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Henry had always struggled to sleep when he was stressed. He got so worked up throughout the day, that as night fell, he began to feel anxious. Would he lay awake and restless for hours again? Worried about the lack of sleep he was getting and whether they would sleep safely? Or whether anyone would find them resting and take the opportunity to attack.
The other dads did a better job at hiding their worries, Henry knew they must feel the same as him, but they all managed to hunker down every night. Ron always fell asleep first. Almost as soon as his head would hit the ground, Henry could hear a soft wheezing as he drifted deeper into sleep. Darryl was next. Henry had expected him to snore, deep and loud. However he had been proved wrong night after night, as Darryl let out a soft grunt every now and then, but nothing more.
This often left Henry up at night waiting for Glenn to also fall asleep, before he got up to pace around and keep watch, in secret of course. Some nights though, after a particularly stressful or gruelling day, Glenn knew Henry would need help sleeping.
The first time was at the start of their adventure. Glenn had been picking at his acoustic gently in front of their camp fire. His Hotel California parody had been generally disliked by Ron and Darryl due to the nature of his lyricisms, but Henry had found a soothing nature to his soft voice and strumming patterns and had fallen asleep easily beside him, not that either had realised the two acts were directly related. Initially Glenn was a little hurt that the druid had been put to sleep by his playing, something he hadn't been totally experienced in as a rock and roller, but he knew that Henry had been having trouble falling asleep since they arrived in the forgotten realms.
They didn't talk about it. Glenn didn’t like to talk too deeply, and Henry had convinced himself they didn’t need to talk about it. They both understood what was happening, and neither had anything to say about the arrangement.
The second time was more obvious to the pair. The night that they left Neverwinter in the Oddyssey, after saving and immediately losing Lark and Sparrow to unknown magical forces. Watching them fade from existence in front of his very eyes, leaving a small purple mist, and the slightest scent of earthy mulch behind them.
They had laid back the seats in the van as far as they could, Darryl in the driver’s seat, Ron riding shotgun, leaving Henry and Glenn beside each other in the back seats. Henry had rolled onto his left side to face the window, and hide his face from the other dads. After he thought he had heard three sets of deep breaths inside the van, he let go of the emotions he had been holding in after watching his boys disappear in front of his eyes. Sparrow’s final words haunting his memory.
Dad, did I do good? The memory taunted him as he wiped a tear that ran down his cheek. You did good, boy. I'm coming for you. His answer felt hollow, he obviously wanted to go to them and save them from who or what had stolen them from him, but where was he going to start? No clues were left behind, and they still had the other three boys to find. He must have let out a whimper, as he felt a calloused hand on the skin of his forearm.
‘Henry? You good?’ Came the whisper from the darkness. Henry took a deep breath and rolled over towards the voice, finding Glenn’s eyes in the dim light of the moon that streaked through the windows.
‘Yeah man. I just..’ he trailed off, not having anything to say. The words rushed with all the rage of a waterfall behind his eyes, but none of them felt right, repeating over and over again. None with the correct weight to them to describe what was going on inside his head.
Glenn seemed to understand at least in part. He let out a huff of air, and continued. ‘It's a cold night, I think I heard you shivering, right? You can come closer if you’re struggling to sleep.’ It was as simple as that. Glenn was a master of not talking about feelings, and knew exactly what was going on.
Henry wrestled with the idea momentarily. It was an easy out he had been offered, something Glenn had probably used in similar situations on the road, with his bandmates when they felt homesick for their families. ‘Yeah, it sure is a brisk night.’ He smiled and shuffled over closer, not close enough to touch, but close enough to think that would be the end of it. But Glenn wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into his chest and held him there, and began to hum softly. Henry didn’t recognise the strange tune, but tucked his head under Glenn’s chin, resting against his chest, and was eventually lulled to sleep by the vibrations from the humming in his throat, and the bassy thump of Glenn’s heart in his ear.
The second time was after they lost Nick. Glenn and Henry had several disagreements during the time Nick was with them. Henry had wondered who was the worst influence on whom in their relationship. The gang, the stealing of the minivan, betting on child fights? He was sure their brief thing was probably over at that point, after berating Glenn, and even accusing Nick of trying to swindle them. But as he watched Glenn’s son fade away in the same way his own boys had, leaving a haze of purple smoke and the scent of the Close family’s favourite drug. He knew he had a favour to repay.
He laid down next to Glenn that night and waited for the others to drift off. There was no noise coming from the bard, uncharacteristically quiet. Henry plucked up all his courage, rolling each of his thumbs over the other together in front of him as he stared up at the clear sky. ‘Hey, Glenn.. Uh..’ He began. He felt stupid, this is going to end in an awkward rejection but he had to at least offer to help. ‘Um..’ He struggled. Gosh darn it, Henry. Just say something. ‘You look cold.’ he blurted out. There it was, he had said it. No taking it back.
The first thing he heard was Glenn’s signature chuckle. ‘Another brisk one?’ He taunted lightly. Henry thought he had made a mistake, but once again Glenn wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in, close to his chest. Henry went willingly, slight in build as Henry was, Glenn had no trouble dragging him gently towards his own body. This time though, Henry snaked an arm out from between them and wrapped it around the bard's waist, placing his hand on his back, in a position he hoped Glenn found soothing.
Then there was a brief silence, when the world seemed to stand still around them. Henry’s brain had been quieted, and he felt only the steady rise and fall of Glenn’s chest in front of him, and the twitching of muscle under his hand.
Glenn cleared his throat gently, and Henry closed his eyes, expecting a low dulcet hum. ‘Nick.. he’s a..’ Glenn seemingly didn’t know what to say. Henry squeezed him very slightly in encouragement. Or at least he meant it encouragingly, stroking his thumb back and forth over the skin he rested it on. ‘He’s a good son.’ He stated, plainly. His son’s last words obviously echoing around his skull.
Dad? Dad, what did I do? Dad, I'm sorry! This is my fault somehow I feel like I - I didn’t - I wasn't a good enough son! I fucked this up, I’m so sorry!
Henry let the moment breathe, and then opened his eyes and quietly whispered back in a soft voice, ‘He’s a good boy.’ Whether he beleived it or not, Henry did feel sorry for Glenn, and Nick for that matter.
‘Yeah.’ Glenn agreed. ‘It wasn’t his fault.’ The implication settled tacitly around them.
‘He’ll be okay. He might even be with Lark and Sparrow right now.’ Henry’s mind wandered back to his two beautiful boys. Maybe this had been a mistake, he was now working himself into worry about them again. He’d managed to distract himself watching Glenn and Nick interact, but now his twins dominated his thoughts.
Then it began. The humming was in his ears, thick and sweet. Henry closed his eyes again, letting sleep come for him once more. To the sound of alien crickets, under a sky that was unfamiliar.
Glenn was reminded of the nights just like this, that he had held Nick in his arms. Nights when Nick would shuffle into his bedroom, and crawl under the covers with him, squirming into his arms and whispering about how he couldn’t sleep. Glenn wished he had acknowledged his son’s true meaning, maybe things would have been different if he had. But instead he had held him to his chest and hummed him to sleep, stroking his hair from his face, pushing it behind the boy’s ears.
The first time he had done this for Henry, he thought he had made a mistake, but this.. Was nice. He had missed this, it had been too long since he had held anyone this close.
After that they fell into the rhythm, not every night, but more than once per week by either of their recollections. They would often set up their sleep packs next to each other, or near enough that a slight shuffle closer in the darkness would go unnoticed. Not that Darryl or Ron would care if they noticed at all, but under the constant fear of not knowing where their children were, some things were easier when they didn't have to talk or think about them.
Henry worried that all this not talking would catch up with them eventually, or even that it would follow him home and cause issues with Mercedes, if he got in to the habit of not talking about the things he knew he should talk about. But this just became another worry that Glenn could chase away in the night.
One night they settled side by side, under the sky filled with stars Henry didn’t know. He thought about charting them, but what would that do? For all he knew, the stars here changed nightly, if the planet moved quickly and was large enough. If it was a planet at all. He kept his eyes on the night, following patterns in the stars and spoke softly.
‘What's your favourite Christmas song?’ He asked. He could almost hear Glenn’s brow furrow in thought. It was sweet really, there was a time that Glenn was always quick to spit out the first thing that came to his mind, to move conversations along, or to end them. But they had grown a patience with each other, and Henry liked to watch him think so he turned his head, still resting on the pillow of his folded arms behind him.
‘My mom would sing me a song as a kid. I never learnt the words, it must have been a Chinese folk song or something like that, but she would always berate my pronunciation, so I gave up trying. But I remember she only sang it around Christmas. I guess it would have been the Dongzhi Festival to her. Apparently her mom made a big deal of it every year.’ Henry had rolled onto his side towards him at the mention of Glenn’s mother. They hadn’t talked about their parents before. They had barely talked about their wives, he wasn't sure he could even name Glenn’s wife. He had certainly never met her, but he had noticed the simple white gold wedding band on his hand the moment Glenn first waved in greeting when they had met.
Henry propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at the other dads, still asleep. He shuffled closer, and Glenn lifted his arm, allowing Henry to rest his head between his shoulder and the crook of his neck. Glenn snaked his arm gently around him to hold him close, thumbing at where the skin folded together in the dip of his waist, still staring straight up.
Without having to be asked, Glenn began to hum quietly. A vaguely familiar melody, but ultimately strange to his ears. Eastern music was something Henry knew very little about, they had different scales, and music theory than in the west. A lot of it was aural tradition he knew, and he felt a warm weight of this aural tradition as he realised he had become a part of it, as Glenn performed for him. He focused on each note, and burned it to his memory. He thought back to the first time they had slept this close, and the tune Henry had not recognised.
It wasn’t a long song, but by the end Henry was fighting sleep. ‘Thank you, Glenn. That was… That was really nice.’ Henry felt dumb, but nice was all he could think to say.
‘It’s nice to remember.’ Glenn yawned, and Henry was suddenly filled with guilt. He couldn't remember much about his childhood, the cult-like commune he had grown up on. He knew he had left after an argument with his father, but he could not remember seeing his mother before he departed. A therapist years ago had tried to ease this guilt by reminding him that a lot of his memories were locked away by his brain to protect him from the trauma. But even so, he wished he could remember her face.
After prison, things were different. Obviously they had to be, after what was a week for Henry, Glenn had lived through at least 15 or 20 years of cold, darkness, and silence. Henry was almost afraid of what might happen that first night. Did Glenn even remember? He thought about how his brain had played tricks on him with his own trauma, and worried what Glenn might have forced himself to believe. They had split the group that night, deciding that it was better Darryl kept an eye on Jodie, and Henry an eye on Glenn. Ron had decided to stay with Darryl in case he needed any ‘back-up’.
Henry had rolled out their sleeping packs next to each other, but not too close. He didn’t know what was going on in Glenn’s head, and didn’t want him to feel anxious, Henry had to be the strong one tonight. Once he was happy with the sleeping set up, he turned to where Glenn stood with his back pressed to the closed door, surveying the room. He walked over to the open window and looked out, over the water, towards where the prison sat on a small island on the horizon.
He let out a shaky breath, and his shoulders began to shudder. Henry approached him slowly, trying to make obvious movements, in an attempt to not startle his friend. He placed a hand between Glenn’s shoulder blades, pressing his hand gently into him, hoping his hand wasn’t too cold. Glenn turned his face then, tears streaming down his cheek. ‘I..’ He began, but seemingly didn't know where to go. ‘I don’t..’
Inside the supermax, he had dreamed of escape, never truly believing it was possible, now he felt like a dog that had finally caught its own tail. He had nowhere to go, no son to protect and no home to go back to. It was all gone, taken from him. He had nothing.
Henry knew it was time to be strong. He pulled Glenn into a hug, letting him wet his shoulder with tears and snot, crying long and hard. He turned Glenn’s face into his neck and squeezed him tight. ‘It's okay.’ he whispered into his now waist length hair. It had streaks of grey and white running through it, but still mostly black. ‘You’re okay now, you're safe.’ I’ve got you, he wanted to add but he held his tongue. Glenn’s silent crying slowed, and Henry stroked his back with long movements at a slow tempo, feeling the last of the shudders leave his body.
‘Let me take care of you.’ He rested his cheek on top of Glenn’s head, and felt the bard nod gently.
In a small basin in the corner of the room, Henry created some warm water. He folded up a small piece of cloth and wet it, soaking it for a few seconds before ringing it out back into the basin. He turned to Glenn, and pulled him closer gently, closing his hands around his wrists. Glenn’s eye widened in panic suddenly and yanked his hand back in fear, holding it close to his chest as if burned. Henry realised his error immediately, watching Glenn rub the deep red gouges at the meeting of his hands and arms. They looked raw and deep. Painful. ‘Shit, I’m sorry, Glenn.’ He apologised quickly. ‘I promise I won’t touch your wrists, okay?’ He reached out a hand to Glenn instead, hoping that would be okay. Glenn only took his hand and nodded gently. Letting himself be brought close enough that Henry could smell the damp and mould coming off his clothes.
Henry raised the damp cloth to Glenn’s face, the right side, where he could see clearly what was happening. He tried not to think about what was under the patch covering Glenn’s left eye, but he knew by looking at the rest of his body, it would not be easy to see. He smoothed the cloth over his skin gently working at the grime in circular patterns. He started with his right cheek, cleaning away the trails that his tears had left. He moved down to his chin and upper lip. His nose, followed by his forehead, moving upwards. He slowly started to drag the cloth over to his left cheek, expecting Glenn to push back a little. To his surprise Glenn did not startle. He kept his dark eye focused on Henry's. His breathing was steady once more.
Henry didn’t feel right asking Glenn to strip so he could properly look him over for wounds as he cleaned, so he supposed just face and neck would do for now. His attention fell back to the bard’s wrists. ‘Glenn, I think I can heal some of the damage to your wrists.. Only if you want, I would have to touch them..’ he trailed off, staring into Glenn’s eye as he spoke. He tried to push through the awkwardness, and continued, ‘there would still be some scarring,’ but Glenn had already held out his arms, elbows pointed in towards his body, forearms parallel to the hard stone floor, palms up.
Henry slowly settled his hands, hovering just below Glenn’s arms. He looked deeply at him for a moment before taking a deep breath, and raising his hands to wrap around the middle of Glenn’s forearms. This would do. He closed his eyes and began to breathe steadily, trying to focus on his healing energy pulsing through his palms and into Glenn’s tender skin. The skin knitted itself back together, leaving shallow pink dents in the flesh which Henry supposed would be permanent. As if he didn’t have enough to remind him of that awful place.
He let their arms fall and instead busied himself untangling Glenn’s long hair. It was matted and filthy, hanging limply over Glenn’s thick shoulder muscle. It was easy enough work using his magic, he spared a passing thought to what Darryl or Ron could have done to help Glenn, and being ultimately grateful they had decided he should be the one to watch over him tonight.
After his hair was suitably cleaned, Henry sat down cross legged on the cold stone, motioning Glenn to follow him, manoeuvring the bard to sit in front of him, facing away. He had braided Mercedes hair in the past, when she had been too tired to do it herself, or when she was stressed. They both found it calming, and he hoped that Glenn would feel the same. He started by slowly stroking the length of his hair, lightly skimming down it, fingers gently pressing into Glenn’s scalp and dragging them down. He had made a start being sure not to pull his hair at all. He made it to the bottom of Glenn’s neck, when the man in front of him began to squirm. ‘Glenn? What’s wrong?’ Glenn didn’t immediately answer. His breathing picked up ever so slightly, until he spun slowly, bringing his body around so he was facing Henry instead.
‘I don’t like not being able to see, you know.. It was so dark and.. The blindfold, my..’ he lifted a hand up to his face and touched the eyepatch gingerly. Henry simply nodded, and guided the rest of Glenn’s hair to fall over his shoulder, and resumed the braiding. It only took a few minutes to finish up and by the end of it, Glenn looked a little better. Henry thought about tomorrow, and how they should look for some clean water, hell, maybe there’d even be a hot spring they could swim in nearby, so he could make sure Glenn got the soak he needed. They studied each other in comfortable silence for some time. Eyes not wandering too far.
Now that he was done, he didn't know what to do. Logically, he knew the best thing for them to do was go to sleep, and make a plan in the morning. But Henry didn’t know how to start that conversation. Luckily Glenn was on the same page. ‘I never really fell asleep.. You know, in there? I think I would mostly just pass out from exhaustion.’ He scratched idly at the back of his head as he spoke, looking around the room for something other than Henry to focus on. He sighed deeply, ‘I might scream.’ he looked at him again. ‘I might yell at you, I might try to fight you even.. I don't know..’ He paused, considering. Henry just waited, he remembered the patience they had cultivated for each other, as he watched as Glenn shifted his posture around, not really knowing what to do with his hands. He had never seen him so nervous, and it struck a chord in Henry’s heart.
‘I don't know if I even can sleep normally anymore.’ He rushed out. Henry waited for a moment to make sure Glenn was finished, then he brought up his left hand to rest upon the other man's right cheek.
‘Let me help you.’ Henry said simply, in a gentle voice. He brushed his thumb over Glenn’s check once, then let his hand drop in search of Glenn’s own hand. He motioned for Glenn to lie down on his left, so he would still be able to see, and moved his braid out of the way, guiding his head to rest in his lap. It took a couple of seconds for Glenn to get comfortable, shuffling left and right trying to find the right spot on the stone floor. When he was finished he finally let out a deep breath. He brought his hand up to stroke Glenn’s cheek once more, ‘You can close your eye now. I’ll keep watch, okay?’ Glenn nodded and closed his eye. Though Henry did see him swallow in anticipation of the darkness.
He stroked his hand over Glenn’s hair for a moment, from the crown of his head, down to the nape of his neck, lifting his hand and placing it gently back on his crown to repeat the motion over and over and over again. He eventually settled his hand on the side of his head, his thumb stroking lightly at the patch of hairless skin behind Glenn’s ear. He didn't remember when exactly he had started to hum, he didn’t know what he was even humming. A calming motif, escaping from his throat. As Glenn’s breathing slowed, he continued to gently hum him to sleep and after a few minutes of this, he pulled his cloak from his shoulders to hang it gently over Glenn’s still body.
He wondered what Glenn would do after he would fall asleep, with the roles reversed he worried that if he stopped, Glenn would wake, or that a nightmare would take over him. So Henry continued softly. Just the same short song repeating over and over. Gently thumbing behind the bard’s ear.
He didn't remember falling to sleep himself, but when he woke, his arms were wrapped protectively around Glenn, holding him to his chest, head tucked under his chin.