep her mind on subject. "I was abused when I was a kid," she admitted, stealing a half-hearted glance. "He, um…he kept me in a box."

Bryan thought about the symbolism. She felt like she was in a box in her situation now, and yet she was in a box as a child when she was abused. It was all too telling. Bryan readjusted his position. "Harper, remember when I was practically in diapers, and you saved my life?" he asked. "Do you remember what you said to me after you got me back to the beach?"

She shook her head. "No."

"You looked at me, and you said, 'It's you and me kid'. And I never left you alone after that. You know why? Because you made me feel safe, like…nothing could touch me," he explained. "I was a boat and you were my anchor, keeping me close to land. And it looks like Steve is your anchor. You're a boat, Harper, floating in an endless sea of problems. It feels like you'll never get out, doesn't it? Like there is no way out?"

"Yes," Harper sniffled, instantly looking down.

"There are ways out, and they're right in front of you, in arm's reach. What's stopping you? What's keeping you from being the happy, funny, amazing woman I know you are? I know she's in there." A stray tear rolled over Harper's eyelid, trickling down her cheek as she looked up at Bryan.

What was stopping her? He was right. The answer to all of her problems was right in front of her and yet she refused to fix it. There was no real excuse for it. More tears fell as she prepared to speak, taking in a deep breath. "I…I can't go through it again, Bryan," she admitted. "I can't go through the past twenty years of my life. The first time around was bad enough."

"You're scared," he said, thinking aloud.

"Yes, I'm scared. I've spent my whole life being afraid. Wondering when the next panic attack was going to hit me, or when my heart would just randomly jump into overdrive from anxiety. I've lived with the pain, shame, and nightmares of my abuse my entire life! It's been so long—I wouldn't even recognize myself without it," she finished, feeling guilty. "I've lost so many friends—either from the foster system or death." Bryan put his hand atop hers in her knees.

His heart ached for her. He couldn't imagine what being her was like, not for a second. But he had to stop at nothing to get her to fix it. "Harper…have you ever heard the expression, 'It has to get worse, before it gets better'?" he asked, causing her to shake her head with a sniffle. "I can tell you right now that it's going to get worse—it's going to feel like it's getting worse. But you'll see that once you start repairing the damage that's been done, once you let yourself heal and forget what's happened to you, you'll feel better than you have in a decade."

"You only say that because-"

"Don't. Don't make light of it. This is serious. You still feel physical pain from your abuse—recent and past. If you won't agree to go to counseling right away, at least promise me that you'll make an effort in your day-to-day to forget what's been done. Talk to me anytime you need help, or just when you're bored."

Harper nodded a little, thinking. He was so genuine in his words that Harper didn't quite know what to do or say. He made a good point. She knew he was right. Her insides might take a little more debate and convincing. But, for now, she'd make his promise. She nodded and wiped at her right eye. "You know…we've started a kind of support group for those that were kidnapped and forced to fight," Bryan said.

"We?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Megan, Will, Kylie, and a few of the other fighters," he explained. "Will asks about you every meeting. You should come by tonight. We meet every Friday night at seven—usually at my house, but sometimes we trade off. I think it'd be good for you." Harper thought about it a moment. Would it? Honestly? She'd wanted to catch up with Will for a while, but she never could make herself call.

Maybe now was her chance. "Okay. Just once," she said. It mildly surprised Bryan that she agreed, but her willingness to come to the group was encouraging. "Good. Now…I heard your sister was in the hospital. How is she?"

"Um…she's doing fine, for now. So is the baby," she said, and he nodded, listening. "She, uh...she told me she has a flight booked Saturday. I guess she was gonna go back home to Florida. She first tried to take me with her, but then this happened, and now-" Harper stopped herself, shaking her head.

"She wants you to go instead?" Bryan finished, knowingly. She nodded a little and he sat upright a bit. "Well, what do you think about that?"

"I don't know...Florida is a long way, and I couldn't just leave Darcy here unattended. He'd need somebody to watch him. I don't think Danny would be so pleased if he got stuck with him again. And I just don't know, Bryan. I mean, I haven't left the island since I got here. I came here to get away from the states. I don't even know if I want to meet my birth mother," she said, her voice rising in exasperation. She sighed. "It's just a lot to think about."

"What if I said I'd watch Darcy? Would you go then?"

Harper looked at him hesitantly. She was hoping he wouldn't try to ask her a hypothetical question like that. Mostly because she knew he was probably serious. "...yes. No. I can't-"

"Harper, it's okay. You don't have to agree to anything right now," he assured, causing her to sigh in relief. "But I think it would be wise to go."

"You do?" she raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "Meeting your mother, having some time away—it might be exactly what you've been needing. The island has a lot of history for you now and it isn't all good. There are some things you'd like to forget. Maybe going will allow you to do that, and finally get the answers you've been needing for you to be happy in your life? This could be the best thing that's happened to you, Harper. What's the worst that could happen?" he asked.

She thought a second, inhaling. "She could tell me she loved me. That she didn't want-" Harper took a second to reign herself in, getting a little too emotional to continue. Her eyes stung. She sniffled. "That she didn't want to give me up. That she would've come and found me sooner—or come for me herself, for that matter."

"What's wrong with her telling you that she loves you?" he asked, gently.

"She obviously doesn't! It'd be a lie. If she loved me, she would've kept me," she replied.

"That's not always easy. Raising a child isn't for everyone, and when it happens accidentally it can be hard to swallow," he pointed out.

"So you leave it on a doorstep?" she argued. "What is that? Who gives birth to a human baby and just leaves it to die at a church, hoping someone will happen to come by and find it? I don't know if I want to be around someone like that. I don't know if I want that family."

"You don't have a choice, Harper. She's your family—your blood. She's all you've got. If she's realized she made a mistake and wants to meet you and explain all this to you before she dies, don't you think you should go? That woman has probably lived all these years without you, wondering if you're safe. Wondering if you found a home, if you're out there thinking about her. Wondering if you want to meet her, too, and never getting up the courage to try to find you and finally face you and make right all she's done," he argued back, getting serious with her.

She was taken aback. He was right. Everything he said was spot on. She truly thought about it, trying to move past all the stupid prejudice she'd been holding onto. Did she really want to meet her mother? Bryan was right, she should go. Her mother needed the right to explain herself, she owed her that much, enough to get answered. "Answer me truthfully. Right here, right now. Are you going to go to Florida?"