Disclaimer: I own the same amount of this content as the amount of clothes I would have after dying if I had Henry's condition.

Jo gratefully accepted the cup of tea and took a careful sip to test the heat. Smiling in thanks to Abe, she watched as he shrugged it off and disappeared back to the kitchen, leaving them alone – although she had no doubt he was still listening.

Wrapping her fingers around the teacup and letting the warmth seep through and warm her up to the bone, she watched Henry. Sitting across from her and staring into his cup, he finally looked as if he was comfortable in his skin again. His hands were still shaking, but he held the cup tightly to hide it.

Taking another sip, she then leaned forward towards the Doctor. "You okay?"

He looked up from his cup and met her eyes. "More so now, thank you."

She nodded, relieved to see that the terror had left his eyes. Looking down into her cup, she lightly bit her lip and swirled her tea around, debating whether or not to ask him anything. Feeling someone watching her, she looked up again to see Henry watching her with an amused glint in his eyes.

"You wanted to ask something."

"What – oh, of course. Yeah. Right." She took another drink of her tea and straightened up, worried that this question would terrify him again, but too curious to ignore it. "Would you tell me your story? How you came to be this way, what happened along the way, who certain people are to you – things like that."

"I suppose it's only fair – you deserve a better explanation than an ill planned exclamation in the midst of an argument." He took a sip of tea. "Where to begin..."

"How about at the beginning?" Abe called out from the kitchen, causing Jo to laughing and Henry to smile again.

"Wise advice." Seeking to delay for a moment longer, he took another drink of tea before taking a deep breath and beginning his story. "Well, I was born in 1779. I learned medicine, and became a doctor. I was a doctor, had a lovely wife, had a comfortable house – all was well. I was almost thirty-five, and was working as a ship's doctor on a slave ship – what?" He noticed her confused frown and asked.

"You? Working on a slave ship? Those were notorious for cruelty, filth, atrocities – how could you be a part of that?"

"I was there as a doctor, Jo – I was there to help people. Perhaps I could have taken a stand against slavery, but that would have risked my family – and that I could not, and would not, do."

Jo pursed her lips, but nodded in understanding.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I was aboard a slave ship. One of the older men had a fever, but the captain was convinced it was cholera. Fearing an epidemic, he ordered the man be thrown overboard." Henry fell silent, and reached over to refill his teacup.

Jo stared at the Doctor for a second. "And you let him?"

"Oh no. I almost did, but I refused to let him – so he shot me and tossed me overboard as well. That's the story of the scar on my chest." He attempted to smile but failed. Taking advantage of her shocked silence, he continued. "I awoke later somewhere in the ocean, and was eventually picked up by a passing ship and brought back to land. News of my death had already made it back to my family, but I was able to claim it was a mistake. Communication was rather unreliable in those days..." He sighed.

"Did you have any children?"

"Hmm?" He looked up again to meet her eyes. "Oh, no. We were trying, but we didn't have a child yet." He gave a small smile. "I wonder if we would have had a girl or a boy first..."

She felt her throat close up at the look of loss and sorrow on Henry's face, and she mentally blamed whatever cursed him with his long and lonely life. "So you came back?"

"Ah, yes. I came back, and life returned to normal for a little while. I didn't tell anyone what had happened for fear that they would think me insane. Nora, my wife, would often ask me about my scar – but I would always put her off. One..." He swallowed and took another sip of tea. "One day, I finally told her, and she said she believed me. I was relieved to have finally told someone, and that I no longer had any secrets – but the next day, she had me committed to Charing Cross Asylum for insanity. Nothing I said would convince her of the truth of my story, so I told the doctors there that I had a 'temporary lapse in judgment but was now whole again, and able to see why such a story could never be true'. The doctors said that they believed me, but that they needed to do some tests to be sure, and..." He carefully set his teacup down on the saucer before he either broke it or dropped it, and clenched his again shaking hands in the blanket covering him.

Jo winced, her mind readily supplying tales of the barbaric treatments employed in asylums – and if even half of the stories were true... "No wonder you didn't calm down when I said I believed you..."

"Ah, yes. That would not have been entirely believable after my life, I apologize."

"No, Henry – please. You have no need to apologize, it's not your fault at all." She leaned back in her chair and finished the rest of her tea in a single gulp, reaching out for the teapot herself to refill it. She would gladly take something stronger, but this would do for now...

AN: Thank you so much for reading, favouriting, following, enjoying, watching, etcetra... Gramercy, God bless!