A/N: This story takes place early in the series

Anyone who didn't believe in magic potions obviously had never had alcohol before. Jo was convinced that no one knew of its delightful properties more than she did.

She remembers drinking for fun. Before Sean died it had actually been something she had done for enjoyment. It had been for special occasions, for happy times. After he was gone there were no more happy times but she found that alcohol could still serve a purpose. In fact, she had found it to be more useful than ever before. What had once been for recreation could actually be used for her survival. She discovered this on a night not long after his death, the night that would have been his 38th birthday. She had broken out a bottle of very old scotch that had been a wedding gift from one of his wealthy relatives. They'd planned on sharing it on their 10th anniversary. Only ten years and they hadn't even made it. She drank the whole the bottle in one sitting.

It was then that she discovered something she'd been desperately seeking; the feelings went away. Though this knowledge could be potentially dangerous, she now knew that drinking to excess could provide her a brief period of relief from the constant pain that was now her everyday reality. She was sure she knew this already but she'd never been a depressed drinker so she had never felt how much it could remedy sadness. When she had begun drinking that night she had been crying; big, ugly tears had been running down her face and she didn't feel could ever make herself stop. But soon she wasn't crying at all; found she actually couldn't cry anymore. She started smiling for no reason at all. Her head was spinning wonderfully and shortly after she'd finished the bottle off she passed out into an easy, deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke up in the morning she was so hung over that for a few blissful minutes she had actually forgot all the details of her miserable life.

So began her love affair with hard alcohol. Though she knew it had the potential of getting her in trouble if she let it get out of hand, she was still convinced that, as far as vices were concerned, she could have picked a worse one.

The rest of it really had happened by accident. She had stopped at that first bar only because she knew she didn't have anything at home and didn't feel like going shopping. She hadn't been trying to pick anyone up; the thought hadn't even occurred to her. She was still dressed in her work clothes and wasn't putting any effort at all into impressing anyone. Still, a man had approached her and asked her if he could buy her a drink. He had been dark and handsome, obviously successful and smart and very charming; her type if she ever had to pick one. She had to admit that the attention felt good and several drinks in when he had asked her if she wanted to go to his place she had found herself saying yes. As it turns out, she was very affectionate when she was drunk and the chance to receive some physical affection, especially after having gone without any for so long, was very appealing. She couldn't even remember what the man's name was.

That next morning, however, the feelings she sought to escape weren't gone. When she woke up she felt like throwing up and it had nothing to do with the hang over. She'd run out of there as fast as she could and cried in the shower when she got home as she remembered in vivid details what she had done. That day, she'd felt worse than ever, somehow feeling like she'd been unfaithful, that she'd somehow betrayed Sean. She still felt married, like she still belonged to him, and yet she had been with someone else. She reminded herself that he wasn't there anymore and he was never coming back but that only made her feel worse and not better. No matter how she felt the reality was that she was all alone.

With anger over this strange paradox of feelings she determined to repeat the experience, sure that it would get better over time. She wanted that part of Sean that was still inside of her to go away and told herself that eventually it would. She told herself that it was only hard because it was the beginning. She told herself she enjoyed going out, pretending to be someone else, someone who wasn't a widow. Someone who wasn't sad all the time, who didn't feel guilty every single morning after. When she was actually trying there was no shortage of interested potential companions and she could admit there was something enjoyable about those nights, something nice about the brief break from her own life. But those days after were always difficult and, despite her internal encouragements, they never got any easier. This was a vice she decided she could do without and yet she couldn't seem to make herself walk away.

Without even knowing it at first she did start to leave those vices behind. Her will alone had not accomplished this. But it was meeting another certain handsome, charming, smart, if odd, man that had helped her the rest of the way. Though they were only professional partners now, she was happier with him around and she thought about those nights out less and less. She'd not yet realized that this man, a true partner to her, who had come to stay involved in her life, had come at the same time she had mostly given up her vices. She hadn't realized that she come to rely so little on her former coping mechanisms because he had come into her life.

It wasn't until several weeks after their first meeting that she realized how the two were linked.

It had been a long and hard week and Sean was on her mind particularly strong. It wasn't that anything particularly bad had happened at work. It was just a lot of moderately stressful things that had happened right on top of each other leaving Jo exhausted. She had always been able to depend on him to give her the extra support she needed when she went through times like this and she felt the loss of him especially heavy during this stressful week. Though it certainly hadn't been the worst of times she had ever gone through it was made more difficult by the fact that she went home every night alone.

She'd already been well worn by the time Friday arrived but it was an event that morning that seemed to finally send her over the edge. It had surprised her that the phone call to the wife of their newest victim affected her so much. Normally, delivering this difficult news wasn't so hard for her. It was never pleasant but she had long ago come to accept it as part of her job. But there was something about this one that had stayed with her. The widow had only been in her early 20's and had been given even fewer years with her husband than Jo had been given with Sean. She was so young, even younger than Jo was and she was already a widow. Jo didn't usually make parallels between herself and a victim's family but she couldn't get this woman out of her mind. She just felt an unusual strong empathy for the woman and sorrow in knowing exactly what this woman would struggle with for the rest of her life.

No matter what Jo did she couldn't forget the sound of the woman's cries. She hadn't been like most people. Whenever Jo delivered the news to someone that a family member they loved had passed, they were usually in shock. The shock was often so great and lasting that they rarely cried in her presence. She knew that would come for them later. But this woman hadn't even had a moment of shock to protect her. Maybe she was too young. Maybe age hadn't taught her that yet. She had cried in agony, the sobs coming for her immediately.

When Jo hung up the phone she found her hand shaking slightly. She was alarmed and angry at herself for the reaction. She couldn't get emotionally involved in these things. To do so was a mistake and she knew that. All day, Jo had tried and failed to remove herself from the incident but it bothered her and opened something up inside of her. It had been a long week, the kind where she felt her own grief was just barely under the surface and this had not helped with that.

She thought briefly of going to see Henry. Their work had kept them apart all week long, each having separate projects that didn't require them to consult the other. She'd thought of him a few times during the week but it surprised her when she realized how much she missed him.

Not having him around this week make Jo see how much Henry's presence had brought a lightness to her work days. He could be quite eccentric and some of the things he said were completely off the wall but she liked being around him. He made her laugh, was always surprising her and he just made the work easier to bear somehow. All work aside, she still wanted to see him.

After debating a moment, she finally reached for her phone and called his office. "M.E.'s office," Lucas greeted.

"Hi, Lucas. This is Jo. Is Henry there?"

"Oh, hi Detective. Yeah, he's here. Let me find him."

Jo listened on the line as Lucas and Henry talked distantly in the background for a while. Henry was talking a million miles an hour and it was clear he was in the middle of something. She smiled slightly to hear his voice and imagined he probably had is hands tied up in body.

She was a little disappointed but not surprised when she Lucas came back and said Henry was busy. He asked if she wanted to leave a message but she said no. She felt a pang of loneliness but she felt silly for calling in the first place. She didn't know what it was that she had even planned on saying. She didn't have any work to go over with him but she couldn't deny that she still wanted to talk to him.

She missed his company but it wasn't as if they did things outside of work together. They hadn't yet crossed that line, the one that would take their relationship from strictly a professional partnership into a friendship. She wanted to make that move but she really wasn't sure if Henry did. He was such a private man, she could hardly get him to say anything about his personal life. He definitely seemed like the loner type so she wasn't sure he even wanted friends. After the week she'd had she knew couldn't bear the rejection right now if she sought out his company but found he wanted to leave things as they were.

By the time the end of the workday had come she was frustrated and more than ready to leave. The weather was cold as she left the station and it only piled on to her bad mood. It felt like winter though it shouldn't arrive for several more weeks. This first cold snap just served to remind her that it would be there soon. She was already dreading the holidays, her first ones spent without Sean.

It was on her way home that she remembered how long it had been since she had visited one of the bars she used to frequent on a regular basis. The realization surprised her but she didn't feel a whole lot more about it than that. She really didn't miss those days but right now she reconsidered them. Going to a bar and pretending to be someone she wasn't in the hopes of maybe gaining some hours of companionship could be exhausting. It felt hollow and disappointing but it was better than the alternative. She knew what would happen if she went home tonight. As lonely as she was feeling right now she'd spend the night sitting alone in her apartment, feeling sorry for herself until she ended up at the bottom of a bottle.

Neither idea was really that appealing but she decided that going out was the lesser of the two evils. It had been so long since she had she could almost tell herself it wouldn't be so bad. Even though she knew full well by now she would regret it in the morning, she would seek the false acceptance and fake comfort of a stranger. Right now, she was almost certain it was better than having none at all.

As Jo sat in a cab on the way to her favorite bar she was still debating whether or not she was actually going to do this. It felt like it had been so long since she'd had an evening like this and she already felt out of practice with it. It even felt like this wasn't the remedy she wanted anymore. For some reason, it didn't feel right, even more so than it usually did. She didn't know what could account for this nagging feeling inside of her and she willed this odd sense of guilt back down and tried to ignore it. The only thing she did want she knew she couldn't have so this would just have to do.

She arrived at the bar she got out and quickly paid the cabbie before she could lose her nerve. But when she turned around she almost jumped out of her skin with surprise at who was standing in front of the bar and looking at her.

Henry was there, staring at her gently. He had clearly been waiting on her and, strangely, the bad feeling she'd had on the way over increased. She saw that his eyes just briefly traveled over her. She was wearing a nice dress, her hair was done and she was wearing more makeup and jewelry than she ever would at work. There was also one key element of her usual wardrobe missing. She knew she looked much different than he was used to seeing her since he had yet to see her outside of work. She also knew she looked really good but when he looked at her she didn't feel pretty or alluring anymore.

Henry wasn't supposed to see her like this. She valued his opinion of her and she couldn't help but think it would suffer from this. Henry with all of his values and old-fashioned ideals would surely not approve of such behavior. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't understand the pain, her crippling pain, and sadness, the crushing loneliness, the depths of which had brought her to this place. He would jump to the wrong conclusion and the truth was too difficult for her to be able explain.

She didn't know why she should care so much about his approval. It wasn't as if he hadn't known this was the kind of woman that she had become. He had known it the second he'd met her, much to her annoyance. But she had hoped in their time together since then that she had come to earn his respect. She felt herself growing angry with him. He wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't his place to intervene or judge her. For some odd reason, just seeing him made her feel more guilty and she didn't deserve that.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with annoyance, her voice harsh; it was much easier to feel angry than ashamed.

She expected to see judgment in his eyes. She even dared him to say something, to criticize her. She was ready with a comeback. But that wasn't what she saw. There wasn't condemnation in his face. There was sadness and understanding and she was confused by it.

"I ran into Detective Hanson on my way out of the station," he said quietly.

"And he told you I'd be here?" She sounded mad but really she was embarrassed. She hated that her actions were so predictable, that it seemed everyone knew the dreadful ways she used to try to cope with her grief.

"No, he didn't. I asked him how he was and he mentioned that you two had had a…difficult week. I made a guess."

She blushed, uncomfortable. That was slightly better than thinking her partner had known where she would be but it was still mortifying that Henry had. She felt so exposed to have him see her this way and she wanted nothing more than to be away from here and this moment.

"Great," she said sarcastically. She wanted to look away from him but she forced herself to keep her eyes focused on his. "And how did you know I'd be at this bar?"

"You mentioned it was your favorite once," he replied calmly, despite the growing hostility in her voice. "I took a chance," he said with a shrug. He wasn't looking for a fight. But she was. She wanted one because it was the only thing that kept her from crying on the spot. She had thought she wanted to be here but now she was certain she didn't.

It would have been better if he had looked at her in judgment. She had thought she wouldn't want that from him but at least then she could have gotten angry at him. She couldn't bear him looking at her in sympathy. It was worse than anyone else who had looked at her that way because it was sincere. He was an authentic person and if he looked at her in sympathy than she deserved it, and if she deserved it there was a reason why. She didn't want there to be a reason why.

"So…what are you doing here?" she asked again. He had explained how he had come to be here but he still hadn't explained why he was here.

"I thought you might be upset. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," she said quickly, automatically. "It was a hard week but it's alright. I can take it. Stress is a part of my job."

"Yes, it is and you handle it very well. But that doesn't mean it doesn't affect you. It's alright if your work upsets you. You should feel these things. You are human."

Jo quickly looked down at Henry's words. A memory came back to her unsummoned and unwelcome.

"Jo, you're not invincible."

Sean always used to say that to her when she was acting the way she was acting right now. It had always been hard for her to allow herself to let her feelings show in front of him. For so long, really for her whole life, she'd had to be strong even when she didn't feel like it. She grew up in a tough environment, where weakness was not tolerated and feelings were exploited. She had long since learned that the only person who was going to take care of her was herself and that nothing good came from being honest about how she felt.

Even after she'd met Sean and learned that he really cared about her, that he would let her feel the things she felt and express them, it was still an uphill battle. Every once in a while, when something was bothering her but she was trying to pretend it didn't he would quietly tell her she wasn't invincible. She often needed the reminder.

Henry's words right now were so similar and they affected her the same way that Sean's had. Sean was the only person she had ever truly been safe with, the only one she could be her true self with, vulnerabilities and all. It sounded like Henry wanted to offer a secure place. He was urging her to let herself feel what she did and just the thought of such an offer broke into her wall.

Henry took a step closer to her. "You don't have to do this anymore," he whispered.

"Do what?"

"I don't need to say it." For her sake, he didn't want to say it.

Jo blushed and looked away. "Why do you even care?" she asked defensively. Why did he care what she was doing? Why was he trying to get her to stop? She wanted to believe he was offering her something more than just the partnership they currently had but she couldn't allow herself. Surely, she was wrong and she couldn't handle being wrong right now.

His voice sounded like he was a little hurt that she felt she had to ask. "Because I'm your friend," he answered.

Jo quickly looked up at Henry in surprise. It was the first time he'd ever called her that. She'd been wondering for a while if he'd felt the same way but now she knew. With the lonely way she'd already been feeling today it struck her especially deep in the heart. She was at a loss for what to say and struggled to find a way to fill the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, speaking again before she could, his voice full of emotion.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" she asked, confused that he would apologizing now.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry that you had to go through all of this alone."

Jo balled her hands into fists at her side. She was determined to stay strong, to remain tough, but it was becoming more and more difficult. She wasn't used to this, to someone seeing her pain, of someone actually wanting to share it. She was used to weathering the storms by herself. She was used to burying the pain down deep, as far away as she could because it was much too big to face on her own and no one else was willing to help her. She didn't even know how to react to an offer of help.

She could tell that Henry really was sorry, that he truly wished he could go back in time to be there for her when she had lost Sean. How much different that awful time would have been if she'd had a good friend like Henry by her side. Her support system to date was pretty small. She was growing closer to those she worked with, especially Henry, but she'd had even less support just a few months ago when she'd lost Sean. She really had been all alone.

"It isn't your fault," she said finally, tightly, her held back emotion nearly strangling her. It really wasn't his fault and he didn't need to feel bad about it. But she ached all the same to think of all of the mistakes she could have avoided, all the nights she regretted that never would have happened, if he had been there.

"I still wish I could have been there. To have gone through what you went through as well you did…I think you are very strong," he said and there was a touch of awe in his voice.

Jo let out a sarcastic laugh. "No, I'm not. Obviously," she said waving a hand in the direction of the bar, ashamed that still she had found herself at this place. She wasn't strong. If she were then she would have given up these vices long ago. If she really was strong, she probably wouldn't have resorted to them in the first place.

"I mean it," Henry insisted. "You've endured so much on your own. But…you aren't alone anymore."

Henry stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She wouldn't look at him for a minute; she was already nearly undone. He'd never really touched her before and in this context the gesture felt terribly intimate. She bit her lip as she tried to hold everything in and finally looked up at his face which was now quite close to hers.

He knew. Somehow he understood. She didn't know how he could understand her pain and her struggles but he did. She could see it. That's why there hadn't been any judgment or disgust in his eyes when he looked at her. Could he have possibly gone through something similar?

"Let me take you home," he said quietly, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

She blinked and some of the held back tears spilled over her lids. She wiped them away quickly. "O.K." she said with a nod crossing her arms.

He said no more but gave her a caring smile and led her back to the curb where he hailed a cab.

They were quiet on the ride to her house. She had wanted Henry's company but now that she had it she wasn't quite sure what to do. Though she still wanted to be with him things felt a little awkward. They sat about as far from each other as possible and she kept her eyes firmly focused out the window. For once Henry was silent, no doubt following her lead and giving her space until she indicated she didn't want it.

Suddenly, she remembered the ring around her neck was missing and she quickly went to dig it out of her coat pocket. She'd taken it off because of what she'd had planned. She always took it off even though doing so felt like an act of betrayal every time. She fiddled with the clasp but it was frustratingly uncooperative. The pain and loneliness she'd felt all day hadn't been chased away in their normal fashion and it was all coming back to her in full force. She was suddenly desperate to have it back on, needing the comfort it provided. She was getting increasingly upset by the stubborn clasp when suddenly Henry's hand was reaching into hers. She turned her head to look over at him.

"May I?" he said, just barely touching the chain, asking for permission. She always had to hide this, hide her true state from the other men, the strangers. But she didn't have to hide this from Henry. He already knew it, he understood and that felt so comforting.

She nodded her head and he took it from her. She turned her back to him and he moved his hands around to the front of her, letting the ring fall back in its proper place at the center of her chest before bringing the ends back together at the back of her neck. He got the clasp fixed with surprising ease and then he gently fixed her hair so that it wasn't caught in the chain. His hand lingered for just a moment on her shoulder. It was so brief she might have missed it but it was there enough to let her know it had been intentional. She felt herself strengthened by some silent message the gesture communicated.

"Thank you," she nearly whispered back to him, touching the ring with one hand. She had been ashamed that she had taken it off but now all she felt was a deep understanding between the two of them. The gentle way that Henry replaced the necklace, the way he treated it with reverence, showed that he understood grief better than he usually let on. He understood and respected the importance of this to her. How he knew it she didn't know but that didn't matter. She was glad now her back was turned to him so she could better hide the tears that were now impossible to deny.

When they arrived at her apartment Henry got out with her and walked her to the door. He hadn't said anything else and she knew that he was looking to her for guidance on what she wanted and needed. She knew he would leave if he thought she wanted to be alone and she knew that he would stay if she wanted him to. She really didn't want him to go. She had wanted to spend time with him before she'd decided to out for the evening, she'd just been too embarrassed to ask. She was still nervous to ask him but now that she'd thoroughly embarrassed herself she didn't see a whole lot of harm in trying now.

"I thought…maybe, do you want to come in? Maybe, watch a movie?" she asked. She thought maybe he would refuse and say that watching T.V. was a waste of time or something similar to that. But now that she thought about it, she realized it was the only thing she really wanted to do. Spending a quiet evening at home with Sean had always seemed to be the perfect cure for a lousy day.

She was surprised when Henry didn't shrug off the suggestion but instead smiled at her and said, "That sounds like fun."

It did end up being fun. Jo had changed into comfortable clothes, washed her face and put her hair back in a ponytail, feeling much more like herself, which amazingly, was the way she wanted to feel. They ended up watching an animated movie, much to her surprise, which had been hilarious. She wouldn't have thought that Henry would go for it they'd both laughed throughout the whole thing. After her stressful week something so light ended up being exactly what she needed. It was a relief and a joy to be laughing.

It was different than those times she'd shared with Sean. There was no cuddling while watching the movie like there would have been with Sean and the evening didn't end with heading upstairs together to do another entirely different activity as it usually had. It had been slightly awkward between her and Henry. They had both sat at opposite ends of the couch, not quite knowing how close was too close and not really willing to find out. But it had still been good. It felt strange with the newest of it but she felt there was potential that this could become commonplace and she was sure that every time it would feel more and more comfortable.

When the movie was over they both stood. They both seemed like they wanted to say something but after a few moments of silence she gestured towards the door. He started to walk that way and she followed him.

"Thank you, Henry…for keeping me company tonight," she said, finally, as they were walking, feeling a little self-conscious but smiling.

He smiled at her warmly as they got to the front door and he started to put his coat on. "The pleasure was all mine, Detective."

She glanced down a little nervously. "And thank you…for not bringing up…you know."

He looked at her sheepishly and smiled hesitantly. She laughed a little as recognized exactly what that face meant. "And now that I've gone and thanked you for it, you're going to say something," she said with a smile.

He laughed lightly. "Just one thing, I promise."

"Alright," she said allowing it.

"It will get better," he said kindly, knowingly.

She looked down. She had thought she was done fighting off tears for the night but apparently she had been wrong. "How do you know?" she asked. She was surprised to hear herself ask such a honest question but she still felt slightly vulnerable. She felt she needed the answer.

"Because I've been through it. It's hard and it never really goes away but it doesn't always feel this bad. And I know you."

"Meaning what?" she asked looking up at him again.

"Jo, you are strong. Life might knock you down for a bit but you will always get back up. You don't give up."

"Thank you, Henry," she said sincerely. Henry was an honest man. Maybe not always about himself but always about others. He was also a man of integrity. For those reasons he didn't lavish compliments often but when he did, they really meant something. His words were not hollow platitudes and she did not take them for granted.

Henry started to leave but he stopped and turned to face her once more. "You know," he said pausing and shifting on his feet almost as if he were unsure of himself. "I like to go out for drinks too, once in a while."

She smiled but her brow furrowed in confusion as to where he was headed. "O.K.?"

"What I mean is…well, if you ever need a drinking buddy…I, well, I'm available."

It was so rare to hear him so inarticulate and she couldn't help but laugh at his nervousness. He laughed too. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "I might just take you up on that."

"I look forward to it," he said with a smile. "Goodnight, Jo."

"Goodnight, Henry."

She watched him get in a cab and drive away, even lingering a few minutes after he was out of sight. It will get better. That's what Henry had promised. Jo couldn't help but feel, as she thought about their evening together, that it might already be heading in that way.