Disclaimer and notes see Part 1

Part 2

His features relaxed and he looked calm, almost serene in the unforgiving light of the lantern above her. He had never looked more endearing.

"Henry?" She pressed her hand against her mouth, unconsciously almost kissing his ticking memorabilia while her other hand carefully searched his pulse. Of course there was none.

What had she done? She could've saved him. Should have.

There was a soft sound, almost like a sigh as the empty space in front of her imploded. Henry had vanished. Just like that. Just like that he was gone and air filled the room his body had taken only milliseconds before. She now looked at the side of the car. A large bloody stain, barely visible on the shiny dark paint was the only proof of his existence. That and here attire. She stared down at her hands and they were shaking like after one of her long nights in good ol' Jack Daniel's meager company.

For a second she felt another wave of panic starting to rise, but then, all of a sudden, she became aware of her surroundings. The screaming brightness of the artificial light, the frantic flashing of red and blue over the facades, the voices of police officers giving instruction and someone calling her name.

Detective! Jo!" That someone was also touching her elbow and with a surprised yelp she jumped around to find herself standing in front of Detective Hanson. Sometime between Henry's vanishing act and now she must have gotten up without realizing.

"Jo, are you alright?" The other man's face showed a concerned skepticism and changed into alarm as he noticed the blood. "Jo," Firmly shaking her shoulder he tried to get her attention. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Jo shook her head and forced her body to relax and let professionalism take over. "I'm fine." It didn't quite work.

"You're covered in blood," Detective Hanson stated worriedly.

"Uhm…" Jo nonchalantly shook his hands off her shoulder, took a little step backwards and straightened her posture. "That's his blood. " Her arm pointed past Hanson's shoulder at the man on the floor, who was obviously in his own world of pain. Not that Jo felt took pity him. He was about to have his rights read by another police officer and probably didn't even register that. ". "I cuffed him."

"Okay. So what happened? And where's Dr. Morgan?"

Dr. Morgan. Henry.

Oh, he just died and vanished, you know. His chest by the way was torn to pieces and he drowned in his own blood. His lungs had collapsed and he bled out in front of me. And he told me to trust him...

"Gone," She managed to croak. "He's gone… to change. Idiot spilled coffee over his shirt. Burned his chest and all…"

"Spare me the details," Hanson waved aside her comment and pointed over his shoulder to the ice cream parlor that showed a large broken window pane on the front. Glass was spread all over the pavement. "What happened at the parlor?"

"We… I surprised him when he went to find his stash. He fired. I fired back. I'm better at aiming, I guess." She explained, lamely. How she managed to form a smile was beyond her.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Sure. Why do keep asking?"

Wow, I'd make a very bad actor, She realized close to hysterics.

"Because you're acting strange and you're covered in blood, Jo. That's why." He squinted. "What's that in your hand?"

"I. Am. Fine," She stressed with an annoyed glance and quickly let Henry's watch glide into her pocket. "I guess I really need to … change, too," she added with a look at her sleeves.

"Probably." Another judgmental glance at her appearance. "Preferably before you come to the station to give your statement."

"Yeah, probably. I gotta…"

She turned around, started to walk away. Slowly first, then faster. Her heart was beating hard, pumping blood through her body until she could hear the steady beat in her own ears.

She heard Mike yell after her ("You should probably take your car, Jo!") but the only thing she knew was that somehow and as fast as possible she had to get to the river.

To Henry.

She started to run.

Now

In the distance, nestled between the facades of two buildings, she could see the surface of the East River, the sparkling of the reflected light of the moon like a carpet of diamonds. The Brooklyn Bridge was to her left. And only now she realized that - holy crap - the river was huge. Henry could be anywhere. What if he showed up on the other side of Manhattan? Maybe he would come back in the Hudson River. Maybe… but maybe he wouldn't be there at all. What if he wasn't there? What if he was…?

No, don't go there, she told herself and concentrated back on running. She knew she had taken the most direct route to the closest body of water, just like she had been told a few weeks ago. Taking any shortcut and backyard she could. She knew New York like the insides of the cupboard above her oven. If Henry showed back up it would be here.

If.

Coming from the three lane road over her head she could hear the sounds of the early morning traffic and she collected her remaining strength running up to a hoarding fence. Searching for a way to get past. It took a few more minutes in which she started to feel like she was at the end of the rope. Her knees were shaking, someone was tickling her spleen with a scalpel and she had to bite her lips in order to keep the hysterical laughter in her belly.

What the hell was she doing here? It was half past three in the morning. She just had to watch Henry die an excruciatingly painful death, had seen him fight for a last breath, had the proof red and smelly all over her yet here she was ridiculously hoping that he'd be on the other side of the fence to… to what? Get a hot cup of coffee and laugh about the blood stains in her clothes? He'd probably have some bizarre insider tip on how to get it out of cotton. Something with baking soda and some spritzers of Dr. Peppers or whatever. And she'd roll her eyes and be annoyed.

Oh how she wished she could hear his stupid lectures again.

There, a hole in the fence that she could slip through. Something ripped as she pulled her left leg after her through the tight gap. Cold air hit the heated skin of her calf. After a few more steps the Pier 15 lay directly in front of her and in a light jog she crossed the remaining distance to the end of it. Her steps on the wooden planks of the recreational area echoed loudly and she meandered aimlessly through the forest of deck chairs for a few minutes. Finally she came to a stand at the handrail at the end of the pier, looking down on the black water. Just standing there and realizing that… she was all alone. No Henry.

Her breathing was heavy, still strained from the long run. The moon was bright enough to see far over the river. Far enough to know that nothing – no living body – was swimming in the murky water. The bright lanterns on this public place made her clearly visible. She was definitely standing out. If Henry was in the water or had already left it, he'd see her. She'd have to give him a chance of finding her instead of searching for him. Only, she wasn't sure whether she was strong enough to just stay and do nothing. On the other hand, she had no strength left to do anything else.

Who was she fooling? Henry coming back from the dead would not happen. No one came back from the dead. Not Henry. Not Sean. Not anyone, no matter how much she wished.

She let herself fall back into one of the chairs, pulled her legs close to her body and immediately started to feel the heat of her physical efforts leaving her body. What was left were shaking limbs, cramping muscles and chattering teeth in the crisp air of another New York night.

Her head was filled with contradicting emotions fighting to get the upper hand. She let them battle, too distant with her fleeting thoughts to even grasp a concrete concept of a single sentiment.

Confusion, regret, anger, betrayal and the painfully growing feeling of a loss, deeper than what her heart could momentarily feel. Yet another loss. Another hole in her heart that would never heal. That no amount of time or alcohol or a mix of both could even get close to.

Slowly her head sank against her knees and she stared at her trembling fingers pressed against her lap and still covered with his blood. Silent tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks, leaving hot trails of wetness.

How was she ever to get it off? Cotton or skin. It was all the same.

Something next to her creaked softly and the sound was so close she jumped and almost fell out of the chair. Turning around she was confronted with a picture that would haunt (delight) her for the rest of her life. Henry, glorious Henry, stood in front of her. How he had managed to get this close without making a sound she didn't know, but maybe it had just been her own misery that had kept her from realizing what was happening around her.

"Henry?" She formed the word as a question, not sure whether she could trust her voice. "Is this real?"

He did not reply and for a fleeting second she was afraid she was just seeing things and his appearance was just a sick joke of her brain. They looked at each other and Jo, her vision still a little blurry, noticed something else.

"You're wearing a tarp."

Why would her brain dress him in a tarp?

A large, coarse piece of canvas was wrapped around his body and only his head was showing.

"Can't be too picky when it comes to fashionable accessory after dying," he said dryly and Jo risked taking a step towards him. Hoped, he wouldn't vanish again.

"You…" He just looked at her, his face carefully neutral and calculating. "You idiot!" She spat angrily and took another step towards him. Her hand found the canvas first, which felt real, wandered up to his hair, still dripping wet, and his face. Then she slapped him, hard. The sound of her hand on his face was painfully loud and finally she found the courage to embrace him. Found the courage to do what she'd wanted to do from the very moment he'd showed up. Held him so close that she was afraid of causing them to tumble to the ground.

He was real. He was honest-to-God standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Jo," He mumbled against her ear, sounding both relieved and incredibly sad. "I'm so sorry."

"I thought I'd lost you," She whispered, another wave of tears threatening to fall and she let them,merely. Merely pressed her face against the curve of his neck. The canvas smelled like fish and salt and she knew she'd have problems eating sushi in like forever after this moment, but she didn't care. All she cared was his hair tickling her ear, his breath soft and warm against her shoulder and his beating heart, his deliciously alive and warm body under…

"You're naked!" She cried suddenly, took a startled step backwards and laughed hysterically at his helpless facial expression.

"It seems so." It was hard to tell with his stiff cloak, but he shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "That's the hardest part."

"That's debatable," Jo retorted, still angry at him, but relieved enough that she was in the position to yell at him in the first place.

"Well, at least the most embarrassing one."

An awkward silence settled down between them and he finally cleared his throat.

"Maybe…" – "I should…" They started both at the same time. "Yeah…" – It's really…"

This was getting better and better, Jo thought and wondered whether they'd ever be able to talk like civilized people again. And also wondered how it was even possible that they'd be able to talk at all. No, later. She'd think about it later. Now she was just enjoying the fact that he was here at all, talking or not.

"Sorry, Jo," Henry said and with a nod encouraged her to speak. "Ladies first."

Of course she'd already forgotten what it was that she'd wanted to say until something clinked in the inside of her jacket. Her hand wandered into the pocket and she enfolded his golden watch, pulled it out and stared at it in wonder and amazement.

"I have… so many questions."

"I would have been surprised if you hadn't." Henry smiled, now an honest smile. One that reached his eyes and brightened his face. One that she'd never want to miss anymore.

"You must be freezing."

"Comes with the circumstances."

"You'll catch a cold."

He blinked and looked at her for a second. Something flickered over his face which Jo found hard to read until he answered: "I'll survive."

And this time she got it.