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Henry Henderson, in Martha’s opinion, is too soft for all of it.
They were close in highschool once, close in a way that Martha knows she’ll never find anything like it again. They spent hours in that tiny musty library that she still remembers the smell of, her catching up on the news, him reading history textbooks. She remembers when he started growing out his hair and people mocked him for it. Martha, youthful and fiery back then, fiercely retorted.
And everything was fine.
Everything was fine if you ignored the war looming over the horizon. Unfortunately, both Henry and Martha were smart and were acutely aware of the tense international relations. They matured too quickly for their age and found themselves tangled in deep philosophical discussions.
She was a realist. He was an idealist. That hasn’t changed up till now.
Henry loathed war, yet he didn’t run. Despite everything, he believed he had a duty to remain and change the way things worked. And Martha, already disillusioned at such a tender age, couldn’t help but scoff. She agreed with Henry’s ideals, but they both knew change was difficult. And the two of them, barely of age, were basically children- Martha believed they were too young to make a difference. She had her family to protect then, actual breathing people with hearts and lungs, and Henry was fighting for a concept that seemed almost ridiculous to achieve.
The war came. Nobody could stop it. They remained rooted there, powerless in the changing tides, witnessed the rapid rise and fall of people in power, troops mobilised and blood spilled, homes burnt down and children dead- and for what?
Maybe you get used to grief over time, but it never truly fades. It perseveres in the still air, permeates into every corner of your lives, and it stays.
It’s a coincidence that they found each other after the war- or maybe it wasn’t. Martha thinks she might’ve reached out first, but it was all such a blur. They were both alive, limbs still intact, souls ten times more weary, and Henry didn’t miss the hollowness in her eyes.
They didn’t talk about politics or anything then. They were just silently grateful that both of them were still on this wretched planet.
They drifted around each other for a little bit, and when Martha thought they might finally part ways for good, he reappeared in her life again. As the decades passed, Martha’s grown to accept that he’s just there in her life, and she’s just there in his life, and there’s nothing much they can do about it.
It’s not like they despise each other. They do care, they care intimately, but it’s marred by grief and time and pain. They have ideological differences. They’re better off without each other. There’s silent judgment, but voicing it is pointless when they know each other’s opinions all too well.
A little while later she learns that he’s gotten into education, and she’s pleasantly surprised. Good for him. He’ll make for a respectable teacher anyway, with his natural civility and strict standards for himself. Meanwhile, Martha has devoted her life to the Blackbells. The heir and his wife seem to be quite taken with her. Martha knows what type of business the Blackbells do, and of course Henry does as well.
His loyalty is to Eden Academy, and hers is to the Blackbells. It is what it is.
They both mellow over the years. They’ve both changed and matured, but whenever they bump into each other, Martha sees the swish of Henry’s ponytail and the elegant way he holds himself, and thinks to herself, “He’s still the same as he was.”
Fighting is pointless, but they’re not awkward around each other. How can you be awkward with someone that you just know so intimately? But there’s a certain relief having each other around, albeit at a distance. It’s nice knowing an old friend lives in town. It’s nice knowing someone from your past is still alive and well.
The older they become, the more loyal they are to their respective organizations. Martha sees him climb the ranks in the prestigious Eden Academy. Martha steadfastly watches over her boss’ daughter, a bright and excitable little girl. And when Becky ends up being accepted into Eden, Martha is genuinely delighted. Becky has a feistiness that reminds Martha of her youth- when she threw stones at people making fun of Henry. And with Henry being a prominent figure at Eden, Martha trusts him with Becky.
But Martha’s still surprised when Henry shows up to the bus hijacking site.
They’ve always called each other by their first names regardless of their changes in social status. They’ve never voiced it, but Martha’s sure they both think status is a pointless thing when it concerns them. Martha’s working for one of the richest companies in the nation. Henry’s working for the most prestigious academy. Somehow, they’ve both fought their way into poshness without losing their souls. Or maybe the war eroded it away a long time ago.
“Henry! What are you doing here?”
Henry looks aggravatingly polished in his three-piece suit as always. “These are my students. Where else would I be?”
Martha is there because her boss wants to take military action and she needs to hold him back. Henry is there for his students because that’s his duty as an educator. Even though his best years are past, even though he needs a cane to walk, he still stubbornly comes to watch out for kids that aren’t even his flesh and blood.
Because she’s a realist, and he’s an idealist. That hasn’t changed.
Henry has the courage to be an idealist, and that’s something she’s always secretly admired about him.
Martha’s scolded Henry plenty of times. In her view, he thinks problems can be solved with language and education, all elegance and etiquette, but Martha’s seen too much of this harsh world. Nothing is ever easy. Martha fights with her heart to remain observant and practical because that’s what her role at the Blackbells’ requires her to do. She still respects Henry, admires him even, but they have different responsibilities, duties, loyalties. She cannot afford to be like him. The iron is in her blood.
Martha wishes she could be surprised when Henry volunteers to look after the hostages in place of his ill colleague, but she’s not. It sounds like something he would do. Good ole idealistic Henry. At least he’ll bring comfort to the young Miss Blackbell and the rest of the students, but Martha can’t help but be worried.
“What purpose does it serve for you to be here?” Martha had asked Henry.
Of course Henry wasn’t thinking practically. He’s there as an educator, as a caretaker of the children, as a pillar of support in these dangerous times. Martha’s out there organizing rations and dealing with communications and trying to negotiate with different organizations. They have different goals and different purposes.
When Henry offers himself to the terrorists, Martha calls him a fool.
(He’s always been a fool to her.)
She watches his backside vanish into that accursed bus. Is that how he felt watching her disappear to the frontlines all those years ago?
Martha sighs and runs over her mental checklist. One more person on the bus to worry about. One more factor to keep in mind in the ever-changing situation. Henry flung himself in danger for the sake of others. Typical of him.
But then, Martha stands up a little straighter. Her golden necklace with the Blackbell initials feels especially heavy on her chest. Right, this is the life she’s chosen. This is where her loyalties lie.
Martha turns to the officers and starts giving out orders again. There’s no time to waste. She’s a butler, she’s a bodyguard, she’s a veteran. She’ll protect the hostages in the only way she knows how to.
And Henry will too protect them in the only way he knows how to.