Henry stared at the body. It was still covered by the blue sheet, his gloved hands hung by his side. "Doc? Are we going to start the autopsy?" Lucas said from beside him. He was holding a clipboard, ready to take notes of the body, but Henry had just been standing there, staring at the corpse instead of working on it.
"No!" Henry said suddenly and loudly. He turned quickly and threw aside his gloves after sliding them off. They hit the ground and he continued almost running out of the morgue. As he made his way into the hallway he bumped into Jo.
"Oh, Henry, good, I was just coming to see how things were going. Is the autopsy done?" The female detective inquired.
"I can't do it." Henry said. Jo saw it then. The labcoat still on, and his shaky hands and pale face.
"Henry, you have to perform the autopsy. You've done this hundreds of times." She said sternly. "Never," he said. "In all my years as a Medical Examiner, have I had to perform an autopsy on- on a child!" Jo's expression and attitude softened as she saw what the M.E was worked up about.
"She was thirteen. She was murdered, we need to know how, and why. The foster care system needs to know what happened to her, Henry. You have to go and do your job." She stated.
Henry, in that moment, broke down. He looked at Jo, and in an angered and upset voice he nearly shouted. "She was a child! She was killed too young and with no one in her life! I can't do it. She looks so peaceful, she doesn't need to be sliced open and eventually buried!"
Jo sighed a little and gently placed a hand on Henry's shaking shoulders. "There is a bullet in her chest. You have to go and get that out so we can match it to the gun and find her killer."
Henry looked as though he was ready to cry, and all Jo could do was try and calm the man. "I can't slice open her chest. I can't go and destroy her young body. No!" His lip was quivering. Something about seeing a grown man, especially Henry, crying like this, was hard to endure. "There is nothing you could have done to save her Henry, now, please, tell me what really has you so worked up about this."
She leads him to a bench in the hallway so he can sit down and explain everything.
"This girl…. She reminds me of Abigail." He says slowly. Jo nods for him to continue. "She has that same blonde hair and same constantly smiling lips." He says and wipes his damp eyes to try and control his long overdue emotions.
"And it all reminds me, much too painfully of…." He stops himself. It all hurts. Abraham doesn't even know of these things. He sits there, the harsh memories replaying in his mind. Until Jo's voice breaks the deafening silence in his head.
"What does it remind you of?" Her words are quiet and calm. That same pain of the loss of a loved one settled in her voice. Henry looks up, into Jo's eyes and reveals the pain out loud.
"It reminds me that I had a child who died." He stops, seeing Jo's slight surprise, but she swallows and nods for him to continue. "Abigail was pregnant, for a while.. We went to hear the heartbeat of the baby. There never was one… It died before we even got a chance to think of a name... " He finished his story and Jo simple wrapped an arm around the upset man.
Henry's mind kept repeating the same sickening memory. That visit to the doctor, and then that deafening silence when they were trying to hear the heartbeat.
"I can put Dr. Washington on the case, if it is too much for you." Jo offers and stands back up.
"No… I'll do it myself." Henry says quietly. "Are you sure?" Jo asks with a concerned tone.
"Yes. We have to know who killed this girl. Even if she has no family that is concerned for her." He says.
"Alright, but if you can't handle it, just tell me and we'll arrange for someone else to take care of it." Jo says and lets Henry return to the morgue.
Lucas had been reading a graphic novel, waiting for his boss to return. Henry grabs a fresh pair of gloves from the box and puts them on, grabbing his knife to start the autopsy. Lucas jumps up and is quickly ready to assist him.
Henry pull the sheet down a bit, enough for him to work, but leaving her covered to give her young body a form of modesty.
After carefully working on it, he manages to remove the bullet from her chest. She was shot in the chest in nearly the same spot Henry had a bullet wound of his own.
Jo had gone to find the girl's file, she was in the foster care system so it wasn't impossible. She tucked it under her arm once she had it and started heading for the morgue.
Lucas and Henry had already put the bullet into an evidence bag and were just finishing cleaning up when Jo walked in.
"After your breakdown earlier, I thought it would help if you read this." She said and handed Henry the folder. He took it and thanked her, and went to his office to read it.
Ella Johnson. Born December 17th, 2001. Parents were unknown, she was moved to different foster homes over the years and was currently in transition to a new family when she was killed.
After reading through the details about Ella, Henry flipped to the packet of childhood drawings she had done. Pictures of families and homes, letters to Santa and pictures of her growing up. Her drawing got better and were very good towards the end. The most recent one was done a month ago, it featured a portrait of what must have been Ella's friends.
He closed the folder and set it on his desk. Ella's life had been short and hard. But she did have friends always there for her, people she was with, often. Something Henry needed to work on, making friends.
He muttered to himself, as he stared once more at the picture of Ella, with her brown eyes and light blonde hair and thick pink lips. "The child would have been just like Ella…"
So yeah... I just pictured, that maybe Henry and Abigail might have once had a child, tried to at least. It's a sad fic, I know. But Henry hates seeing children in pain, and he absolutely despises the idea of an innocent child being killed. Making performing his first autopsy on a child very hard.
Please review!