She is far more prepared, both emotionally and physically, for it to happen a second time.
It's not his fault; he spent an entirely too long of a time in the infectious disease ward, and ended up picking up one strain or another – he hadn't really been able to explain what he was ill with; he'd been too busy throwing up every fourteen seconds. She counted.
Luckily, she had been able to get into his cache of medical supplies and quarantined the room, banishing Abe to his bedroom until everything was over. The boy had looked more than a little frightened at the sound of his father puking everywhere down the hall, but she had given him a reassuring squeeze and reminded him what would happen if things went south. It had helped, at least a little, but he still clutched his favorite stuffed bear to his chest a bit tighter.
So, decked out in Henry's own coat with multiple supplies hidden in the pockets and a mask over her face to reduce the risk of infection, she headed back into the room her husband was currently dying in with a surprisingly calm face.
"One day," she sighed as she cleaned him up a bit, "You can't even go one day without trying to give me a heart attack, can you? It's our anniversary, and you have to go and make it dramatic by dying on me!"
He barely had enough strength to grimace at her apologetically before bending over the bucket next to the bed once again.
She mentally rolled her eyes and slid an arm around him for support, making sure he didn't slip off the bed as he got sick.
This routine continued for well over three hours before Henry finally collapsed, utterly spent and barely able to breath.
She couldn't resist tearing up a little, listening to him struggle for air like a drowning man.
She wished she could give him a quick kiss before he went, but the risk of herself getting infected was far too great for it to be considered.
Finally, after quite a long time, the breath rushed out of his lungs and he went still, stiff and unmoving.
She bit her lip, clenching her fists – she doubts she'll ever get used to the sight of the man she loves dead in front of her – before blinking abruptly.
The body was gone.
He would be waking up soon.
Sighing, she got to her feet. She sterilized the room as best she could – she wasn't an expert on such matters, but she thought she did a pretty good job – changed clothes, and trailed over to Abraham's room.
He was still awake, sitting on his bed with a book open on his lap, though his eyes were already on the door when she entered.
She stood in the doorway for a second, a tinge of sadness going through her – he shouldn't have had to hear all that, but they'd had nowhere else to go; the hospital would have asked too many questions, and someone might have seen him disappear – she'd have to talk to Henry about that sooner or later.
Sighing, she held out a hand for her son to take. "Come on," she said, giving him a small smile. "Let's go get your dad before he freezes into an icicle."
A/N: Abby proving she is just as boss as her husband is at dealing with a crisis. XD