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Henry sat at the dining room table, his head rested on his hands. Was this where it ended? Had he just lost his son? Was it really only a few hours ago that they planned on going on a picnic that day, that he was just a normal father instead of – his thoughts broke off, not willing to continue that thought.
He remembered the accident. He had been in a hurry, but thought that Abigail and Abe were late as well as he hadn't seen them; neither had he seen the bus. There was shouting, a collision, and then the heart-stopping sound of Abe screaming for him over, and over again.
He wished he had died then, had been waiting for his family when they got to the water, had been unable to hear his sons cries as he was pulled away from the scene by Abigail. He almost wished he didn't have to come back this time – that he wouldn't have to face either the betrayal or fear his son would show – but the heartbroken sound of Abe replaying in his head drowned out all worry that this would go wrong.
When he had reappeared in the water, he had almost drowned again when he inhaled too soon, already looking for his family and swimming for the shore. Abigail had seen him first, pulling a blanket out from beneath her as Abe clung to her and Henry stepped out of the water.
Henry had tried speaking to Abe, tried to get him to look at him or react; but Abe wouldn't. The child had never let go of his mother's hand, even when Henry had picked him up to carry him home. As soon as they had reached their house, Abe had wiggled down out of Henry's arms and had disappeared up in his room, locking himself in.
Even now, he was still up there; and Henry could hear Abigail knocking on the door, talking to Abe through it. He had gone up earlier, after he had gotten dressed, but Abe never answered him. Thinking that perhaps his son just needed some time to settle, the doctor had retreated.
"Henry?"
He looked up at his wife, surprised because he hadn't heard her come down the stairs.
"Henry. Are you alright?"
He mutely nodded, looking away from her, knowing that she would be able to read the truth in his eyes.
She sighed, pulling a chair up beside him and taking a hand. "Henry, you're his father. He'll still love you no matter what. He'll never have to worry about burying you, about dementia, about any illness, about outliving you in general – this is a good thing, Henry."
"And if it is not?" His voice was low, but she still heard him.
"Henry, it is. And if you believe it, he will too."
"Dr. Henry Morgan!"
He immediately straightened up. "Yes, Nurse -" He frowned. "Stop that – we are at home, not in the hospital."
"Yes, we're at home, and your son is still barricaded within his room, refusing to come out! He hasn't eaten, hasn't spoken, has probably passed out from exhaustion, and is sick of dehydration!"
He sighed. "Abigail. 'Tis very likely that he comes out at night for water, at least."
"...Henry. He's locked himself away because he's convinced that you're dead!"
"But he saw me!"
"And? Henry, he's your son – he would always ask you questions about diseases and medical symptoms; he knows what hallucinations are!"
Henry hesitated, and she sank into a nearby chair, all anger and frustration evaporating, leaving behind only sorrow.
"Henry, I only want my son back – my family back. Please."
He sighed, taking up one of her hands to kiss it. "As you wish."
Henry stared up at Abe's bedroom window, thinking. He knew that talking to Abe through the door was pointless – Abigail had been trying for a week, and nothing had changed. If Abigail hadn't been able to get through, the person that Abe thought dead certainly wouldn't be able to. And if the door was unable to be considered as an entry point, then the only remaining option was the window.
Henry sighed, hesitating. If he went up there, and Abe was terrified of him, it would break his heart. At the moment, everything was uncertain whether or not Abe would accept the secret and his father – and Henry was content with not knowing. It was better than being betrayed.
But he had promised Abigail, and she needed Abe back.
He climbed up the ladder and pried the window open, thankful that it wasn't locked as well. Stepping first onto the roof, he slid in the window, trying to be quiet.
"Abraham?" He turned and shut the window before looking over the room.
Abe sat at the end of his bed, facing away from the window. In his hands, he held a picture; and Henry flinched when he realised that it was one of his son and him at a park, taken the year before.
"Abraham?"
"Go away. You're not real."
"Abe, I am real.
"No. You're not. You died." His fingers tightened around the picture frame. "I really listened to your answers when you would tell me about medicine – you didn't live."
"Abe, I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier; but it was never the right time."
"I told you to go away..."
"I can't die, Abraham – I never will. I'll be here long after your mother and you die, and I'll never change – Abe, please, look at me."
"Go away!" He shouted, jumping off the bed and throwing the closest thing he had at the 'ghost' of his father.
Henry winced as the picture cracked against the wall, a spiderweb obscuring the happy image behind the glass.
"Go away! You're not real! You can't be! Leave me alone!" Abe shouted, covered his ears tightly.
"Abraham! Why? How can I prove it to you?"
Abe ignored him, continuing his mantra. Outside the door, Henry could hear Abigail, and he almost regretted meeting her – for bringing this situation and burden upon her.
"Abe, I can't leave." Stepping forward, he reached out and grabbed Abe as the boy stumbled away from him. "I won't."
He wrapped his arms around his son, refusing to let Abe's frantic struggles dissuade him, making him accept the fact that this was real. The child was screaming, demanding to be released, denying his existence; and he could still hear Abigail outside the door. At a loss for what to do, Henry simply held Abe, rocking him slightly and continually talking to and reassuring his son – even if Abe refused to hear him.
Eventually, Abe began to still and quiet down, his voice almost gone. Seeing that Abe would listen to him, at least accept that he was alive, Henry released the child, backing away to give him some room. Abe watched him with a blank stare, thinking. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, and Henry was unwilling to force anything else on Abe – not even conversation.
The boy finally spoke, his voice horse and quiet – but still audible. "Then you're really alive?"
Henry nodded.
"And you won't ever die?"
Henry decided not to explain the technicalities and simply nodded again, refusing to meet his son's eyes and face the possible rejection in them.
With a strangled sob, Abe launched himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his father, shaking with his tears.
At his son's sudden movement, Henry flinched backwards, freezing when Abe's arms wrapped around him. For a moment, the doctor stared at his son in surprise, still disbelieving that he would accept the secret. Registering the shuddering tears, Henry carefully pried Abe's arms off from around him, sinking to the ground and pulling Abe down to a more comfortable position on his lap.
For hours they sat like that, until Abigail gave up waiting and climbed the ladder herself. Struggling with the window, and thanking heaven that she had thought to put on a pair of Henry's work trousers before starting, she finally opened the window and slipped into the room. Shutting the window, she glanced down and saw the picture lying broken on the floor. She picked it up and carefully shook the glass off, smiling at the carefree picture of her family – untouched by time or life.
Remembering why she had gone through such trouble to get into the room, she looked around.
There, on the ground at the foot of Abe's bed, the two sat, fast asleep. Abe's arms were still locked around his father, and Henry held his son close as if his life depended upon it. Both were peaceful; and she smiled, taking a quilt out of the closet and spreading it over the two. Turning out the light and unlocking the door, she left them to their sleep.
Sometimes, the fear of what may happen is far greater than anything that will happen.
AN: Written as a continuation to the scene of Abe learning Henry's secret in It Could Be Worse. Posted at Samsquatch67's request. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Gramercy, and God bless!