Henry finds an old scarf that Abigail gave him, and can't resist putting it on despite the fact that it's not exactly clean, and knowing that it will bring him misery along with comfort.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I'm merely borrowing them for my own amusement.
Author's Notes: This is a "five times" fic and the chapters are standalone and mostly unrelated except for the theme. This story was inspired by and written for a friend that wishes to remain anonymous.
Henry groaned as he woke up, the sunlight filtering through the curtains making it difficult to go back to sleep. He had specifically requested this day off, so he knew he didn't have to get out of bed if he didn't want to. What he really wanted was to just sleep the entire day, but he knew his body wouldn't let him do that. It was the anniversary of the day that he had proposed to Abigail, and as much as he tried to think of the happy times with her, he found that all he could feel was sorrow that she was no longer in his life. He knew that he couldn't spend the entire day like this, brooding in bed, but he could allow himself to indulge in it for awhile longer.
As it turned out, he only got to indulge in ten more minutes of brooding before the phone rang. He reached out and picked up the phone from his nightstand. "Hello," Henry said sleepily as he put the phone's receiver to his ear.
"Hey Henry," said Jo. "I didn't wake you did I?"
"No, I was already awake, but still in bed, and perhaps not fully alert."
"Oh sorry. Anyway, I know you're supposed to have the day off today, but we've got a really strange case that seems to be a bit over Lucas's head," said Jo apologetically. "Would you mind coming down to the morgue to take a look?"
Henry sighed. So much for his day off. "What exactly is so strange about your current case?"
"Well um, it looks like the victim had her head and limbs removed and then sewn back on backwards," Jo explained.
Henry's eyes widened in surprise. "Now that is rather unusual. I'll be there as soon as I can." He certainly hadn't planned on working today, but perhaps it would be good for him to get his mind off of things instead of wallowing in old memories for the entire day. He could always do that after he got home.
"Great, I'm parked outside the shop."
"You are? How did you know I'd say yes?"
"Because I know you Henry," Jo said with a laugh. "You can't resist the weird cases."
Henry chuckled. "This is true. I will need some time to shower and dress. You should come inside and wait with Abe. Perhaps we can have a quick bite before heading off to the morgue. If I know you, you haven't had any breakfast yet."
Jo laughed again. "Nope I haven't. I'll meet you in the kitchen then."
Henry did his work efficiently, but without his usual enthusiasm. It turned out that having a body to autopsy only partially distracted him from his thoughts. This did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, and Jo and Lucas repeatedly asked him if he was alright. Even Hanson expressed concern at one point. He had waved off all of their concerns, not wishing to discuss his mood with any of them, and assured them he was fine, but a bit tired perhaps.
Once he had finished with the autopsy and submitted his report, he left work and caught a cab. Instead of directing the driver to take him home, he gave the address of a storage facility that he owned a unit in. During the ride, he wondered why he was even doing this. It was bad enough that he was torturing himself with old memories in his head, and he wasn't sure why he felt the need to surround himself with objects that would reinforce those memories. And yet, understandably, this was a day that he found himself missing Abigail more than usual, and he wanted to surround himself with things that reminded him of her, even if it was painful.
Lost in his thoughts, the ride was over much more quickly than Henry had anticipated. He thanked the driver, paid him, and then exited the vehicle. He entered the storage facility dragging his feet as he made his way toward his unit. After arriving at his destination, Henry stood still in front of the door feeling his heart start to race slightly with an anxiety that he couldn't quite place. He had no idea why he felt so nervous. He was familiar with all of the items contained within the unit, so there would be no surprises. Yet with the way his heart was pounding, it was as if he half expected Abigail to be waiting for him on the other side of that door. In a way, he supposed she was, considering that many of the items that were stored here brought back memories of her, which was really his whole purpose for coming here today. Henry took a deep breath as he retrieved his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He took another deep breath as he slowly opened the door, closing it behind him after entering the storage unit.
Henry stood still for a few moments just scanning the various items around the room. He could see familiar pieces of antique furniture scattered throughout the room that he had no room for at his home or office, but that he couldn't bear to part with. Much of the space between the furniture was filled with timeworn boxes that contained old clothing, photographs, and various sentimental knickknacks. Everything was covered in a quarter inch thick layer of dust. It had been so many years since he had last been here, and he should have realized that this would be the case, but he'd had other things on his mind. He could feel a faint itch beginning to form high up in his nasal passages, and wished that he'd had the foresight to take an antihistamine before coming here, knowing that he'd be likely to have a full on allergy attack once he started opening up boxes and stirring up the dust. There was nothing for it though. He wasn't about to go all the way home to take some medicine and then come back, so he'd just have to deal with it the best he could.
He slowly made his way further into the room, stopping every so often to admire the old furniture, which was still beautiful despite the dust. He'd have to come back here another time, once he was properly medicated, to clean everything up, or better yet hire someone else to do it. He started to open the various boxes, lifting the lids from them ever so carefully trying not to disturb the dust too much, but he couldn't completely stop it from getting up in the air. Before long, Henry's nose was running badly enough that sniffling wasn't helping much. He kept alternating between using his handkerchief to wipe his nose or blow it. He kept smiling sadly as one item or another would stir up memories. Henry finally found an old photo album that contained many pictures of him and Abigail, and of Abe as a youngster, and felt his breath catch as a surge of emotion filled him. He quickly put the album aside, deciding that he would take it home with him, where he could take the time to properly look through it.
As he made his way to the back of the room, he noticed a box whose lid was askew and only half covering the box. He carefully removed the lid, noting that the misalignment had caused the items inside the box to become rather dusty as well. The box was full of old clothing of his. They were mostly pieces that were too out of date for him get away with wearing in this day and age, but on the top of the pile was an old scarf. Henry gently lifted the scarf from the box and shook it out so he could get a better look at it. This turned out to be a big mistake as the action caused a rather large cloud of dust to rise into the air.
Henry coughed several times, and then rubbed his nose vigorously, trying in vain to alleviate the intense tickling that had started up in his nasal passages. His breath started to hitch, and then with a final sharp inhale, he sneezed explosively into his handkerchief. He blinked a few times, dazed from the force of it, but he barely had time to recover before he was forced to bury his nose in his handkerchief again, sneezing several times in rapid succession. He blew his nose and wiped his watery eyes. The tickle in his nose had lessened, but it hadn't fully abated, and he knew that this was just a hiatus before he started sneezing again.
He examined the scarf, noting the dark blue and maroon paisley pattern, and recognized it as the one Abigail had given him for their fifteenth wedding anniversary. He swallowed hard as tears filled his eyes that were no longer just allergy induced. He let out deep shuddering breaths as he clutched the scarf to his chest and let the tears fall from his eyes. After a few moments, he wrapped the dusty scarf around his neck despite knowing that it was a foolish thing to do, and would only further aggravate his allergies. He just missed Abigail so much today and felt the need to have something that reminded him of her close to him.
As Henry caught another sudden fit of sneezes in his handkerchief, he decided that it would probably be best for him to leave this place now. He really needed to go home and take some antihistamines. He knew from past experience that he would be unlikely to stop sneezing until he did, and probably not for awhile afterward, especially if he couldn't bring himself to take off the scarf. He picked up the photo album that he had set aside earlier, and then locked up the storage unit as he left. Thankfully it didn't take him long to hail a cab after he exited the building.
He kept sneezing in fits of three or four sneezes every few minutes for the entire ride home. His handkerchief soon became too soaked to be of any further use, and he had to resort to constant sniffling to prevent his nose from running all down his face. The cab driver kept shooting him dirty looks, but Henry wasn't much in the mood to care. Both he and the driver were immensely relieved when they finally arrived at the antiques shop. Henry paid the driver, and gave him a fairly large tip, before exiting the vehicle and quickly making his way into the shop.
Abe wasn't home. He had gone to get some groceries for dinner, as Henry could see from the note left by the phone. It was just as well. He wanted some time to get himself cleaned up a bit before Abe got back. He went upstairs and left the photo album on the coffee table in the living room, and then ascended another flight of stairs to his bedroom. The first thing he did was locate a box of tissues. He grabbed a handful from the box just in time to catch a small series of rapid-fire sneezes. He then blew his nose repeatedly until his head was as clear as it was going to get for the time being.
Next Henry made his way to the bathroom. He cringed when he saw how awful he looked in the bathroom mirror. Splashing water on his face did little to reduce the appearance of his red rimmed watery eyes and even redder looking nose. He sighed knowing that chances were that Abe would definitely notice and comment once he got home. Henry sneezed twice into the crook of his arm, sniffled, and then raised his hand to his neck letting it rest on the scarf. He knew he should really take it off and wash it, but the thought of removing it brought fresh tears to his eyes. He retrieved some antihistamines from the medicine cabinet, and swallowed them with a glass of water, hoping that they would take care of the worst of his symptoms.
After returning to his bedroom, Henry retrieved a couple of clean handkerchiefs and put them in his pocket, and grabbed the tissue box as well, before heading back down to the living room. He made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs, picked up the photo album from the coffee table, and set the box of tissues down in its place. He started browsing through the photo album letting each picture transport him into the past. Some pictures made him smile and laugh, and others brought up such strong emotions that he couldn't help but give in and let himself cry. He was so engrossed in the photographs that he barely even noticed the still persistent tickling in his nose, and half the time he was blowing his nose from crying rather than sneezing.
Half an hour later, when Abe finally returned home, Henry was still immersed in the photo album. The medication he had taken had greatly reduced his sneezing by this time, but not eliminated it altogether, and he still felt rather congested. He waved a greeting to Abe as he entered the apartment.
Abe raised an eyebrow when he saw his father. He didn't look well at all. He returned his father's greeting with a nod, then went into the kitchen to put away the groceries, before joining his father in the living room to find out what was going on. He took a seat on the couch and was able to see more clearly how awful his father looked. He took in his father's bright red swollen nose and bloodshot watery eyes. He also looked generally worn out and miserable. "You really don't look so good. Are you coming down with something?"
Henry shook his head. "I'm alright Abraham," Henry paused to sneeze rather forcefully into his handkerchief, and cringed at how congested his voice sounded before continuing. "I was just tidying up the house a bit, and I'm afraid the dust got to me rather more than I had anticipated," Henry lied knowing that his son probably wasn't going to buy it.
Abe frowned. He knew his father had always been a bit sensitive to dust, which was why they both endeavored to keep the house as clean as possible. As such, Henry never seemed to have any more issues with dusting than a bit of a runny nose afterward, and that was only if they had let the cleaning go for longer than usual. No, there had to be something else going on. He also noticed that his father was wearing a scarf. He didn't usually wear scarves inside the house unless it was really cold or he was coming down with something. He stood up and felt Henry's forehead and neck checking him for a fever. "Well you don't feel feverish to me," said Abe perplexed.
"I told you I'm fine. It was just the dust," said Henry with a sniffle. "I took some antihistamines and I should be good as new by tomorrow at the latest."
Abe narrowed his eyes at his father and sat back down on the couch. He glanced at the scarf Henry was wearing again and something seemed rather familiar about it. Then suddenly realization dawned on him. "Wait, that scarf... Isn't that one that..." Abe trailed off almost afraid to finish the sentence.
Henry sighed. "Yes, it's one that your mother gave me."
Abe glanced at the coffee table and saw the open photo album resting there. That was the last piece of the puzzle he needed, and he suddenly understood what had happened. "You went down to the storage unit didn't you?" Henry only nodded in response with a pained look on his face. "No wonder you're such a mess. Neither of us have been down there in ages and the whole place must be dusty as hell."
"Yes it was," Henry answered simply and caught two harsh sneezes in his handkerchief, blowing his nose gently afterward.
"Bless you. What made you feel the need to go down there all of a sudden?"
Henry sighed and rubbed at his eyes, which were threatening to overflow with tears again. "It's the anniversary of the day that I proposed to your mother."
"Oh." Abe wasn't sure what else to say. That certainly explained the pained look on his Henry's face, and he realized that part of his father's haggard appearance was from crying on top of the allergy attack. "You know she wouldn't want you to mope around like this."
"Yes Abe, I know, and tomorrow I won't be, but I think I can afford to indulge in a day of melancholy wallowing every now and then."
Abe nodded. He really couldn't argue with that. He certainly had his own days where he let grief overtake him thinking about his mother. Then something else occurred to him. "Wait, you didn't wash that scarf before putting it on did you?"
"No I did not," Henry admitted. Under other circumstances he might have felt embarrassed by his foolishness in this matter, but he was feeling too wretched right now to care.
Abe shook his head in exasperation. "You do realize that even with the pills your allergies are unlikely to clear up completely until you take that thing off?"
"Yes Abraham, I'm well aware of this. It's really not that bad..." he trailed off as a tickle ironically flared up in his nose right when he was trying to assure his son of his wellbeing. He inhaled sharply and caught a harsh fit of sneezes in his handkerchief. He sniffled and ignored the incredulous look his son was giving him. "I promise you I'm doing much better than I was earlier."
Abe sighed. "Look, I understand why you want to wear that scarf, but surely you can part with it for a couple of hours to run it through the wash." He stood up again and grabbed one end of the scarf to remove it from around his father's neck. Henry quickly grabbed his arm tightly to stop him and looked up at him with a desperate pleading expression on his face.
"Please don't," Henry whispered feeling tears fill his eyes. He knew it was foolish, and maybe even childish, but the thought of being parted from the scarf right now filled him with such anguish.
Abe shook his head and sighed resignedly as he let go of the scarf. "Fine, have it your way. If you want to make yourself miserable in more ways than one, who am I to stop you?"
"Thank you," Henry answered trying to blink back the tears and regain his composure. "The medicine has made me a bit groggy, so I think I'm going to go upstairs and lie down for a bit." This was only half true. Yes he was tired, but he mostly wanted privacy while he continued looking at the old pictures in case he broke down in tears again.
Abe nodded. "Yeah a nap would probably do you good. I'm going to go get started on dinner." Henry gave him a weak smile, then picked up the photo album and tissue box, and headed upstairs. Every so often Abe would pause his cooking to go check on Henry, but he would always stop halfway up the stairs hearing alternating sneezing or sobbing, and think the better of it. He was worried about his father. It wasn't like him to get this emotional, even on those days that he chose to indulge in the grief of old memories. He supposed it was something that had probably been building for awhile though, and it was probably best to just let his father get it out of his system.
About halfway through cooking dinner, Abe went to check on Henry again. This time, halfway up the stairs, all he heard was the sound of soft congested snoring. He climbed the rest of the stairs and gently opened the door to Henry's bedroom. His father was asleep in bed curled up on his side. His nose looked even more raw and irritated than it had earlier, and even though his eyes were closed, he could see that they were quite puffy and swollen. Henry was no longer wearing the scarf, but he had it clutched to his chest as if it were a security blanket. Abe tiptoed to the bed and managed to carefully pry the scarf from his father's grasp without waking him. He then left the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
Abe knew his father might be upset with him if he woke up to find the scarf gone, but it was filthy and needed a good wash. He was sure that after the initial anger, Henry would thank him for being able to wear the scarf for as long as he wanted without sneezing his head off. After throwing the scarf and a few other things in the wash, Abe returned to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. He hadn't originally planned to do this, but he decided to whip up a batch of blueberry scones, knowing that Henry's favorite dessert would be sure to cheer him up, at least a little.
Sorry that this chapter is so similar in theme to the first one. My friend and I both had different ideas for how we saw the dusty scarf prompt going, and I really wanted to write both of them. I promise the rest of the chapters will be a bit more varied.