Henrik took a deep breath as he adjusted his tie. He had just looked around the small room in the funeral home, and there was no one else there. That shouldn't surprise him, given all the horrors that John Gaskell had committed over the last years of his life, but still he had thought a few of the staff from the hospital could have at least showed their respects. Clearing his throat a little, he made his way to the front of the room where the funeral director waited.
"It's fifteen minutes past when you set the time for the service, Mister Hanssen. I believe that we should perhaps consider starting, now."
"What's the point? Clearly, no one is going to mourn his passing. This was a futile attempt on my part to give John the respect anyone deserves. I'm sorry to have wasted your time." He held out his hand to the younger man, shaking it firmly before glancing at the urn on the pedestal. "Since there's no one left to claim the remains, I will be bringing them home with me."
"As we discussed, that is no problem. Did you want to bring Ms MacMillan's home with you as well? I know we were waiting…"
"For me to be ready? Yes. Well. I do think that I am prepared to take possession of them, as well. That way…" He allowed his voice to trail off, not wanting to complete that thought aloud. The funeral director nodded and picked up John's urn before beckoning for Henrik to follow after him. He did so with a heavy heart, wondering how things had gotten to this point. How he was the last one remaining of their group was beyond comprehension, and he tried to keep it together long enough to take them home with him.
After signing a few final documents, Henrik picked up both urns and carried them out to his car, carefully settling them in the back seat and fastening seatbelts around the containers so that they wouldn't tip over as he drove. With that task finished, he settled behind the wheel and turned the car on before just staring down at the steering column. "I wish you were here," he whispered morosely as he finally pulled out of the parking space and began to drive home. His phone rang a few times along the way, but he didn't answer, knowing that he could call whomever it was back as soon as his final duties to John and Roxanna were finished.
Pulling into his garage twenty minutes later, Henrik turned off the vehicle before closing the door, taking a few deep breaths before gathering up the strength to open the car door and climb out. Opening the back door, he took hold of Roxanna's urn and brought it inside, setting her on the kitchen table before heading back out for John's urn. "Why did you have to leave us this way?" he said lowly, trying to ignore the quaver of pain in his voice as he brought John inside as well, placing him next to Roxanna.
And then, the silence of the room ate into his heart, and he could no longer ignore or bury the burden of his grief. Quiet tears began to fall down his face as he collapsed into the closest chair, and he buried his face in his hands as the quiet cries became louder and louder, seeming to drown out the heavy beating of his heart. "We were all destined for something better than this, Roxy, John. Our lives should never have amounted to nothing."
Henrik's words became choked, and he swallowed a few times, trying to clear the lump that was in his throat. It seemed that everything just became too much, and he curled up in the chair, thinking about the last time he had touched his friends. It hadn't been hugs, it hadn't been kisses, it had been their hands in his, hands that had seen countless surgeries, hands that had saved countless lives. They were the hands that had held his in excitement and love and caring, and now he would never feel those hands in his ever again. Those hands would never perform any more surgeries.
He had no idea how long he cried for, but eventually his throat dried out and he coughed a little as he stumbled to his feet and poured himself a glass of water, drinking it quickly before refilling it and drinking down another glass before filling it with straight gin. Carrying it back to the table, he picked up Roxanna's urn and brought it into the living room. He looked around the room before his eyes settled on his bare mantlepiece. It seemed fitting that he should fill that empty space with the memory of his beloved friends, and he pursed his lips together as he went over and set her urn on the right-hand side, turning it side to side until it finally appeared correct to him. "I'll be right back, darling," he murmured before taking a long sip of gin.
John's urn seemed to sit there accusingly, and Henrik heaved a deep sigh as he went over to the table and took hold of the urn, bringing it into the living room and setting it on the left-hand side of the mantle, again fussing over it until it appeared to be just right. Then, Henrik backed over to his sofa and took a seat, staring at the urns as he sipped at his gin, trying to not give in to his sorrow once more. "Would it have been better if you hadn't rescued me from the lake that day, John? Should I have followed you into the lake here? I just don't know anymore," he said lowly as he pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket.
He was surprised to see that it was Sacha who had reached out to him, and he called his friend back, somehow knowing that if he didn't, Sacha would just keep calling until Henrik broke down. "Henrik! I managed to get pulled into an emergency surgery, and by the time I reached the funeral home, you had already left. Are you all right?"
"I will be, with time."
That was the most honest that he could be with anyone in that moment, and he heard a slight sigh come from the other end of the line, knowing that Sacha knew him too well to just buy that answer outright. "Well, since we missed the service, I was wondering if a few of us might come over to have a small get together. We didn't really do anything for Roxanna, and it might be comforting to have some company at a time like this."
Henrik drew in a deep breath as he looked away from the urns. "Who is we?" he finally asked, though he had an inkling of who it would be already.
"Just a few of us. Serena, Ric, Dom, Lofty. They're the ones who have either been there for you or Roxanna." Henrik could tell that he was dancing around the subject of John, and he nodded a little as a fresh round of tears slip down his cheeks. "Well, Henrik?"
"If it's just the five of you, then yes. I don't think I want to see anyone else from the hospital at the moment."
"That's perfectly understandable, Henrik. We'll be over in about forty minutes?"
"I'll see you then," he said quietly before ending the call. Pushing himself to his feet, he picked up his glass of gin and brought it into the kitchen, taking a few more sips before dumping the rest down the sink. It was a waste, but he didn't want to be drunk when his colleagues arrived. Knowing that a good host always ensured his guests were comfortable, he selected a fresh bottle of red wine and pulled out the cork, allowing it to breathe on the table as he puttered around in the cupboards for five clean wine glasses.
Once those were set next to the bottle, he rummaged around for something for them to snack on, but came up empty, much to his dismay. A quick glance at the table had him noticing that the glasses were not perfectly in order, and he fussed with them until they were in as straight a line as he could make them. "You're being ridiculous, Henrik."
He turned his head at the sound of Roxanna's voice, so tantalizing close to his ear, and it took too long for him to remember that she was gone. "This is the only way I know to hold on to my sanity," he replied, unable to keep his tears from falling down his face. He was going to have red rimmed eyes when the others showed up, but there was nothing he could do about that. If he had learned anything from therapy, it was that he needed to let his feelings out. He had bottled up too many things for so long that it had detrimentally affected his mental and physical health, and he knew that Roxanna wouldn't be proud of him if he took a giant step backwards.
Not knowing what else to do, Henrik pulled out a kitchen chair and took a seat, trying to work through the exercises that his therapist had given him to try and find inner peace. They didn't work exactly the way he wanted them to, and Henrik could feel himself becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes wore on. Finally, though, he was given the reprieve of company, and he got to his feet to make his way over to the front door, opening it to reveal just Sacha standing there.
"The others are on their way, Dom and Lofty stopped to pick up something for us to eat, and Ric and Serena had to hand over the wards to the night shift. And I thought that you might like to talk for a moment, just the two of us."
Henrik nodded a little as he ushered the man inside. "I have wine in the kitchen."
"We can have that with our meal."
Henrik nodded and brought Sacha into the living room. While he took a seat on the sofa, Henrik went over to the radio and turned it on, allowing the soft strains of Schubert to fill the room before he took a seat on the other end of the sofa. "I am glad that you came, or rather, wanted to come to the service. I know that John…"
"He fucked the hospital over, Henrik. For all the good that he may have done while he was here, for all that he was your friend, he still put all our livelihoods at risk. And he put the community we serve at risk. I don't like to think about how that might hurt you, but it's there."
He hadn't heard Sacha swear in a long time, and so he knew that his friend was deeply troubled by the events of the past few weeks. Then again, he was living with Jac, and so he knew a little more intimately the horrors that she had gone through with the faulty implant. "I know that, Sacha. But when I identified him in the morgue, all I could see was my friend, the man who had pulled me from my own lake thirty years ago. All I could focus on was how much I had failed him."
"And what of Roxanna?"
He could hear the gentle accusation in his voice, and Henrik took a deep breath as he tried to not think about the woman he loved. He would probably always love her, he knew, and his betrayal of that love also cut deep to the marrow. "I failed her long before she died, Sacha. If I had only had the courage to believe what she was trying to tell me about the trial, we could have avoided all these deaths. That will always be on my shoulders."
His lower lip quivered a little as he fought to control his emotions. Sacha was having none of that, though, as he scooted over and threw an arm around Henrik's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "I wish you wouldn't take on that burden, Henrik. You were not the one who was fundamentally flawed."
"He said we were the same, you know. That I could never really learn to love anyone."
"You loved Roxanna." Henrik stiffened a little before pulling away from the embrace, knowing that the time for tenderness was at an end. "Don't deny it, Henrik. We could all see it on your face. And she loved you, she just couldn't get past the fact that loving you was a betrayal of the husband she had lost so recently. More than just lives were lost with the havoc John Gaskell wrought."
Henrik's eyes narrowed as he got to his feet and stalked over to the fireplace, stopping in front of Roxanna's urn and staring at it. He could hear Sacha's heavy footfalls behind him, and Henrik drew himself up to his full height, anticipating another barrage of words. Instead, the man rested his hand on Henrik's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "It is my burden," he whispered as the doorbell rang. From the disconsolate sigh that slipped from Sacha's throat, he knew that he had been overheard, and he shrugged off the warm hand so that he could go over and let more of his guests in.
"Oh, Henrik," Serena breathed out as she swept into his house, followed by Ric, Dom, and Lofty. "Come here." And then, she was wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tightly as her hands splayed out on his back. "You are taking on too much of things again."
He wondered, idly, when he had become such an open book to read, when he had become so soft that anyone could just embrace him. "I am not."
"You are. But you have friends here that will help carry part of that burden for you." She kissed his cheek softly before leading him into his kitchen. Lofty and Dom were setting plates around the table while Ric was pouring wine into the glasses. Serena guided him over to a chair, pushing him down into it before she filled a plate for him. "And yes, I made certain to tell Lofty that you don't eat tomato. Though it seems Dom remembered that, since I was informed that that was not a problem."
"Good," he said offhandedly as Sacha took a seat next to him. "Really, I don't need you all to look out for me. I will be fine here on my own. It's not like I am looking for another saviour."
"We always need a band of friends willing to save our asses when we can't find the path through the woods," Dom said as he sat across from Henrik, Lofty on his other side. "I always had Zosia and Arthur by my side. We were best friends, like you and John and Roxanna. I get it." Their eyes met, and he could read the sorrow buried there. It was clear that he missed his friends just as much as Henrik missed his, and he gave the younger man a quick head bob before focusing on his food, knowing that if he dwelt too long on what they shared, he would start crying once more, and he didn't relish doing that in front of a group of people. "The roof is cold this time of year, but the wind is a good listener."
"That it is, Dominic." He picked up his fork and started to pick at his food, finding his appetite waning the longer he looked at his plate. "I want to thank you all for coming here today. I truly appreciate you all."
Serena reached over and squeezed his forearm tenderly, giving him a sad smile. "All of us around this table have experienced great loss, Henrik. The only way to heal from those losses is to hold on to your friends." He knew that she was thinking of Elinor, and he nodded a little as he covered her hand with his, letting his thumb rub back and forth a few times to soothe her. "Someday, time will heal the jagged edges of the loss. It will never heal loving that person you lost."
He watched as she blinked rapidly, trying to stem the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes. And then, the first drop began to roll down the side of her nose and around her mouth before it hit the table, and he knew that he was lost. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, trying to will his own, sympathetic, tears away. "I loved them both."
"I know, Henrik." He opened his eyes and looked back down at his plate as he took a few deep breaths, feeling like his throat was quickly closing up, choking him of oxygen, and in the back of his mind he knew that he was having a panic attack. Pushing away from the table, he stalked into the living room, hearing the low murmur of voices behind him, as if those present were trying to figure out who would go after him, who would comfort him, who would treat him like a fucking child.
The anger was a new development, and he felt so scarily out of control in that moment that he hoped it was Serena who had joined him in the living room, knowing that she, out of all of them, could soothe that side of him. She was the only one of them there who had seen him let go of his rage, even though they never spoke of it again. Thankfully, it was her hand that he felt on his arm moments later, and he looked down at her, certain that his face was that of a madman's. "I want them back."
"You can't have them back. Ever. That's the hardest lesson of grief, Henrik." She turned to look at the urns on the mantle. "You've brought them here?"
"It was better than keeping them in my office. In my desk drawer. That's where Roxanna kept David, until we buried him together. It was the last thing the three of us did together."
"I carried my mother around with me, too, Henrik. I didn't want to let go of her, I wasn't ready. But Raf, Raf knew how to help me with that. We got blindingly drunk one night, and went to the peace garden and buried her there, so that I could always have her near me. Because we both know that I'll stay at Holby until the day I can't operate any longer."
He gave a small nod as he felt the flame of his rage flicker a little before going out. "I'm not strong enough, Serena."
"For what?"
"To bury them. I know, I should lay Roxanna to rest next to David. They were married for so long, they were so happy together, but I can't do it. Maybe I'm selfish, maybe I need the reminder of my failures, but I just cannot put them into the cold, dark, ground. Roxanna was my sunshine, her bright optimism at Rigden kept me going after John fished me from the lake. And John, well, he was always in the dark, in the shadows, and he doesn't deserve to rest forever in the dark. In the end, we were alone, we had no one left. I'm the only one who remains."
"You're not alone, Henrik."
"No, but yes. I have you, my dear colleagues, but you don't know me like they did. We spent thirty years as friends, and even though I missed a few of John's more unsavoury personality aspects, we knew each other at our cores."
"That sort of love never dies, Henrik," she murmured quietly before letting her head come to rest on his upper arm. "But I promise you, anytime you need someone to talk to about loss, come to me, or Sacha, or Dom. Our encounters with grief have left us changed, and we can help you grapple with that monster. Don't let the darkness that you're trying to save them from consume you, all right? We need you at the hospital. I need you as my friend."
He was surprised at the vehemence in her voice, and he gave a small nod before he turned to face her. There were tears streaming down her face, and he hesitantly reached out and swiped a few away. "And I need you as my friend, Serena. I just don't know if I'll be doing any good at the hospital. I mean, look what happened."
"raised a hand to his face and cupped his cheek gently, the pain in her eyes almost overwhelming. Though he supposed that that pain was also present in his eyes, and she was most likely just mirroring it. "Henrik, please do not take this on yourself." Her thumb ran back and forth along his cheekbone as they continued to stare at each other, and he knew that she was waiting for him to agree to something that he knew he couldn't, not in good faith. "I can stare at you for as long as necessary. Even though I lost my daughter, I was still a mum, and perfected the art of the stare."
He let out a watery chuckle as he shook his head, pulling away from her to walk over to the sofa. Taking a seat, he wrapped his arms around his knees as he waited for Serena to join him. As she did so, the others drifted into the room, and he couldn't help but notice that Dom's gaze was immediately drawn to the urns, and he swallowed thickly, trying to anticipate the questions he knew would come.
"These are beautiful urns, Mister Hanssen," Lofty said quietly, flashing him a quick smile. "I'm certain Roxanna would approve of what you chose for her."
"She was always partial to flowers, which is why John and I chose that for her. John, well, he was always more reserved, which is why I went with the muted grey for his." An awkward silence had fallen over the room at the mention of John's name, and he pretended that it had nothing to do with the fact they all knew that John had killed Roxanna, but rather that they didn't know how to comfort him over the loss of his two closest friends. Serena let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, and he nodded a little before taking a deep breath.
"I keep expecting to hear Roxanna's voice on the ward," Sacha murmured as he took a seat on Serena's other side, staring down at his knees. "There are times where I just forget that she's gone."
"I miss her laugh," Lofty said as he and Dom took a seat in front of the fireplace. "Some people have two laughs, a mean one and a kind one. Roxanna's never sounded mean. She genuinely cared about all of us on Keller. We used to tease each other a little, in the last few weeks, about the men we love. She just understood my heart. I don't think I'll ever meet someone quite like her again."
"She was one of kind, that's for certain," Ric said as he leaned against the doorway. I wish that I had had the opportunity to get to know her better. And John will be missed, when the furor over what he did dies down. We all leave behind a legacy of some sort."
Henrik looked over at Ric, dipping his chin a little in thanks for him not dancing around the elephant in the room. "That we do," he murmured, before settling back in the sofa and allowing the others to dictate the flow of conversation, content to hear stories about his Roxanna that he had not been privy to. Time passed quickly, and he wasn't surprised when an hour later Dom and Lofty got up. Dom gave him a small wave of his hand as he made for the door, but Lofty came over to his side and stood in front of him awkwardly.
"I truly am sorry for your losses, Mister Hanssen," he murmured before holding out his hand. Henrik gripped it firmly, allowing Lofty to shake it, but he was surprised when the younger man pulled him to his feet and hugged him tightly. "We're here for you, if you need anything. All you have to do is ask one of us. Dom, well, there's a special place in our hearts for you, let's just put it that way."
Lofty let go of him and joined his partner before giving them all a small wave and heading out. That seemed to be the cue for the others to leave as well, since Ric gave him a wave as well before following after them. With just Sacha and Serena left, Henrik could feel a heavy cloud of gloom descend upon him once more. Sacha seemed to feel that shift in mood, as he patted Henrik's knee a few times before taking a deep breath.
"Do you want us to leave, too, Henrik?" he asked, and he shrugged a little. "All right, then, we'll stay for a little longer. Serena, would you like some tea?"
"That would be nice, Sacha."
He got to his feet and went off to the kitchen, leaving Henrik alone with Serena once more. "You don't have to stay out of pity."
"It's not pity, Henrik. We love you, and just want to see you through this. We are stronger together, please know that." He nodded a little, feeling his breath catch in his throat, and knew he was about to start crying. He didn't want to appear weak, but he also knew that he couldn't hold it inside until they had gone, so he took a few shallow breaths before closing his eyes and allowing the tears to come naturally. A pained smile spread across his lips as Serena pulled his head down onto her shoulder, and she murmured lowly as he tried to get control of himself once more.
A tender silence grew between them, and he listened to Sacha peter around in the kitchen before the kettle began to whistle. Three minutes later, Sacha was carrying a tray into the living room, setting it on the coffee table before sitting on the sofa once more. "We'll never replace what you lost, Henrik, but I hope that you know we are here for you."
"I do know that, and I am very grateful for your support." He didn't add that he most likely wouldn't be leaning on their shoulders quite so heavily after this afternoon, that he would appear to have it together so that they wouldn't worry about him quite so much. After all, if no one grew close to him, like Roxanna and John had, no one would get hurt. And he couldn't lose anyone else from his life. He just didn't think his heart could take it. Serena clucked her tongue a little at his silence, and he somehow had an inkling that she might not quite buy his quick acquiescence to their overtures of support. But still, he would do anything to keep the people he cared for safe, even if it ended up hurting him in the long run. He had been alone before, he could be alone again. It might just take a little longer to grow accustomed to this time.