Disclaimer: I don't own Forever or its characters.
Just a touching father son moment.
Happy Father's Day!

Henry walked past his son's room, happy to see signs of habitation in the space once again through the open door. It had been a long four years of worry. Four years of intense and furtive scanning of vivid newsreels, torn between wishing to see their son and fearing what they might see if they did, that he would not soon forget. Pushing open the door he slipped inside, feeling only slight guilt for the intrusion of his grown son's personal area. He sat down on the unmade bed, and savored the knowledge that Abe was safe and well. The room was in a state of pseudo-disorder, unorganized piles were scattered around, having been pulled directly from Abe's luggage and not yet put away. Draped over the foot of the bed was Abe's uniform, still stained from wear and experience. From one of the pockets, the corner of an envelope stuck out. Curiosity got the better of him, and he removed the crumpled envelope. It was addressed, in Abe's handwriting, to Dr. Henry Morgan at the apartment in which he sat.

Carefully he opened the pealing seal and pulled out the letter within. He knew what this was, every soldier carried such a letter, he had recovered many from the pockets of deceased soldiers who passed in but not out of the military field hospitals. It was the letter that was to be sent home in case death befell the carrier, a goodbye to those he left behind. Abe's read:

Dear Dad,

If you receive this, then I'm dead. There's no doing anything about it, so don't beat yourself up. I want you and mom to know that I have no regrets. I died fighting in the name of my country, like those whose sacrifice made my liberation as an infant possible.

You always told me that learning never ends, that was sad news to my middle-school ears, but I think you'd be proud to know that this has taught me alot. The guys are from just about all over the states, sometimes hearing them talk about home its like its a different country they're talking about. I've picked up some Vietnamese, I'll not mention why but you can probably guess. Also some really good recipes, I was officer of the mess back when we were stationed at an actual camp, even so I'm in charge of making soggy rations edible, thanks to you and mom for teaching me. There's some other things I've learned, of the medical (which I already knew a bit about) and philosophical nature.

I've had some time to think about it, and I realize that I was wrong when I said that you didn't know what it meant to give up your life for something you believed in. You don't talk about it much, in fact I think you've only told me about it in any detail once, but I remember what you said about your first death. You expected to die for real if the captain pulled that trigger, and you stood in front of that slave anyway. And since then you've put yourself in every type of dangerous situation for others. I guess my joining the army was just the older version of a little kid trying to be like his dad, with a little glory hunting added in. Don't think I found the last one though.

That was a lot of babbling, I guess, but there's lots of time to think during the rainy season here, when we're not busy being skittish at every sound and trying to not drown, since keeping dry is a hopeless cause. It's made me wonder if it's anything like the trenches in World War 1. Which I've been meaning to ask you about, but that would look a bit weird in a letter and the censors like to eye up the mail. Thought I'd put it here though, since I hear they don't touch these letters, respect for the dead and all.

I owe you and mom so much. I can't imagine, not that I haven't tried, how my life would've turned out if the two of you hadn't adopted me. I know I wasn't always the easiest kid to raise, you both took that in your stride. I know you always felt guilty about how much we moved around when I was a kid, and it was an unusual childhood for sure, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. If this is the last time I'm going to get to say it, I'd better. I love you.

Your loving son,

Abraham Morgan

"This seems familiar." Henry looked to where the voice came from. Abe stood in his doorway, as he had that day four years ago, watching his father in reverie.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" He trailed off. Holding the letter up slightly, he continued. "I'm glad I never received this."

"Yeah. Me too." Abe said entering the room.

Silently, Henry stood up and closed the gap between them. He drew his boy into a tight embrace. "I love you."

"Love you too, dad." Abe replied, more thankful than he realized to be able to say it again in person.

With a deep calming breath Henry pulled away and held Abe at arm's length, hands on his shoulders. "And I'm so very proud of you. You've become quite a fine young man." He said, a smile of true paternal pride on his lips.

"Well, I know who I owe that to."

"No, not me." He denied, releasing Abe, then continued. "The man you are is entirely your own, you decide who you are. Remember that, though knowing my boy, I doubt you need reminding."