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It was dark, but Henry felt Jo’s hand firmly pressed against his chest. Her body heat seeped through his waistcoat and shirt, igniting the brief tingling within that their brief touches - or not so brief touches - had caused to arise in each of them recently. It had been a couple of months since the day Jo was perched in the door way of Abe’s Antiques, Henry’s pocket watch clutched in one hand and the black and white, ever so slightly faded with time, photo of him with Abigail and baby Abe.
While him and Abe had sat Jo down with a drink before Henry had begun nervously explaining, starting from the beginning - he had felt it was a bit forward to simply tell her the photo was of him and Abe - it wasn’t long before Jo and Henry were both on their feet, and some shouting and shaking of Jo’s head and disbelief ensued. Abe had remained seated, leaving the bulk of it to Henry, out of respect, but was on standby. There were tears, and her shock slowly died down a little. Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing or flashbacks, though, or for being too aware of Jo’s hand, as it was a silent gesture telling him to not walk ahead of her, or put himself in danger. She may know, and now believe his immortality, as much as she possibly can without seeing it for her own eyes, but she wasn’t ready to watch him die, only for him to disappear and arise naked from the East River.
When she came to the conclusion that Henry had understood her implication, she swiftly removed her hand and wrapped it back around her gun. Poised, ready to use her weapon, she bellowed loudly as she could, “NYPD! Show yourself!” Both her and Henry were squinting, looking into the darkness of the dingy cellar they had just entered.
The next moment consisted of two loud shots. And piercing pain. The sound of footsteps running away hardly reached Henry’s ears, and was dead to Jo’s. Henry’s right arm shakily reached for his left shoulder. And then Jo. On the floor. “Jo!” he rasped, letting his knees give way to the damp, hard floor beneath him, beside Jo’s unmoving body. The only sounds coming from her were groans. Groans of pain. Groans of your place in world slowly falling through your fingertips. In the pitch black, he could see Jo’s liquid caramel eyes blinking helplessly at him. That was enough to snap him out of the trance that had suddenly enveloped him amongst the shock. Their hands were together, Jo’s squeezing his as tightly as she could. Henry was the best possible anchor to life, to feeling, to the world as she could have in these moments. He was frantically fumbling about her pockets, unable to keep his hands still. “Jo, Jo, I’m here. Stay with me.”
A quiet, agonising whimper of “Henry” came from her lips, followed by choking. And blood. She was completely aware of the bullet that had managed to lodge itself into her just between her ribcages; less aware of Henry clenching her cellphone, damning himself internally for rarely having touched one of these until now. His fingers were shaky as he forcefully tapped the 9 on the keyboard.
“Jo,” he leant even closer to her, not straying from the task at hand as he dialled 911. “Jo, we’re gonna get help. Just hang in there.” His other hand was pressed against the entry point of the bullet, her blood seeping out onto his fingers. “I’m right here with you.”
There was a flash.
A white light.
And then, there was nothing.
Henry wore an aghast expression, his mind numbed with surprise, disabling him from thinking anything coherent. “Jo,” he whispered. His voice was filled with a desperation, which soon became urgent. He pressed his hand into the floor beside him, to assist him in getting up. He swayed, before noticing the phone was still in his grasp.
He turned and ran. He was headed to the East River. He hadn’t even had to think about it. They weren’t far from the water.
Fuck. What if she doesn’t even appear in the river? What if that’s not an immortal thing - is that just him? Perhaps he only comes back to life in water because his first death took place out at sea.
He didn’t stop running. His legs wouldn’t stop, although he was overcome with penetrating sensations of dizziness and panic. The twinkling lights of the city were blurred enough for Henry to realise he was feigning tears. The raw, harsh air was crawling underneath his three layers and he was shivering.
He came to a shaky halt, almost having to skid along the pebbles to stop himself. The river was a beautiful picture; the rippling reflection of New York City lights created the perfect imitation on its’ surface. And then there was a movement, not too far away.
Jo was gasping for breath. She had been far too shaken up and bewildered to keep her head above water for a good few seconds, but now her mouth was wide open as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She didn’t have time to be confused before she saw Henry, taking his shoes off, like he was going to wade into the water and come and meet her. Her hands rested on her cold body, and she realised suddenly that she was naked. As if she needed the added embarrassmemt, on top of everything that had already happened. Henry was such an eccentric that a record of skinny dipping somehow couldn’t be detrimental to his reputation, but Jo, on the other hand - she couldn’t exactly imagine the precinct joking with her the way they had with Henry, patting him on the shoulders and presenting him with red speedos and a pair of goggles.
“Jo!” he called, as she swam closer to him. She felt she had no choice but to swim towards him, yet wasn’t sure what was going to happen in the period of time following.
“Henry!” she cried in response, desperately. She found herself unable to say anything else. A crushing weight was on her chest, rendering her almost unable to breathe.
“Jo,” Henry realised her body was mirroring the shock that must evidently be going through her mind. He felt he had noticed a bit too late, but he had previously been too overwhelmed at the discovery that Jo... She was like him. She was immortal. She had died and then, disappeared, reawakening in water.
When she was much closer to Henry, she tried to steady herself, the skin on the bottom of her feet pierced by the small stones beneath her. Her left arm shielded her breasts, while she remained in the water waist down, unsure of showing anymore of her bare skin. Within nanoseconds, he was shaking off his long coat, and reaching out to her, attempting to drape it over her shoulders. She was grateful, but couldn’t find the words. She turned away from him, ever so slightly, taking care to keep her modesty intact. It was almost as if there was a magnetic attraction closing the space between them, and Jo felt herself fall against his form, huddling to him because she was unable to do anything else. Her breathing was laboured, and he wrapped his arms around her shivering body, gently guiding her ashore, his finger drawing circles on her back in an attempt to calm her.
She raised her head from where it had tried to bury itself into his shoulder, and looked up at him. “What... what just happened?” She was shaking.
”Jo, my love,” the endearment had fallen from his lips far too easily, “I’m going to call Abe. He will come and get us and we can pop round to yours and get some clothes and then...” he hesitated. He didn’t want to sound like he was being forward, but this was nothing about how he wanted their relationship to progress. This was about taking care of her. He couldn’t leave her alone, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her. “You can come and stay at the shop.”
He wasn’t sure if it was due to the lack of energy she had, but she didn’t contradict him. She agreed with a small nod, and then sniffled loudly, covering her face with her hands. Henry buried his own head in her damp, dark hair, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to lose himself in her scent, which was rather strong for having just died and been reborn in a river. He then scrolled through Jo’s contact list, not having to wait for very long before he saw his son’s name.
”Abraham!” His son could hear the agitation in his father’s voice through the phone. “It’s a bit complicated, but, can you meet me at the river? Actually, it’s not what you think...”
•••
Abe wasn’t exactly sure what to think, but, the alarmed call from his dad - which, of course, he happened to recieve in the middle of a date - had prompted him to drive the fastest he could without getting pulled over for violating speeding laws. But, he’d only raised an eyebrow when Henry was fully clothed, and in the same clothes he’d left in this morning; apart from the coat which came down to the knees of a shivering, soggy Jo. She had hardly managed to smile at Abe, and his heart almost ached for her if what he’d thought had happened truly did happen. He didn’t know from personal experience, of course, but from what he’d heard - nothing like a bad death. Especially when it’s your first one, too. He made a mental note to inquire about the cause later.
“Jo’s going to stay with us, tonight, Abe,” Henry alerted his son, trying his best to maintain his usual confident, informative tone, while Jo was quiet, colourless and almost naked in his arms. Weirdly enough, nothing could have prepared Henry for this. “But could you take us to hers so we can pick up a few of her things, Abraham?”
Abe was fully aware - and had been for the entirety of his life (which may seem very little to some, but was rather long for the mortals) -that when his father full named him, it meant he wasn’t asking a question; he was politely giving an order. “Sure thing, pops,” Abe said, also working to maintain his usual tone, which was happy as the waves that danced on the sea. He suspected, though, that he was finding it a lot easier than Henry was. “So, am I cooking?” he said. He was making a pathetic attempt at cheering Jo up.
He wasn’t exactly sure if it put much of a smile on her face, but she managed to make a joke about the situation. “It’s the only reason I’m coming!” She had, in recent months been a guest at Henry and Abe’s table a few evenings. Being with the two men was of comfort to her. Henry’s supportive hand was resting on her back, and she was involuntarily losing herself in his scent, his touch, because she needed him to ease the terror she had just experienced.
Henry had wanted to at least walk her into the porch of her Washington Heights home, but Jo insisted she’d be ok. Occasionally, one needs a period of time to wallow after a bad death, he reminded himself. He shook his head as he watched her shaking, slender form disappear into her front door. Never would he have imagined thinking these thoughts about someone else, let alone Jo. She was shaken up by what had just happened, not just the realisation that she had come back to life but also the experience of dying. No matter how many times Henry has met a grizzly end, one more death was another dirty mark on his originally clean canvas that was his mental and emotional wellbeing.
After he had watched her enter her home without troubles, he turned to Abe, whose expression was already that of someone who wanted immediate filling in on recent going ons. But he waited, patiently, probably because in his head, there was only one possible logical solution? It’s ridiculous how normal this whole immortality things is to him - he can actually describe it as logical. “Jo was shot, Abe.” It wasn’t clear whether his tone was ecstatic or terrified. Probably a mix of both. “And she... she disappeared. The light. And then, suddenly, she was gone.”
”And she came back in water?” Abe promted him.
Henry nodded. “Abraham, she’s immortal.” It came out as a mere whisper. The tiniest bit of jealously wormed its’ way into Abe’s mind, but it was only a passing thought. Wouldn’t it be lovely to be able to live for eternity - for millions of years - with your soulmate?
Henry looked for his pocket watch, the inside of Abe’s car illuminated by the street lamps. Jo could only have been a few minutes, but already he was having to physically force himself to stay sat down, so not to run into her house to make sure she’s alright. It’s when it gets to ten minutes, he physically can’t stop his feet from tapping on the floor and goes to check on her. “Jo,” he called out, in her corridor, loudly enough for her to hear him from nearby but gently.
”Henry,” she says, quietly. But he hears. He follows the direction of her voice up the stairs into her bedroom. Tears are silently rolling down her cheeks. She wipes them with the sleeve of the grey jumper she had just pulled over herself.
”Oh, Jo. My love,” Henry strides over to her and softly cups one of her cheeks with his hand. He tucks a single strand of hair behind her ear, before leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.
”I’m ready,” she mumbles, when she realised they had been standing so close together in silence for slightly too long. Henry lunges to pick up her small overnight bag, consisting of clothes, her phone charger, make up and pills. Normally she would laugh at how much of a gentleman he is, and then say she could carry her bag herself, but she was slightly too spaced out to object to anything.
The journey to Abe’s Antiques was filled with chatter from Henry and Abe, and the occasional remark from Jo. He had provoked a reaction when he revealed he would make lasagne for their dinner, and a gateau could be served up for dessert, if requested.
The evening consisted of a few drinks, which inevitably helped relax Jo a little, and chatter: sometimes about one of Henry’s stories from a hundred years ago, sometimes about a recent case. Abe retired to bed not long after they devoured pudding. Jo hadn’t felt hungry, but even now she couldn’t refuse Abe’s cooking. Especially not his lasange, which she had come to understand was one of Abigail’s recipes. Especially not when she hadn’t eaten all day. After hugging his father goodnight, he gave Jo a friendly pat on the shoulder.
They were on the roof, which boasted a good view of the neighbourhood and surrounding area. It was just Jo and Henry, next to one another, Henry’s hand lingering not far from Jo, ready to support her or comfort her in anyway necessary.
”Henry,” she whispered - this night had definitely consisted mostly of each of them uttering each other’s names, dumbfounded. “Am I the same as you?” He had not seen Jo like this before. She had certainly been more prone to showing a vulnerable side to her than he had, but still, she was different. Henry knew all too well that death changes you. Your first death, almost like no other.
Henry could barely even talk. “It appears so,” he muttered. He was bewildered himself.
”When I found out... about you. I just, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how you,” she sighed shakily, “keep it together. You know, I thought being alive for less than 40 years was hard enough.” She wanted to say more, but any words seemed out of her reach.
”Jo, I’ll help you,” he told her, having realised what she was implying. She was scared, scared of eternity. Scared of Forever. “We’ll be together.”
”We’ve got eternity together,” she whispered. Henry had heard those words before, and it had sent shivers down his spine. Not good shivers, either. But this time, it was relieving. He couldn’t have imagined he’d hear the same very thing Adam had said to him, and that it wouldn’t fill him with terror.
There had been an attraction between them, and they both had harbourd deep feelings for each other for a little while now, but nothing official. Somehow, those words seemed to suddenly make it more real than anything had ever seemed to either of them.
”And for as long as we’re both alive, we’ll be together.” He told her. Her head was now resting on his shoulder, tiredness beginning to reach her eyes.