Disclaimer: 'Tis a very good thing I own nothing, for there would likely be much longer and frequent hiatuses.
Jo watched Henry come to a realisation, and then hastily fetch...fingerprinting equipment? Still trying to connect 'respect' and 'love' with 'smashing someone over the head' and now fingerprints, she stepped closer to the slab.
"Why would the killer bother closing his eyes?"
"Because," he paused for a second to answer her question, "even the most fraught relationships between fathers and sons aren't entirely without love."
She tilted her head to the side, watching him as he began dusting Haas' eyelids for fingerprints. He was excited, having undoubtedly managed to find proof to convict the killer – or at least get a confession – but his words weren't simply ones of distanced observation: they were words learnt through experience.
"What about your father – you've never mentioned him."
His hands stilled for a second, and the restrained excitement drained out of him. He continued his work, and she watched him gather his thoughts.
"No, I don't often speak of him."
His voice was quiet; and she couldn't tell if his hesitation was because he was choosing his words to hide his secret, or because he was unsure of how to speak of it at all.
"I had always looked up to him, held him in high regard and could never have imagined that he held any sins or secrets. He was a good man – a moral man who cared for others. He ran a business, that was in much demand at the time. Others in the business used...practices, that he had denounced often – I assumed that he would never use the same."
She watched him finish lifting the fingerprints, as he focused on his work rather than looking at her while he told his story. The Doctor was still too vague – she couldn't guess what he was talking about – but she was knew that this wasn't the safety of the shop or her house, and that he could use plain terms.
He glanced up momentarily at her, giving a brief explanation with a rueful smile to clarify for her. "He had always compared these 'practices' to slavery – that they were just as poisonous. I had known that other used them, but he had always stood against them and..." He sighed.
"And you assumed that one who opposed them wouldn't use them, right?" She finished, realising what 'business' the elder Morgan had participated in, given the time frame.
"Yes. An acquaintance at the time visited, and mentioned my father's business. I stood up for him – tried to defend him – but all others already knew the truth; knew what I refused to acknowledge and had never seen.
"I had always thought myself good at seeing the truth in things – but this gift fails when it comes to those dear to me. Love, concern, respect, fear – these blind me when it comes to others, and I am easily led astray." He leaned on the desk, blindly watching the screen. "I left then. I couldn't – wouldn't – forgive him."
She blinked hard, stifling the tears that threatened to spring up. There was remorse in his voice – and not just sorrow for not seeing the secret his father had kept. "Did you ever speak to him again? Ever reconcile?"
He shook his head slowly. "No... He died shortly before I myself left...the country." He took a deep breath. "I saw him, was with him when he passed away; but I never got the chance to apologise. My last words were that I could not accept anything from him." The Doctor carefully pulled out the pocket watch he wore, rubbing a finger over the engraved surface. "He gave me his father's watch – an heirloom of sorts."
"Is that it?"
He shook his head. "That watch bore the Morgan family crest – I would not wear it through everyday life." He straightened up and slipped his watch back into his pocket. "No, I left that watch with my wife when I left, as I did not want it to be broken on the journey.
"But I regret that I had been so proud – that I did not speak with him earlier. He compromised to provide for his family, at terrible cost to himself. He made a mistake, of course; but was it really worth estranging myself for?"
Jo mentally shook her head, knowing he already knew the answer to that question.
"The ones we love the most have the most power to anger and hurt us, because we are not watching for hurt in that quarter – we are unprepared, and they have the advantage. Even if it be accidental, it still hurts worse than if it be a stranger or an enemy."
"Henry." She stepped up next to him, resting a hand on the back of his bowed neck. "Henry, for all his faults, he did at least one thing right: he raised a good man."
The Doctor's laugh was short, and he cut it off to keep from losing control. "He said the same, that 'whatever else I thought of him, he knew he had raised a good man'."
"And he was right. And, I think he understood – he was your father, and he probably had been in the same situation with his own father. If you hadn't forgiven him then, he at least knew you still loved him – otherwise you probably wouldn't have even visited him."
He sighed, taking a deep breath and relaxing himself. "Detective, while I understood what you meant – those sentences made little sense in agreement."
"Hey!" She playfully smacked his arm, smiling. "I was trying my best, and if you can only complain -"
He caught her hand. "I know, Jo – and I thank you. 'Tis far too late to remedy any mistakes I made then, but I still carry them with me. I can only attempt to learn from them, and avoid repeating them again." He dropped her hand and visibly switched back to the eccentric medical examiner that she usually dealt with, not the immortal who tried to reconcile the modern world with the other eras that shaped him.
"However, I do believe that I have the proof you can use to secure a confession from Haas' son..."
AN: The situation has predictably temporarily resolved itself, and the status quo resumed. My sincere apologies again, and much thanks for your patience. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Gramercy, and God bless - and my your lives be much smoother.
