I'm dying

He's had that thought dozens of times over the course of his long and unending life but this time it feels different. There has only been one other time that it has felt like this. It has only felt like this the first time he thought it, the first time he was shot with this very same gun. That was the only other time it felt final.

It's amazing that his heart can still beat after this. The damage that has been created is massive and it is a true testament to the human body and it's resiliency that it still tries to live despite the trauma. Every beat is torture but a small part of the physician in him is still amazed at what the body can do even though at the same time he wishes his body didn't have such a will to live.

The admiration is brief and fleeting. It is quickly drowned out by the amount of pain he's suffering. It threatens to consume every other thought he has. Did it hurt this much the first time? He can't remember. Though he is still able to remember that first death after so many years the details are fuzzy. He certainly didn't remember that it could be this agonizing. Had he remembered this pain he might not have faced the barrel of the gun with such courage. He may not have feared death, he said, but pain like this, that was something to be feared.

Time has such significance at this moment. It's hard to remember when time has felt so important to him. If he had to guess the last time it had felt so valuable he would say it was when Abe was a baby and he grew so fast. He remembers that it seemed there were so few moments to share with Abraham when he was so tiny and precious. Or maybe it was later, when Abigail had gotten older and she'd started to worry about her age. He'd made the most of every moment with her knowing that they were soon to be over.

But for him and his own life, time has become obsolete. Time hasn't felt relevant to him and his own existence since before immortality came to him. He's always been warring with it but he had long ago (against his will of course) won the battle over it. But now he feels his time is limited. Time is going to win this time, he's sure of it, and he is going to die. That realization feels very different when you don't have the reassurance that you'll surely wake again.

What is an immortal supposed to think about when it's time to die? What are they to do when they are no longer immortal? He doesn't know. It's been so long since he's entertained real thoughts of life being over he doesn't know what to think. But he knows what he feels and it's a surprise. He's always been afraid of death, even when it didn't stick. But now he's terrified of it.

"Henry?" He hears Jo's voice call out once more somewhere in the distance looking for him.

Adam had said she was near; he had threatened that she'd find him. He wants to call out for her, help her find him, but he can't. He wills her to find him. He wills her not to. He's not worried for himself but for her. He's pretty sure there's no threat of his secret being revealed at this point so it's not that he worries about. He worries that she really will have to watch him die this time. She's been through so much and he doesn't want her to face that pain.

"Henry!" she cries and he hears the discovery and panic fill her voice and he knows she's found him. Soon he sees her running towards him.

He decides he's glad she's here. He is so afraid and he's relieved she's there and he isn't alone. But it's selfish of course. She'll be here after him and she'll have to carry the weight of his death on her. He knows that because he's done it himself so many times. He knows the burden she'll have to bear if she has to hold him and watch him die. He doesn't want that for her. But at the same time he's afraid. He's afraid and sad and he doesn't want to be alone. He wants to see her one last time.

"Oh, Henry," she said, her voice filled with anguish and sounding part moan, part cry.

She kneels down beside him. Her hands hover over him for a minute as she surveys his body in horror and tries to figure out how to touch him. She doesn't try to lift him or pull him close and he's grateful for that. She seems to understand that would be much too painful for him to bear even if he desperately longs to be held. She finally rests one hand on his head and the other on the right side of his chest.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" she asks. Her voices still sounds watery and he can see tears in her eyes but he can see in her face that she is working to make herself feel stronger.

His time is so limited. He doesn't know how many words he'll have left and he isn't going to waste any of them on Adam. He's done what he can about that and at least for the time being he won't be a threat to anyone. So instead of explaining the how and why this has happened he focuses instead on what he really wants to say to her.

He looks up into Jo's face; he really looks at her, studying the details of her. She's so lovely and he wonders if he has ever told her just how beautiful she is. He wishes he could remember with certainly that he had told her. But with regret he's almost sure he hasn't. "Jo," he whispers out. The action causes terrible pain and he realizes this will be harder than he thought.

She smiles down at him and strokes his face with her hand. He knows it must be hard for her to do. He returns the smile even though he's sure it must look gruesome with the blood that's running out of the side of his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cries.

"It isn't your fault."

"No, what I said before…in the car. I'm sorry," she rushes to say. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I would never want to stop being your partner or your friend. "

Now he understands. The last time they had spoken, they'd fought and it makes sense to him. The last time she'd spoken to her husband before his death they'd fought. Her last words to him had been ones of anger. She's lived with the guilt of never being able to take those words back and say sorry. Now that he's dying she sees that she got very close to the same thing happening here and she's quick to remedy it.

"It's alright. It's O.K. Of course, you're forgiven," he says with another forced and painful smile. He lifts a hand to reach out for the one she's resting on his chest even though it hurts like mad. Every action is a labor at this point but she's worth it. His hand doesn't respond the way he tells it too and he can't quite make it reach out the way he wants it to. She sees his stumbling along and reaches out to take it. She holds his hand still in hers, both of them resting now on his chest.

What to say? What to say? There is so much to tell her. He wants to tell her everything. But his mind is foggy and confused. He yells at himself to think, to speak, to do something. He's wasting time he doesn't have. He feels sleepy and he wills it to go away. Sleep is the enemy. He can't allow sleep. Sleep is not sleep at this point. There will be no waking up.

His son flashes through his mind and he remembers that Jo is not the only one he needs to worry about at this point. She is far from being the only one who will mourn for him and grieve when he's gone.

"Take care of Abraham," he says quickly. "Please say you will," he pleads, suddenly feeling so desperate. He's so afraid to think of Abraham not having him there. Who will care for him? Who will protect him if not Henry? He's getting older every day and though he pretends he doesn't need help, sometimes he does. That will only get worse as time goes on. Who will be there for Abraham? He doesn't have any other family. Will Abe die alone someday? Henry's never had to consider it before and it's a terrifying thought. He doesn't want that for his baby and it breaks his heart to think of it.

Jo doesn't offer him platitudes. She doesn't say he's going to make it and it's not necessary for her to promise that. She doesn't say that he'll be here still tomorrow to do it himself. She's realistic enough to know he's already lost too much blood and she's kind enough to offer him what he really needs instead of what might make her feel better in this moment.

"Of course I will," she promises. He lets out a sigh, so grateful for that. Searing pain radiates from his wound when he does.

"He's never been alone," he moaned. He was never supposed to be alone. Henry was supposed to protect him forever. It was the one good thing about being immortal. Though he dreaded the day he would lose Abe he had always been somewhat comforted by the fact that he could care for his son his entire life. He wanted to; he wasn't going to do this while Abe was still living. He would have never attempted to test this theory while Abe was alive because he'd promised himself he'd always protect Abe. He almost made it but he's fallen short.

He feels tears rolling down the side of his face but he can't move his arms anymore to wipe them away. He feels Jo's hand on his face, tilting it only slightly to make his eyes focus on her.

"And he never will be," she says firmly, wiping away his tears with her fingers. "You have my word about that," she promises. He knows there's nothing more solid in the world than that. She means what she says and when she promises commitment to someone it's absolutely unshakable.

Good. They'll have each other. He's comforted by the thought that the two people he loves most in this world won't be alone after he's gone. They will take care of each other. Maybe they'll be able to get it through it if they're together.

"Tell him I didn't want this. Tell him I didn't cause this...I tried to run. Tell him it wasn't his fault."

"Henry, I'm sure that Abe knows you wouldn't want this," she says confused and trying to reassure him.

"Tell him!" he insists. "He must know," he says urgently. He remembers that the gun was in the safe. How did Adam get it? Abe would blame himself. He would think it was his fault that Adam got in and took it. He would blame himself for his father's death and Henry just can't have that.

"Of course, Henry. Of course I'll tell him," she promises him even though she's obviously uncertain about why she is doing it.

He has no doubts that she will do this as well for him even though he knows she has no idea what's going on. How could she? He regrets, for the first time really, never telling her the truth. And it isn't because now he will never see the consequence of her knowing. He regrets never telling her because she never really knew him. He told her so many lies and half-truths he doesn't even know now what she really knows about him. Now she will never get the chance. He will die, a man preserved in her mind that he really isn't. He realizes that the cost of that is greater than any risk he would have taken in sharing his secret with her.

"I'm sorry," he cries and his voice doesn't even sound right anymore. He can't see Jo anymore; his vision is too dark. His senses are failing but he can still feel her and he hears her speak above.

"You don't need to apologize for this; it isn't your fault," she says her voice breaking at the end. She's being so strong but she's hurting so much and he can hear it's getting to her.

She thinks he's apologizing for dying. "No," he sputters, even though every word is agony. "I'm sorry I never let you see."

He feels her hand on his cheek, brushing softly up and down. "See what?"

"Me."

There is a long pause. He wishes he could see her face, to try and read what she's thinking. He's lucky he's even conscious at this point though. Her hand had stilled for a moment at his words and he wished he could tell her not to. But she soon starts the gentle motion again and speaks.

"You don't need to worry about that," she says strongly, bravely. He can tell from her tone that she's crying, but he can also tell she's smiling, for him, trying to brave on account of him. He knows she wanted him to be more honest with her. He didn't miss all the hints she'd given him about that. But there's nothing, sadly, at this point to be done about it and she knows it. She's not going to make him feel guilty about what he did in the past when there is no way to remedy it.

As it turns out, when you're dying, it isn't the dying you regret; it's the not living. Hadn't he told her something almost exactly to that effect once? He can't die; not yet; not when he's not given her the chance to know him properly. He's had the chance; he can't say he didn't have the opportunity. He did and he wasted it. She was standing right in from of him and he let it pass by.

How can he have any regrets? He's lived 235 years. He's been given so much more time than anyone else ever has. He's gotten to do more than anyone else could dream of. He's seen so much. How could anyone this old die with regrets? How could anyone so old have anything left undone? He doesn't know how it's possible but it's true. He never told her who he was and that, right now, is his biggest regret. It is the only one that plagues him now.

If only he had one more chance. How can he even wish for that? He's already had so many more years than his fair share. He's already had more than anyone else has ever gotten. Yet still he wishes for just one more chance. If he had one more chance things would be different. He thought he was ready to die. For so long he thought he even wanted it. But he doesn't.

He had wanted to die for so long but he doesn't want to die now. He's happy. He likes his life again and he doesn't want it to end. He wanted a way out of his curse but he didn't want it to be like this. He wanted to be able to start aging again. He wanted to fall in love again, grow old with that person, maybe have another family. He wanted to die an old man, many years from now. He didn't want to die like this.

"I'm afraid," he says, in between quiet cries. He knows she's still there but even she is getting fainter and fainter. He can feel the darkness, that shadow of death is falling over him. For someone who spent so much time thinking about death, he failed to think about actually being dead. He hadn't thought about not living anymore. He hadn't thought about what would happen next. He thought he could face death without fear but he was wrong.

"That's alright," she assures him. She's so strong. She must be aching inside but you could never tell it now. She's putting it aside to be his strength now. Why didn't he trust her more? Why didn't he think she was strong enough to carry his secret? She would have been more than capable of it. How could he have insulted her by expecting anything less of her?

"Just keep talking," he requests.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Just keep talking. Say anything. I just want to hear you."

She pauses for a moment and he's sure she struggling to know what to say in this situation. Then he hears her not start to talk but to sing instead. He's never heard her sing before and he counts that a shame because it's amazing. Her voice is so beautiful. He's glad he's had the chance to hear it at least once before he's gone. Having it now is a light in this darkness.

He has a hard time understanding what she is saying because her words are in Spanish. Normally, Spanish would be easy for him to translate but right now in his slowly slipping mind he only catches a few words here and there. At first he thinks what she is singing is a lullaby. She's singing it so sweetly and her tone is so calming that he was sure that's what it is. But as he is able to pick a few of the words out he realizes it's actually a hymn.

He's surprised and he wonders where she learned it, especially since she's singing it in Spanish, a language he's never heard her speak. That makes him think it's from far into her past, from her childhood maybe. Who taught it to her? From what little he knows about her parents he assumes it wasn't them. Did she have a faithful grandmother perhaps? He realizes he knows hardly anything about her family. She's never seemed eager to talk about them but he wishes now that he'd asked her about them, about her past. What a terrible friend he has been to her to never ask her anything about her family. Even if it was difficult and strained, that's a big part of who she is and he should have wanted to know about it.

The words to the song are reassuring and her voice is soothing. He focuses on them and the touch of her hands on him as he feels himself getting closer and closer to the end. At the very end she finally reaches for him and takes him in her arms. He's beyond feeling the pain now. It doesn't hurt at all when she moves him and he's glad she's holding him, singing him out of this life for the final time.

When the end comes he's finally at peace.

Henry has had so many chances. So many that he's lost count of them. He's also lost sight of the value in them. But when he wakes in the water, he bursts through the surface with an energy and surprise like he's never had. He is alive! Somehow he has managed to get another chance.

Though there have been so many chances he genuinely feels that this is his second chance. He sees his son on the shore already waiting for him, even jumping a little in excitement it seems. For once Henry shares that excitement. Nothing has changed in his situation; he's back to the drawing board in figuring out how to end his curse. But he's different. He knows now his time is not limited but he's still in a hurry. He swims as fast as he can back to shore. He knows the very first thing he's going to do. He has a long story to tell and for the first time in his life, he can't wait to tell it.