Disclaimer: I do not own Forever.
Author's Note: As their relationship deepens I wondered how the reclusive and out of practice Henry would wrap his mind around the two of them in whatever capacity they are. This is was came out of that thought. Hope you enjoy! As always feel free to review.
Grown Accustomed
Henry sat in his chair, sipping a cup of tea, alone with his thoughts. His thoughts of her, Jo. His life had changed so much since he had met her. He'd become already accustomed to her presence near him, even in the short time they had known each other. What was she to him? He didn't for the life of him have an answer to that question, and it bothered him immensely.
Were they simply professional partners? After all that's the capacity in which they had met. Admittedly his official status at the precinct was that of ME, not exactly not one that would usually have him out in the field. That was her doing, upon his request. They saw one another outside of work too often, and knew far too much of each other's personal lives for this to be. Wasn't it?
Perhaps good friends, then? That certainly seemed the most appropriate description. Two people who share a common pain and on occasion share a celebratory drink after a case. Who took comfort in each other's company on hard days. She accepted his eccentricities with minimal questions asked. They had a common concern for each other's well being, even though hers was unnecessary. It had been so long since he had opened enough to find friendship in another, he was rather out of touch with the idea. Or was it more, beyond, friendship?
Certainly this wasn't love, in the romantic sense. They were much too casual with each other for that. After two marriages he thought he knew the feeling of love. His feelings for Jo were not the tender affection he'd had with Nora, nor were they his immediate heart-stopping attraction to abigail. But, didn't that only prove that love changed with time and the person? All this was utterly ridiculous. After all Jo's husband had died less than a year ago, officially she was still in mourning and she would be recovering emotionally from his loss for years to come. Anyway he was in no way ready to fall in love again anytime in the next century, or millennia for that matter.
Was this the love between a brother and sister? He wouldn't know, never having experienced such a connection. He supposed that an example of this adoptive siblinghood would be she and Detective Hanson, their familiar interactions and his protectiveness of her. Jo and himself, however, were not at that point. He cared greatly for her safety and would continue to risk his life to save hers, despite her wishes though it be. In the way of trust, she trusted him more than he thought himself ever capable of trusting anyone even her again.
Perhaps this was the love a father might feel for a daughter. He was old enough, and it explained his own protectiveness of her. Of course, he was equally unfamiliar with such a relationship, his experience of family being limited and long ago. It was not the same as his relationship with abe had ever been. But was that not to be expected? Surely a father's bond with a daughter was different than with a son. It was possible for all this to be explained by the effect of the wisdom brought by experience and age.
His feelings were both all and none of these things. Was that possible? These thoughts resulted only in a head-splitting mental standstill. Placing his tea back upon the saucer, he leaned back in the chair with a sigh, eyes closed.
after a moment he heard Abraham's footsteps passing and the sloshing of liquid in a bottle. "Give me a splash of that, would you?" He asked, gesturing to the tea cup.
Checking that his father's eyes were still shut, and stowing the bottle behind him in case, he answered. "You want wine in your tea?" He asked, baffled laughter in his tone.
"Its not wine that you have there." Abe opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted. "I know you, Abe, and it is far too late for wine. So give me some of that scotch."
"You know me too well, Henry." Abe said, relenting and adding a dash of the scotch into the cup.
Taking the cup in hand and bringing it to his lips, Henry responded. "I should."
"So, what were you thinking about that you need scotch in your tea?" He asked curious at the odd occurrence, sitting on the nearby couch.
"Nothing." Henry evaded, half-smiling as he took another, rather large sip of the spiked tea.
