Nine

Stan came home on the third evening, earlier than usual, to find Henry staring through the window at his home opposite, still guarded by police.

"I have some stuff in there," Henry said. "Do you think I'll be allowed in?"

Stan thought for a moment. "Henry, your home…..it's not your home any longer. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah, I know. I just want to look, you know, one last time."

Stan, who knew full well that there was little of value to Henry in there, all his belongings also having been removed. "You might find it very difficult, the whole house has been gone over with a fine toothed comb. You sure you want to see that?"

"I have a couple of things I'd like to look for. At least a photograph, something I can keep. I just.." He stopped himself, afraid of losing control.

The look on Henry's face told Stan all he needed to know. He tried to put himself in the young guy's shoes for a moment, appreciate what he must be feeling. He was still unconvinced it would help Henry. Still, it might give him some closure. "OK, let's go over now, if you're sure?"

With a look at Renee, who nodded silent agreement they left the room, made the short walk across the street, Beeman's ID badge giving him access past the uniforms, who flashed a grimace at his back.

Entering the hallway of the house that Henry had spent virtually all his life in, his family home, now reduced to a crime scene, Henry was very quiet. They moved from room to room, Stan staying back to give him space. A photograph of the Family Jennings, Philip, Elizabeth, Paige and Henry, had been removed from it's frame and lay loose on a table. Henry picked it up, looked at it wordlessly for a minute, then glanced at Stan who nodded. Placing it carefully in his pocket, Henry carried on his slow walk around.

Up the stairs to his bedroom, all the furniture having been moved about and carelessly replaced. Some of his possessions still remained, posters on walls had been taken down and left on the bed, his books had all been taken off and put back in piles instead of rows.

Stan watched Henry pick up a model car that must have held some sentimental value, recognizing it as a Chevrolet Camaro Z28 similar to one the Jennings had owned. "Can I take this, Stan?"

That was totally against protocol, he knew, but what the hell, it would have been taken if it was thought to be of value. He gave Henry a conspiratorial wink and answered, "Sure, just keep it between us. Nobody knows, OK?"

As they made their way back downstairs, Henry asked "Is any of this stuff left behind mine, or are the FBI claiming everything, including my whole life?"

"It's not just the FBI, Henry. The US government, other agencies that report to the government, they're all involved in this now. Your life as you knew it ceased to exist when your parents left. I'm sorry to be so... blunt, but that's the reality. Who knows what will happen now, I sure as hell don't Henry, but I assure you I'll do everything in my power to help you get through this." As they continued into the hallway towards the front door, he continued, "You have to start working towards a new life now. You have to be strong, mentally and physically for what lies ahead. I'll be here to support you, guide you where you need it, but mostly it's up to you. You know by now that your parents, however wrong you or I think it was, were amazingly strong to have done what they did. I'm sure you have it in you to survive this and come out a much stronger person than you already are."

Henry was taking this all in, and stood still, contemplating Stan's words of advice. "All I know is, I don't know anything." He swept his arm around him, indicating his former home. "Everything I thought was real turned out not to be."

"Except for some things, hey? Your school friends, they like you for who you are. Hell, I've seen you play hockey – you're a demon! Your Dad taught you some of that. Who knows, maybe you have some of his strength and your mothers spirit."

Henry's head dropped again, at the thought of his lost family. "Do you….do you think I'll ever see them again?"

This was something Stan had given a lot of thought over the past few days. "I'm sure you will, Henry. We're in this so-called 'Cold War', our two countries always at each others throats, but both countries know that if it went to full scale nuclear war, there would be nothing left of either country. I truly believe that, in time, things will improve. What we need is leaders who will talk to each other rather than wave swords around. When that happens, and I'm convinced it will at some point in our future, I'm sure you'll be able to travel to meet them. Might be a couple of years, maybe more, but if there's a way to do it I'm sure you'll find it."

These words seemed to give Henry some comfort, and while Stan knew they were the right words to say at that time, inwardly he did not share the conviction he had voiced. He just hoped, for the boys sake, that his words came true.

After one last wistful glance around, they left, Henry's last view of his childhood home imprinted on his mind forever.

Along the street, Paige sat in a car waiting for an opportunity to speak to her brother, watched him and her former neighbour return to the Beemans house. She would have to wait some more.