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Alex doesn’t immediately notice that something is wrong.
It's early evening, and their kitchen is bathed in golden sunlight. The rays illuminate Millie’s chestnut hair, giving it a warm auburn glow as she eats her puree, smearing some on the tray of her high chair and some on her face. She babbles, and Alex is all too happy to engage in her nonsensical conversation while preparing dinner for himself and Henry.
Henry has been uncharacteristically silent for the past 15 minutes.
Alex glances at him with a frown. Henry is sitting at the kitchen island, slightly slouched, his head resting on his hand, eyes closed.
“You okay, baby?” Alex asks.
Henry straightens up, opening his eyes. His gaze is a bit unfocused as it meets Alex’s.
“I’m fine, love. Just a slight headache.”
“Did you take something?”
“A paracetamol 15 minutes ago. I’m waiting for it to kick in. It’ll pass,” Henry smiles as he stands up and grabs baby wipes to clean Millie’s face.
Alex makes a non-committal noise. Henry is paler than usual, with pronounced dark circles under his eyes. He’s had headaches before, but for some reason, something doesn’t feel right to Alex.
“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
Henry smiles, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he comes to press a kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Thank you, darling. It smells delicious.”
Once he has finished preparing dinner, Alex, still a bit concerned, makes his way to the living room. He settles on the coffee table, his hand reaching out to find Henry’s, a silent gesture of comfort.
“How are you feeling, baby?” he queries softly.
Henry’s eyes flutter weakly, and a wave of apprehension washes over Alex. His already pale complexion seems even more so, and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, revealing his discomfort.
“Really not good,” he slurs. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat. I’m sorry, love.”
Alex's hand moves to Henry’s cheek, his knuckles grazing the soft skin.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll secure Millie in her playpen, then I’ll bring you upstairs.”
Henry nods but winces as if even that simple motion causes him pain
Alex returns to the kitchen, unclasps the toddler from her high chair, and places her in her playpen. She stays up, watching curiously as Alex lifts Henry from the couch. His husband wraps his arms around his neck and nestles his head against Alex’s shoulder. Alex tenses when he feels the warmth radiating from Henry’s body.
Fuck. The unease he felt earlier keeps pressing down on his chest. Something is not normal .
“Daddy?” Millie asks, and Alex smiles reassuringly.
“Daddy is going to bed. I’ll be back in a few minutes, ok?”
Millie nods obediently and sits down, quickly becoming absorbed in the toys around her. Confident that she'll be occupied for a while, he heads upstairs with Henry.
They have barely reached the landing, that Henry clutches his mouth and mutters, “Bathroom!” Without hesitation, Alex guides him to their ensuite. He keeps a steady hand on Henry’s back as Henry empties his stomach, then crumples next to the toilet with a pitiful moan.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed,” Alex murmures softly. He lifts Henry, carries him to the bed, and gently tucks him in. After checking Henry’s forehead, he frowns. “You’re really hot. Let me check your temperature.”
“My neck hurts,” Henry mumbles, eyes still closed. Alex hurries to the bathroom to get the thermometer. Sliding his hand under Henry’s head, he massages his neck while waiting for the temperature to display, but it does nothing to ease Henry’s discomfort.
Alex's worry deepens when he sees the numbers. “Henry, your temperature is 102. I think we should go to the hospital.”
Henry’s voice is weak, barely audible. “Alex, please, no. If I move, I’ll be sick again. It’s just a bad migraine. I just need to sleep it off.”
Alex's internal battle intensifies as he wants to argue that a migraine doesn't come with a fever, as far as he knows, but now is not the time. The persistent feeling that something is wrong nags at his mind, yet he decides to let Henry rest for a while. He's aware of his tendency to overreact regarding Henry and Emilia’s security and health, but this time, it feels different.
As Henry's breathing evens out and he starts to fall asleep, Alex reluctantly makes his way back downstairs. Every bone in his body screams at him to stay and watch over his husband, but he knows he is also responsible for the little girl downstairs. He’s uncomfortable leaving her alone for too long, even in her playpen.
He feels torn between the two and hates it.
Lifting Millie from her playpen, he presses a kiss to her forehead and tickles her tummy, trying to keep his worry from transferring to her. She often picks up on her parent’s moods.
“Stop, Papi, stop,” she laughs, and they return to the kitchen. He sits down with her, feeling the silkiness of her curls brushing his chin to give her some fruit puree. He knows he should put her back in her high chair, but the feel of her warm, little body against his chest brings him some comfort.
She starts babbling again, and he gently corrects some of her words. At just 20 months old, her vocabulary is impressive. June always says it’s not surprising, given her parents.
"For you, Papi," she says, offering him a spoonful. He smiles and takes it despite having a whole dinner waiting that he can’t bring himself to touch right now.
He wipes her hand, and she turns around on his lap, placing her hands on his cheeks and kissing his chin. His heart squeezes.
"You are my sunshine," he tells her tenderly, feeling some pressure in his chest lift.
Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe it’s just a migraine, and Henry will wake up soon, teasing Alex for overreacting even though he loves it. After putting Millie to bed, they’ll have a nice dinner in the kitchen and a lovely evening cuddling on the couch, watching a movie.
The ugly sound of retching echoes upstairs, and the knots in his stomach tighten. He rises abruptly from his chair and remembers Millie on his lap. Forcing himself to calm down, he climbs the stairs at an even pace. Millie begins to sense his tension and grows a little agitated. He murmurs soothing words and places her in her bed, kissing her forehead. "I'll be right back, baby."
He hurries to the bathroom, finding Henry half-seated, half-sprawled on the floor. Henry's face is a nasty shade of red, and alarms blare in Alex's mind.
Fuck overreacting.
Henry barely acknowledges him as Alex crouches beside him, brushing back the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.
"Henry, you're burning up."
"My head really hurts, Alex," Henry replies, pain coloring his voice.
"I'm calling 911, baby. Please, don't fight me on this. Please."
Henry nods, and although Alex isn't waiting for his permission—they are going to the ER regardless—he dials the number. He quickly explains the situation to the dispatcher, who assures him an ambulance is coming. He then calls Amy and Cash, his voice barely steady, to inform them of the impending arrival of the paramedics.
"Emilia?" Henry croaks out, his little girl always on his mind, even in this state.
"I’m taking care of her, don’t worry," Alex replies, helping Henry stand and put on one of his hoodies over his t-shirt and sweatpants. Of course, this had to happen on the weekend when June and Nora were out of state, and Pez and Bea were in England. He would laugh at the irony if the situation weren't so serious.
He brings Henry downstairs and sets him on the couch before fetching Millie. The paramedics arrive, let in by Amy, and they bring in a gurney, hook Henry up to a monitor, and take his vitals. Alex explains Henry's symptoms again. Henry is now unresponsive, and an absolute terror starts to slither its way into Alex's chest.
Millie clutches at his shirt, looking at the commotion with a half-curious, half-frightened look.
"Is he going to be okay?" Alex asks, his voice trembling. He knows the paramedics can't answer clearly, but he needs reassurance. The sight of Henry on that gurney makes his mind spiral into worst-case scenarios, and he needs to stay calm and collected for Millie’s sake.
One of the medics smiles warmly at him. "We'll know more once we get him to the ER, but hopefully so. You did the right thing by calling us. We're taking him to Brooklyn Hospital Center if you want to follow us."
"Cash will drive you," Amy adds as the medics leave the house with Henry.
Alex, his mind a whirlwind of worry, stays frozen in the middle of the living room, holding Millie tight against him. He tries desperately to get his brain back on track by making a list of practical things he will need - his wallet, Henry’s ID, his keys - but to his great frustration, it’s not really cooperating. Sensing his distress, Amy takes the initiative, gathering everything he needs and handing it to him.
For the first time that evening, he feels the sting of tears burning his eyelids, but he blinks them away.
“Cash is waiting for you in the car. I can stay with Emilia,” she tells him in her no-nonsense voice, and he latches onto it, anchoring himself to the moment. As he tries to hand Millie over, however, the little girl starts screaming, her fingers digging in his t-shirt, and he just can’t let her go.
"I'll keep her with me," he says, and Millie instantly calms down against his chest.
"There's a stroller in the car," Amy says, walking him outside. "I'll lock up behind you. Just go," she adds softly, concern evident in her eyes despite her composed demeanor.
Alex nods, grateful for Amy’s steady presence. He heads out the door, Millie still clinging to him, and spots Cash waiting by the car. Cash opens the door and helps Alex secure Millie in the car seat before climbing into the driver’s seat himself.
As they drive towards the hospital, Alex tries to calm his racing thoughts. Millie’s quiet breathing provides a small comfort, and he focuses on her to keep himself grounded. The city lights blur past the window, and before he knows it, they’re pulling up to Brooklyn Hospital Center.
Cash parks and helps Alex retrieve Millie and the stroller. Inside the hospital, they’re directed to the ER, where Alex finds out Henry has been taken care of. A nurse takes Alex’s information and reassures him that Henry is in good hands. He and Millie are ushered into a private waiting room, a perk of his former FSOTUS status that he gratefully accepts this time. He unclasps Millie from the stroller, letting her stretch her legs. Spotting a table with children's books and a basket of small toys, she heads straight for it.
Alex sits on the couch, keeping an eye on her, resigned to wait. He replays the afternoon and the last few days in his mind, wondering what caused Henry’s health to deteriorate so suddenly. He questions himself, wondering if he overlooked any signs that could have prevented this.
The minutes stretch into an agonizing eternity, though a glance at the clock on the wall reveals only 20 minutes have passed. Millie, bored of her toys, has returned to his lap, thumb in her mouth and head bobbing against his chest. She struggles to keep her eyes open but is losing the battle. Alex kisses the crown of her hair, inhaling her baby scent, letting it soothe the deep anxiety churning in his stomach.
A doctor and a nurse finally arrive, and he stands up, holding Millie securely against his chest.
“Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”
“Yes. Is Henry okay?”
The doctor gives him a reassuring smile. “He will be, thanks to you. You brought him just in time.”
Alex frowns, puzzled. “Just in time? What do you mean? It wasn’t a migraine?”
The doctor shakes her head with a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid not. Mr. Fox suffered from bacterial meningitis.”
Alex feels a wave of confusion. He knows he’s heard that term before, but the stress of the evening has left his mind uncooperating. His voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, his throat tight. “That sounds bad,” he croaks.
“Time is critical with this disease. If you had waited another hour, we might not have been able to save him.”
Alex swallows hard, struggling to comprehend. What the fuck is that doctor talking about? “Save him? What?”
“Bacterial meningitis is deadly. The faster we can treat it, the better the chances of recovery. You made the right call by bringing him in immediately.”
Deadly? What the...? The words sink in slowly, almost too much to grasp. His voice trembles as he asks, "You mean if I hadn’t called 911, he would have... died? In our bed?"
The doctor nods. "Most likely."
"Fuck," he mutters, momentarily forgetting he's still holding Millie. "We thought it was just a stupid migraine."
As the reality of the doctor's words settles in, his heart pounds violently, each beat echoing in his ears. His vision narrows, and his chest tightens painfully. Gasping for air, he swallows a wave of nausea as panic engulfs him.
"Please take her," he begs the nurse, handing Millie over.
He hears the doctor instructing him to breathe and feels a steady, comforting hand on his back and shoulder as she guides him into a nearby chair. Through the haze, he hears Millie's wrenching cries at being separated from him, and he tries to focus on that to pull himself out of the daze.
Millie needs him.
He takes a few deep breaths, filling his lungs with air. The weight on his chest lifts slightly, and he opens his eyes to see Millie's crumpled, terrified face, her hand outstretched towards him.
"Oh God, I’m so sorry, baby," he says, taking her back into his arms, pressing her shaking body against his chest, and covering her face with kisses. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."
She calms down a little, but her arms remain tightly wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder. Guilt gnaws at his insides, and he wonders when this fucking nightmare of an evening will end.
The doctor continues, “You and your daughter will be given antibiotics as a preventive measure since you both have been in contact with Mr. Fox. It’s just for a few days.”
“Yes, okay. When will I be able to see him?”
“Not for another 48 hours, at least. We’ll let you know when it’s safe for him, and you, to have visitors. We shouldn’t keep him for more than five days at the most. He’s going to be transferred to the ICU.”
Alex strokes Millie’s back, trying in vain to comfort both her and himself.
“Is there anything… Do you need me to sign something, or…?”
The doctor smiles softly. “No. I suggest you go home with your little girl and rest. Henry is in good hands and will make a full recovery. Just focus on that.”
Alex nods, and the doctor leaves. He follows the nurse to the reception, where she gives him the antibiotics and some information. He doesn’t really register anything, but he knows he can call the hospital later if he has questions.
Cash waits for him at the reception and is relieved by Alex’s explanations. He takes the stroller—Millie is not going back in it tonight—and gently ushers Alex toward the car, assuring him he will inform Amy of the news.
Once back home, profound exhaustion settles into his bones, making every step feel like a marathon. He focuses on the small comforts ahead: a quick stop in the bathroom with Millie to clean up, changing into pajamas and finally being able to sit down and breathe a bit easier. The doctor’s assurance that Henry will be okay is his lifeline, and he clings to those words with every ounce of strength he has left.
It's well past Millie’s bedtime, but after his panic attack earlier and the scare he gave her, he's compelled to make amends with a promise of ice cream and a viewing of Tangled. Henry always jokes that Flynn Ryder reminds him of Alex.
Barely ten minutes into the movie, Millie succumbs to sleep, her tiny body slumping against Alex's side. Only then does he allow himself to surrender to the overwhelming emotions of the night, letting tears stream down his face.
****
After the longest forty-eight hours of his fucking life, Alex finally receives a call from the hospital, letting him know it is safe to come and see Henry. He doesn’t waste another minute, calls June, who’s back from her weekend away, to ask if he can drop Millie off with her and rushes to the hospital after that, doing his best to stay within the speed limit.
The last time he saw Henry, he was deathly pale and lying unconscious on a gurney, so seeing him now smiling at him, sitting in his hospital bed, is the last straw for Alex. He rushes to Henry's side, tears blurring his vision, enveloping him in a tight embrace, mindful of the IV coming out of his arm.
Henry's smile falters as he sees the tears streaming down Alex's face. "Hey, it's okay," he says softly, putting his arms around him. "I'm here. I'm alright, darling."
Alex nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. One of his hands grabs Henry’s, feeling the warmth and life in his grip. "I’ve been so terrified," he finally chokes out. “Fuck, baby, never do this again. Please.”
"I won’t," Henry replies, his voice steady and comforting. “I just thought our life could do with some excitement,” he jokes, and Alex lets out a wet laugh.
“Do that again, and I’ll fucking divorce you,” he threatens before pressing his lips to Henry, pouring all the fear, pain, and stress of the last couple of days into the kiss and reveling at the fact that Henry is in his arms, alive . Refusing to dwell on the fact that Millie and him almost lost the most important person in their life.
They stay like this for a moment, the fear and anxiety beginning to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.
“How’s Millie?” Henry asks, his hand reaching to Alex’s cheek to wipe away the tears.
“She’s ok. She had quite the scare as well, and I’m a bit responsible for that,” he winces, but Henry’s smile assures him that he understands. “But…I said the F word in front of her when the doctor told me about the meningitis. I was so shocked; it just came out.”
Henry laughs. “Has she repeated it since then?”
“No. That doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods. She might be waiting for the right opportunity, what with her smart little brain.”
“Well, we’ll deal with it when or if it happens. It’s not the end of the world.”
“It almost was,” Alex replies softly, fighting another wave of tears.
“But it didn’t,” Henry says soothingly. “How long can you stay?”
Alex looks at his watch. “They told me I could see you for thirty minutes.”
“Then get comfortable, my love.”
Alex removes his shoes and settles on the bed, carefully pulling Henry against his chest. He can hear his husband let out a contented sigh.
He can fucking relate.
A sense of normalcy returns despite the beeping machines and sterile hospital environment. The nightmare of the past forty-eight hours is starting to fade, replaced by the comforting reality that Henry is on the mend.
Alex leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Henry’s lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Henry murmurs against his lips, their foreheads touching.
They lie there in silence for a while, feeling the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. Alex listens to the rhythmic sound of Henry’s breathing, savoring the simple, profound joy of being close to the person he loves most. The only thing that would make this perfect would be if Millie were with them. But it is just a matter of days before the three of them are reunited.
And Alex’s world will finally be right again.