A/N: Quick reminder that this chapter is connected to the last one! You have been warned!
He's can't help being jumpy.
Jumping the gun and moving around often is a habit that he doubts will ever fade away completely, no matter how much time passes. The risk of discovery has always been an all too real danger.
He has no desire to repeat what happened last time; he still has nightmares of those madmen calling themselves doctors cutting into his flesh in the name of science.
He doubts he will ever get over this restless behavior, but for once he fights the urge to run, to escape, as he tells his story to Abigail. (Distantly, he's glad they are in one of the rare, unfrequented corners of the hospital, making this as private as he could hope for.)
She's silent through most of his tale, eyes slowly widening fractionally when he explains a few of the incidents discovery of his gift (curse) has led to before.
He begs her silence on the matter, promising to leave her and the baby (Abe is what she'd affectionately named him) alone, that he will be on the first ship to France or America that he can find and that she'll never have to worry about him coming near them again.
He expects her to flee, or perhaps for her to start questioning his sanity (immortality? Really?), call him a madman (and if she did, he might finally be able to see if it is actually possible to die of heartbreak).
What he doesn't expect is a harsh slap to the face.
His head jerks to the side, mouth falling open even as his skin stings and his ears ring loudly. His eyes find hers, wide dark brown meeting hard crystal blue that is shining a lot more than it should.
"Do you really think I would do something like that?" she asks lowly, voice low and shaking with emotion – he can't tell if it's rage or pain at this point – as she takes a step forward.
He braces himself for another slap, but she just grabs him by his coat and shakes him lightly. "Do you really think so lowly of me?! I would never give up someone's – anyone's – secret! Especially if they got hurt because of it! What kind of awful human being do you take me for?!" she cries, voice somehow going higher despite still being quiet enough to not be noticed unless someone were to pass directly by.
He's frozen, staring at her beautiful features which are only a foot away from his, twisted with anger and terrible sadness as tears finally start making their way down her cheeks as she desperately tries to keep her sobs as silent as possible.
She begins to take a step back, most likely to continue berating him for his typical male stupidity, but he doesn't let her; his arms slip around her and nearly crush her against him, tears of his own filling his eyes (she's not afraid, she's not running, she's still here).
"I'm sorry," his voice rasps like sandpaper as a wave of relief mixed with hysterical happiness overtakes him, "I'm sorry. I didn't really think- I never thought you'd tell, of course I don't expect you to, it's just- every other person who figured it out-"
"Did all of those terrible things to you!" she finished for him, gasping as if the reality of the situation has finally hit her – she's in some forgotten corner of a hospital with an immortal hundred-something man hugging her and having an emotional breakdown.
She's definitely crying now, burying her face into his shoulder, creating a damp spot that is being dutifully ignored by them both.
"Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry! It must have been awful!" she sobs.
(And even though they're both crying and emotional and upset, he'll look back on this memory fondly as the day he finally stopped running away from life.)
A/N: Sorry for the overload of angst. I try to write fluff and I fail.
~Persephone