Some clever person wrote a story (which I can't find anymore) asking what would happen if Henry died and the nearest body of water was frozen over. An immortal could die and be reborn many, many times before spring thaw. This is my examination of the potential fallout.

Update: Turns out the above mentioned story is 'A Harmless Winter Vacation' by Hannah Lynn McDonald. Go read her story!

Moïse = Moses

What Was Left After the Thaw

1902 – Joigny, France

Mme Dubois is not immediately comfortable with the thought of her father's roommate. The rooms in the sanatorium are light and airy, and their local abbey is rural enough that there is little for the sisters to do but provide the very best care. But the idea of leaving her father in the presence of a lunatic is frightening.

"Do not worry about Moïse, Madame. He is harmless. He neither moves nor speaks of his own volition."

Frowning a little, Dubois settles in the chair by her father's bed and stares at the other man with distrust. He is not that much older than her, with a mop of dark curls that the sisters obviously have difficulty taming. His face is angular and handsome, but his eyes are glazed over and don't follow the movements of the others in the room.

The sister paces towards him, and uses a gentle hand to push some of the hair from his eyes. Even when her hand passes before his face he doesn't look at her. "We call him Moïse because they pulled him from the water. Two years ago they found him floundering in the ice when spring broke up the water on the lake." She smiles at Dubois sadly. "We don't know where he came from, or how he survived the cold. He eats when we prompt him to, and sleeps when we move him to the bed, but his mind is all gone. He will not bother your father, Madame."

It takes a couple of weeks for her to believe them. She come by every other day to visit her father and take him for a walk around the sanatorium. He often does not remember her, but her father is also a gentle man by nature, and they are well suited as roommates.

One day the air is chilly, and when she wraps a blanket around her father's shoulders she turns without thinking and does the same for Moïse. As she turns to push her father's wheeled chair from the room she sees that now the younger man is sleeping. He seems to enjoy the warmth. When she brings a crocheted blanket from home for her father, she brings one for him too. She tells herself that it makes sense that he would dislike cold, being found in the frozen lake.

Rémi Dubois insists she stay at home with Jean-Claude for a month after he is born in the summer, but after that she takes the carriage over and continues to visit her father, pushing the perambulator around the grounds of the sanatorium while one of the sisters pushes her father. Her focus is nearly all on her new son, and it is difficult to tear her attention away, even for her own father, so it is a couple weeks before she notices the difference in Moïse.

His eyes follow Jean-Claude across the room when the baby cries, giggles or hums.

"Moïse!" She smiles and brings the baby across the room to kneel where he can see it. "You surprise me. Were you a father once? Would you like to meet Jean-Claude?"

There is no real expression on his face, and he doesn't move, but his brown eyes latch onto the infant and it is a delight to see any sign of life in the young man. She has grown rather fond of her father's roommate.

Now when she sits with her father she parks the perambulator beside Moïse and he watches the baby for her. Sometimes his eyes even move across the room if she laughs loudly, or her father makes an unexpected noise.

It is an early fall day, still warm out, and Mme Dubois is in a bit of a state. A wheel on Jean-Claude's perambulator broke the day before, and she is out of breath from the walk up from the carriage while carrying him, and he will not stop crying! When she reaches her father's room she places Jean-Claude down on the bed to help her father, but his screaming starts up even louder, and she looks about the room for something to calm him with. Her eyes land on Moïse, and in desperation she hurries over to him.

His arms are a little thin with disuse, but he watches without curiosity as she arranges them low across his chest and folds a blanket in his lap to support them. Then she carefully lays Jean-Claude in his arms, tucking his hands under the infant so he will not roll away, regardless of the man's lack of grip.

By this point she can assist her father into his wheeled chair without the help. But it does take time, and she glances over her shoulder every other minute to check on Jean-Claude and make sure he's staying in place.

One of the sisters stops by to speak with her about her father's eating habits, and it has been a while since they fully discussed his health, so they talk for some time. Then they talk about the weather and how nice the summer has been, and how the sanatorium garden has developed so well over the past year. Mme Dubois also has a garden at home, but she has had to leave most of its care to the servants since Jean-Claude's birth. Indoor plants are all she has time for now.

The sister wishes her a good day, and Mme Dubois suddenly realises Jean-Claude hasn't made a sound in nearly a half hour.

She spins on her heels in terror, and is quite astounded at what she sees.

Jean-Claude is sleeping.

He's still tucked in the cradle of Moïse's arms, but now the man is gently rocking him back and forth. One hand is cupping the baby's head, the thumb slowly carding through the infant's sparse hair. A small smile is sitting on the edge of the man's mouth, and he seems to be humming very softly, not aimless noise, but an actual song.

"He likes you." She says, wonder and affection creeping into her voice.

Moïse looks up at her and smiles. It's a bright, beautiful smile, that sets her heart beating fast, and makes her wonder for the first time if he has a wife somewhere, looking for him. He has to have been somebody, before he was here.

"We are going to take a walk in the garden. Would you like to hold Jean-Claude for me, while we walk, Moïse?"

He listens, and then he nods.

The sisters find a second wheeled chair and they take a long walk, up and down the halls and gardens of the sanatorium, in and out of the rays of afternoon sun. Moïse holds the baby the whole way. When Jean-Claude wakes up, Moïse props him upright on his knees, leaning the infant's heavy head back against his chest. They walk until Mme Dubois' feet are sore, and the young man's arms are trembling with fatigue.

She takes her father back to his room and collects her things to return home. She stops in the doorway before they leave, taking Jean-Claude's little hand to give Moïse a wave.

He gives them one more smile.

She never forgets that smile.

When they return two days later he is gone.

The sisters are flustered. He disappeared in the night, leaving his bedclothes folded and the door shut behind him. There is a short note on the bedside table, written carefully, in a slightly shaky hand. The penmanship is beautiful, if a little old-fashioned.

Dear Madame Dubois,

You will always have my sincere thanks, for saving me from drowning.

-Henry Morgan

The End