For Henry, time has strange qualities about it. He knows better than anyone that not all of it is created equal. The measure of it matters very little in comparison to the weight of it. He knows it so well that it very seldom seems to surprise him anymore. But sometimes he is still amazed. There are still rare moments when time seems to come to a stop. Every once in a while an event will occur that stops him in his tracks, that alters his heart and mind and changes his understanding of life forever. Right now, is one of those rare special moments.
Her skin is rosy pink as he brushes her damp hair away from her forehead and kisses her gently on the lips. When he pulls back to look at her, her face is a mix of exhaustion and happiness but of the two the latter is definitely winning. She smiles at him and he knows she has never looked so beautiful. He couldn't be more thankful for her, for all she's done; always for everything, for every day but for today especially.
"Henry…" she says her voice filled with awe and quivering with emotion. "She's perfect."
She's looking down at their daughter resting in her arms, just arrived and brand new. They both cried when they first saw her she was so wonderful. "Of course she is," he says dividing his gaze between them both now. "She looks just like her mother."
She smiles at him; it's the kind of smile he only sees when he compliments her. It's how he knows his words have reached her heart. She's amazing, in every way and what she's just done truly remarkable. She has given him the best gift he could ever hope to receive and it is no exaggeration to say his heart literally aches with how much he loves her.
She looks down at their daughter again and touches her head gently with her fingers. She already has a full head of dark hair and Jo sees that their daughter does resemble her. But she hopes that their daughter's heart will look more like that of her father. If she has even half the love and compassion that Henry does Jo will be a very proud mother.
She's named for the city she began in. It is the city Henry and Jo got lost in. It took them a long time but finally they got there. It was four years after that night she walked into his shop after she'd given up her first chance to see that city. Though he'd tried to deny it he had known at that moment what she'd decided in her own heart; she had given up that trip with Isaac in favor of seeing the city with him. He had been so stubborn and he'd made them wait much longer than they ever should have to finally go there. When he had finally realized the depth of his foolishness he'd vowed to make it up to her. He did everything in his power to give her everything she deserved.
He'll never forget that night. It was one of the best in his long life. He'll will always remember how beautiful Jo was with the Paris moonlight hitting her bare skin as she stood before him and then later as she slept next to him. That city had been their destination for so long that they hadn't realized it was only the beginning. Neither one had expected they'd be leaving that city with a gift more special than any they'd ever dreamed of. Henry looks at his daughter now and is glad to think that seeing her will always remind him of that night with Jo.
"You were right," she marvels. "This feeling…I never knew I could feel like this."
"I told you," he says with a smile as he remembers the fears she'd had that he'd tried to soothe.
She wasn't sure she wanted to be a mother. Or at the least that's what she'd said. It had happened so shortly after they'd been married and it felt like it happened too quickly. But he could see the truth even if she couldn't. Lack of a desire to have a child had never been her problem; fear always had been. He'd seen it right away.
He remembers the morning he'd looked for her, knowing she was late for work and had found her in the bathroom. She'd just found out, only a few moments before but the worry was already there. She looked up at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. He knew the look of it all too well. He'd seen it there so many times.
No one but him ever gets to see it and he only rarely does. Sometimes, it's still hard for her to allow herself to be vulnerable enough to let it show but even still it's easy for him to know when she's afraid. Usually, that presence of fear is on account of him. Having lost a husband once she'd never completely shake the fear that the same would happen to Henry even though she knows full well he's immortal. But on that morning he'd seen a new fear in her eyes, one that he knew of from personal experience: that of a parent. This was also a fear he knew she would never lose. He could see, just moments after finding out, she'd already been afraid of being a mother. Afraid of being good enough. Afraid of the love she would feel for this child. Afraid of losing them. But, unlike that first fear she bears, he knew that this new fear was one she wouldn't mind carrying.
She had doubted her ability but he never had. He knows her heart better than anyone else and knew it would be up to the task. He had always known she would be a wonderful mother, that she would have no trouble loving their child or knowing exactly what to do when the time came. Now, she knows it too. He sees the joy in her face, the joy so great it dwarfs all those fears and makes them feel insignificant in comparison.
Jo hands her over into Henry's waiting and eager arms then puts a hand on his cheek. "Go on then," she whispers with a smile. "I know you're just bursting."
She knows him so well. He laughs and with her permission releases a few more of the waiting tears. They have been almost constant. Jo sits back against the bed, obviously tired, but watching them both with more pleasure than she thinks she's ever felt over anything in her whole life.
Even with the proof right before his eyes he is still astounded at her presence, can still hardly believe she's real. Henry had so long ago believed he was unable to father a child. After two childless marriages he had believed he was incapable. But here she is in his arms, his daughter, his own flesh and blood.
"Is it the same? As with Abe?" Jo asks curiously.
"Yes. And no," he answers after considering it a moment.
He finds that the love for his daughter and his son is the same. It is the same brand of affection and reaches to same wonderful depths. His capacity to love has doubled; he has not had to love Abe any less to make room for loving her. He has heard this said by other parents of multiples and now finds for himself it really is true. But his love for them is also different. They are separate people and so his feelings for them are different in some ways. Not one is greater than the other it's just that they are both unique. What those ways are he is not yet aware of. After all, he's only just met her but he looks forward to finding out, to getting to know her as well as he knows Abe.
She whimpers a little in his arms like she means to cry and Henry gently rocks her up and down. "Shhh," Jo says quietly to her. "Don't worry. He will always protect you," she says fondly, her tone full of secret meaning.
Henry feels a weight swell inside his chest. He'd forgotten how heavy it was. Throughout his son's life, Henry has always felt a need to protect him. That desire appeared when he first laid eyes upon his son and has never left. But he has forgotten how much more powerful that duty feels when they are so small. Was it really this strong when Abe had been so tiny, so fragile and defenseless? As he feels the small body in his arms he thinks it must be greater this time. If it was this powerful before how did he ever survive it? Right now, he feels there is absolutely nothing he would not do, feels there is no limit to what he could do to keep her from harm. Oh, he knows without a doubt as he stares at her gorgeous little face, knowing she's a piece of the woman he loves so much, that he is going to have a very hard time of it with this one.
He turns his still streaming eyes to Jo and finds her looking at him with such love that Henry chooses, at least in this moment, to be grateful for immortality. He will be thankful that he is the only one that can truly keep that promise she's making.
"Do you have any regrets?" he asks.
"About what?" she asks, surprised he'd ask such a thing, especially at a moment like this.
"About any of it? Us? Her?"
He knows this changes everything. It changes her life even more than his. Even for mortals, like her, who aren't used to going through life at the snail's pace he often chooses for himself he knows a lot has changed very quickly between them. He wants to know for sure it's what she's wanted.
Her answer is nothing less than he expected. "Bite your tongue Henry! How could I?"
He smiles, glad to know it. "Not even that I made you wait so long?" he asks with a bit of lingering regret.
"No," she says with certainty, shaking her head slightly. He questions her with an arch of his eyebrows.
"Really, I mean it," she insists. Her voice cracks with emotion when she speaks again. "I honestly didn't mind waiting for you."
Apparently, Henry's eyes will never run dry. "How could you not?" he asks, overcome by her words in this already emotionally charged moment. "I was such a fearful old fool."
She shrugs her shoulders slightly. "Even the waiting was good. It's strange but it's true. It made everything so much better when it actually happened. Paris was worth the wait."
He reaches out a hand to hold her face and looks down at their daughter held in his other arm. He couldn't agree more. Indeed, it was. Indeed, she was.