Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Random study of a commonality of Henry and Jo, no idea where the end came from. Anyway: Enjoy!

No, I am Not

"Are you a father?" The victim's father asked harshly of the medical examiner.

"No, I am not." As he usually does to that question, Henry lied. He vaguely registered the sight confused furrowing of Jo's brow at his response.

"Then how could you possibly understand?" The father accused, then giving his son's body one last sorrowful glance he left.

"That is by far the worst part of this job." Henry declared quietly with a sigh. Then in his normal collected tones he addressed her directly. "I believe we have a spouse to talk to?"

"Yeah. She's upstairs."

Within a few minutes of the interview with the victim's wife Jo had similarly upset the woman. "Detective, are you married?"

"No, I'm not." Jo responded. This earned her a curious, concerned look from Henry.

"You don't understand then. He was my husband, I knew him! He wasn't that kind of person." She fell into tears.

"Thank you, Mrs. Clarkson, for coming in. That's all we need at this time." Henry gently dismissed her. Wiping her eyes she left the precinct. They were left in the small conference room by themselves. "Out of curiosity, may I ask you a... personal question?"

"Yeah. Sure." She said, trusting but apprehensive.

"Why do you say you're not married?"

"Because I'm not. Not anymore. It makes it easier. And, after all, it's about them not me." There was a pause, during which Henry nearly opened his mouth. "Why do you say that you're not a father?"

He hesitated, prepared to give an ambiguous answer. She knew the truth of his condition and therefore his relationship with Abe, she thus deserved as much of the truth as he could give. "Because it's easier. It's easier not to think about it. For the same reason that or three years I never spoke with the victims' parents. Seeing their pain is a reminder that, in not such a long time, that will be me. The pain in their eyes… I don't want to know that pain." He paused for a moment. Meeting her gaze, she saw the fear in his eyes. Thus far he had remained composed, but that was beginning to falter, she placed a steadying hand on his back. She had started him on this track and knew that, once begun, he needed to keep going. "Parents aren't supposed to see the death of their children. Nor should anyone have to. How I envy Abigail for that. How I envy the human race their mortality." He fell into silence, as though the release of those thoughts had physically exhausted him. "I beg your pardon, detective.. It's not my place to bemoan a loss that has not yet come, while you yourself-"

"It's fine, Henry." She wondered whether he had ever expressed this worry. Certainly he couldn't, or at any rate wouldn't, to Abe. And who else did he have? "We all worry about and dread of people we love. You of all people have reason to. You should've heard how Sean fussed after a close call." Her hands steadying presence had involuntarily become comforting circles. "If he could, Abe would live forever to spare you that."

A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "If he did, he would get the scolding of his life." She couldn't help the smile that grew on her lips at this bit of paternal humor. "And how are you doing, Jo?"

"Better after knowing you." Her response was truer than she'd realized, her coping had changed to healing since meeting him.

He seemed genuinely surprised by her reply. "Really?"

"We should leave, they're going to start getting suspicious about us being in here do long." They got up and began to leave.

As they crossed the door Henry leaned over closer to her ear. "It may not seem it, but I too have been better for meeting you."