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"Why is it taking so long?" Alex paced up and down the short aisle of the chartered plane.
"Because England is 3000 miles from Washington, D.C.," Amy replied, her tone as stoic as Alex's wasn't.
"That's categorically unfair," Alex whined, dropping into the seat opposite her.
"I know." Amy offered him a sympathetic smile. "We just passed the halfway mark, though, so there's that."
With a big sigh, Alex nodded. "I guess. It's just…." He had no idea how to express what he was feeling.
Amy leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. "I know. We're all worried about him."
Alex nodded again, then frowned. "Amy. What if…?" He paused to swallow, wiping a hand across his mouth, then tried again. "What if I'm too late?"
The last time he had seen Henry was when they had had that wonderful night at Alex’s hotel during the DNC. They had talked, they had laughed a lot, they had had sex—a lot. But their goodbye had been rushed. Alex hoped that wasn’t the end. That couldn’t be the end.
"Don't think that way," Amy urged him. "Bea said he's holding his own."
Although he was fairly certain that Bea wouldn't lie to him—not about this, in any case—Alex still propelled himself out of his seat and resumed his pacing. Maybe if he walked enough, he would get to London that much sooner.
* * *
Amy had forced him to eat a turkey sandwich and a bag of pretzels and to rest for an hour, but Alex was still exhausted when they landed in London.
He texted Henry's sister as soon as the plane's wheels hit the tarmac. How's he doing?
Bea's reply came quickly. Hanging in there.
A car was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and the sun was just beginning to rise when they headed off the tarmac toward the airplane exit.
The drive to the hospital seemed endless, though it could only really have been about thirty minutes, maybe a little less. Amy allowed Alex some silence in which to think, using her time to check her e-mails and phone messages, no doubt running interference for him with the White House. He had only told his parents he thought it was time for some follow-up damage control vis-à-vis Henry. They seemed to buy it, though Alex genuinely didn’t care what they thought at this particular moment.
As for Alex, he simply stared at Bea's text, willing her not to add anything dire as they made their way into the city center.
The car drove up behind the hospital. Henry's equerry, Shaan, was waiting by a back door. Alex had wondered whether Shaan had figured out what was going on with him and Henry, but he guessed if he hadn't known before, Bea had likely clued him in by now.
"Right this way, Alex," Shaan said, hustling first Alex, then Amy, inside. He showed them down a hallway, up some steps, out into another hallway, then into a small conference room in which all the shades had been closed.
"Have a seat." Shaan gestured to the long wooden table, around which sat eight leather chairs.
"I want to see Henry," Alex countered.
Shaan nodded sharply. "I know. You will. Have a seat first."
Sensing this was not an argument he could win, Alex sank into the nearest chair. Amy took the one right next to it. There was a pitcher of water right next to him—with glasses conveniently situated nearby. Alex poured himself a full glass and chugged it down, but his throat was still insanely dry.
Clearing his throat, Shaan said, "I wanted to tell you what to expect when you go in."
Bea had not offered too many details, just that Henry had been in an accident, and she thought Alex should come. Alex had not needed more to tell his fib and get his mother to arrange a charter. As much as Alex just wanted to see Henry, being prepared was probably smart. Alex nodded. "Okay."
"I've cleared your visit with Henry's doctors, and only Henry's security team will know you're here," Shaan explained.
"What about Henry's mother?" Alex asked. If he had been in the hospital, wild horses could not have kept his own mother from his side.
Shaan sighed in what Alex sensed was frustration. "She's in Africa, and it seems to be a challenge to get back, though her people say she's trying."
This probably should have surprised Alex.
"Philip has been here, but he's not at the moment. He doesn't believe there's any benefit to waiting here instead of at home," Shaan went on briskly. "It's just Bea right now."
Alex could nearly feel the crack Shaan's words etched into his heart. "It's good she's here."
"So, when the car sideswiped his, Henry hit his head," Shaan said, his eyes sweeping over Alex's face. "He has lots of bruises, and he fractured his wrist, but it's the head injury that has the doctors worried."
"Bea made it sound like he hasn't woken up," Alex told him.
"He has not." Shaan pursed his lips. "Maybe you can help change that."
Alex did not know if he had that kind of power, but he would do anything to help Henry. Anything. For a moment, Alex marveled at how quickly Henry had gone from mortal enemy to most-cherished person, then he refocused on the situation at hand.
"Can I see him now?" Alex was aware that he was on the verge of begging, but he didn't really care.
Shaan nodded sharply. "Follow me."
Amy walked behind as Shaan led them to the elevator ("It's a lift," the Henry in Alex's head provided). It was not a public elevator, but rather a freight elevator.
They went up four floors to a ward with signs labeling it as Intensive Care, then Shaan led the way down two hallways to arrive at a corner room with a closed door. The label under the room number—425—read, simply "Fox."
Shaan rapped two times at the door in quick succession, then opened it, gesturing for Alex to go in. Alex pulled in a deep breath, then another, vaguely noticing Amy stationing herself on the side of the door not occupied by Henry's security and Shaan moving to prop up the opposite wall. Finally, he walked inside.
There was an ivory-colored curtain obscuring Alex's view of the bed, but just three short steps got him past it, where all the air he'd collected in his lungs left him.
As he fought to regain his breath, he felt a small hand grip his upper arm. Bea. He would have turned to politely acknowledge her if his eyes weren't locked on the figure in the bed.
The bed was standard hospital-issue, outfitted with white sheets and a white blanket. Henry lay still on the bed, the sheets and blankets covering him to his chest. Henry's pallor gave the sheets a run for their pale money.
Henry's hands rested on either side of his torso, the right wrist wrapped with an ACE bandage and covered with a brace. Various IVs ran from his left hand to some liquid medication and a wire from his chest—mostly hidden under a hospital gown—led to a monitor that beeped softly. A nasal cannula fed Henry air from the oxygen tank next to the heart monitor.
The worst part of all of it—and all of it was terrible—was how still Henry was lying in that bed, forcing Alex to reconcile Shaan's report that Henry was unconscious and had been so since the accident.
Finally, he turned to look down at Bea. "How is he?"
Minutely, she shook her head. "He hasn't woken up yet, but it's not even been twenty-four hours. He's breathing on his own, though, which the doctors say is a good sign. I think he might be waiting for you."
Stubborn prick, Alex thought. It would be just like Henry to pick his moment to regain consciousness. "I'll do my best to coax him awake."
"They said that talking sometimes helps," Bea explained. "I've been reading from Sense and Sensibility, but I'm sure he'd prefer your voice."
Alex didn't know about that. Henry had a deep and abiding fondness for his sister—a fondness he didn't feel for many other members of his family. "I guess we'll find out."
She patted his arm. "I'll give you some time alone. I'll go get some food in the café. Do you want anything?"
"No, thanks. Amy made me eat on the plane."
After squeezing his upper arm gently, she left the room.
Pulling in a deep breath, Alex took the seat Bea had occupied, to the right of Henry's bed. With a gentleness he didn't always possess—bold and brassy were his defaults, it seemed—he lifted Henry's injured hand and gently ran his index finger over the back of Henry's fingers. He looked up, then, at Henry's face.
The place on the right side of Henry's temple where his head had met some part of the car was covered in a white bandage. His right eye had sustained some bruising, and he had a cut on his chin. The royal family should sue the makers of the car Henry had been riding in. Clearly the seat belt had not done its job. Or, perhaps, Henry hadn't been wearing one, in which case, Alex would chastise him profusely. Later. Much later.
Alex reached up and ran his fingers through the blond hair just above Henry's bandage. He cleared his throat. "Hi Henry. It's me. It's Alex." Like they hadn't spent hours on the phone listening to each other's voices.
"Looks like you've gotten yourself in quite a pickle," he went on, feeling a little bit silly starting a one-sided conversation, but determined to rouse Henry. He gripped the fingers of Henry's hand a bit tighter. "You look a little beat up. How's the other guy look?"
Henry's breathing was steady and not quite in time with the soft beeping from the heart monitor. Alex was grateful that Henry wasn't on a ventilator—he knew that would signal something much, much worse.
"You know what I was thinking?" Alex asked what had to be a rhetorical question for now. "It's the end of summer. My parents have a place out on a lake not too far from Austin, and we usually go right before school starts. You haven't met my dad yet, and I know he'd love to meet you. As soon as you're out of the hospital, I think we should all go there for a long weekend. You'll love it."
He paused to take a deep breath, then another, then a third. Softly, then, he began speaking again. "You're really scaring everyone here, Henry. Even Shaan seems a little flustered. Your sister hasn't left your side since you got here. You need to let everyone know you're okay. Okay?"
Nothing. Still.
"You know what?" Alex scooted forward a bit in his seat. "When I told Nora you kissed me, she insinuated that I'd wanted you to…have your way with me…for a long time. I told her she didn't know what she was talking about, but just between you and me, I think she was right.
"I think I just covered up my attraction to you under all that annoyance." Alex wasn’t sure if he was sad or glad that Henry wasn't conscious as he bared his soul.
He barreled on. "You really aren't what I thought you were. I thought you were snobby and elitist and nobody I really wanted to know, but once I saw you at the hospital talking to that little girl about Star Wars, I started to get the feeling I'd read you wrong.
"As it turns out, you're sweet and kind, not to mention really, really good in bed. That night in Paris…that was the most amazing night I've ever had."
Alex stopped for a moment and ran his hand through Henry's hair again, willing Henry to open his eyes already.
When Henry's hazel eyes stayed closed, Alex sighed. "I'm falling for you, Henry," he whispered. "Head over heels. And I don't know if you've figured it out—or if you feel the same way. You need to wake up."
Alex checked around the room, although he was certain he and Henry were alone. When he was positive they had no audience, he stood, still gripping Henry's hand with his own. Leaning over, he kissed Henry's forehead. "I love you," he said in a voice so soft that if Henry had been awake, he'd have asked Alex to repeat himself.
As Alex was sitting back down, the hand in his started to move. Alex stood back up again. "Henry?" he asked, trying to temper his hope even as his voice went from whisper-soft to loud and squeaky in the space of a few seconds. "Henry, can you hear me?"
Henry's hand moved again, and Alex's heart leapt. "Henry?"
A groan escaped from Henry's mouth then, and Alex could not help but grin. His smile grew wider when Henry slowly blinked open his eyes. It took a few long seconds for his gaze to fall upon Alex.
Henry groaned again. In a raspy voice, he announced, "My head hurts."
Alex's smile shifted from joyous to sympathetic. "That's what happens when you get into a fight with a car."
"Is that what happened?"
"Yes." As Alex sat back down, his entire body finally able to relax; he did not, however, release Henry's hand. "A car sideswiped you. You banged your head and broke your wrist."
"And you're here," Henry concluded needlessly.
"Bea called. There was no way I wasn't flying over."
Silence fell between them. Alex let it sink in that Henry seemed okay. He would need to let everyone know that Henry was awake, though. Alex's impression of Henry's state was no match for a doctor's.
But for just a moment more, he wanted Henry to himself. He gazed down at him with a serious look in his eyes. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Henry frowned. “I didn’t mean to.”
Alex nodded and offered a small smile. “I know.” After a beat, he asked, “Hey, did you hear anything I said before you opened your eyes?”
Still frowning, Henry gave a small shake of his head. “Was it important?”
“I’ll sum it up for you.” Alex grinned, leaned over, and pressed his lips to Henry’s.
When Alex lifted his head again, Henry was grinning, too. “Very important, indeed.”
Alex squeezed Henry’s hand. “And don’t you forget it.”
“I promise I won’t.” Henry squeezed his hand back. Alex never wanted to let him go.
(27 September 2023)