A/N: This is gift for truthisademurelady on Tumblr for Henry's 237th birthday gift exchange. Happy birthday Henry! And happy birthday fandom!

Be a gentleman

It was often his motto. This mindset had been an integral part of the cultural he'd been living in when he'd grown into manhood. But tonight it was also his mantra. Most of the time it wasn't hard to live by and he didn't need to consciously remind himself to abide by it. But a growing sense of foreboding told him tonight it would be more difficult to stick to than usual.

Jo had asked him out for drinks after work, though 'asked' was probably too generous a term to use. Jo said she needed a drink and she wanted Henry to go with her. He knew that refusing would not have been an option. This in itself was not unusual. Going out together for drinks after work had become a somewhat frequent occurrence for them. Sometimes it was done in celebration, others it was a way to unwind from stress. They were proper drinking buddies and he'd never wanted to refuse her. Even today he'd had no intention of declining it was just that her motivation for going out did cause him some concern.

He knew that speaking with Mrs. Brown had been hard for Jo though she had tried her best to conceal it. He'd watched Jo's expression become pained and her eyes fill with tears as Mrs. Brown had recalled the kindness that Sean had shown Aaron. He could see Jo look away to try and escape the pain of remembering and yet there had been a hunger, a longing in her eyes as she had hung on to every word. His own heart twitched in sympathy knowing exactly how that felt.

He'd been watching her with a careful eye all day, all week really. This case had been much harder on her than she wanted to let on and there was only so long she could hold on. He wasn't surprised that today had been the boiling point. It had been hard enough on her to have to work on a case that was connected with Sean but to hear someone so strongly attest to how wonderful a man Sean had been had surely been almost more than she could bear. He didn't blame her for wanting some sort of escape he only worried that going out would cause more harm than good to her. It was one thing to go out and drink to relieve some stress; it was quite another to seek to drown out your problems completely. After all, alcohol never solved any problems, it only took your mind off them for a while.

He certainly wasn't one to judge and he definitely wasn't going to stop her he was just concerned. He determined that he would remain as clearheaded as possible. He knew she was probably going to drink more than normal so he was careful to drink less than normal. He would have liked to not drink at all so he could keep all his faculties intact but that would have made it too obvious that he was watching her and he knew she would not appreciate that. So, he had ordered one drink and drank it very slowly. Or so he thought.

He'd tried once to coax out her feelings and get her to talk about Sean which, unsurprisingly, she had refused. He couldn't blame her. It was the exact same thing that he would do. It was what he had done for years. If he were being completely honest with himself he was still doing it. He told Jo she needed to deal with Sean's death but he hadn't really dealt with Abigail's. Of course, he could argue with himself that he didn't know for sure that Abigail was dead. But it was only an excuse. He knew, he had known for years, that she was gone.

He'd been just as afraid of facing his grief and dealing with it as Jo was with hers. He now knew his pain and grief so well he wore them like an old coat. Though it was heavy to bear he was terribly familiar with it. It couldn't get any worse or hurt him in any new ways. It no longer threw him anything unexpected or surprising. In a morbid way he almost reveled in wrapping himself up in the depression and felt comforted in the way it numbed him from life around him. He knew the words he'd just told her to be true; he knew it prevented him from living. He knew that it kept him from moving forward in life but it also kept him from getting hurt even more. He knew that was the coward's way but maybe he really was a coward. After everything that had happened to him and around him in life didn't he get to get to be a little cautious?

These were the self-pitying and self-loathing thoughts he'd been consumed in when he felt a hand, her hand, wrap around the back of his neck drawing him out of his thoughts. They'd fallen into companionable silence some time ago and he looked up at her startled by the touch and hoped she couldn't feel the goose bumps that instantly spread across his skin. He looked into her eyes; her face was so suddenly close.

Be a gentleman

"You're sad a lot of the time," she said, looking right at him. She said it like they'd been in the middle of a conversation but neither of them had spoken for quite a while. It was almost as if she was picking up on his thoughts and continuing the conversation they'd been having earlier. She was sad, yes, but so was he. The widow and the widower both afraid to step out of their grief. It was one of terrible ways in which they were so perfect for each other.

He looked down. He should have been thinking of her and not himself. Now he was compromised and she was so near, so tempting. She could see right into him. He forced his eyes to stay fixed on the bar as if looking away from her would keep her from seeing the true him. She probably always saw much more of him than she ever let on. But she'd been drinking and now she wasn't afraid to say it. Problem was, he hadn't had enough to drink to not be afraid to hear it. He'd expected this night to be about her, to stay about her. With everything she'd been going through she shouldn't have to think about him. He hadn't prepared to have the spotlight on him and it showed.

"So, what if I am?" he said it with an awkward smile and a shrug still not looking at her. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say. It wasn't good. It didn't cover up his true feelings. It pretty much admitted them. Very sloppily done. "We were talking about you," he added in a lame attempt to deflect attention off of himself.

She didn't take the bait. She was determined and her gaze incredibly focused considering her current level of intoxication. He felt her start to stroke the back of his neck and he felt his insides instantly melting.

Be a gentleman. Be a gentleman.

How did she know this was a weak spot for him? He wasn't sure why but this gesture always had a potent effect on him. It broke through his defenses, loosened him up, made him feel things. Abigail had known that, had used it many times to reach him. He closed his eyes and let himself fully focus on her hand tenderly brushing his hair and neck. He shouldn't; he knew it made him weak inside. But it felt so good. He felt starved for this. It had been so long.

He often thought how unfair it was to be cursed with both a sensitive heart and immortality. It would be hard enough to deal with one but to live with them both was near impossible. They opposed each other causing him to war within himself. One made him long for others, to need them even more than most others did, and the other required him to push people away, to keep distance between him and the world. In his attempt to survive he was forced to avoid any hint of the intimacy that he craved so desperately.

"I would take good care of you if you would let me," she whispered.

He bit his lip discreetly, amazed at what she was saying, trying to stem the flow of how much he desired it. His eyes stung with tears and he felt splayed open inside. Maybe he'd had more to drink than he'd realized. Or maybe it was just that Jo knew where all the cracks in his veneer were. He'd never realized it but he knew now that she could break him if she really wanted to. He also realized how much she must care for him that she hadn't done that yet.

Right now he felt the dam straining against the flood inside wanting to be let out. He didn't want to hold all of himself in but here was no other way. Even though no one would believe it, he trusted too easily. He didn't have much of a filter, so when someone was kind enough to show him affection and solace, he rushed in with everything he had, willing to give them his whole heart. It was pretty much all or nothing with him. So, because it couldn't be all it had to be nothing. It was a cruel lot to be an immortal man of such extreme passion but he'd adapted as bitterly lonely as that might be.

Already he could feel the desires stirring up, wanting to give her everything. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was looking at him with such concern and affection it made him ache. "I know you would," he said honestly, his emotions so evident in his voice but he did not have enough restraint to care about that right now. I want you to, he thought. He didn't want anything else at the moment. How had he fallen so far so quickly?

To make matters worse she reached her other hand up to his cheek, scooted a little closer in and looked at him like she'd never looked at him before. Her hands were so soft and gentle. He hadn't expected that. Not when they were the same hands that could hold a 9 milliliter so steady or cuff a rowdy suspect in one fluid movement. He'd expected them to be rough maybe even uninviting. Now that they were on him he felt they might just be the same hands that could soothe away all the pain he held inside, that they were both strong enough and gentle enough to hold his hurts. He could already feel it starting to ooze out of him.

"Then why don't you let me?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. Honest ground was dangerous territory but he was already there. His personal mantra for the night was completely forgotten. He couldn't remember what he'd been telling himself not to do when he was intoxicated by the warmth of her. He felt right now he'd tell her anything.

It occurred to him then that they could move forward together. It seemed silly that this was a completely new idea to him, that it felt like such an epiphany but it was. Now that he was thinking it, it made so much sense he realized that he should have known it all along. They were both so afraid of facing the pain and loss that lay in their past. The act of doing that had proven too much for either of them to handle. But that was when they had been on their own. Moving on was near impossible alone but they weren't alone anymore. They had each other now and that had changed everything. They really could do this together.

He'd only just been contemplating the impossibility of moving forward in life but now, all of a sudden, with her it felt entirely possible. He wondered if there wasn't anything he couldn't do if she were by his side. His head reeled with the sudden change of heart. How could he be so topsy-turvy? How could he so often be so difficult and then at times, like right now, so dangerously easy?

Suddenly, she looked at him intensely. Did she know? Could she see that she could probably ask him anything and he'd give it up? Could she finally see how much he longed to give up the fight? Did she understand that, despite all the things he did and said, he really did want to let her in? Sometimes it felt like he was so clumsy about his secret around her like subconsciously he was actually trying to get her to figure it out. Did he imagine she was leaning in close right now or was it really happening?

Then her expression changed. A look of comprehension covered her face, her eyes widening. He felt her stiffen and then withdraw her hands from him. She turned back to face the bar her hands wrapping around her now empty glass. He already missed her touch. He felt suddenly cold and worry crept back into the pit of his gut in an instant. It had been such a blissful, wonderful moment of not caring, of throwing caution to the wind. Now it was over before anything had even happened.

He didn't know what had happened so suddenly. She almost looked shocked and was clearly uncomfortable. She very obviously was doing her best to not even look at him now. "I think we should go," she said flatly.

Henry scrambled to figure out what he had done wrong. What had he said? Or not said? Had he done something wrong? "What? Why?" he asked. He wanted to argue. He'd been so ready to make the leap and it had felt so good. He wasn't so sure he'd get the nerve up a second time.

"It's just, it's late," she said glancing at her phone like she was checking the time but it was done too quickly to believe she was actually checking. Also the screen was black. She threw it clumsily into her purse and stood up. She swayed a little and he quickly reached a steadying hand to her elbow. "And I think I've really had enough," she said waving a hand in the general direction of the now empty bottle on the bar next to her.

While he could logically agree with both statements they didn't make him feel any better. Something more was going on. She was so out of it she didn't even fight him when he paid the entire bill. She didn't even really look at him until he'd finished and walked towards her ready to leave. She walked ahead of him, pretty quickly given her current compromised physical state. He was beginning to wonder if she wanted to leave him behind or act as if she wasn't with him.

Then she turned around suddenly to speak to him looking uncomfortable. "I can't drive," she said.

She was still obviously in a hurry to get out but he was relieved that she wasn't ignoring him like he'd feared. She looked so upset about this he rushed in to quickly console her. "That's alright. It's fine." It's not like he had expected her to be able to anyway. "I'll call Abe."

"No," she said shaking her head. "I don't want to bother him. I'll just get a cab."

"He won't mind. Really. And I would feel a lot better if I knew you weren't alone tonight."

She looked like she wanted to protest. He had expected her to. He even thought she might get angry or insulted but he really didn't think she should be alone. She opened her mouth to speak but then, looking extremely tired, she just shrugged her shoulders and gave in. "O.K."

He was surprised but was quick not to let it show or delay before she could change her mind. She even offered him her phone without his having to ask and he quickly called Abe. He was relieved she was coming with him but worry still nagged in the back of his mind about how things could have changed so quickly. He tried his best (and still failed) to ignore the sadness he felt at having lost that brief close moment between them.

When they got to the shop Henry attempted to put his arm around Jo and help her inside. She was quite unsteady on her feet and he was afraid she might fall and hurt herself. Also, admittedly, he was a little worried about collateral damage. In order to get to the apartment one had to walk through the store and there were many old, very breakable items along that path. As much as Abe loved Jo and her company he might feel a little less excited to have her as a guest if she broke one of his rare pieces on her way in.

But despite his efforts Jo shrugged him off every time. Henry was left hovering quite nervously behind her as she stumbled through the store, then he tried not to notice or remember the embarrassingly clumsy way in which she made her way up the stairs, and finally breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the safety of the living room without Jo hurting herself or any of the antiques in her path. Abe had gone straight to his room after Henry whispered to him that they would be fine and he would take over from here. The living room only had one light on and was quite dark. Henry imagined that was because it was so late and Abe had surely been asleep already. Henry felt a pang of guilt at having bothered his not so young anymore son. He made a mental note to do something special to make it up to him. He only hoped he still remembered in the morning.

Jo hadn't said a word to him on the way over. She said a few to Abe when he had tried to start a conversation. But he hadn't been his normally chatty self, probably due in part to the late hour (it affected him more than he would admit) and partly due to the obvious embarrassment Jo felt in having to be escorted to their home for safe keeping because she had drunk so much to excess. Henry wanted to tell her that she was in good company in that department; both he and Abe had many instances of doing the same. But something about her attitude told him she would not be receptive to this.

She went to sit on the couch and still didn't say anything. Henry couldn't imagine what had accounted for her dramatic change in mood. One minute she'd been giving him attention in a way that had made him feel like a puddle of mush and ready to spill his guts just to keep her doing it and now he felt like she would rather pretend he wasn't even there. He tried as hard as he could to come up with the answer on his own but he just couldn't think of what he'd done wrong.

"What's wrong?" he asked, when he couldn't bear her silence any longer. He was still standing several feet from her, giving her some space.

She shrugged. "You invited me here."

"Yes, I did. But what I meant is, why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset. I'm just tired," she said unconvincingly.

That may be true but Henry knew this wasn't just a matter of her feeling tired. "I must have done something wrong. You seemed liked you decided you wanted to leave the bar pretty quickly when...before you'd seemed pretty content to stay," he struggled, trying to put this all as delicately as possible and without starting the tugging he felt on his heart as he remembered how it had felt to have her hands and her attention so focused on him.

"I just realized how much I'd had to drink and knew it was time to go."

"Please talk to me," he begged, taking a few steps closer. "I feel like I did something wrong and I want to fix it."

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, a touch of kindness tinting her stiff voice. "This is my problem."

"If this really is about you then why are you acting so different than you were? You're acting like you can't stand to be around me right now."

"No. No," she said with clear frustration. "That it isn't it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't want to say," she admitted uncomfortably.

"Why?"

"Because I'm embarrassed, O.K.? Just leave it."

He could tell by the abundance of pink on her face and neck that she really was embarrassed. She sat on the edge of the couch with her hands held together in her lap looking down at the floor. She looked exhausted and possibly on the verge of tears. She'd been so warm at the bar, so friendly. He couldn't deny he missed it and not just for his own selfish reasons. She had seemed so relaxed and now she seemed more upset than when they had first gotten to the bar.

Bravely but cautiously he walked over to the couch and sat down next to her but made sure not to sit too close. He was glad when she didn't retaliate in any way. After a moment of silence he turned towards her slightly. "Come on," he said gently. "Tell me what happened."

If it were any other time he was sure she wouldn't answer. She would probably respond in anger and tell him to keep his mouth shut liked she'd asked. But this time he felt that instead of pushing her further to stick to her resolve he it just might soften her instead. And it did. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeming to loosen up slightly even though she still didn't look at him. "You don't really want to know," she said quietly.

"Jo," he said and he chanced to reach out his hand to take one of hers. "There is nothing you could tell me that I don't want to know."

She looked at their joined hands and then up at him, her mouth hanging open in surprise for a moment before she spoke. "Well, it's just..." she said looking down again, her face coloring more. "Well, when I was...touching you, it...it made feel like I wanted you to touch me."

Henry felt his hand suddenly burst aflame in hers and knew it was perspiring. He hoped she didn't notice but he guessed that even with her alcohol inhibited senses he would not be that lucky. He wanted to ask her just what that meant; just what did she want him to do? He wanted to tell her he'd do it, whatever it was. He was almost sure he would have too if it were not for the short circuit in his brain that prevented him from beating her to the punch.

"Don't worry," she said quickly, clearly embarrassed. "I get like this when I've had too much to drink. And I have definitely had too much to drink. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Then, like she hoped with enough words she could erase her confession from memory, she went bumbling on explaining herself. "I just get kind of touchy-feely when I drink but it doesn't mean anything. And I know better and I shouldn't have been drinking especially with all that stuff that Mrs. Brown said at the station. I was just feeling sad and sorry for myself and I-"

"Who says I'm uncomfortable?" he asked, finally cutting her off.

"I just...I just didn't think you'd want that...that you wouldn't want me to ask for that," she said, a bit flustered with surprise at this response.

"Well, I do," he said seriously, almost assertively as he wrapped his arms around her and held her against him.

O.K. he had must had more to drink than he realized. He couldn't believe he had just said that or that he was now holding her against him.

Be a...gentleman

She was now clearly at a loss for what to say to this; she had obviously not expected this from him. He hadn't been expecting it from himself. She silently looked up at him and he was struck by how enduring it was to see her like this. Vulnerable. Open. How many people had the privilege of seeing her in her breakable state? He guessed none that were still living. Her eyes were sparkling with moisture and she looked younger even than she usually did to his aged eyes.

"It was a really hard day for you," he whispered as he started to slowly rub her back.

"Yeah, it was," she admitted still looking at him in a way she never had and probably never would if she were sober.

Sometimes, all he wanted to do was protect her. Though she hardly needed him to he wished he could take her in his arms and keep her safe from the world. In the physical sense she could certainly take care of herself but what about her heart? Who took care of that? Life hadn't nearly been fair enough to her and he wondered about her. He worried about her. What did she do on all of the hard days? He wanted to be there for all of them like he was there for this one.

He tightened his arms around her and brought her completely against his chest. She laid her hands on his chest, her arms mostly pinned against him. "I'm really sorry," he said with as much sincerity has he could put into the words.

"Thank you, Henry," she said gratefully, her voice breaking on his name and her hands holding onto his shirt slightly. She said it like she was holding onto his sympathy like a life preserver, like it was the only thing keeping her afloat at the moment. He hadn't realized she was drowning, how much she needed this. Or how much she appeared to need him.

Then something else passed over her face. It was the last thing he would have expected to find in her gaze tonight. But it was undeniably there and she wasn't hiding it or denying it. He found himself leaning in slowly, being drawn in by it.

Her mouth was hanging open slightly. She did that all the time. It drove him crazy. But the insanity he felt in this moment was beyond all those everyday imaginings. He wasn't fantasying that her mouth was meant for him or daydreaming what it would be like to take it. He knew she was waiting on him

He looked up at her eyes and she looked back at him as if to say "well go on then." He wanted to. There was nothing more he wanted than to do just that. He was grateful in a masochistic way for the powerful smell of whiskey still lingering on her breath, reminding him how much she'd had to drink. It grounded him. Painfully.

Be a gentleman

He said it begrudgingly now like a curse he was laying on himself. Couldn't he just not be one, just for tonight? Couldn't he just do what he wanted for once? Couldn't he just live in the moment? No. Not with Jo. He'd thought like that before but she was far too precious to him to be treated with selfish castaway thinking.

"Jo...I..." he started looking down, not really saying what he needed to. Just those two words were painful enough because he knew what he was doing.

She didn't need more words. She understood. She took a breath and he could tell she was trying to sound strong. It still sounded like a sigh. "You don't want to," she stated resigned. She'd been expecting it.

"No," he said fiercely, to clarify. He looked into her eyes so that she would hear him. "I do. I actually...do a lot," he admitted and found it wasn't that difficult to admit.

She looked surprised by this. Both by his honesty and by the very confession itself. "Then...why not?" she asked quietly.

"Jo..." he struggled to say what he was thinking in the most delicate way possible. "You're really drunk right now."

She was already flushed but he could still see her blush deeply. He'd still embarrassed her. "You think I don't know what I'm doing. But you're wrong," she said looking down. "Alcohol doesn't make me say things I don't mean. Believe me, I have lots of experience. It makes me more honest. Honest enough to know the things I really feel. Strong enough to say it."

Henry's heart was racing. Jo had essentially just told him that she had feelings for him. Fear and elation shot through him. Part of him wanted to believe that the alcohol was taking her out of her mind. That part of him wanted to protect himself from disappointment and a broken heart; that part wanted to believe that she couldn't mean what she was saying. If he didn't believe her words he wouldn't get hurt later. But the greater part of him felt that she was being honest. That part of himself wanted to believe her without question because he was delighted at the prospect.

His heart soared. He wanted to take her close and seal this moment with kisses. He wanted to show her how much he adored her, wanted to thank her for the privilege of being given her heart. But his conscious told him there was another way to do that. A way he wouldn't like. A way that was going to be less obvious in the short term, a way that was going to be far less pleasurable and far more painful right now.

"It isn't that I don't think you're thinking clearly. Not exactly. I just...don't want it to be this way."

She looked at him, her brow creasing in thought, then turning down in anger. "O.K. I see," she said trying to pull away. She thought he was giving her line. She thought he was trying to let her down.

He was such a fool at these things sometimes! He wouldn't let her go. "Jo, listen I mean it. I...I do want to kiss you. I do." He paused. Honesty was painful and he was sorely out of practice with it. But he had to. His relationship with her was on the line and that made him braver. "But I only get one first kiss with you. Only one chance to make it perfect. And if I kiss you right now...you might not even remember it in the morning. That isn't fair."

As much as he wanted it he wouldn't do it right now. He'd been with partners, mostly unreliable strangers, spent blacked out nights with them, only to wonder in the morning how far he'd gone. He didn't know if Jo was quite that drunk right now but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Her eyes started to glisten and she pressed her lips together. Now he'd made her cry, the very thing he never wanted to make her do. It broke his heart. He wasn't used to seeing her this way. Apparently, alcohol also stripped away those hard defenses that kept her emotions in and away from the outside world. It was enduring to see her more vulnerable but too terrible given the circumstance. She seemed to agree with what he was saying but he could see there was something else on her mind.

"You're right," she said nodding, a bit too quickly. "Of course, you're right." She looked down and away from him and then fell silent.

"Jo-"

She shook her head. "No, Henry. You don't have to apologize. You're right."

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She still wouldn't look up at him or answer. He reached out a hand to her chin and tilted it up and he saw the tears hanging on her lower lids. "Tell me," he whispered encouragingly.

"It's just," she said, pausing to look up and away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "You won't bring it up again. And when I'm sober...I won't be brave enough to make you."

His heart broke but it was his own doing. He felt so incredibly guilty. He did not treat her right at all. He didn't take care of her and he always kept her waiting. Now it was what she'd come to expect of him. Even after all that had happened tonight she still believed he'd keep her waiting, holding her breath and hoping that maybe one day, some day, he might not make her wait anymore.

That would not do.

He put both his hands to her face and held it. "Jo...you won't have to bring it up. I give you my word; I'm not going to let this go. I will bring it up again when the timing is better."

Her face crumbled at his quiet tender words but she still looked unsure. "How long?" she asked nervously.

She knew him too well. She expected him to take the easy out and let this sit for a long time before it was brought up. If it was ever brought up at all. And quite right too. He'd earned that reputation. But he would be a better man this time and he would strive to be a better one from now on. "Not long, I promise. Tomorrow even if you'll let me," he said putting on smile.

She nodded, still looking sad. She was just barely hanging on now. He moved his hands to her shoulders. "Let me get you settled in bed."

"I think it would be best if I slept here on the couch." She said it, not exactly angrily, but stiffly. He didn't understand why she refused the offer but he didn't fight her on it and said no more about it.

"Alright," he said quietly and nodding.

She wiped a quick hand across both of her eyes and he could see her mouth quivering slightly. This he would do now. He pulled her to himself and she went willingly, tucking her face against his shoulder and doing something she'd never done before. She started to sob, giving into the tears he'd watched her fight off all day long. He was grateful she felt she could let them go now in the safety of his quiet dark living room and held in his arms.

He held her and brushed her hair, whispering kind words to her occasionally. When the tears faded he didn't let go but let her pull away when she was ready. He gave her his handkerchief and she held on to as she lay down on the couch and turned her back to him without another word. He laid a blanket over her and forced himself to leave her there alone in the dark until morning.

Out of everything he'd had to force himself to do all night, that was the hardest thing of all.

Henry hadn't wanted to be right but he was. In the morning, Jo didn't remember. He'd been so surprised and dismayed when she woke up and he heard how little she remembered about the night before that he'd burst into the room speaking too loudly and enthusiastically to cover up how he felt. Even he could hear that he didn't sound natural but he'd been so flustered he'd obviously overcompensated. Also, with Abe there he couldn't get into the details about what had really happened the night before without making all of them feel uncomfortable.

He was now incredibly grateful he hadn't kissed her. He didn't think she would be able to bear if she could never remember their first kiss and he didn't think he would have been able to either. But her loss of memory was going to make bringing up the subject much more awkward than he'd planned on. How was he ever going to find a way to bring up such raw honest feelings when alcohol wasn't involved in the equation especially now that he was also going to have to retell the story she couldn't remember?

The fearful part of him made him wonder if she would even still feel the same in the light of day with a clear head. Maybe she wouldn't still want to kiss him. The coward part of him told him he could just weasel out of it. She didn't remember it, so, who said he had to bring it up? He hated that part of him and crushed it immediately. He'd given her his word; she had trusted him. And whether she could remember that promise or not, he did and he was going to stand by it. Besides, now that the idea had been planted he couldn't get the thought of kissing her off his mind.

He remembered that night and how good the thought of letting her in had felt. He remembered discovering how ready he'd felt for that. Until then he'd been afraid, he'd been hesitant, he'd not even been sure he wanted to let her that close. But that night he realized he was ready. He was still scared, of course, but he was willing.

He hadn't brought it up that day, only because that day had been crazy. Between her getting kidnaped, crashing her car to escape said kidnapper and then listening to her pour out her heart to him about her late husband, he knew it wasn't an appropriate time to bring it up.

But that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it and making plans. He wanted it to be special and now he had the time and resources to make sure it would be. He was going to invite her over to dinner at his house and he found out her favorite meal and prepared it himself along with a bottle of her favorite wine.

A week later the anticipated night arrived and his nerves built up and made him unsure of himself. As he waited on the rooftop for her to arrive, the setting bathed in even more yellow inviting lights than usual and a bunch of flowers in his hands he wondered in maybe he'd gone too far; it felt like overkill. The he decided it didn't matter. This was Jo; she deserved everything.

The suspense had almost reached an unbearable level when she finally stepped out and joined him. It was, sadly, way too cold at this time of the year for them to eat up here. This space was so beautiful and romantic and he would have liked to spend the evening here. Even though that wasn't possible he still wanted to start the evening here.

She was beautiful and smiling as she walked towards him. She still wore her coat but it was open and he could see that she was wearing a pretty blue dress. "Hi," she said.

"Good evening," he said, with a stupidly big grin spreading out across his face.

"Abe told me you were up here but it looked like he was on his way out."

"He will not be joining us tonight. I wanted it to just be the two of us."

She gave him a look like she was curious and intrigued. He'd always loved that look on her, knowing it meant she was up for mystery and adventure. Turns out, he loved it even more when it was directed at him. She did seem surprised but he also thought that, at least subconsciously, she must have expected tonight to be different than any of the other meals she'd had here since she had dressed up for it.

There was a pause and she clearly expected him to go on. She glanced down at the flowers in his hand and then back up at him and bit her lip as she smiled a little. He was so distracted by how cute her expression was that it was still a few more moments before he finally came to.

"These are for you," he said finally holding them out.

She took them and smiled. She was clearly pleased and he was instantly happy he'd gone to all the effort and hadn't squelched his impulse towards exuberance. It was all worth it.

"Henry, what is all of this about?" she asked still smiling widely.

He took the flowers from her and set them on table then took one of her hands lightly in his. He hoped the contact would give him the courage he needed to speak. "Jo...how much do you remember about the night we went out to that bar last week?" he asked nervously.

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at him and then glanced down. "I didn't remember anything at first, honest," she said looking back up at him. "When I first woke up that next morning I really couldn't remember it at all. But then, as the day went on, it all started coming back to me."

He could see that she was feeling nervous too. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"Partly, I felt embarrassed," she admitted. "It's not often that I'm so...transparent. Actually, I'm never so forthcoming and I was embarrassed."

He could completely sympathize with that. He could see she was uncomfortable remembering everything she'd said that night, even though she still didn't deny it was the truth. She obviously thought he'd be upset that she hadn't said anything sooner but he understood; he'd have felt the same in her position.

"What was the other part?" he asked curiously.

She colored a little more at this question and looked down. He couldn't quite believe he could actually make her, unshakable Jo, blush. "Well, I wanted to see..."

"You wanted to see if I would keep my promise," he finished, already knowing what she was going to say.

"Yeah. Are you mad?"

"No. I gave you my word. I said I would be the one to bring it up and it is completely reasonable that you would want to see if I did. I haven't always proven to be the most trustworthy," he admitted. It might not seem like a lot but it was a big admission on his part.

She smiled slightly and seemed relieved he wasn't upset and grateful for his truthfulness. But she still seemed at a loss for what to say. He took a deep breath and went on before he could lose his nerve.

"Jo, I meant what I said that night. I wasn't putting you off because I didn't want to kiss you. And I would like very much to kiss you right now if would allow me to."

His heart was pounding so hard it made him feel dizzy. He realized he wasn't breathing and yet he couldn't make himself start again. He hadn't felt like this in years. He hadn't said this to someone in years. Sure, he'd said the words to people. He'd begged a kiss from many a woman but it had been so long since it was like this, since it had mattered, since there had been the chance that he would be refused. It had been so long since a refusal would actually crush him. Though he tried not to be arrogant about it he knew he was charming and that he could ask for a kiss with very little chance of being turned down. The charm of just the request itself had gotten him far in the past.

But this was Jo. Jo who he had spent nearly every day of the past four months with. Jo who made him laugh. Jo who didn't fall for all his tricks, who saw deeper into him than most people. Jo who had also lost the one she had loved and knew what that felt like. Jo who he had always been comfortable with, who he had never once had to try at getting to know. His feelings for her were not black and white. He could not fit them into a nice box or a predictable title which had only added to the charm of what they had. He didn't know what all of this meant or how things would change from here. But he knew he wanted to find out.

It felt like it took her so long to say something. Maybe it did and maybe he was just impatient. Eventually, he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Unless you've changed your mind. Given everything that's happened in the past couple of days I would understand if you did."

He would like to think he was only offering it because he was being understanding but really it made him feel cowardly. He wasn't running from this directly but he was giving her the opportunity to if she wanted. But now, even though he'd offered it, everything in him didn't want her to say yes. He didn't even really want to give her the chance to refuse him.

"No," she said quickly and without hesitation. He was so incredibly glad. "I haven't. Have you?"

"Not at all," he said with a smile. They both laughed a little in nervous relief and then there was silence.

There was really only one thing to do now. They had already agreed to it. He let go of her hand and then thought about how he wanted to approach this. He'd always thought that talking about this would be the hardest part. But now that they had both voiced their thoughts and feelings that seemed the easy part.

Jo, so normally take charge, who was almost always leading the way given their professional arrangement, was looking to him this time. He reached out his hands and carefully put them on each side of her face. He felt her hands wrap around his waist and hold on and then she let out a nervous laugh that fell against his face.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just...I feel like a teenager again."

Henry couldn't remember being a teenager. That had been over 200 years ago. With no personal recollections of what it felt like to be one he wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying as hard as he could not get even more nervous.

"I just mean, planning a kiss like this. I haven't done that in a long time."

"Would you rather it be spontaneous? If you-"

"Henry," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "That isn't what I meant. I just meant, the anticipation, the butterflies, the excitement, feeling nervous...I haven't felt that in a very long time. But it's nice. I like it."

"Yes, he agreed. She had just summarized how he was feeling himself. He hadn't felt it in ages either and it did feel good.

"Besides," she added. "I wouldn't know you very well if I didn't expect you to make a thing of this."

Henry felt a burst of nervousness that was now more unpleasant than it was pleasant. He was questioning himself again. Did she feel like he was making too big a deal out of this? Had he really gone overboard like he had been wondering earlier? He knew he got carried away with things. He tried not to but sometimes he couldn't help himself. Sometimes his excitement was too much for others and they found it off-putting. Was he being too chivalrous? Often times that was a plus for him but did Jo think he was acting like a relic from some long-forgotten time? He had only wanted to make her feel special. This was important to him; was it not as important to her?

He somehow managed to squelch all these questions and worries into one that he voiced. "You think I'm making too big a deal out of this?"

He thought he'd managed to say it calmly but somehow some of his hurt feelings must have come through. Jo's face softened and covered with an apologetic look. "No, Henry. No," she said, quietly and seriously.

Then he watched as she thought for moment and her eyes started to tear up. He wore his heart on his sleeve often so obviously that it was bleeding and gushing all over the place. But it was harder for her to do the same. But when she spoke again her voice wavered with the emotion she felt. "What I meant is that this actually feels important. Significant. Other people don't make it feel like it is. Most men just rush in like it doesn't matter. But not you. You're different. But that's what makes you special."

It was so tender and heartfelt and even though he knew Jo cared about him he still hadn't expected her to say anything like that. It was so personal and she said it with such obvious feeling it made him feel a rush of affection for her and his eyes filled with tears of their own. Normally, he would try to suppress that, try not to be the man who cried, but he didn't feel he had to this time. It seemed the things that made him different from other men were the very things Jo liked about him.

"It is important to me," he said, quietly and sincerely.

"I know. I'm glad it matters. I haven't had a time that matters since...not since," she said but her voice cracked with emotion.

"I know," he said with understanding. "I know," he said nodding as he reached a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear on one side.

This was one of the many things that made them so good together. Understanding on this level was what made them so comfortable together. He knew what she was saying because he hadn't either. He had wondered for a long time if he would ever find a woman who could understand the pain he carried. The pain of losing a spouse, the love of a life, a pain that never would go away entirely. Jo knew that, she understood it. They understood each other, knew the place those losses and memories would have in their hearts would never go away. They understood that in each other and could express that freely without the fear of jealously or misunderstanding. It felt so good to find that safety and he was so glad he was doing this with her, this first kiss that mattered.

She felt it. He could see she felt the same. She felt safe with him too and kept on talking. "Most men would have just kissed me that night. I mean, I was asking for it. They would have taken advantage of that," she said with regret. His heart throbbed with empathy for her. He knew all about that too. He'd done the same. He ached with wishing that he could have saved her from all those men who had obviously been unworthy of her.

"But you" she said as her hands tightened on his waist and her eyes looked directly to his, "you take care of me."

His mind went back to that night in the bar. I would take good care of you. She had said that, that night and he had realized how much he wanted her to. But she needed him to do the same for her. Jo was so strong that it easy sometimes to forget that strength didn't mean invincibility. Yes, she was strong and yes, she could take care of herself. But she needed someone else to take care of her sometimes too. It was hard to believe she was allowing him to see so much beneath her hard outer shell; as someone who hid behind one himself he knew how hard it was to do. He also knew how important someone had to be to earn that trust. Somehow he was that to her.

Without a doubt in his mind he knew in his heart he wanted them to take care of each other. At the moment he was having a very hard time remembering why he had ever fought this for so long. He was drawn in to her. "Jo..." he said, as he leaned in close to her face.

"Henry" she said and she was already closing her eyes. He liked to hear her say his name like a request especially when she was so close.

He leaned in to kiss her and at the last moment decided to kiss her neck first. He had a hunch that it might be one of her weak spots. Even if it wasn't it had tempted him before. His guess seemed to be correct because he felt her grip on him loosen and what was left of the tension in her body instantly melt away. She relaxed against him, unconsciously leaning into him as she let her head tilt to the side.

He was glad to finally have an opportunity to cherish her and he intended on making the most of it. He didn't kiss her fast and rough like he wanted to leave a mark on her body; no, he kissed her lightly and as slow as he could manage so that it lasted and made its imprint on her memory. Life had not given her half of the things she deserved but for this moment he would make it all about her. Soon, he happily lost track of the number of kisses he got to place on her skin.

He was glad again that he had waited. He didn't have to doubt her feelings or wonder what she was thinking. Alcohol wasn't involved at all and he could take everything for face value. He knew he was the sole reason for the quickened pulse he felt occasionally under his lips when he hit just the right spot, knew his touch was the reason her skin was no longer cold enough to be covered in bumps. But he didn't have to doubt himself either. The rush of emotions and hormones through his blood was completely authentic and not exaggerated one ounce by drink.

After a while of such selfless attention he felt her reach out to him and place one hand to rest on his chest over his heart. Even through the layers her touch on his scar made it tingle. Her other hand wrapped around the back of his neck and he nearly groaned with delight. She clearly remembered this from the other night and had known he'd enjoyed it. He was too grateful for this to be embarrassed at how obviously transparent he must have been that night. Her touch was so soft and slow leaving him feeling weak all over and he had to abandon what he had been doing for his attention was completely consumed. When she started to rub the hand on his chest in small circles he just let his face fall against her neck and hummed in delight.

Normally, he'd feel guilty or underserving of the attention. He tended to give more than he received and accepting affection from others, though he desired it deeply, was hard for him to do. He always somehow managed to feel he was unworthy of it. But he didn't feel any of that right now. As good as it had felt to kiss her it felt equally good to allow her to treasure him. He hadn't felt this is in so long. In fact, he hadn't felt this accepted and safe since Abigail. Kissing others was easy; he done that lots of times. But letting someone else hold you like this, to let them lay their care and feelings on you that wasn't so easy. He felt the tears in his eyes as he considered it all. He didn't know how long he stayed like that with his face pressed against her neck and her hands slowing stroking him and for once he didn't worry about it at all.

When he could bear it no longer, he wrapped his arms around her and reached up to finally kiss her lips. In his enthusiasm, he had a thought about holding her tight and dipping her slightly in his arms. That seemed overly dramatic like he was one of those stars in the old black and white movies. But then he remembered that Jo liked him for his differences. Though it was hard to believe, it was the crazy, silly things that he did that she was actually attracted to. It was hard to get used to this kind of thinking. He was so accustomed to feeling that no one would appreciate the real him, that people didn't like the things that made him unique, that it was strange to know he could be himself with her. It was so usual but it was so nice to think that he could be comfortable with someone. He decided to go for it and found, by the upturn of her lips against his that she had indeed liked it. His mouth was open but he let her be the one to take it farther, which, to his great delight, she did almost immediately.

Though this was their first time it was somehow familiar. It wasn't awkward fumbling around like they were lost in the dark. It was liken they were moving in bright light that made everything completely clear. They moved together perfectly, somehow knowing where they were going before they even got there. It was like they'd always been together. They were perfect together and he felt not one shred of doubt or fear or self-consciousness. That made it more beautiful still and he wished he hadn't spent so much time being afraid of her. It all literally took his breath away and he wasn't sure how his heart could stay intact with all its rapid movements; it was so happy to be working again.

It was everything he'd been waiting on. And more. It was everything he'd wanted it to be. It was everything he hadn't known he wanted it to be. It was all Jo and completely perfect.

When at last he pulled back and looked at her her face was flushed and she looked like she might even be lightheaded. He wondered if he looked the same way because he certainly felt it.

"Well," she nearly breathed out with a smile. She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to be catching her breath. He kept one hand hovering at the small of her back to steady her.

"Well...what?" he asked, curiously.

"Well, I would like to say it was perfect."

He smiled. But?"

She grinned at him. "But that may inflate your ego. After all, it was only a couple of days ago that I basically told you that you're always right. I don't want to set such an embarrassing precedent."

He laughed a little. "You were perfect," he said sincerely.

"Thank you," she said. He knew she wasn't just saying thank you for the kiss or the complement. She was also saying thank you for the timing and the waiting and the consideration.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. She looked briefly tearful again and he knew he was. The kiss had been full of hormones and delight but it had still been a very emotional experience for them both. He leaned in and they hugged tightly. They held on until all the heat of the kiss had burned off and they were both shivering.

He pulled back and smiled at her. "I made dinner, if you're hungry?"

She took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm starving," she said her face lighting up.

"Good," he said wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading them to the door and downstairs where her favorite meal was ready and waiting.

For once in his life, Henry didn't worry about how this was going to change the future. He didn't know what this meant for them. He didn't know if this meant they were 'together' or not. He didn't even know when or if there would be a repeat experience. But he wasn't worried. Jo made him feel brave, braver than he'd felt in a very long time. He was comfortable with her. He was safe. Knowing all of that eased the anxiety he would have normally felt at this time. He didn't think of all the many things that could go wrong. His mind didn't even rush with all the things that could go beautifully right. It was a rare moment that he was settled comfortably and completely in the present.

He felt something tight inside of him had loosened. A weight that was heavier than he had realized had been slightly lifted from him. It wasn't all gone of course; not even close. But a bit of it had left. He had taken the first step. They had taken the first step into the future, together, and that was the hardest one to make. He could tell by the way she carried herself that she felt the same relief too. He didn't know what that future would contain but he knew without a doubt this had been a step in the right direction.