December 10, 2019

Where was Nataley? She had disappeared to grab her things from her locker and not rejoined the group. Assuming she'd gotten lost in conversation with Bethany, he was startled to see the Makeup Department head chatting with Charlotte. Probably talking about hair colour. But where was Nat? Searching for Noah, he spied the boy with his grandmother. Which meant that Harry's girlfriend was elsewhere.

"Ben? Seen my girl anywhere?"

The Executive Producer shook his head, returning his attention to the conversation in which he was engaged with Kenny. Shit. Nat must have gotten caught up in the locker room. Striding down the hall, he called goodnight to crew members exiting the building.

"There you are, love." His relief at finding her waned when she didn't turn immediately to greet him. She seemed to be frozen in one spot while staring at a piece of paper in her hand. "Nat?" Maybe she was in a trance of some sort? Having an attack of apoplexy? "Love?" He touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him as though he were a stranger. Fear flitted across her face, and he briefly wondered why she would be afraid of him before it occurred to him that she must have received another threat.

"Shit. Again?" Removing the paper from her hands, he found his own shaking. The message was rude and cruel and sick. The author was clearly deranged. Mentally ill. Worse than any message he'd ever received. Or his mum. Or Gemma or any of his previous girlfriends. Maybe he'd been wrong to tell her to ignore it. But she hadn't ignored it. The first one had been reported to the police, and she had been living with Harry at Jeffrey's house --

"Where was it, love?" He racked his brain trying to remember where she might have gone today that someone would have slipped such a note into her handbag.

When she didn't respond, he touched her arm which was as cold as the tequila he'd been drinking on the rocks. Shit.

Exiting the locker room, he looked for someone to flag down, but the hallway had emptied of staff. Double shit. He couldn't leave her alone in this state of distress. Should he call 999? Fuck. It's not 999 in the States. Frantically, he unlocked his phone and pressed the first name that popped up in his recent calls.

"Mate? Why are you calling --"

"Get Bethany and come to the locker room right now."

"Harry?"

"Tell Noah's grandmother to take him home with her tonight."

"What's going on, H?"

"Just do it, Ben."

Disconnecting the call, Harry drew the door closed so no one entered accidentally. Returning to Nataley, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Gently he steered her to a chair, encouraging her to sit down.

"You're safe, Nat." Surveying the room, Harry was frustrated to not find a blanket anywhere. Weren't there emergency supplies somewhere?

A knock was followed by Ben's head appearing around the door. "Everything okay?"

Shit. Now that his friend was in the room, Harry felt unsure what to share. Ben didn't know the history.

"Did Noah go home with his grandmother?"

"Yes, although it took some convincing to get Debra to leave without talking to Nat. And I couldn't find Bethany. She must have already left, so you're stuck with me. What's wrong with Nat?" He asked as he moved further into the room.

"She's cold. Can you find a blanket?" In trying to deflect attention, Harry felt torn. Perhaps he should have just carried Nat to the car and taken her to Jeffrey's house. Bringing the Executive Producer into things was messy and probably not at all what Nataley would want.

It wasn't long before Ben returned, holding out a quilt that Harry recalled seeing in the prop department. Wrapping it around Nataley's shoulders, Harry grasped her hands, rubbing them between his own, trying to infuse some heat into her body. Ben stood at Harry's shoulder, watching.

"What's going on, H?" Placing his hands in his pockets, Ben stared. "Does she have some medical condition? Should I call 911?"

911. That's what the number was in the US. How could Harry have forgotten? Ben's question entered Harry's consciousness. Medical condition? Fuck. This is her job.

"No. No medical condition. Just shock."

"Hmmm...shock. I think you're supposed to lie her down and elevate her feet. I'll call the paramedics." The producer moved his hand closer to his pocket, clearly prepared to withdraw his phone.

"No." Harry wasn't confident of much in that moment other than Nat wouldn't want emergency services to respond. Picking up her body, still wrapped in the blanket, Harry carried her to one of the dressing rooms, gently laying her on the sofa, resting her head flat on the cushion. Abandoning her head, he grabbed some pillows and planted them under her feet before wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. "Have you got another blanket?"

With the question, Ben disappeared without asking for an explanation. In a few minutes, he returned with a coat. Shrugging, he laid it over the top of Nat. "All I could find."

Standing back, Ben warily observed the situation. "Are you sure we shouldn't call the authorities? What happened anyway?"

Feeling devoid of options and knowing his friend was trustworthy, Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the threatening note.

"I'm not sure where it came from," he told the producer who carefully took the piece of paper.

After reading it, his face full of horror, Ben gingerly placed the threat on the coffee table. "H. This isn't a joke. We should call the police."

Biting his lip, Harry glanced between his girlfriend and her boss. Fuck. No good choices. With a tight nod, he agreed to the inevitable next step just as Nat started stirring, her head moving side to side as her eyes began to flutter. Immediately upon spying Ben, she attempted to sit up. Harry reached out his hand to help her.

"Not now, Ben," Harry quietly commanded, and the producer hung up the phone, a bewildered look on his face. "Nat? You okay, love?" Harry inquired, settling on the sofa next to her as she achieved a vertical posture.

Taking in her boss, Nat shook her head and then contradicted the movement with her words. "I'm fine. Sorry, H. Must have had too much to drink at the party."

Crushed that she would rather her boss think that she was drunk than threatened, Harry buried his face in his palm.

"Nice try, Nat." Ben spoke. "I already saw the note. Where did you find it?"

Eyes wide, she moved her gaze from Harry to Ben and back again. "Ummm..."

"You found it here, didn't you? I recognize the paper. The devil utilized the back of a call sheet. Was it handed to you? On the table? On the bulletin board?"

"In my locker." Her voice was soft, and Harry felt his heart break at the privacy she lost with the statement.

Ben held his phone up again, hitting a button. "What are you doing, Ben?" Harry hissed.

"Calling the police. Someone in my studio made a threat to my lighting designer. Don't you want to find out who it is so we can stop them? This is barbaric, Nataley, and I'm so sorry you were subjected to this horror." He stopped his rant to share with the person on the phone the basics of the situation. Helpless, Harry just held Nat's hand, trying to warm her up.

"It's okay, love. You're safe." He didn't know what else to tell her, so Harry just kept repeating the same words over and over.

"But I'm not, am I?" Her voice was scratchy, and he eyed her closely. "If I were safe, this person wouldn't be at my work. Threatening -- FUCK! Where's Noah? Harry, where's my baby?" Her volume increased exponentially, and she tried to stand, nearly falling over at the change in blood pressure from her previous state.

"Nat! He's fine. Deb took him home for the night. He's not here. He's safe." She visibly relaxed at his words, and he worried again that he'd made light of the first threat when he should have taken it more seriously.

"The police are on their way," Ben calmly stated.

"Oh goodness," Nat giggled, "and me not looking my best. What will they think of me? Is Bethany here? Maybe she can touch up my makeup?"

What the hell was she on about? No one gave a shit how she looked, and she never wore makeup anyway. Her well-being was more important than her appearance. Suddenly, the producer's words impacted him. Turning to Ben, Harry verbally pounced. "Wait. What do you mean it was someone in the studio? Someone on staff? Why would a staff member threaten Nat?"

"Are you seriously that naive, H?" Ben inquired. "You two have been friends forever, so it's not likely to be someone who has been here for a while. Must be someone new. Hang on! Let me go grab the applications for the last six months. See if we can compare handwriting."

Within seconds, he had disappeared, leaving Nataley and Harry alone in the dressing room.

The stricken look she turned to him had his teeth clenching tightly. "You told me to ignore it. That the person would go away. Get tired of this. My son was here tonight, Harry." She emphasized the word 'son', and he cringed. "It's disgusting, and the idea that you would tell me it was going to stop is ludicrous."

"I'm sorry, love," he attempted.

"Fuck you," she breathed out the words with particular emotion that sounded similar to hate, and he recoiled backwards, her venom striking at the center of his heart.

"Nat..." Harry tried again, but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around her body and rocking back and forth on the dressing room sofa. Anguished cries escaped her mouth.

"My son!" she wailed, and he felt the emotion with his whole body.

"We'll go pick him up tonight after we're done with the police," Harry promised, ready to promise her the entire world if she would just forgive him for downplaying the first threat. Settling on the sofa next to her, he tried rubbing her back, but she glared at him.

"Get away from me, Harry." The coldness in her voice had him moving to the other side of the room, fearful of leaving her alone but well aware that he wasn't who she needed in the moment. Shit. He'd known Nataley for years, but never before had he witnessed this level of anger, fear, and hurt.

"Okay," Ben entered the room, clutching several pieces of paper. "This handwriting looks familiar." Holding up the threatening note and comparing it to the first application, he paused. "It kind of looks like --"

"Rosario," Harry and Nataley simultaneously stated baldly and without emotion. Harry's head whipped to where she sat on the couch. How had she known?

Rifling through the applications, Ben removed one and held it near the piece of paper. His eyes roamed back and forth between the threat and the inquiries for employment.

"Excuse me, Mr. Winston?" A guard at the door knocked gently. "The police are here." Curiously, the man in his uniform glanced around the room, and Harry tried not to shrink from his scrutiny, but his guilt was overwhelming. Fuck. Would Nataley ever forgive him for not taking the first threat more seriously?

"Good evening, sirs. Ma'am." The officer dipped his head towards Nataley. "How might we be of assistance?" He was joined by a female officer who made her way to stand near Nat. The woman placed her hand on her hip and glared at Harry who felt deservedly accused.

Nat, her eyes sunken in her head, looked to Ben.

"My lighting designer," he gestured to Nat, "received this threat in her locker tonight." Pushing the paper towards the officer, he continued, "We believe we know who wrote it." With that, he directed their attention to the application. "She's an intern here."

The male officer read the piece of paper, his eyebrows raised. When he looked at his partner with concern, she moved close enough to read the note, her eyes roaming to Nataley on the sofa.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" The female officer asked.

"Yes," Natalley choked out the word.

"I'm Officer Grace Bellamy." Introducing herself, she pulled a chair from nearby and settled near Nataley.

"This must be quite frightening, Mrs -?"

"Ms. Zwinger. Nataley Zwinger." She spelled her name. "Birthdate 12/25/1988. My address is..."

"We'll get to that, Ms. Zwinger." Officer Bellamy interrupted. "This is my partner, Officer Flores. I'm sorry you've been threatened. Do you know why this person might want to hurt you?"

Harry was relieved that they were more solicitous than the first set of officers.

Guiltily, Nataley caught Harry's eye. "I don't think she likes that I was dating Harry Styles."

The past tense stabbed Harry like a well-honed knife.

Officer Bellamy's eyes drifted to Harry before returning to Nat. "Is this the first time you've received a threat?"

"No," she shook her head with a sense of sadness, and Harry wanted to curl into a ball. "There's a report that was made in November. I can find the report number for you." From her back pocket, she withdrew her phone, and Harry watched her fingers scroll for a few minutes before she recited the number to them. Officer Flores wrote down the digits in his notes.

"Is there any other reason you think that this woman--" she directed her attention to her partner.

"Rosalia Haliburton," he supplied.

"-- would be the person writing the threat?"

Nataley took a deep breath before responding, and Harry jumped in. "She stopped me in the hall a few weeks ago and said some bizarre things about her cat. I tried to be nice to her, but she creeped me out."

When his girlfriend sharply scrutinized him, Harry froze. What did she know that he didn't?

"She was talking to my son earlier tonight. It freaked me out, and it also seemed to make my son uncomfortable. He loves all people, but this woman was someone he couldn't wait to get away from."

"I see," said Officer Bellamy. "Have you seen her outside of work?"

"No," Nat leapt in, "But I've also not been staying at my house. If she's the person threatening me, she wouldn't know that I moved out of my house temporarily. After she doxxed me, I started staying at a friend's house."

"Ah yes. Smart." The woman made eye contact with her partner. "Do you know where we might get in touch with Ms. Haliburton?" The question was aimed towards Ben, and Harry knew when to keep his mouth shut. Truly, he didn't know where to find Rosalia. Unless she was at Nataley's house.

"Here's the address we have on file," Ben offered, his expression clearly concerned. About Nataley or the show's reputation -- Harry didn't know. Probably more about Nat, which is what Harry should have worried more about the first time. Fuck. He'd really blown it.

"We'll go have a conversation with her now," Officer Flores stated. "Please leave your phone number with my partner, Ms. Zwinger. We'll be in touch." He jotted some notes in his notebook. "Oh. I didn't ask. Are you planning to press charges? Try for a restraining order?"

Nataley's helpless look kicked Harry in the gut.

"Yes. She threatened me twice now. That's something I take very seriously."

"I understand, Ms. Zwinger," Officer Bellamy calmly stated. "Do you have a safe place to sleep?"

Nataley sat up straight, not looking at Harry. Instead she spoke clearly to the police. "Yes. I will be at my mother's house." She followed her words with Deb's address, and Harry knew he was fucked. Had he lost her completely?

Sorrys Don't Work No More - Song by Brittney Spencer