A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed and spent the time to leave some feedback. Thanks also to Passerby who picked up on quite a big oversight on my part - I have now gone back and changed it a little bit. Unlike the first chapter - which was basically one long scene, this chapter is made up of a series of smaller scenes, covering a number of different times and locations. Hopefully it's still fairly easy to follow.

He had spent the better part of an hour pacing restlessly up and down the living room, his hands and fingers in a continuous state of movement. It was never easy trying to explain his condition to other people. With the exception of Abe, nobody had ever believed his story unless they had witnessed it firsthand, or unless their sanity was already in question. Despite all this, he honestly thought that he had gotten it right this time. From what he could tell, Jo appeared to have accepted his story, and it even looked for a moment, as though she may have believed him too. That was, until she had made a run for the door…

He had instantly wanted to follow her and make her understand, but Abe wouldn't allow it. His son had followed her down the stairs and it was at that point, that he had found himself suddenly and desperately alone; his thoughts spinning wildly around his head, as though caught in a tornado. It was a feeling that had only grown worse over time…

Looking out at the darkening sky for what felt like the hundredth time, Henry once again had to fight the urge to run after them. Peering towards the antique clock, he glared fiercely at the slow moving hands, as if they alone were somehow responsible for their continued absence. With eyes furrowed, and his body agitated, he resumed his futile pacing, until eventually a familiar jingle snapped him out of his restless state. Heart thumping, he raced down the stairs and into the store below, where his eyes darted around frantically before falling on his son.

"It's just me," Abe said calmly, slowly locking the door behind him.

"Where's Jo?"

"She went home."

Henry felt his entire body freeze, his breath caught painfully in his chest.

"Why?" Against all intentions, his voice came out panicked, as his mind tried to process this new and surprisingly unexpected development. "What happened? What did she say?"

"Woah ok slow down, take a breath."

"Abraham!"

"Alright, calm down! We just talked, everything is fine."

"How can you possibly say that?" he barked angrily, throwing his hands in the air. "She just ran off!"

"She just needs some time."

"I knew this was a bad idea, I never should have told her!" he said, shaking his head and making his way towards his lab. "We should go. I'll be downstairs packing."

He was halfway across the room when he felt a hand on his arm, gently forcing him to stop.

"No no no, Henry wait, come on," Abe said in a hurry. "You're over reacting, everything is fine."

"Then why won't you tell me what happened?!"

"Because you haven't given me the chance!" Abe cried, with a huff of frustration, before slipping and arm around his father's waist and gently guiding him towards the stairs. "Come on, I'll get us some tea and I can fill you in."

"I'm fine, I don't want any tea."

"That may be so, but you still need to calm down."

"I am calm," he grumbled bitterly, before reluctantly allowing himself to be led towards the kitchen.

"Oh, I can tell," came his son's sarcastic reply.

Sinking wearily into one of the chairs, he watched numbly as Abe collected the two, untouched cups from earlier and deposited their contents into the sink. As the sound of running water met his ears, Henry could feel his stomach begin to twist as his anxiety levels rose. He felt angry at himself for allowing recent events to put him in this position. If only he had been more careful with Adam, then none of this would have happened. Jo would still be in the dark, his secret would still be safe and life would have continued on as normal. Now of course, he couldn't help but wonder what future awaited him. Could he expect another visit to Belleview in the morning? Perhaps an unwelcomed hug of a strait jacket, or an exotic cocktail of sedatives and antipsychotics… It was all too much to think about. His mind was in turmoil.

"Abraham please!"

With a large sigh, Abe reappeared in the doorway. "I already told you Henry, we just talked."

"About what?"

"She had questions," his son said with a shrug. "She wanted to know how it was possible and how it all worked."

Henry nodded, letting the words slowly sink in. "Okay, what else?"

"She asked how Mom and I found out about you, and whether I had ever seen you die."

"So she does believe."

"It would appear so."

"So then why did she leave?" he asked, more to himself than anything.

"Well…" Abe pondered, taking the seat opposite him. "I guess believing and accepting aren't always the same thing. It's a lot to take in remember. Jo just needs some time that's all, she'll come around."

Henry let out a loud groan as he dropped his head hard against the table. He couldn't cope with this anymore. "I should have shown her some pictures."

"She had a picture."

"Yes, one!" he practically shouted, sitting bolt upright once more. "That is hardly enough evidence to prove anything. It could have been photobombed for all she knows."
"I think you mean Photo-shopped."

"The point is, we have dozens of them downstairs. Your mother had a pile of them, of you growing up. It could have given her some context, something concrete."
"Henry, you're thinking too much."

"Not to mention some of those old documents I have, and all the research you did into my family tree."

"Pops…"

"All I really did was tell her a crazy story, of course she's not going to accept it! Who in their right mind would?"

"Dad!" This time, the call was loud enough to make him pause. "It's going to be fine."

"But Abe, what if she…"

"She won't" Abe said, with unwavering certainty. "If you don't trust Jo, then trust me."

With nothing else left to say, the room fell into relative silence. The two of them stayed that way for several minutes, before Abraham announced that he would throw together some dinner. When left to his own devices, Henry found his thoughts starting to wander. Not for the first time that night, his mind flashed back to Charring Cross Asylum and the sad look on Nora's face as she walked away, leaving him to scream after her. He remembered the cold and lonely cell and the horrors that went on behind those dark, foreboding walls… No. Abe was right. Jo was not Nora, and it wouldn't be the same, surely. Jo had seen the photo, seen some of the evidence. She was a detective after all, and she would not be so quick to dismiss such things, even if it was a little farfetched.

He was so deep in memories, that it almost seemed like magic, when a plate of pasta suddenly appeared in front of him. On any other night, Henry would have loved his son's cooking but on this occasion, it just made his stomach turn. He was far too worked up to eat anything and just the thought of doing so was nauseating. He pushed the food around on his plate, took a few small mouthfuls and tried to ignore the concerned glances being thrown his way.

For the rest of the night, Henry found himself in various stages of unrest. In the beginning, he had tried to occupy his time by cleaning - first the dishes and then the apartment. After a failed request to sit still, he tried his hand at a crossword puzzle, before giving up a few minutes later. Against Abe's wishes, he eventually found himself down in his laboratory, sorting through his old specimen jars and re-cataloguing his various research notes. This lasted for several hours before he was hit with a sudden surge of panic, causing him to spend the next half an hour packing, before he was able to calm himself down enough to stop. Going back upstairs, he tried reading for a while, but gave up, when he realised that he hadn't comprehended a single word on the page. He considered going for a short walk around the block after that, but decided instead to put himself to bed. He dropped into the soft warmth of his mattress and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would eventually claim him. Instead, he found himself back in the dark depths of the asylum, the hard planks of timber coarse beneath him, as he was tilted backwards, the cloth falling over his face… His eyes shot open with a sudden jerk and he was once again back in the comfort of his room, free of the imaginary chains. With the idea of sleep now forgotten, he instead stared wide eyed at the ceiling, his mind replaying scenes from his past, like a twisted horror film that he could not switch off. He had experienced many long nights in his 235 years, however very few had caused him this much emotional torment. His memories, usually so helpful and uplifting, had suddenly turned on him, plaguing his every moment with fear and doubt. It was a constant battle to keep his emotions in check, and he spent the next several hours trying to reassure himself that things would be okay.

Feeling as though morning was nearly upon him, and unable to lay still for a moment longer, Henry rolled to his feet and got ready for work. Despite his sleepless night, he still had no idea what he was going to say to Jo, or how he would even approach the topic of his immortality. Perhaps it would be better if he acted as though none of it had actually happened. Maybe she would put it all down as just a crazy story, or better yet, a strange dream. Should he be talking to her at all? Abe had said to give her some time… was overnight enough? What if she didn't want to talk to him again? What if she had convinced herself that he was insane after all? Clearly the night's self-imposed positive brainwashing had not been as successful as he had hoped.

Swallowing down the rising bile, he walked out into the kitchen and tried to distract himself with his usual morning routine. He got busy preparing what would eventually be a full bacon and egg breakfast, before realising rather belatedly that he still wasn't hungry.

"Henry?" Abe walked into the lounge room, his voice still thick with sleep. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"I'm just making some breakfast, would you like some?"
"What..?" his son asked tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. "What time is it?"

He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his father's old watch, feeling slightly guilty when he read the small clock face. "It's just before five."

"As in A.M?"

"I'm sorry Abe, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh that's alright, no harm done" his son said, waving his hand dismissively as he took a seat at the kitchen table. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

He turned back towards the pan and considered lying for a moment, before answering with a simple "no."

"I may regret asking this, but if you weren't sleeping, what were you doing all night?"

"Re-living bad memories mostly."

"So I take it by that admission that you're not doing particularly well this morning?"

Ignoring the question, Henry served up two plates of the sizzling hot food, before claiming one of the empty seats. He made a point not to look at his son's questioning eyes, but as the awkward silence dragged on, he knew he could not escape the conversation forever.

As if reading his thoughts, Abe leant closer towards him, "are you okay?"

"I was just thinking," he started, ignoring Abe's look of concern, "do you think it's too early to go see Jo?"

Abe raised his eyebrows. "At, five o'clock in the morning? Yeah Dad, I think that's too early."

He poked at his food with disinterest, the silence once again stretching out uncomfortably.

"You know you can talk to me about this right?" Abe said quietly. "I mean, I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through, but you don't have to do it alone."

He felt his shoulders sag, as a wave of guilt washed over him. Abe was the one person in the entire world who really knew anything about him and he was cutting him out. He sighed and looked up into his son's tired old eyes and this time accepted the sad worried look he gave him.

"I know Abe, thank you it's just…" He ran his hands through his hair. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he could explain what he was going through, he wasn't quite sure himself. There were so many unknowns still, so much he didn't know and couldn't know until he talked to Jo. "… I just need to know what she's thinking."

"I told you last night Pops, Jo's fine. She wasn't going to tell anyone."

"Then why didn't she come back inside? Why did she just run off like that?"

"I told you, she just needs time. Come on, since when have I ever been wrong about this sort of thing?" Henry's eyebrows rose in disbelief as Abe quickly shook his head, "don't answer that."

A huff of humour escaped from his lips as his face broke into a wide grin.

"Ah there he is," Abe said with a small smile. "I was hoping to see you sometime today."

He leant back in his seat and stared at his aging son with a smile. It was in moments like this that he was reminded just how lucky he was to have Abraham in his life. He didn't know how he would function without him.

"Listen, how about I take care of this, while you go up and get some more sleep, you look like you could use it." Abe said, motioning to the dishes.

Henry shook his head. "I think I go into the office instead, get some work done." He got to his feet and collected his scarf before heading out of the room.

"Ok," Abe said quietly, following him to the stairs. "Just remember to give her some time. Don't smother her, give her some space until she can wrap her head around things."
He paused for a moment, looking back at him. "Since when did you become so wise?"

"I learnt from the best."

Henry heard the door swing open and felt his body freeze in terror. He could picture them standing in the door way now - the men in white coats with clipboards. His heart suddenly accelerated to unhealthy high speeds and he had to fight the urge to hide beneath his desk. Swallowing his fear, he took a deep breath, looked up and immediately sagged in relief, as Lucas strolled casually into the morgue.

He had been picturing the same scene all morning, ever since he had arrived at the office. A small group of white clad men would appear at the doorway and enquire about him. Someone would point in his general direction and then the small group would descend. They would speak to him as though he were a small child, while they slowly backed him in into a corner. When they finally had him surrounded, they would pounce; manhandle him into restraints, then drag him kicking and screaming through the building. All his friends and colleagues would see how 'crazy' he really was, and there would be nothing he could do to stop it…

With the moment of panic now behind him, Henry slowly closed his eyes and focused on bringing his heart rate down to a more acceptable speed. Deep down he knew that it didn't happen like that anymore, but despite the 200 years that had passed; the memories of that day still seemed painfully fresh.

"Henry! I ahhh, I mean Dr Morgan! You're here early."

Slipping on his invisible mask, he looked up at the young man with a small smile. "Good morning Lucas."

"Morning," his young assistant replied, walking towards his office. "So what's on the board for tod…" Lucas stopped suddenly, his face morphing into one of confusion and surprise. Henry looked back at him with similar expression, his chest still tight with worry.

"How long have you been here exactly?" the young man asked, motioning towards his desk.

He looked down at the pile of files and paper work that lay upon it, most of which had now been completed.

"Oh ah…" he started, feeling some of the tension drain away. "A few hours, I couldn't sleep."

"So you came here?" Lucas asked in surprise.

"I figured I may as well do something useful with my time."

"Fair enough," Lucas said with a shrug. "Usually when I can't sleep, I put on one of my old B grade horror movies, sends me right off to snooze land." He must have given the young man a strange look because his assistant quickly tried to explain himself. "I know it's kinda ironic but I think it's just that…"

"It's okay Lucas," he said raising his voice slightly. "Believe it not, I actually did something similar, unfortunately it had the opposite effect."

"Ah well, I guess scary movies aren't for everyone I suppose."

"Indeed," he mumbled, wanting desperately to change the subject. "You didn't happen to see Jo in your travels did you?" He hoped his words didn't sound too desperate, aiming instead for just mild interest.

"No, I came straight down here, I haven't seen anyone. Why's that?"

"Just curious."

He looked over at the clock on the wall and made a decision. Jo should have arrived at work by now, so if she wasn't going to come down to see him, he would just have to go see her, Abe's advice be damned. "I might go pay her a visit. See if she has anything new for us."

"Okie dokie," Lucas replied cheerfully. "I guess I'll just, get started in here."

Without wasting another moment, Henry gathered the pile of folders and made his way through the building towards the 11th precinct. It may have just been his imagination, but he couldn't help but notice that everyone was watching him. Wherever he turned, he could feel eyes on him, following his every movement. Keeping his head down, he rushed through the busy station until he was standing in front of Jo's unusually empty desk.

"Oh hey Henry, what's up?" Detective Hanson called from his adjoining work station, "you got anything interesting for me?" It took him a moment to interpret the question, his mind suddenly in overdrive.

"Ah no actually," he stuttered, "Nothing's come in yet. I just thought I'd bring these up," he continued, handing Mike the pile of completed documents.

"Wow, that was quick," the detective said, flicking through the file on top. "This one was only yesterday. I always knew you were a high achiever but this is just showing off."

With Hanson suitably distracted, Henry took a moment to look around the room. Although Jo was nowhere in sight, he did notice that the door to the Lieutenant's office was closed and that the blinds were drawn, hiding whoever was inside. He tried to remind himself that this was not a strange occurrence but truth be told, this picture worried him more than he could say. While he could admit to himself that his earlier visions of being forced through the office in a strait jacket would likely not come to pass, that didn't mean that something similar wasn't going to happen. In fact if anything was going to happen, then this would be how it would start.

With droplets of sweat forming on the back of his neck, he tried but failed to stop the words from catching in his throat. "Who's in with the Lieutenant?"

"Hmm?" Hanson asked, following his gaze. "Oh, I dunno. The door's been closed for ages."

If Jo had indeed gone to the Lieutenant, then his life was about to get a whole lot more complicated. Forced time off, psychological evaluations... worst case scenario, they could potentially have him hospitalised and put on suicide watch. He felt his mouth go dry.

"Where's Jo?"

"Ah Jo's not here," Hanson replied casually, looking back through the newly completed forms. "She rang in this morning; she's taking a personal day."

He didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. "A personal day?"

"Yeah."

"Did she say why?" he asked, trying to sound no more that slightly curious.

"I didn't ask, why's that?"

"Oh no reason, it's just… she didn't happen to say anything about me, did she?"

Hanson's eyes drifted over towards him, narrowing as they went. "No…" he drawled, "Why? What's going on?"

"Oh nothing," he said a little too quickly.

Mike put the folders down. "Is everything alright with you two?"

"I hope so," he muttered quietly, taking a few steps backwards. "I'll be downstairs if you need me" he said a little louder, before turning around and making his escape.

As Henry re-entered the morgue, he was vaguely aware of Lucas talking to him, but his brain was not able to register the words. His whole internal system felt like it was in haywire, with adrenaline and fear coursing throughout his entire body. Something was wrong. He had to talk to Jo, he had to know what was going on; the suspense was quite literally killing him. With his brain in a daze, he picked up the phone and held his breath as he dialled Jo's phone number. He could feel his heart pounding fiercely with each passing second, before the phone eventually rang out and went through to voice mail. With his stomach in knots, he briefly considered hanging up, but knew that it would get him nowhere. The familiar beep sounded and he suddenly had no idea what to say.

"Jo, it's me, it…it's Henry. I just… you're not at work today, so I just want to make sure that you're alright…" he let the words flow meaninglessly from his mouth, saying what was expected, but not what he wanted. "Jo I… I need to talk to you… last night, I ah…" he trailed away again, not knowing what to say, "I just… I really just need to talk to you. Please call me back. I'm sorry," he added as a last thought before letting the receiver drop miserably from his ear.

"What happened last night?" He looked up in alarm. Lucas had stuck his head through the door and was looking at him with an innocent curiosity.

"What? Nothing!" he said defensively, sitting bolt upright.

"Wow, okay. None of my business, got it."

"What do you want Lucas?" he sighed, rubbing a hand over his pounding head. Lucas pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Are you okay Doc?"

"I'm fine, what is it?" It was clear that Lucas was not convinced, but his assistant knew better than to press the issue.

"You obviously didn't hear me when you walked in," the young man started. "Hanson called just after you left, they got a call in about a severed head, he wants you to go with him to take a look."

"Actually Lucas, I was thinking of heading home. It turns out I'm not feeling so well."

Lucas gave him a puzzled look, as though he were speaking Swahili. "But it's a severed head!"

"I know, it's just..." he sighed. Lucas and Hanson had already picked up that something was wrong. At the moment he could still down-play the situation, but if he were to leave now, it would only add fuel to the fire. "Where is it?"

"Highbridge."

That was around Jo's neighbourhood; he could call past and see her.

"Okay, I'll go have a look but you're coming too. I'll do a quick examination but then I'm going home, you can take it from there."

"Really?" The young man's eyes lit up as though he had just won first prize at a science fair, before Henry's scolding glare made him rethink his gleeful expression and adopt one more suitable to the occasion. "Right, sorry."

Within a minute of arriving on the scene, it was clear to everyone involved that the victim had been killed elsewhere. The head had been found in a backpack along the shore of the Harlem River and from what he could tell, belonged to that of a middle aged woman. There were no visible signs of trauma as a cause of death and the cuts along the woman's throat indicated that her head had been removed post mortem. Apart from that, he was not much help. There wasn't a whole lot of evidence to work with and even if there was, his mind was miles away. Twenty excruciating minutes later, he finally excused himself, feigning illness. After giving Hanson a brief apology and leaving Lucas with a list of instructions, he made his way back up to the road and hailed a cab. Jo's apartment wasn't particularly far away - just over the river really and yet, it felt as though it had taken a lifetime to arrive.

Facing the familiar red door, Henry spent less than a second composing himself before he knocked, waiting several moments before trying again, calling her name for added effect. Eventually his knocks became quite frantic and he was forced to stop, when a passer-by looked at him with intense suspicion. Wherever Jo was, she was clearly not at home and he couldn't help but think back to the Lieutenant's closed door. Perhaps she really had been in there; it wouldn't have been the first time that Hanson had lied to cover for his partner...

Suddenly all of his instincts were telling him to run. After 200 years, it had become his default setting and he was not about to argue with it now. Leaping back down the stairs he jumped into the first available taxi and eventually found himself back at the suspiciously locked shop. Not thinking much of it at first, he let himself in and took the stairs two at a time before gathering up his ID and passport.

"Abe are you in?" he called through the building, quickly checking all the rooms. Everything was where it belonged, there should be no cause for concern and yet he instantly felt on edge. Why wasn't Abraham at home? Where could he be? A deep feeling of dread threatened to drown him. All morning he had been so busy obsessing over his own safety, that he hadn't stopped to think about Abe. Sure, he had been the one to tell Jo the crazy story but Abraham had been quick to agree with him; by all rights, that would make him equally insane, would it not? Maybe they had already taken him…

"Stop!" he told himself rather angrily. His thoughts were running a mile a minute and he knew that he had to slow down or else, he really would end up going insane. Logically speaking, it made no sense that Jo would go after Abe before him, and besides, what had Jo actually done? All that she was guilty of at this stage was failing to answer her phone, the one and only time he had tried to ring it. For all he knew, she had rung straight back and had missed him.

With a new sense of calm, Henry grabbed the phone and carefully dialled Jo's number. But just like the last time, the phone rang out and he was met with the same recorded message as before. Not allowing himself to get too worked up, he quickly checked his own voice mail account and then rang his office to enquire about any missed calls or messages he may have received over the last few hours... There was nothing. Nothing from Abraham and more worryingly, nothing from Jo. It was now obvious that the detective was deliberately avoiding him, but for what reason, he had no way of knowing. Was it simply just that she wanted some space, or was it more sinister? With his blind panic quickly returning, Henry frantically called Abe's mobile, only to find that it would not connect. Either his son's phone had been turned off, or he was out of service range, and neither option sat particularly well with him.

With no other conceivable course of action left before him, Henry rushed back into his bedroom and dragged his suitcase out from under his bed. He felt light headed and dizzy as he started pulling clothes from his wardrobe and hurriedly folded them to pack. He knew from past experiences that it was always better to travel light, so he limited himself to his two favourite scarves and left the rest behind. Once finished, he hurried down to his laboratory and continued to sort through his belongings, now grateful for his short lived panic packing the night before. Once Abe was back - and he would be back, they could load up the car and be on their way. Everything else, they would have to leave behind. Perhaps if they were lucky, he would be able to come back at some point to collect them.

"Henry?" He had been so fixated on the task at hand, that he had not heard Abraham return, but having finally heard his son's voice; he felt an overwhelming sense of both relief and comfort.

"I'm down here!" he yelled, turning back to the task at hand.

"Hey did you try calling me?" Abe asked, as he slowly descended the stairs. "What are you doing home so early anyway? Is everything alright…" Abraham suddenly stopped, noticing the pile of half-filled bags and boxes. "I'm going to take that as a no…" the man continued, gently. "Henry, what are you doing?"

"I can't get hold of Jo. She didn't come into work, she's not at home and she's not answering her phone!" The words came out as a rushed and panicked explosion, causing Abraham to flinch ever so slightly.

"Ok Pops, slow down. What ever happened to giving her some space?" He heard the words, but they meant nothing. Abe was a great man and an even better son, but regardless of the number of times they had moved around, Abraham still had no concept of what he was going through, or what was really at stake.

"You don't understand! Something's wrong, I can feel it. I knew this was a bad idea, I should never have told her."

"Don't you think you're being a little over dramatic?"

"This is not a joke Abraham!"

"Oh trust me; nobody thinks this is funny, least of all, me."

Henry shook his head and turned back to continue his packing, before Abe grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him around with a slight shake. "Will you just stop?" his son said desperately, his grip tightening. "Stop okay? I've talked to Jo, everything is fine."

Henry froze, allowing Abraham's words to slowly sink in. "You did? When?"

"About an hour ago. In fact, she's going to stop by later tonight."

"She is?"

"Yes, so stop worrying."

His heart began to flutter, and his dizziness returned. "I can't help it; I've just had a strange feeling all day… people watching me."

"Yeah Pops, that's called paranoia."

Ignoring the comment, he took a few steps and dropped into his antique sofa, his head still spinning. "When you talked to her, how did she sound?"

"She sounded fine, calm, in control."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. His heart was beating so hard, he thought it might rip free of his chest. "What did she talk to you about?"

"Oh my God, would you stop?!"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm sorry it's just… I can't go through that again Abe." He fought hard to hold back the tears and swallow down his emotions. He needed Abraham to understand, he couldn't do this alone. "I can't be locked up. I can't have people think that I'm insane. I think if that were to happen again, then I really would go crazy."

A moment later, Abe sat down next to him, his wrinkled hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. "Hey, that's not gonna happen."

"I wish that I could have as much faith as you."

"I'll tell you what, how about this: I promise you, that if for some reason you ever do get locked up in the looney bin again, that I will personally sneak in there and kill you myself."

He couldn't help but smile. "Thanks Abe."

"You're welcome… now go upstairs and get some sleep, you look like crap."

He rolled his eyes, before getting back to his feet, "I'm fine."

"Well at least go lie down, or read a book or something, Jo won't be here for a few more hours and by my count you haven't slept in two days."

With the promise of answers and the reassurance from his son, Henry felt some of the enormous weight lift from his shoulders. He wasn't quite sure how, but Abe always had the ability to calm him when he needed it the most. The storm of emotions which had been building inside him over the last few hours had settled significantly, with his son's warm comfort and unwavering faith that things would be okay. With a small sigh, he gave into his son's request and followed him silently up the stairs, stopping at the nearby bookshelf to scan the familiar titles. He had read them all so many times, he could just about recite them all from memory, but eventually his hand picked up the worn copy of Moby Dick and he settled himself across the lounge room couch, and tried to get comfortable. Just as he opened to the first page, Abraham reappeared with a large cup of water, and a bottle of Tylenol, tipping a couple of the small tablets into his open hand.

"Here take some of these, it looks like you could use them."

It wasn't until then, that he noticed the dull throbbing pain permeating throughout his skull. And once again, he was reminded of just how much he loved this man. "Oh you're a saint."

"Not always," his son said with a mischievous grin. "Now drink up, I'll go get you a refill."

With one final swig, he emptied the glass then settled back down, while Abe disappeared into the kitchen. Looking back down at the book, he tried to clear some of the turmoil from his mind and instead focus on the faded text.

'Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.'

He felt his mind wander again. This time he thought back to his early life - before the slave ship and before the curse that had consumed his life. He had never seen himself as an adventurer, and yet in many ways he had become just that. He had travelled all over the world trying to escape his past, more than once with only the clothes on his back. How he yearned for simpler times, and for a single life lived well…

Eventually he was able to shake the thoughts away, and he followed Ishmael on his amazing journey. After a while he felt his body begin to relax and he struggled to keep his eyes open. A few minutes later, without even noticing it, he had dropped the open book on to his chest, his eyes slipping shut as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

A/N: One more chapter to go. I hope Henry wasn't too out of character... Please take a few moments to leave a review and let me know what you think. Cheers!