The sound of casual chatter accompanied by soft music produced by the speakers filled the bar. It wasn't too late in the evening, yet it was early enough not to be crowded just yet, and Henry was grateful for that.
It had been a long week for the ME. Since the night of the incident that occurred in the basement of the antique store, Henry just hadn't felt right. He had been on edge ever since. After all, examining dead bodies was one thing; producing them was another.
These conditions called for a trip to the bar. While Henry knew from past experiences that drinking never solved anything, he reasoned that it did at least temporarily put nerves at ease. And that was all the medical examiner was looking for at the moment. The past few nights had been full of tossing and turning as well as the replaying of memories he wish he could block out. Yet guilt wasn't all that he felt. While it was the guilt that weighed him down the most, there was also anger towards Adam for putting him in such a situation. Henry hadn't had a choice that night. As most people had said, it was either him or the attacker. But he should've had a choice. To be played like a marionette unnerved him. It even caused him to fear for those he cared about. If Adam had the ability to know his every move and was capable of planning something like that, then what else was up his sleeve?
Henry took a sip from his glass and shifted his gaze to a muted TV in an attempt to derail his train of thought. It was unsettling to think about and the reason he had come here in the first place was to take his mind off of those things. Refocussing his thoughts, he followed along with the news story that was being reported by reading the captions. However, his concentration on the news story was broken when he sensed someone take a seat next to him. Curious as to whom it was, he turned and was surprised to see Jo.
"Jo?"
"Hey, do you mind if I join you?" She asked kindly.
"No, not at all." He replied with a shake of his head. She gave a small, courteous smile before ordering her own drink.
"Abe said you would be here."
Of course he would tell her when he had specifically told Abe that his goal was to be alone for the evening. Henry couldn't blame him, though. He knew his son was worried about him and they both knew that sometimes solitude wasn't the best antidote for Henry.
"You sound surprised." He noted. "Did you assume that he'd be mistaken?"
She shook her head, her brown curls following the motion. "No, I'm surprised that you would go here instead of, I don't know, going somewhere classier." Jo shrugged. Henry gave her a look as he tilted his head. "What?"
"You do know that there are bars in England, right?"
"That's not what I meant." Jo retorted with a huff. However, her comment had him grinning slightly. She rolled her eyes at him as the bartender returned with her drink. "How are you holding up?"
Henry kept his eyes on his drink in order to avoid eye contact. "I'm alright. Just a tad shaken up is all. You know how it is."
"I'm here to talk, you know? It's not easy when you're put into a life and death situation like that."
"Yes, you've said that several times now." Realizing how that came across he quickly added, "And I am thankful for your compassion and empathy."
"Have you at least talked to Louis about what happened?"
Henry tensed slightly at the mention of Adam's false name, but attempted to cover it up by lifting his glass to his lips to take another sip. "No."
Jo furrowed her brow at his reaction, but said nothing of it as she drank from her own glass. Still, it concerned her, and it made her wonder what had happened to cause him to react in such a way. "Have you at least talked to Abe?"
"Yes, we've talked about it a few times." Henry paused for a moment. "But as I've said, I'm doing fine."
"Henry, you don't have to play the tough guy. You're talking to someone who tried doing that and knows how badly it works. Regardless of how strong you are, taking a life leaves its mark."
"Your concern is appreciated, Jo, but I'd rather not talk about it just now." He replied as he looked over at her. The detective nodded, acquiescing to his decision to remain silent about the topic. She could tell that no amount of concern would convince him to talk. Well, at least not right now like he had said. Jo wanted to help him just as he had helped her, but she knew that forcing him to talk would do him no good. Despite her worry, she was going to have to wait for Henry to open up.
The two of them wordlessly settled with sitting in silence for a while. Yet, it was a silence that neither of them felt needed to be filled with conversation. In fact, it was a peaceful absence of chatter that was refreshing. Neither of them felt awkward and, oddly enough, it was as if they had known each other for years. Perhaps it was what they had been through together that created such a bond. Throughout their partnership they had solved countless crimes, been in close situations that had almost killed them, saved each other at one point or another, and they had both taken a life. And while neither of them would necessarily vocalize it, they both found each other's presence comforting.
Henry thought about these things as he nursed his drink before he finally decided to speak, unable to remain silent much longer. While he appreciated silence, he appreciated conversation more. "Do you ever wonder if you've done enough in your lifetime to make up for all the wrongs you've done?"
"Yes," Jo responded after a while as she absentmindedly fiddled with the wedding band that hung around her neck. Once she realized she was doing it she stopped and wrapped her hands around her glass. "But there's only so much you can do in one lifetime, right?"
"I suppose." Henry mused as he furrowed his brow. Of course he was the exception.
Both him and Adam.
"Henry, you can't let what's happened keep you from pressing forward. It sucks and I'm sure both of us would do anything to get a second chance, but you got to continue living. It's like you said, what kills you is what prevents you from living."
He drew a deep breath as his own advice was used on him. "I guess you're right."
"You 'guess'?" she asked lightheartedly as she raised an eyebrow, a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. He chuckled.
"My apologies, you are right."
"Thank you." She said as she contently finished her drink. If she wasn't going to get him to fully open up, she was at least going to succeed in lightening the mood. And her attempt already seemed be working. "Did I ever tell you about the time Sean proposed to me?"
Henry paused and thought for a moment, caught off guard by what seemed like an unrelated question. He couldn't even guess where she was going with this one. "No, I don't think you have."
"Sean was a hopeless romantic. So, the night he decided to pop the question was of course elaborately planned out and cheesy. It was a good kind of cheesy, though. But anyways, we had both dressed up to go out to this one restaurant we loved and then stopped by a fountain afterwards just to chat. Of course, he decided that was the best time and place to ask me to marry him. Long story short, we lost our balance when I hugged him and we ended up falling in. We almost lost the ring too." Jo smiled.
Henry laughed, finally realizing that her intention was change their current topic to a lighter one.
"Of course Sean thought the whole thing was great." She chuckled.
"That's a wonderful memory." He replied.
"It's one of my favorites."
"I remember the time Abigail and I taught Abe how to ride a bike." He said with a hint of fondness in his voice.
"Wait, you two had to teach Abe how to ride a bike?" Jo asked, clearly confused.
"Er, yes," Henry said as he realized how he had slipped up, although he blamed the alcohol for slipping up that badly. "You see, Abe's parents unfortunately didn't survive the Holocaust and orphanages aren't the best substitute for a parent."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what that must've been like for him." The detective replied, confusion quickly turning into sympathy. Henry nodded.
"It certainly wasn't easy. Anyways, eventually the topic was brought up amongst the three of us and we decided to teach him."
"How did that go?" she could only imagine what that must've been like. In her mind she was picturing something similar to the Three Stooges.
"It was quite humorous, actually. Abe isn't the most graceful person in the world. As a matter of fact, he ended up running into a parked car and we had to pay for the minor damages he inflicted on the vehicle."
She smiled at that. "I would've paid money to see that."
"It's partially the reason why he doesn't really use bikes as his preferred mode of transport. His other reason is, and I quote, 'why exert energy when you can just as easily drive somewhere'."
"He isn't completely wrong." She commented. "You and Abe are really close."
"Well," Henry started before finishing his drink, "when someone is all you have you tend to hold on tight to them." Abe truly was the only one Henry had left. Well, the only one he could completely trust at least. He dreaded the day he would end up outliving his very last family member.
She nodded. "I understand." For a brief instant, Jo couldn't help but wonder what Henry had been through and what kind of people he had lost. She knew he had lost his father, but even that was a story that both Abe and Henry seemed hesitant to tell.
The ME was silent for a moment as he fiddled with his empty glass. "Thanks Jo, for coming out here and—"
"Hey, don't worry about it. It's the least I can do." She interrupted with a reassuring touch to his arm.
He glanced at her hand before looking at her and they shared a smile. The feelings he felt towards her confused him. They weren't necessarily romantic (at least not completely), but he found that he truly cared about her. Instinctively, he couldn't help but remain cautious. Henry had spent most of his life shutting people out, and yet there were a select few throughout his lifetime like Jo and the rest of the crew who were able to breach his defenses. It was strange, but that was the beauty of life. No matter how old you get, whether you're thirty or over two hundred, life still remains unexplainable.