Chapter 7 [Someplace Else….]
[A/N: Since I can't find the name of Jo's husband, I'm adding that liberty to the others I'm about to take. Things are about to take a spiritual twist. You've been advised….]
For what felt like days, Jo writhed and spasmed. Somehow, despite what had happened in the warehouse, she beheld only a deep darkness. She shivered from extreme winter-like cold. What is this? Henry, is this what you meant? So help me….
Have faith, Jo… A familiar voice calmed her.
She opened her mouth to speak but only a rasp came out. Ramon? Ramon, is that you? I'm here! She picked her fingers up an inch or two toward the voice's direction. Don't leave me again! Please! She felt her heart growing colder and heavier. If I'm hearing him, that means Henry failed? What is going on?
Then a bright flash of light overwhelmed her…..
Jo opened her eyes slowly and cautiously. Instead of floating on what felt like nothing, something soft supported her comfortably. Her skin didn't burn any longer. The dimples from the freezing temperatures in that dark place had vanished. She felt her legs and curled her toes without difficulty. She flexed her arms a little under whatever was over them.
She found herself in a small white room without much décor to speak of. She couldn't make out a single picture on the walls nor much furniture other than the bed she was lying in. She found herself under a pink linen sheet and a familiar comforter. Two soft pillows dressed in the shams she knew well….
…she was wrapped in her former favorite bed set…
…she discovered that she wore the same sweats…
…both were the ones that Ramon had bought for her.
"Look right, Corazon," he advised.
She weakly turned to her right to find her deceased husband, a tall broad shouldered Latino man, suddenly sitting in a wooden chair and watching her intently. "Ramon? What is this? Am…I dead?"
"Now is that any way to greet me?" he teased while kissing her forehead gently. He gave her a warm smile. "No, Jo, you aren't dead. It isn't your time…not yet anyway. You've still got too many people to tick off."
She rolled her eyes at him and grinned in spite of the barb. "You haven't lost your bedside manner either."
He shrugged and sighed deeply. "No I haven't. Pity that I have to watch someone else now do that. Someone else wants to meet you, Jo. It's time you and she have talked. She can answer your questions a lot better than I can." He turned toward the open door and nodded into the hallway.
A slender blonde woman in a white nurse's uniform from around the 1950s walked slowly into the room. Her sharp blue eyes calmly took in the whole scene and the couple in front of herself. "Thank you, Ramon. Hello there. Feeling better, Jo? It is good to finally meet you. I've felt so much about you around Henry."
"You know Henry?" Jo reclined back into the soft pillows; her mind struggled to comprehend the nurse's words.
"Of course I do. I've watched over him for the last eighty years. I loved him, lived with him, shared his secret and helped to raise Abe." The nurse nodded. "I'm Abigail Morgan. Henry talked about me with you once, didn't he?"
"Abigail?" Jo's eyes went wide at the revelation. "Ramon, she's Henry's wife. I have to be dead since you both are here! And what does she mean that she's watched over him for eighty years? Henry can't be that old!"
Ramon chuckled. "Baby, you really don't know, do you?" He turned to Abigail. "Better tell her."
"Tell me what? Lady, I'm a detective. I don't like unsolved puzzles!" Jo demanded.
"I understand, Jo. I apologize about the cryptic remarks. Henry has protected his secret for a great many years. Do you promise to keep what I am about to tell you a secret?" Abigail declared.
"I do. What's going with Henry? I mean he seems to know everything and has these weird observations. It seems like he knows too much for a man of his age. Occasionally he'll slip a reference to some neighborhood or a museum like he was there a long time in the past. I mean it isn't like he was around a century ago," Jo queried adding a sarcastic tone at the end.
"Actually he's been alive for over 250 years, Jo. I do not know all of the details but needless to say that Henry has had a long and interesting life. He now struggles with the weight of immortality seeking death. We want him to remain alive and rediscover his vitality again," Abigail revealed.
"250 years? He's really…." Jo blinked at the ceiling incredulously. "So he was really wandering about Washington Heights in the 1880s? And he was in the Met in the fifties?"
"Yes on both accounts. The latter one was the night he proposed to me in fact. His condition has one catch however. Every time he is in a situation like the one you both just went through, he returns in a river somewhere," Abigail continued. "I actually found out his secret when he did just that."
"When he did what?" Jo wondered aghast.
"When he came back from a previous close call at the Ralston Warehouse where you both were today. Much as you are now, I was dealing with a great deal at the time….." Abigail noted. She touched Jo's forehead linking their thoughts somehow. Relax, Jo. I am letting you see what I remember.
What the Hell? Jo didn't know what to think as her mind flashed back along with Abigail's…..
[1946—Shores of the Hudson River—ten miles from Brooklyn flat]
Miles away from the scene of Henry's encounter with the sniper, Abigail wheeled Abraham around in his stroller along a pleasant dirt trail along the river. As soon as she had finished with cleaning the dishes and stove, she packed her son up and took the subway uptown and across the water to this frequent quiet spot for herself.
She admired the birds singing back to her from the trees overhead. She liked the breeze coming off the water. The blooming flowers along the way greeted her nose with pleasant scents. Most of all, she liked the stillness there. She could be alone with her thoughts in ways she couldn't be back in the neighborhood. I wish Henry wouldn't have so much on his mind. What was bothering him this morning? And why the bloody Hell would the Inspector pull him in like that? I wish he could tell me without being so mysterious! Her eyes gazed across the river back at the city proper. Wonder what Henry's up to right now? I just hope he's safe!
As she did so, she swore she saw something bob into sight above the slightly lapping dark waters. Her eyes went wide as she realized it was a man. "My God!" She wheeled Abraham as close to the water's edge as could be safely done for herself and the infant in question. She watched as the swimmer in question regained his form, took a deep breath and started swimming toward shore. "Are you all right, Sir?"
As he got closer, her eyes went wide as she recognized him clearly. "Henry? Henry, what the Devil are you doing in there? You're going to catch your death of cold!" She took Abe's blanket and held it ready as the former's father approached the shoreline.
He gasped while stumbling into shore. As always, the return from Death's door left him drained and just about breathless. That wasn't counting the effort that the accompanying swim to shore cost him as well. His mind was already trying to think of ways to get to some back alley to borrow a pair of pants so as to make his way home. How am I going to explain this to the Inspector? He fell to the grass once his feet had moved him sufficiently away from the shoreline.
"Henry! Are you all right? Where are your clothes?" Abigail demanded in a fright. She couldn't tell whether he had a concussion or worse. "Did someone jump you on the way to that crime scene? Where's the auto?"
"Abigail?" He stared in shock at her. "What are you doing here?"
"Never mind me. What are you doing?" she countered.
"It's…a long story," he hedged. Since they'd met, he'd wondered when she'd see him like this. He'd dreaded how he'd explain the events to her….
Then taking it a step farther, how would she take it?
"I'm listening. Where are your clothes, Henry?" She wrapped the blanket around him. Her eyes pressed his for an explanation.
He rubbed the back of his head anxiously. Admittedly he detested situations where he didn't feel in control. He'd find it easier to lie and get out of it. But he couldn't lie to Abigail…not even close. His mouth went dry and could barely move. He bowed his head.
"Well, Henry?"
He took a deep breath. "I actually drove to the crime scene…as the Inspector wanted. Stanley and I went into the warehouse. The man we were looking for ambushed us. He shot Stanley and me both. I shot him. He…shot me in the chest. I…died."
She opened the blanket and stared at his chest. "There's no scar or wound! Henry, you have to do better than that."
"It's been happening to me since the middle of the eighteenth century." He squirmed uncomfortably from her withering gaze akin to a deer in a set of modern headlights. "I was shot while onboard a slave ship and thrown overboard. I don't know why but I didn't die. I bobbed to the surface of the Atlantic. It was my good fortune that another schooner found me floating on some debris. Such events have repeated themselves since then. I end up in water…and well…the way you see me now…Don't ask me how. I do not know how it happened. It just…well…happens."
She arched an eyebrow suspiciously not knowing what to think. It was a ridiculous story to say the least. Then she could see him swimming and in the nude no less in the Hudson River. Such a wild tale would prompt her to call for the police and have someone committed under most circumstances…
…except that the person relaying the account was Henry Morgan, the love of her life and the most honest and capable man she'd ever met. The man who took on responsibility and service without hesitation on every occasion when asked…no matter what….
She took a deep breath. "Henry, I believe you because you are you. Let's get us all home. Then we can talk about this situation."
"Of course. I'd like to get some clothes first before the subway however," he requested albeit with relief. "You do understand that I cannot ride in this state, correct?"
"Most assuredly not. We shall make arrangements of some kind. I am glad you are safe though," she expressed as they headed off toward the small strip of shops not far from the train station…..
[Back in the Other Place]
Abigail breathed in deeply as the connection faded. "That is what Henry struggles with. As an eighteenth century man, he feels out of touch and out of place with this world. That is why he seems so stilted at times. I found it endearing personally." She smiled at the memories.
Jo squirmed as her mind readjusted to being on its own again. She was dealing with the nurse being in her head. Despite her skills at putting facts together quickly and forming answers on the fly, her partner's true situation left her dumbfounded. Henry's immortal? How can he do what he does? Can I deal with it? "So how can he deal with this? How am I supposed to understand it? It's not like I'm him."
"Actually, Baby…." Ramon grimaced.
"Actually you're here instead of on the Other Side because you are like him now. You said you did not want to die. He shared his own blood with you. It was decided by Those on the Other Side that this will be a permanent situation," Abigail clarified.
"So I can't die? Is that what you're saying?" Jo pressed in absolute confusion.
"No you cannot. You will feel pain, need to eat, sleep and act like a normal human being. You can be shot, stabbed and wounded. You will see your life flashing before your eyes. However you will not die. Instead, as you just saw, you will return around water and you will not have what you took with you. Any of what you took with you. Henry can explain these matters to you with more complexity than I." Abigail glanced toward the ceiling before nodding. "It is time for you to return. Remember it is for you to look after Henry now. It is his task to look after you. I know your heart is good, Jo Martinez. I am trusting him to you."
"And he'd better treat you right," Ramon insisted.
"I'll make sure of that. I'm glad you're here. After the heart attack, I've missed you," Jo informed him while embracing him tightly. "I'll never forget you. Nor will I try to make Henry forget you, Abigail." She slowly climbed out of the bed making sure that the blue sweats were on straight.
"I appreciate that, Jo. It is your time with him now. Just be resolute and strong. By the way, take a deep breath," Abigail advised.
"Take a deep breath? Why?" Jo managed to suck in a deep breath just before the bright light enveloped her anew and swept her away once more.
Seems that changes were in order…..
