New York-1937

Henry sighed when he stepped into his office and saw the mountain of paperwork that awaited him. He still didn't understand how it piled up so quickly in such a small family practice as his. He had a tendency to put it off in favor of all his more interesting duties but since he had just finished his morning appointments he knew he had no excuse for not getting at least a little of it done.

Henry had spent most of his career working in a hospital. That was until James' death had changed everything. After watching his friend slowly and painfully die of tuberculosis he didn't feel he could, at least for the time being, bear the hospital environment where people were seriously sick and where death was a daily occurrence. He wanted something slower and cases that were simple. He wanted patients he could help, ones that would actually get better under his care. Henry had never had his own practice but at the time he had been eager for something different.

James. It had been over 30 years since James' death but remembering his friend still hurt. Henry had never even meant for their friendship to happen in the first place. He didn't have and probably would never have a normal life so he couldn't get attached to people who led them. Because of this his life had contained nothing more than a few necessary acquaintances.

But James had found a way in where many others had failed. Since they had started off as colleagues Henry hadn't realized he was in danger of becoming so fond of James until it was already too late. They had worked together daily and so Henry couldn't ignore him and he found himself almost instantly taken in by James' charm. Henry had found himself surprised when he realized James was seeking out a friendship with him and he was even more surprised when he found himself accepting it. More surprising still was how quickly they had become so close. Despite all his rules he'd let James in and found in him the best friend he'd ever had. As short-lived as their friendship had been James had not only left a lasting impression; he'd forever changed Henry as a person.

Sitting at his desk in the present, Henry still had to close his eyes as he remembered the past. It hurt how much he had loved James and how terrible it had been to watch him suffer in the end. Henry had immortality and medicine but neither one had been able to do his friend any good. Henry had already loathed his curse but he soon found himself hating his profession too. Medicine, which had been their passion, had absolutely nothing to offer James. If anything, it had only made matters worse; treatment had only prolonged James' suffering.

Henry knew it wasn't normal or healthy to still suffer so much after so many years had pasted but he was convinced he would never have another friend so close and dear. Most days he was convinced he would never have another friend at all. After all, he couldn't really allow it. The rules, which he had bent for James, were there to protect him and others. He now followed them with renewed and strict determination. He had let someone in and suffered for it. Yet, he never once regretted it or wished to take it all back. He could not deny how much he had enjoyed having a friend. His condition might make it a necessity for him to be alone but he never had found a way to stop feeling lonely.

Leaving the hospital had probably started out as simply running away. Henry just hadn't been able to bear being there both because it had failed James and because of the happy memories they had shared as colleagues there. But now he realized that he actually enjoyed the slow-paced work. It was much different than working in the hospital and even though he was sure he wasn't going to work here forever he was enjoying it for now.

There was a quiet knock on his door before his nurse poked her head in.

"Excuse me Dr. Morgan but there's a walk-in that's just come in. Do you want to see them now or should I ask them to wait?"

Henry glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly noon which must be why she was asking.

"I'll see to them now. What's the complaint?"

"A five-year-old girl with a suspected broken arm."

Henry stood up immediately when he heard that, eager to get in and treat the girl; he always hated to see children suffer unnecessarily. "Thank you," he said to his nurse as he exited the office and started to walk down the hall towards the exam room. "You can go ahead and take your lunch break if you like."

She smiled. "Thank you."

As he watched her leave he thought of how he regretted that soon he'd have to let her go. She was a good worker but she had been with him too long. He'd done this a few times now since he'd had his practice; it was too easy for them to see he wasn't aging. In fact, it really might be time for him to start thinking about moving on to another position himself. He'd been here for a long time and soon the patients might even start noticing. Fortunately, he didn't really have many patients that stayed with him long enough that it had become a problem. But really he was pressing his luck by staying in one place so long.

As Henry walked towards the exam room he started to hear the cries of a very distraught child.

"No, Mama, no!" he heard her nearly shout in between cries.

A woman's voice, presumably the mother, answered back in a calming tone. "We have to see what the doctor says first."

"But you promised!" the girl said as she broke down sobbing.

The mother's voice came back sounding pained in that way parents' voices sounded when they felt their child's suffering. "Flemming, darling, it will be alright."

He knocked on the door and paused a moment before going in. "Hello, I'm Dr. Morgan," he said as way of introduction as he stepped into the room.

The mother was holding her daughter in her lap held close to her but she offered Henry a polite smile and managed to extricate one of her arms and shake his hand.

Henry pulled up a chair and sat across from them. He glanced at the intake form before speaking. "So, Flemming what seems to be the problem?" he said addressing the girl.

He always liked to speak to the patient directly even when the patient was a child. He found that children were much more cooperative when you included them in the discussion rather than immediately going over their heads and speaking only to their parent. He found that it made them feel grown-up and that often made them face their treatment much more bravely.

Flemming was wrapped tightly around mother but she lifted her head from her mother's shoulder and turned around to face him and gave him a curious look. He could tell she was surprised he was talking her but, like most children of that age group, she gladly took the chance to tell her story.

"Mama said we were going to Coney Island today and now she says we might not go! But this is our last day in New York and if we don't go today we won't get to!"

Henry had to repress a smile. That was just like a child; being more upset about the cancelled plans than the injury itself. As a physician it was terrible having to watch children suffer but there was something incredibly inspiring by their resiliency. They could be so sick or injured but they never wanted it to slow them down. Their thirst for life was so great it made them able to overcome huge amounts of pain. Even after so many years it still caught him by surprise and made him wish he could be more like that himself.

Flemming's mother, Mrs. Bowman, did smile a little as she ran a hand through Flemming's hair. "I think he was asking about your arm, sweetheart." She looked at Henry. "Our taxi was in a bit of an accident," she explained.

Flemming, who was still wearing a very serious expression, seemed to care very little about her injured arm. She was holding her right arm close to her body with her left. Even from a distance Henry could tell it was bruised and beaten-up and had to be in pain but Flemming seemed to not care about that as much as she was worried about missing out on her fun plans for the day. "It really doesn't hurt that much, Mama."

Again, Henry had to suppress a smile as the Flemming gave him that universal kid look that said, without any words at all, that parents overreacted about everything and they always got in the way of having fun.

"Well, let's have a looksee here just so we can put your mama's mind at ease, alright?" Henry asked her.

Flemming hesitated a moment before holding out her arm to him. The second he touched it she winced and he knew then she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on. Her face grew more distressed as he performed his examination and so he continued his conversation to distract her.

"So, Flemming, is this your first trip to New York?"

"Yes."

"Where are you both from?"

"San Francisco. Mama said we needed a change of scenery."

"Oh and why is that?" he asked playing along, surprised at how grown-up the girl sounded.

"Because Daddy died and she said it would be a nice to get away for a while."

Henry couldn't help but stop for a second. He hadn't been expecting such a sad answer to his question. Without a doubt he would have to say his favorite thing about having his practice was having all the time he wanted to talk with his patients. Unlike the fast-paced setting of the hospital he had the opportunity to learn about his patients and hear their stories. But sometimes their stories were heartbreaking.

He glanced up at Mrs. Bowman and saw that her eyes were downcast and her face was covered in sadness. It was the look of grief; he knew it all too well. He felt sympathy in his heart for her. She was young, couldn't be more than thirty he guessed, and already a widow. And Flemming was only five and yet she would have to live almost her whole life without her father in it. It was a dreadful prospect for them both and it affected him more than he would have expected. Of course, he'd seen similar situations many times over the course of his life and he knew would see it many more times in the future but he hoped he would never grow immune to it. He'd seen doctors much younger than himself become callused and distant to the cares of their patients but he hoped it was something that would never happen to him.

There was a heavy silence in the room for a minute before he was able to speak. "I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, his words being meant for them both.

Mrs. Bowman was silent and looked away, lost in thought and obviously attempting to remain composed. Flemming started talking again but her voice had lost its joyful excitement. "He was working on the Golden Gate Bridge and there was an accident," she explained.

Henry wasn't sure what to say to this unexpected bit of personal tragedy but after completing his examination he fortunately did have something to say which he was sure would at least bring them some happiness for the day.

"Well, I have some good news for you. Your arm isn't broken, just really bruised, and once I get it in a sling I don't see any reason why it should keep you from doing any fun thing you want to do today." Really, the girl should take it easy but there wasn't enough danger that he felt he should medically advise against them having the fun they'd had planned for the day, especially considering what they'd been through recently.

The reaction to this news confirmed he'd made the right decision. "Oh boy!" Flemming screamed with delight and Mrs. Bowman finally smiled again too.

Henry watched as the two of them embraced. They hugged each other with so much love and enthusiasm it caught him off guard. Mrs. Bowman snuggled Flemming and it was so obvious she adored her daughter that it made his lonely heart ache. It made him wonder what it would be like to feel that kind of love for a person.

Maybe I've been alone too long, he thought. But he immediately shook it off. What was he thinking? That he could…what? Have a family? That he could ever have a wife or children? Just earlier he had been reminding himself of all the reasons he couldn't even make another friend and now he was indulging himself in thoughts of having a family? No, he would have to remain alone. It was safer that way for everyone. He realized then how much he was staring and, feeling embarrassed, made himself look away.

He chatted with them about Coney Island as he fixed up Flemming's arm. He recommended to them some of his favorite spots and Flemming's excitement grew and grew until, despite an arm in a sling, she was practically dancing her way out the door. Even Mrs. Bowman perked up until the sadness that had been there before had been set aside, if only temporarily. Henry was grateful that he could do his own small part to helping preserve this day of fun for them.

The Bowmans were soon on their way and Henry returned to his office. He sighed and put his head into his hands as he sat down to his desk. He didn't normally connect with his patients quite this much even those who had good personalities and with whom he'd had a good conversation. He was having a hard time accounting for the impression meeting them had made on him. He wasn't quite sure why but there was something about the Bowmans that stuck with him.

Unfortunately, these were the kind of things that reminded him that he was not alright no matter how many times he told himself he was. Watching them had made his melancholy from earlier return with a vengeance. He couldn't help but think about how very long he had lived and how very little he had to show for it. Not the things that mattered anyway. Not in relationships made or in memories made with someone. Since leaving home all those years ago he had spent almost all of that time alone. Hadn't he once promised to make the most of this, his immortality, to see it even as a blessing? But he hadn't kept that promise, not really.

Henry realized then what it was about Flemming and Mrs. Bowman that made such an impression: It was their love for each other that was captivating. He was used to observing parents with their children but a display of such deep affection was rare and hard to forget. It was almost as if their shared loss had made them stronger for each other and it took an uncommon kind of person to react that way to loss.

He remembered how they looked as they left. Despite their recent heartbreak and a vacation that had not gone completely well, they chose for today to be happy. Flemming had looked like she couldn't be any more excited and Mrs. Bowman had looked at her daughter like all was right in the world. It was quite clear that Flemming was her mother's whole heart and if she was happy then so was Mrs. Bowman. Henry couldn't remember that feeling, of loving someone so much they felt like your whole world. Surely, he'd felt it at some time but betrayal and time pasted made it impossible to remember.

Once thing was for certain: He was never going to be alright with being alone. He would never get accustomed to it. Logically, he knew he couldn't allow himself any other reality than one he currently lived but, still, sometimes…he wondered. It hurt so much to see so many wonderful things in the world and know they were forever out of his reach.

Suddenly, he shook his head in frustration with himself. He had had enough self-pity for one day. Flemming and her mother had every reason to despair but they had chosen, at least for today, to be happy. They were taking a break from their grief to spend this day enjoying the thrills Coney Island had to offer. If they could do that then he would not spend the day revisiting his age-old wounds. Maybe his immortality wasn't the only thing that held him back. Maybe it was time for some changes.

At any rate, he could choose to have a better day today. Sometimes he needed to remind himself to appreciate the present, to enjoy exactly what he had and be thankful for today as it was, and not pine over what he wished it could be. Drawing on their inspiration, he smiled as he eyed the paperwork still on his desk; it could wait just a little longer. He threw off his lab coat and headed for the door. It was beautiful day and he was going to go out and enjoy it for a while.

Henry didn't realize it then but this brief meeting would forever change his life. He had no way of knowing it but he had just met the person who would become the very friend he had been longing for for so long. This was the first time that Adaline Bowman and her daughter would make an impact on Henry but it would not be the last.