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Henry, in his thirty-one years, has never wished to be a magic holder. Sure, it would’ve been convenient during school to magically pass his classes without stress, or after he graduated and his family was falling apart, all they needed was a thread to tie them back together.
It’s not like Henry could become a magic holder, anyhow. Holders themselves are rare, he knows, but a Non-Holder turned Holder? Almost unheard of.
Henry chews the side of his thumb, bounces his leg faster than his racing heart. The hospital waiting room is eerily quiet, one lone woman sleeping fitfully in the corner. The clock on the wall tells him it’s been four hours since he was called, four hours since he shot out of bed, four hours since—
“Mr. Fox?”
Henry whips his head up, searching the doctor's features for any news. His voice breaks as he answers, “yes?”
The doctor sighs and pulls down her mask. For the first time, Henry notices her blue scrubs, stained with dark blood. She’s young, only a few years his junior, with eye bags to match his. She meets his eyes, a familiar sadness in them setting Henry’s lungs ablaze. “My name is Dr. Reyes. You should follow me.”
Henry wordlessly follows her down hall after hall, until they reach the ICU. Deeper into the unit still, he follows her to room 0514, where she stops outside the door and faces him.
“Mr. Fox… Before we go in, you should know… It’s not looking good.”
“Can I see him?” Henry’s voice is hoarse, and at her nod, his trembling hands slowly open the door.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor punches a sigh of relief from Henry’s chest. He scrambles to the side of the bed, unshed tears rolling down his cheeks as he grabs tightly to Alex’s bruised hand.
Sobs catch in his throat as he assesses Alex’s injuries. The left side of his face is swollen, a black eye blooming just above his broken nose. Stitches decorate his bottom lip, weaving down to his jaw. A breathing tube sits in his throat. A cast covers his right arm.
“Mr. Claremont-Diaz has quite an extensive list of injuries,” Dr. Reyes says. “The impact of the crash caused his broken ribs to puncture a lung, for which he required surgery. The surgery itself went well, but it seems that Mr. Claremont-Diaz isn’t reacting well to antibiotics. Does he have any unknown allergies?”
“None,” Henry shakes his head. He meets her eyes to ask, “Will he be alright?”
“I can’t say,” She answers, and the same sad eyes are staring at Henry and he thinks he might explode if she doesn’t look away— “Mr. Claremont-Diaz—“
“Alex. His name is Alex.”
Dr. Reyes nods, “ Alex is in a very precarious situation, given his adverse reaction to the medication. His body is working against him right now. There’s not much else we can do.”
“Are there any Holders that can help?” Henry’s voice shakes, the desperation clear.
“I’m afraid not,” She smiles sadly. “Medical Magic is incredibly dangerous, usually doing more harm than good.”
A sob breaks from Henry’s throat then, forehead resting on his and Alex’s joined hands, both of them holding on for dear life.
“Henry,” The doctor says softly. She places a gentle hand on Henry’s shoulder, steels herself with a deep breath. Henry meets her gaze again, noticing the tears welling in her own eyes. “I think you should take some time and say your goodbyes.”
The heart monitor is the only sound in the room as Henry gapes at her. Goodbyes? No. No no no no. He opens his mouth to argue, but he’s cut off by a long, high-pitched tone.
Henry’s head whips towards Alex, whose body has gone completely slack, like a puppet with the strings cut. Henry’s mouth opens again, all he can get out being, “ Alex ,” before a swarm of medical personnel rush in and he’s being shoved out into the hallway, and the door slams, and he’s alone.
The deafening silence of the hall cuts through all of Henry’s racing thoughts. He takes a few shaky steps backward until his back hits the wall. He sinks down, knees pulled to his chest, Alex, Alex, Alex, the mantra in his mind. He thinks he vaguely hears shouts, clattering, swears, from room 0514, but he can’t be sure, not with this fog .
He barely registers anyone leaving the room, until Dr. Reyes is crouching in front of him.
“Henry?” She says, barely above a whisper. She pushes some hair away from his forehead before placing her hand on his knee. “Would you like to say goodbye?”
He nods, and with her help, he gets to his feet. The room feels both inches and miles away, each step he takes weighing more and more. Dr. Reyes allows Henry into the room, shutting the door behind him, but not before saying, “I’ll give you two some privacy.”
The quiet of the room is unsettling. Where minutes before Henry could count on the steady rhythm of the heart monitor, or the raspy in and out of Alex’s breathing tube, all he hears now is the shake of his own breathing, the squeak of his own shoes on the linoleum.
Alex lays on the bed, looking the most relaxed Henry has ever seen him. His skin is pale, bruises standing out against his face even more than before. Henry approaches slowly, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush curls off of Alex’s forehead. He recoils at the chill already radiating off of Alex’s usually warm skin. His fingers trail down to trace the burns on his chest left from the defibrillator.
Stepping back, Henry takes in the sight. Alex, the love of his life, his heart, his soul , lifeless in a hospital bed.
For the first time in his life, Henry wishes to be a Holder.
He gives Alex a gentle kiss on the forehead, he squeezes his stiff fingers, whispers “I love you,” broken, unheard.
His spine straightens, a blank expression slides onto his face, and he pushes out of room 0514, out of the ICU. He's not sure where he's going until he slides into a wooden pew, the small hospital chapel mercifully empty.
There, he cries.
Henry cries until he’s dizzy, his throat hoarse. He screams, curses every living being for continuing to live while Alex, his Alex, is fucking dead. Every breath hurts, his chest being ripped open, stitch by stitch, muscle by muscle, until his heart is crushed, ground into the floor by the boot of whatever God thought it was okay to take Alex from him.
Henry’s not religious, but for the first time, in this shitty hospital chapel, with the love of his life probably being zipped into a body bag, he prays.
“Please,” he weeps, knees on the uncomfortable folding bench. “Bring him back, I can’t do this without him.”
His hiccuping sobs echo through the small room, the force making him wretch. His heart pounds in his ears, so loud he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching, only looking up when they stop.
A figure, shrouded in shadows, leans with a leg kicked up against the wall. A deep, booming voice fills the chapel. It says, “Henry Fox.”
Henry, to his credit, attempts to make eye contact, managing only to vaguely look in the direction of the sound. He nods, not trusting his voice. The figure steps out from the dark, the dim lighting illuminating–
"Pez? ” Henry asks, incredulous. He shoots up out of the pew, stumbling towards his friend.
“No, dear boy.” Pez holds his hand up, shaking his head. His shape flickers, now taking on the image of Bea. “You may call me Orion. I am a Holder.”
Henry’s face falls, knees giving out under him. He slumps hard back onto the pew. Henry scrubs a hand down his face. “What do you want?”
Orion slides onto the bench beside him. They reach a pale, freckled hand out, and Henry watches as it changes to the weathered skin of his mother. “I’m here for you. I have a proposition.”
Henry lifts his head, staring into a copy of his own eyes, the ones that have gone through this exact same situation, with the added heartbreak of three children. Orion smiles Catherine’s smile, and Henry breaks.
He cries, falling into the open arms of this impersonator, burying his head in his mothers chest. Hands rub his back, soothing words are cooed into his hair. “It’s alright, darling,” Orion says with Catherine’s voice. “Let it out, it’s okay.”
Henry pulls away slightly, a shaking breath on his lips. Orion’s form flickers again, and Henry startles away as they turn into Ellen. “Sweetheart, I can help you.”
There's trepidation in his voice when he asks, “How?”
They stand, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles on Ellen’s pantsuit. They reach a hand out to Henry, who hesitantly allows himself to be pulled into another hug. The two rock back and forth, and for the first time, Henry realizes he’ll have to tell Ellen, Oscar, June, Nora –
“Shh, sugar, breathe with me, alright honey?”
He follows the exaggerated breaths to a tee, focused enough to not feel the hug changing. Henry doesn’t feel Ellen’s thin frame bulk up, he doesn't feel the arms holding him growing muscle, he doesn't feel the firm chest he now leans against.
This time, when Orion speaks, it's with a voice so familiar Henry could cry. “I can bring one person of your choosing back to life.”
Henry jerks back, tearful eyes seeing brown skin, sharp, beautiful features, dark curls, Alex, his Alex.
Alex.
“Stop,” Henry says, throat thick with emotion. “You’re not him, you’re not any of them, just stop.”
“Baby–”
“Stop.”
Orion rolls his eyes, a move so Alex that Henry has to bite back a sob. He flickers into Phillip, and Henry sighs in relief.
“My offer still stands, Henry. One person.”
Henry stares into the eyes of his brother, steals his jaw, and nods once. “What do you need from me, then?”
Mischief flashes in Orion’s expression, a smirk and a shrug accompanying his words. “I don’t want anything from you, Henry. Knowing you can only save one person is payment enough.”
Henry imagines Alex calling Orion the genie from Aladdin and he knows his answer. It's the answer that’s been obvious from the jump. “Fine. I choose…”
Henry trails off as Phillip melts into a slightly older version of him. His blonde hair becomes peppered with gray, smiles lines and crow's feet decorate his face. His smile knocks the breath from Henry’s lungs.
His father stares at him, and Henry…
Henry hesitates.
“Henry,” Arthur says, holding his arms out invitingly. “You’re so grown.”
Logically, Henry knows Orion isn’t really his father. Logically, Henry knows his father has been six feet under for years . Logic, however, doesn't stop him from launching himself into his fathers arms.
Arthur pets his hair, whispers how proud he is of his son, how much he’s grown into a dashing young man, how much he misses him.
“Henry, my boy,” Arthur murmurs. “You must make a decision.”
Henry freezes in Arthur's grip. His heart pounds, his head is full of cotton, because now… now he doesn’t know. He was so sure , he knew it was Alex, he hadn’t even thought of his father, and yet…
Henry pulls away, stumbles back into the pew, dumbstruck. He whispers, broken, “I don’t… I don’t know.”
Arthur sighs, and Henry’s heart cracks at the disappointment. “You have 24 hours. Meet me back here with your decision.” With that, they turn to leave, and Henry watches, stunned, as Orion reaches the door.
With that, Henry is alone.
He tries to think, create pros and cons, but the fog in his mind still hasn’t cleared. Before he can rationalize why it’s a terrible idea, he’s ringing Bea.
“Hen? Are you alright? ” Bea asks as soon as the call connects. Her voice is thick with sleep, and Henry curses the time difference, but mostly himself for waking her.
“Bea…” His voice breaks as he tries - and fails - to hold back tears.
“Henry, what’s happened?” Bea’s sounds wide awake now, her bedsheets rustling as she sits up. “Do you need me there? I’m sure there’s a flight–”
“No, no, Bea, you can stay there, I’m alright,” Henry breathes. He takes another deep breath before saying, “I need your advice without any further questions.”
“Anything. What’s going on?”
“If you… If you could save someone important to you, or…” Henry’s breath hitches here. “Or bring Dad back, what would you do?”
There’s silence on the other line for quite some time, long enough that Henry thinks Bea might’ve hung up or fallen back asleep. Finally, she sighs and says, “It would depend how important they are to me.”
Henry laughs, broken and wet, and he says, “They’re my whole world.”
“Hen… What happened to Alex?”
So Henry tells her. He tells her about the call he got thirty minutes after Alex should’ve been home. He tells her how Alex was hit by a drunk driver and thrown through his windshield. He tells her how he waited for hours, terror trickling through his veins with every passing second. He tells her about seeing him broken, battered, bruised. He tells her about being rushed out of the room, about seeing Alex’s lifeless corpse, about Orion.
“And now,” Henry says. “Now, I have to choose between mending two broken families.”
“You listen to me, Henry Fox.”
Henry startles at the firm tone, nodding even though she can’t see him.
“We were a broken family long before Dad died. I would love to have him back, I would, but dear…” She trails off for a moment, and Henry can hear the sad smile she puts on. “We’ve been grieving dad for years. We know he’s gone. Save June, Nora, Ellen, and yourself the heartache of losing Alex too.”
Henry stutters on a breath, all but whispering, “are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
When Henry hangs up, he folds his– Alex’s jumper into a pillow and falls into a fitful sleep on the pew.
“Henry,” Arthur stands in front of Henry, a soft smile on his face. He looks older than Henry remembers him. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Dad?” Henry chokes out. He’s wary, but the pit in his stomach has dissipated, and he reaches out to hold his father's outstretched hand.
Arthur pulls him into a hug, swaying back and forth as he pets his son's hair. “I must say, Henry, I’d love to come back and see you all.”
Henry stops, his breath catching. Arthur detaches from the hug but doesn't let go. Instead, he holds Henry and maintains eye contact.
“I would love to see the men that you and Pip have become, and Bea, I’m sure she's a fine young woman now, isn't she? How's your mother doing?”
“She's… she's alright,” Henry answers, almost in a daze. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, debating, until he quietly asks, “Am I making the right choice?”
“Oh, Henry, dear,” Arthur smiles at him again. “Of course you are.”
“But you just said–”
“You should know better than to argue with your old man, Henry,” Arthur chuckles with a cheeky wink. “What I said is true, of course. I'd love to see you all again. However…”
His father levels Henry with a look that could only rival Bea’s. “If that comes at the price of my son’s happiness, I will gladly wait years to reunite with my family.”
At that, Henry buries his face into Arthur's chest, gasping and heaving sobs leaving his lungs. “I just miss you so much,” Henry cries.
“I know, darling, I miss you too,” Arthur soothes, rubbing Henry’s back. The beginnings of a grin dance on his face. “But Alexander misses you too. He’s a fine young man, Henry, you’ve chosen well. Charming.”
“You… you met him?” Henry lifts his head in wonder.
“I did, yes. He’s been a wonderful guest, but I shouldn’t like to see him again in quite a few lifetimes, nor should I like to see you.”
“Dad–”
“You should get going, Henry. Orion will arrive soon.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, son. I’ll be waiting for you."
Henry wakes with a start, the chapel door slamming behind Orion. He approaches, this time in June’s form.
“Have you made your decision yet?” Orion asks.
Henry juts out his chin, takes a deep breath, and stares into June’s stolen eyes. “Yes.”
There’s a loud popping sound, and Henry’s ears begin to ring. He looks up at Orion, who has morphed into Nora, and the world tilts. He shouts, “What’s happening?”
“You’ll be reunited soon enough.”
Henry only has a second to panic about that implication before he falls to the floor, unconscious.
“Hey, H,” a soft, gravelly voice floats through Henry’s mind. His grumbles turn to hums as a hand cards fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp just the way he likes, the way Alex knows– Alex.
Henry’s head shoots up, ignoring the pounding in his skull. Slowly, he takes in his surroundings. He’s in a hospital room, sitting in one of the uncomfortable visitor chairs. A heart monitor steadily beeps, and Alex sits in the bed, in all his injured glory. He still has his black eye and broken nose, his arm still in a cast, but he’s here, he’s alive .
“Alex,” Henry breathes, and gently as he can, reaches up to cradle Alex’s face. “You’re… You’re okay. You’re alive.”
“Don’t sound too disappointed, sweetheart,” Alex says, his good hand moving to cover Henry’s. “You’re stuck with me for a lifetime.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, love,” Henry says, almost unbelieving. He’s content to stay like this, but Alex scoots over and pats the empty space on his bed. Carefully, Henry slots himself under Alex’s raised arm, sighing pleasantly when his fingers start drawing patterns on Henry’s shoulder.
“You know,” Alex starts quietly. “I had an interesting dream while I was out.”
“Oh?”
“It was all white, just… completely empty. Echos while I walked and everything.” He mimes walking with his fingers on Henry's shoulder, and Henry snorts.
“Then, I saw someone coming towards me. It took a while for me to see who it was, but when I could make out his face, I could tell he was a total babe.”
“Was he?” Henry asks, amused.
“Oh, definitely. The salt and pepper look really worked for him. He shook my hand and introduced himself… as Arthur Fox.”
Henry’s heart rate quickens just a touch. “I saw him in my dream, too.”
“Yeah?”
“He said you two had met.”
“And did he say I was drop-dead gorgeous?” Alex smirks, and it takes everything in Henry not to smack him with a pillow.
“No, love,” Henry rolls his eyes, despite reaching up and linking his and Alex's fingers. “That was me.”
“Must’ve been mistaken,” Alex says, voice dripping with affection. He guides Henry to lean into his chest, and fiddles with the fingers in his grip. “I asked Arthur about you.”
“Hm? What did you ask?”
“I…” Alex hesitates, and Henry cracks an eye open to see a nervous expression.
“Alexander. What did you ask him?”
“Just… Iaskedforhisblessing.”
“His blessing?” Henry raises an eyebrow. “Alex, do you fancy me?”
Alex doesn’t resist his urge to push Henry, laughing at the squawk he lets out at the assault.
Soon, Alex will be discharged, and they’ll have to get him on the steady but difficult road to recovery. For now, as Alex sleeps in his hospital bed, Henry is content to stargaze through the window.
“What're you doing?” Alex slurs, half asleep and high on pain meds.
Henry smiles at him from his perch on the windowsill. “Go back to sleep, love. I’m just looking for Orion.”