I turned my key in the lock, but paused before opening the door. Deep breath, Martinez, I told myself. It's just a free weekend. It's not the end of the world.

Most cops saw the constant busy-ness as a disadvantage. Personally, I reveled in not coming home until nine o'clock and often working through my days off. When I was working, I was focused. I had a purpose. When I was home, I couldn't stop thinking about-

Don't say his name, Martinez. Don't even think it.

Sighing, I pushed the door open and went inside. Kicking off my shoes, I headed for the kitchen. Surely I had a bottle of wine here somewhere.

Drinking with other people is normal. Drinking alone makes you an alcoholic. But there was nothing else for it. I would be here, alone, all weekend. I might as well accept the fact that I was going to be very hungover on Monday morning.

I had just found a bottle of wine in the back of the fridge when I heard the doorbell ring. I set it on the counter and went to the door. On the other side was Henry.

I shouldn't be surprised, I thought. "Hello, Henry. Do you need something?"

He held up a bag. "I stopped by the Chinese place. Are you hungry?"

My stomach rumbled. "Apparently," I said, smiling and standing aside. "Come on in."

We chatted about work as Henry set out the Chinese on the counter. I poured us both a glass of wine, joking about the contrast between Chinese take-out and Chardonnay. We sat at the counter and dug in, debating which wines would pair best with egg rolls and wontons.

"I never used to get egg rolls," I told him, dividing up the last one for us to share. "Sean always said-"

I froze, fork still in my hand. There was a long pause.

Gently Henry asked, "What did Sean always say?"

I put my fork down. Deep breath, Martinez, I told myself once more.

"Sean always said that egg rolls weren't "really" Chinese," I said slowly, looking down at my plate. "Then I'd tease him for getting any Chinese food in the US at all, since none of it is "really" Chinese."

"He was right, and you were right," Henry said, a touch of humor in his voice.

"I know."

There was another long pause. I took a bite of egg roll to fill the moment; it tasted like dust in my mouth.

"When Sean chose the take-out, what did he order?" Henry asked, breaking the silence. Startled, I looked up at him.

"Um, Italian, usually."

"From where?"

"This place a few blocks over," I said. "He always got the spaghetti and meatballs."

"What did you get?"

"The fettucini." As I replied, I realized that he'd used past tense. He gets it, I thought. He knows that I haven't ordered take-out from Sean's favorite place since he died.

"I do like a good fettucini," Henry was saying. "But spaghetti and meatballs is a classic, as well." He took a big bite of his egg roll.

"I suppose." I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you asking these questions, Henry?"

He swallowed, then put his hands on the table and looked at me.

"I know how hard it is to lose someone, Jo." I started to speak, but he cut me off. "Let me finish, please."

I hesitated, then nodded. He continued, "When you lose someone, like you lost Sean, the memories show up in places you didn't even realize you had memories. It's tempting to push those memories down, to try to bottle them up inside. I can tell you from experience, Jo- that's not the answer."

"What is the answer, Henry?" I tried to sound normal, but my voice came out choked. "Talking about Sean's take-out preferences?"

Henry smiled. "I don't know that there is an answer – but talking about Sean, in any capacity, is a good start."

Another long pause.

This time, it was me who broke the silence. "Did I ever tell you how Sean and I met?"

Henry's eyes lit up. "No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

In the end, I did drink a good amount of wine – but I wasn't drinking alone. After several hours of reminiscing – me about Sean, Henry about Abigail – Henry dozed off on my couch. I covered him with a blanket and went upstairs.

Maybe a free weekend isn't the end of the world, I thought as I fell asleep.

I hope you enjoyed my first Forever fic. I love the friendship that developed between Henry and Jo before there was any hint of a romantic relationship. I wanted to write about a quiet friendship moment.

It's been quite awhile since I've written anything, so feel free to review with constructive criticism. I'm always looking for ways to improve!