"Freak."
Henry's eyes darted back to the freed suspect. It was barely long enough for Jo to notice. What she did easily notice, though, was the way his shoulders tensed. Those muscles on him rarely stiffened in that particular way, because he had this method of letting harsh comments roll right off him. But it had been a tough week and a tough case, resulting in the weakening of his expertly constructed walls, so the comment elicited the barest of flinches.
In the past few months, Jo had grown very close to Henry, closer than she had once thought she would ever get to another man after Sean. He had, however intentionally or not, torn down her walls and rebuilt them around an extra room. Most people would have spent two minutes – maybe even just one – in the same room as Henry and written him off as eccentric, a nutcase. But Jo's instincts had told her otherwise, and she hadn't regretted it. Well, maybe she had at first, but he had this habit of growing on her.
And it had been a long week for her, too. As it had a tendency to do around the medical examiner, her better judgment fractured.
"What did you say?"
Henry and the freed suspect stiffened and turned towards her at the same time, panic decorating Henry's face and contempt the suspect's.
"Jo," Henry hissed, taking hold of her wrist.
She pulled it free. "I want to hear him say it to your face."
The man's contemptuous, cold, dark brown eyes locked onto Henry's much gentler ones. "I called him a freak."
With blinding clarity, Jo realized why Henry had punched that one ex-cop-turned-private-investigator for insulting Iona.
The man stumbled back from her vicious punch, his disfigured nose gushing blood. Jo shook out her aching hand, which Henry gently took hold of as he pulled her back. There was no force behind it, but Jo complied anyway.
Until a fist slammed into her cheekbone, twisting her neck and smashing her head back against Henry's collarbone.
There was force behind the elbow Henry drove into the guy's ribs.
"Hey!" Hanson shouted, darting between them. Though he acted as a diffuser, he not-so-accidentally pushed the guy back.
Jo's legs suddenly turned to jelly, and only Henry's grip prevented her from crashing to the floor. Carefully half-dragging, half-supporting her, he guided her to the elevator and down to the morgue.
"Henry," Jo mumbled. "I'm not dead."
"Thank God for that," Henry agreed under his breath. Louder, he pointed out "This is where the medical supplies are." He led her right past the tables and into his office, settling her down in his chair and beginning to look at her face, even though his own hand must be killing him.
Although, maybe not quite as much as her head was killing her.
"Jo," Henry said after a quiet while.
"Hmm?" she mumbled past the ice pack he had placed on her face and left her to hold.
"I appreciate your defense, but getting yourself injured was a bit too far. I'm not worth it."
Whatever he was doing to the back of her head accidentally pulled her hair. Jo flinched, unable to suppress a gasp.
"Sorry," Henry murmured, guilt and sincerity dripping from the single word.
"Oh, Henry," Jo sighed. "You're worth it."