A/N: This is a sequel to "Starting Again", and picks up where that story left off. Reading it will help explain some of the details here, but isn't absolutely necessary. It's now the third morning since the "Escape" ending of SH4. Henry and Eileen have left South Ashfield Heights and rented a townhouse together, and are helping each other get through the day.

This is classified General because it doesn't really fit in any one or two classifications...the story divides itself into thirds, and each has a different focus. Read on, and I hope you like it.

Konami owns Eileen, Henry and almost everyone in this, and almost everywhere as well. Thanks also go to Peter Gabriel for the song that fit this story so well that I had to borrow its title…I don't own that either. No money made, no infringement intended.

Eileen was waking up. She was lying in bed against some large, unmoving heat source.

Mmm, snuggly, she thought drowsily. Her arms moved closer up to whatever it was, and her eyes opened blearily to a view out of a large window. The lake was just starting to glimmer with the light of the rising sun.

Wait a minute. Where am I?

Then she remembered…she was in a townhouse, in her new bed, and the warmth against her was…

She turned over slowly, so as not to disturb him. Henry sat propped against the headboard, asleep, head back over the pillow behind his shoulders, snoring softly. His arm was around her, and he still had on his T-shirt and shorts.

She'd seen him sleep once before, the previous night in the hotel, when he'd had that horrible nightmare and then told her about it…about things that had happened before he'd found her in the hospital. Terrible things. He'd fallen asleep in her arms then, just as she'd dozed off in his last night. His lips were curved in a faint smile, and he seemed to be at peace.

Guess that means that neither of us had the nightmares last night, she thought. Perhaps we've found the cure. She wished she could stay in this moment forever.

Just then, a ray of light reflected off of the lake into the room, and hit Henry's closed eye. He stirred, and his head turned automatically in Eileen's direction.

"Good morning," she said with a smile.

Henry opened one eye, then the other. "Hey," he said, stretching his free arm. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in days," she replied, pulling herself upright.

PING!

She winced.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got a crick in my neck," Eileen replied. "I'm not used to sleeping in that position, I guess."

"Allow me."

She turned away from him, and his hands probed the back of her neck gently.

"Here?" he said, prodding the tight muscle.

"Right there."

Mmmm. He's got magic hands, she thought, as they worked. Strong and warm.

Eileen had always liked a good neckrub. Over time, she'd developed a little theory about them. She believed that the way a person gave a neckrub was very telling about his or her personality. Kinda like a handshake, but more in-depth. Some people went after the muscles with a vengeance, others were too light-fingered to do any good.

Henry was working the muscles firmly, but not roughly, and every so often he'd dig a knuckle in to a particularly knotted spot to get the kink out. Then, his fingers would pass lightly over her skin, looking for more tight muscles.

Efficient, effective, but gentle. Hey, this guy gives good neckrub.

Not just any guy, she reminded herself. Henry.

Her Henry?

No, better not think about that just yet. Don't want to go all over-possessive.

Henry's fingers were probing gently again. "How's that?" he asked.

She turned her head experimentally, then bent her neck. "Much better," she said.

"Good," he said, his voice close to her ear. Then, she felt the touch of his lips on the spot. Her heart turned over. She turned to face him. His eyes held a little fear, as if he was afraid he'd gone too far.

"Perfect," she said. She put her arms around his neck and raised her face to his.

Yes, she thought. Her Henry. Over-possessiveness be damned.

They spent every night snuggled together in her bed. At first, they stayed there together to keep the nightmares away, but after a while they were simply accustomed to each other's presence. Soon, Eileen couldn't imagine sleeping by herself.

Some nights, they would stay up late and talk for hours about everything under the sun. Henry told her all about his life growing up in North Ashfield, and his love of photography and traveling. He showed her his pictures from the various places he'd been, and talked longingly of the places he wanted to go. Egypt…Japan…Italy…Tunisia…they all sounded fascinating. She was caught up by his stories, and found a streak of wanderlust that she never knew she'd had. Traveling with Henry would be fun, she thought…

He would ask her about herself, and seemed fascinated by even the smallest details. She told him things that she'd never told anybody else, not even her closest female friends. Somehow, she knew he'd understand. And he always did.

They sometimes talked about that night. They would hold each other for hours and let the words flow. After a while, Eileen knew just what Henry had been through that day and night, and she grew to understand what it had done to him, and to her. But talking about it also helped her to put it behind her, and it seemed that the nightmares were gone for good. For both of them.

A week after they'd moved in, they realized that Henry no longer needed a separate bedroom, and so they moved the computer, papers and other office things up there instead. This allowed him to use all of the little downstairs room for his darkroom, and gave both of them a beautiful view over the trees around the townhouse while they sat at the desk working.

One afternoon, Eileen was at the desk in front of her computer, checking for job opportunities as she did every day. Nothing new had been posted, so she browsed around her favorite websites for a while, and looked out over the trees. The main area of Ashfield was just visible past the expanse of green.

Somewhere out there is South Ashfield Heights…should be just over there, beyond that tall tree. That all seems very long ago now…

She shut the machine down and went down the stairs for a soda.

Henry was on the couch, with papers and photographs spread out on their large coffee table. The whole table and most of the couch was covered with materials, and he was poring over them intently.

Eileen got her soda from the fridge, and sat quietly in her chair next to the sofa, watching him. He was focused on one very large sheet of paper in the middle of the table, on which various text clippings and photos lay in three columns.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked softly.

Henry sighed. "Widmark is still working on that tourist brochure for Brahms."

"Still?" Eileen said. "I thought you took the pictures for that a few weeks ago."

"I did. But the material for the brochure still has to be assembled and laid out. He's doing two versions, a longer one and a shorter, trifold one for rest stops and such. The longer one is done, but he's not happy with the way the shorter one came out. So, he gave it to me and told me to see what I could do with it."

He ran his hand back through his hair. "I know what things to emphasize, what should be text and what should be an image. That's easy. Fitting it all together in three columns on two sides is the hard part."

Eileen nodded. "My last year of college, I helped out with a couple of poster presentations. Same problem…editing down everything you want to say is a pain."

Henry sat for a moment, staring at the paper. His eyebrow went up. "Want to help?"

"Sure," she said. He dumped some of the papers off the couch, and she sat next to him.

She scanned the layout. "I had no idea that Brahms had all this stuff."

"Never been there?"

"Not since I was little."

"I'll take you there someday," he said. "It's just gorgeous. That job was one of the better ones I've had."

"I'd like that. Looks like there's a lot to do there..."

She kept reading.

"Henry…"

"Hm?"

"May I?"

He waved his hand over the table. "Feel free."

Eileen picked up a chunk of text. "This piece about the museum and arts festival…these could attract a lot of good tourism money. What if you give it its own section, in the middle, here…and move this part about the lake into its place?" She switched the two pieces.

Henry nodded. "I'd have to pick a different photo for the lake, and find a good one of the festival…but that would work. The lake sells itself, so it doesn't need to be as far forward. That way, I can cut some of the stuff about the historical aspect…which should give me back some of the space I need…"

He moved his hands over the paper for a few minutes, thinking and rearranging pieces.

"Let's take a break," Henry said. "I want to come back to this later, but I think that may have done the job. Thanks."

"Glad to help."

Henry grabbed himself a soda, and they slid open the glass doors in the living room and went out onto their patio. Two wooden Adirondack-style chairs flanked a small round table, facing the lake. They put their drinks down and sat in the chairs, and soaked in the warmth of the sun in the late-fall crispness.

After several minutes, Henry spoke.

"Thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

"It would have taken me who knows how long to see that. I've never really had to do much of this sort of thing before. Layouts, yes, but usually not in such a small space."

Eileen shrugged. "All I did was give it a fresh look." She turned to Henry, who was staring out over the lake. "I liked the way you had balanced things out across the columns. It's a good layout. Very attractive."

He smiled. "Thanks. Widmark told me that he thought I might have an eye for copy layout...I've helped him out with a few things before, but this is the first time he's given me a whole brochure."

He stared at his soda. "I don't want to ask…"

"Shoot."

"If he likes it…he might give me another. If he does…would you…"

"Of course. I'd be glad to. If you don't mind."

"Mind?" Henry laughed. "You just saved me hours of work. No, I don't mind…I'd really appreciate it."

"Why don't you want to ask me to do things? That's what we do for each other. We're…"

Henry waited.

Eileen frowned. "What are we?"

"Got me."

Eileen's hand reached across the table. Henry's met it halfway, and she wound her fingers through his.

"I mean…are we together?"

Henry thought for a minute.

"I suppose. I don't really know. I'm not familiar with how this works."

"You mean, us?" Eileen said.

"Any of it," Henry said, turning to face her. "This is all new to me...is it for you?"

Eileen gave the question serious thought. "A long time ago, when I was a kid, I had this huge crush on an older guy," she said. "But it was just a dream…he wasn't interested, never would be. I realized that one day. That killed it for me." Henry squeezed her hand. "I see now that it was just a crush. This is different."

He nodded.

"How about you?" she asked.

Henry shrugged. "Like I said, I've only ever asked out one girl, and that ended quickly."

"Yes, but did you ever want to ask out others?"

"Hell, yeah," he said. "Wanting to wasn't the problem. There were a few that I almost did ask, but before I got up the nerve, somebody else would get to them first."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK," he said. "I knew I'd never be one of those guys who gets all the girls. Never understood how that worked."

"Lots of girls like the confident, outgoing, arrogant types," Eileen said, "but those are the ones that cause problems. If they only knew how someone like you would be, they'd never look twice at the rest."

They sat in silence. After a while, she spoke.

"What happens now?"

Henry was quiet for a moment. Then, he swung his leg over the chair, and sat on the near side. He took her hands in his, and looked down at them as he played with her fingers.

"I don't know. I don't want to make the same mistakes that my parents made. I think we're going to have to play it by ear."

She smiled at him. "I'm very happy. You?"

He smiled up at her. "Very."

She moved her feet off of the chair, and he lay down on his back between her knees, head cushioned on her stomach. She gently massaged his head with her fingers. His eyes closed, but he did not sleep.

They rested in companionable silence as the sun dropped lower. Too soon, the light faded, and darkness fell.

"Ready for another go at the brochure?" he asked.

Eileen grinned. "Sure."

And so, the days passed.

Eileen found that living with Henry was a simple thing. She'd never liked having to live with anybody. She'd been an only child, and so she wasn't used to sharing her space. In college, she'd endured the usual series of roommates, gone to her share of parties, and then moved into Room 303 by herself to concentrate on her studies. Roommates were noisy, messy, and unreliable, and she needed her space.

But with Henry, there was no conflict, no annoyance. Life with him was as comfortable as her old bathrobe. Henry lived quietly, more so than she ever had before, and she sought out his company more and more frequently. Henry never demanded or intruded. She found him soothing, and Eileen grew to depend on his presence as she healed from their nightmare.

He was healing too, she could see. The diffidence and quietness that she'd seen before was gradually eroding. He was prone to doing little things to surprise her. One morning, he made them both breakfast in bed. She squealed in surprise when he brought in the tray.

"Henry! What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "It's morning, and we're hungry."

"Scrambled eggs, dry. How did you know?"

He grinned. "Educated guess."

"And you say you can't cook."

"Not really, but I'm OK with eggs. Just don't ask for pancakes."

In turn, she would bring him drinks and snacks during his long stints in his darkroom. One day, during a break from a particularly lengthy session, she asked him why he didn't just use a digital camera and avoid all of the hassle.

"I like doing it this way," he said. "There's something satisfying about the process. Doing things with your own hands."

"But it takes you so long…is it really worth it?"

He shrugged. "No big deal. Anyway, I'm saving up for a really good digital camera. The one I have isn't good enough for work, just for snapshots."

"You have definite Luddite tendencies," she teased.

He picked up his old Pentax camera. His fingers touched it gently. "I've had this for almost forever, since I was a kid," he said. "It's never failed me. I know its ins and outs, the way it sometimes catches when I'm rewinding the film. It's been with me longer than anything else in my life. It will die someday, and I'll keep it until I go too.

"I don't have anything against digital. I just prefer this. I guess I'm old-fashioned in some ways." He shrugged.

She smiled. "Not too old-fashioned for me."

They both spent time sitting in the chairs facing the lake. They avoided intruding on each other's chair time by unspoken agreement, understanding the need for solitude without demands, implied or otherwise.

Eileen found it very soothing to listen to the sound of the waters and let the warmth of the old chair wood embrace her as she let her mind wander. She would think back to that night (it was always "that night" to her), and force herself to remember. Gradually, the memories became less and less painful to her…no less real, but more definitely part of her past.

But not completely gone, or forgotten. Sometimes, she would see something or hear something that triggered a memory…and she would end up gripping a table or chair or railing, white-knuckled, trying to still her shaking. She tried to conceal it as much as possible when Henry was around, so he wouldn't suspect. She never saw him have weak moments like that. Perhaps he was just stronger than she was.

Then, one afternoon as Eileen sat with her eyes closed against the sunlight, she heard the glass door slide open. Footsteps approached.

He never comes out here when I'm here…

Henry fell into the other chair and leaned his head back, eyes closed, hands clenched around the arms of the chair. He was breathing quickly, and his face was tense. Eileen started to get up, but his hand shot across the little table and grasped hers.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

He said nothing, just held her hand. She sat back in her chair, and eventually his breathing slowed. His hand relaxed and fell away. They rested together for an hour or so, before getting up for a quiet dinner.

Afterward, they would sit there alone or together, and she found that his presence made her much more comfortable than his absence.

As the days passed, she realized something else…that before she met Henry, she'd been lonely. She'd been a lonely woman living in a building full of lonely people, not going out much except occasionally to parties where other lonely people lurked. Eileen remembered the cat lady in the downstairs room who'd never married, Nurse Rachael who never did either, the creep in 301, Richard with nothing better to do than to spy on the neighbors, Frank Sunderland…

She'd been in that rut for so long that she hadn't realized it until she was no longer alone. The contrast startled her. Looking back on those days of sitting in her room by herself, she knew just how isolated she had felt, and that she never wanted to feel that again. She hoped that Henry felt that way too.