Henry popped the lid to his briefcase, reaching to place a small stack of files inside, along with a handgun. It was only noon and he wouldn't be leaving for another hour or so, but it didn't hurt to get ready now.
The man contemplated what he'd be seeing on those tapes tonight... his initial suspicion was the missing footage from the day of the first disappearances and then the murders, but since Charlotte already confirmed their killer, he doubted that's what it would be. And there was no reason for her to show the horrific events otherwise. But what else it could be, he just didn't know.
Henry's eyes flittered over the remaining documents on his desk, and then the time. On top of all this, there was the mystery surrounding Afton's new restaurant, which had closed weeks ago soon after its opening. And Elizabeth's death. It was all so bizarre and the man just couldn't comprehend what was going on.
He closed the lid of the briefcase, placing it next to his hat and coat on his desk, all ready to go for when he left. A wave of tiredness washed over his eyes. Rest was not something his body and mind had been acquainted with these past weeks. Coffee. He needed to go get coffee.
Henry drew a hand over his face, rubbing it vigorously as he moved from his office towards the kitchen. As he walked down the hallway, a rapid knock came from the front door.
The man paused, tiredly turning his eyes to the direction of the porch, thinking about whether or not he really wanted to deal with humans right now. Mmm. No, not really. But he found that he'd been doing a lot of things he didn't want to do lately. This was just going to be another one.
He sighed, shuffling down the hallway as another series of knocks rapped on the door ahead of him. "I'm coming, I'm coming..." he murmured, undoing the lock on the knob. As he pulled open the door, the sight of a very nervous-looking boy greeted him.
"Michael?" He asked, confused. The teen's eyes flickered up to his, and Henry could see the fright in them. The lad was trembling visibly, arms drawn tightly over his chest. His bike could be seen on the lawn, dumped instead of propped with its kickstand, helmet discarded next to it.
"Is everything alright?" The man questioned cautiously, gaze turning back to the boy. "I need your help," Michael whispered, voice hoarse. Henry glanced back at the road, then opened the door a little wider, motioning for the boy to come inside.
The teen stepped in, arms still folded over themselves. He was shivering lightly, though it wasn't that cold outside at all. "Michael?" Henry asked, kneeling in front of the boy. He didn't answer, eyes averted, eyebrows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.
"Hey, look at me," Henry said gently, putting his hands on the boy's arms. Amber eyes flickered into his, though they were somewhat glazed and unfocused. The man began to slide his hands up and down the teen's arms, squeezing occasionally. He could feel the tenseness gradually leaving Michael's limbs, and the boy's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, seemingly melting under the gentle touch.
"What's wrong?" Henry asked in a soft undertone. He could hear the teen's shaky exhale, and there was no reply for a moment.
"It's Dad..." he started quietly. "What about him?" Henry questioned, hearing the sudden hardness in his own voice. He mentally scolded himself, trying not to take a harsh attitude with the boy's father in front of him.
"I... I don't think Elizabeth's death was an accident," Michael whispered.
Henry felt his eyes widen and his hands tightened on the teen's arms momentarily as he gazed at the speaker in front of him.
"I found these plans in Dad's office. There's something inside these new robots he made, and I think it's supposed to-to hurt people. But that's not right, right? He wouldn't," Michael said, tone suddenly pleading as he looked wide-eyed at the man. Henry's mouth was agape slightly, not sure what to say to this child... yes, yes William would now, but Michael didn't know that and just the possibility of such a thought seemed to be pushing him to the point of a breakdown or putting him into shock. What was he to tell him?
"Michael..." he started, hearing a break in his voice. The boy looked at him, eyes desperately searching for any hint of an answer, almost frantic in their search. Henry found himself not able to continue.
Michael's eyes suddenly fell empty as a shadow of realization crossed his face. "Or maybe... he would, wouldn't he?" He said softly. "You know something, don't you?" The boy questioned, not accusingly, but more asking for confirmation. Henry's mouth tightened slightly, chin falling to his chest. He nodded once.
"That's why... that's why we haven't seen you... Henry, what's going on? What has my Dad been doing?" The boy continued, voice becoming a little louder.
The man looked up at Michael, his blue eyes meeting amber ones as he shook his head lightly. His mouth fell open somewhat, though he was not able to voice an answer. But his face must have revealed something Michael was looking for as the teen's eyes glistened.
"Henry, where's Charlie?" The boy whispered in a choked voice.
Henry's jaw clenched and his hands tightened once again at those quiet, desperate words. His silence seemed to be answer enough for the boy.
"Is he hurting people? My Dad's hurting people… Elizabeth-oh my gosh, he's-no-" Michael stuttered out, trembling as he spoke, eyes growing wide and frantic. His babbling continued and Henry watched as the teen's chest began to sink and rise rapidly, his breathing beginning to sound more like gasping.
Michael's shaking intensified as Henry firmly grasped the boy's arms, leaning to peer up at his face where he was met with frantic, unfocused eyes. "Michael, look at me," he said, looking intently at him. The child's eyes flickered his direction for a moment, wide and confused, tears threatening to break before they resumed moving wildly.
Henry moved his hands from the boy's arms to cup his face, gently tilting his gaze towards him. "Michael, you need to breathe," he said firmly. Through his hazy confusion, the teen seemed to understand, making an obvious effort to slow his inhales. Each breath was shaky and unstable, not alleviating in its shallowness as the gasps continued.
Henry took one of Michael's hands in his own and brought it to his chest, directly over his heart. Glazed eyes flittered to his in confusion.
"Breathe with me," he said, allowing his chest to move with exaggerated breaths. The teen's eyes seemed to fill with a little more light and understanding at that, nodding once. "In and out," Henry said softly, watching as Michael's chest moved more in time with his, his breathing beginning to turn from its ragged shakiness to something more stable.
"That's it… good, Mike," he continued, voice softening. He felt the boy's fingers curl slightly on his dress shirt, his limbs relaxing as his breathing calmed.
"I'm sorry," the teen whispered hoarsely, exhaling. "For what?" Henry inquired in a low undertone, the hand on Michael's face squeezing gently.
"This. I shouldn't be all-like this, I'm acting like a little kid-" he began, mumbling guiltily, cut off as Henry's other hand encased his cheek.
"Do not apologize. Everyone has breakdowns, Michael, and it does not make you childish if you do. And, by all regards, you are still a child-" he started, stopping at the incredulous look on the boy's face. "Oh, yes you are. Fourteen is still well near your younger years. You aren't an adult, and I don't expect you to be. It's alright to be emotional over this, understand?" The man said, tone softening, looking intently at the teen.
Michael nodded with a light sniffle, trying to blink out the water in his eyes, failing as some beads escaped and started down his cheeks. Henry's thumb gently moved under the boy's eye, wiping away a few stray tears.
"Don't ever apologize," the man whispered softly, hands falling down to Michael's shoulders. A light smile graced the teen's face for a moment before gradually falling back into the impassive frown. "Back to the matter at hand…" Henry murmured. "What will you do now?"
Michael sniffed, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. "I dunno… I need to get out of the house, though. I don't feel safe there anymore. And Dad can't know, at least not until I'm gone."
"You've been planning on running away?"
A shy nod in response.
Henry sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "You're not going to tell him, are you?" Michael suddenly asked, almost panicked as he gazed intently at the man in front of him. "Not on your life," Henry replied with a light upturn of his lips. "And I don't feel safe with you being there either. Past events have proven so… but what will your mother think?"
The boy's jaw clenched at that, eyes casting downwards. "She's gone too, Henry. It's just me and Dad, now."
The man felt his heart break for this teen in front of him and all the sorrow that had befallen him in the course of one, miserably horrific year. It wasn't fair… no child should ever have to lose so much in so little time. He could see how the very walls of stability and security had broken around this boy, leaving him afraid and emotionally starved for any semblance of affection or love. And the one man that should have given it had not.
And so, Henry made up his mind.
"Mike, I'm going to help you get out," he said firmly, heart full of determination.
The boy's head whipped up in shock, eyes widened and mouth agape. "You-you what?" He asked softly, seeming to disbelieve the man's words.
"You won't be doing this alone. I assume you've already packed your things?" Henry questioned, pulling a pad and paper from his shirt pocket. Michael nodded, eyes a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Two suitcases at home, everything I've got is in them."
"Good," Henry murmured, scribbling an address and note on one of the sheets, tearing it from its seal. "I have a friend in Provo, he lives two blocks from the nearest bus station. I want you to take this," he began, taking a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, giving it and the paper to Michael in one neatly folded pile.
"And I want you to leave as soon as you can. The money should cover the cost to get there. His address is on the note along with a letter from me, he'll know to let you stay," Henry continued, putting the pad and pen back into his pocket.
"B-But I don't even know this guy," Michael said worriedly, shock still written in his expression as he looked incredulously from the contents in his grasp up to the man in front of him.
"Don't worry. I'll be joining you both as soon as possible. Until I can get us an apartment, you'll be needing a place to spend the next few nights, and I won't let it be anywhere that isn't safe or sheltered," Henry said, squeezing the boy's shoulders.
"Y-You're coming with me?" The teen questioned, thoroughly bewildered. "What about Nora?"
"Eleanor has decided to live with her parents in Maine for a little while," the man replied in a low undertone. "And as I haven't much left here, I'm going to do what is in your best interest, even if it means leaving it all behind."
Michael's eyes watered as he looked intently at the man in front of him. Henry's mouth pulled into a gentle smile, about to make a lighthearted remark before he was cut off as the boy threw his arms around his neck in a hug.
"Thank you," he heard whispered as Michael buried his face in the nape of Henry's neck. The man, still somewhat shocked, gently curled his arms around the boy's shoulders, squeezing him as he rubbed his back in a rhythmic motion with a kind pat in every circulation.
"I failed my daughter. I will not fail you," Henry whispered in soft reply, feeling the boy's arms tighten around his neck. It was another moment before Michael pulled away, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, mouth drawn into a light smile.
"I better get going before Dad gets home," he murmured, clutching the papers in his hand. "As soon as you can. And give me a call at every stop you take, so I know you're safe. I'll let my friend know you're coming," Henry replied, giving the boy's shoulder a light squeeze.
"I will. Thank you so much, Henry. It means everything," Michael said, voice descending into a whisper. The man smiled kindly in response, opening the front door for the teen as he strode for the porch. "Be safe. Don't talk to strangers," Henry said in a playfully chiding tone as the boy walked down the stone stairs to his bike.
"Promise," Michael smiled, clicking his helmet into place, waving as he took off down the road. Henry returned the gesture, staying in his place in the doorway until the boy was out of sight before stepping inside.
He was in for a lot of work with that rascally teenager. But it didn't matter. Maybe Michael could be his redemption, now. After all, he didn't lie.
He would not fail Michael.