It all starts going downhill the winter of that year.
He is conducting research on some extensive notes a doctor in Europe had sent him in November when he first hears the rough sound of coughing. Usually, he would have ignored it and went on with his business, but it definitely sounds harsher than usual, and after it goes on for about thirty seconds he jumps to his feet, heading out into the hall.
Abby is hunched over her sewing needles, hand over her mouth and trying desperately to catch her breath. He walks over to her quickly, carefully moving the pointy bits of silver before rubbing his wife's back.
The fit passes, and she wheezes gratefully. "That sounded painful. Are you feeling alright?" he asked, a tad concerned.
"Now that it's over, yes," she sighs, leaning back gratefully into his embrace, face flushed.
He frowns, moving one hand up to carefully touch her forehead. "You're a bit warm. I think it's time you went to bed."
"Honestly Henry, I feel fi-" she cut off by another cough, this one just as rough as the first few.
He gives her 'don't-fight-me-the-doctor-is-in' look – he used to use that all the time when Abe was little – and helps her to her feet. "Now, now; doctor's orders. Bed rest. Upstairs. Come on," he states crisply, fully prepared to drag her there if need be.
She rolls her eyes, but relents, allowing him to follow her up the stairs (she took a deep breath at the top, looking a bit flustered) and ensure she made it into bed, tucking her in like an infant. "I can actually do this myself you know," she mutters as he heads into their bathroom to fetch all necessary cold treatment necessities.
"Oh I know, but I'm the doctor of this house; what would people say if I did not do my utmost to make you comfortable?" he questions easily, trailing back into the room with thermometer, cool cloth and cough medicine in hand.
She knows better than to argue at this point, and gracefully puts up with all of his poking a prodding. Temperature? 101 degrees, which is a bit bothersome but nothing they can't deal with. Does she feel pain anywhere? A slight twinge her chest during the coughing, but it's gone now. Can she breathe alright? Yes.
He pours out some cough syrup, which she pouts at like a child and swallows with a grimace, and places the cool rag on her head after she lies down. "Get some rest," he says easily, giving her a quick kiss. "Trust me, you'll feel loads better."
If only that were true.
All of the symptoms were there, right in front of him.
If only he had the courage to see it.
A/N: I really hate myself right now. D':
~Persephone