Archive of Our Own

Henry is absolutely knackered.

No, actually, that doesn’t quite cover it. After living on the razor’s edge physically and emotionally for months on end, he’s certain his body is giving up on him, that at least one half-essential organ has failed. He feels so depleted, so hollow, he might as well have been a very lifelike mannequin, or one of those eerie wax figures they put in museums.

It’s not something Henry’s unfamiliar with. He actually used to enjoy it, this emptiness that told him he had pushed himself to his absolute limit and had poured everything he had into the sport that he excelled in. It used to make the countless hours of training and traveling worth it, what kept him going when he had to deny himself simple pleasures like his favorite treats (Jaffa Cakes and Cornettos were off-season luxuries) and an occasional sleep-in.

This feeling, the complete loss of his entire self, used to be that final reward, sweeter than any medals or podiums he might receive.

Not this time.

Which is probably a sign he’s done. That this is, in fact, his last Olympics.

Just the thought makes his chest feel tight, makes his heart start racing.

No, something in the back of his head screams.

No, no, no. This is who you are, this is your entire life. It’s too early, you’re too young to retire, you have at least one more Olympics in you–

“Shut up,” Henry whispers to himself and shakes his head, forcing his brain to quiet down.

“I didn’t say anything,” Liam, Henry’s teammate, chuckles.

It’s the final day of the 2026 Olympic Games, and the entire US Biathlon Team is on its way back from Antolz where they had spent the last two weeks. After the mass start and the medal ceremony that followed, they were herded into cars that would make the five hour trip down winding roads of the Italian Alps all the way to Milan.

Normally, Henry would be on tenterhooks, because it’s not exactly a pleasant trip. Italian shuttle drivers in these parts drive like they have nothing to lose. Full speed, with no regard for their own lives let alone the lives of their passengers. It was as impressive as it was terrifying.

Right now he’s too exhausted to pay attention to what’s going on outside his window. Instead he keeps his eyes closed, phone in his hands, waiting for his husband to call. It’s taking longer than usual, Alex is ordinarily extremely punctual with their calls, but not today. Save from a few (a lot) of texts, Henry hasn’t heard from his husband at all. It is dinnertime, though, so Henry figures Alex is probably busy with the kids, meaning all he can do is wait. Wait and overthink, and spiral.

Henry looks over at his friend, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry, I just…” Henry sighs and waves at his head, as if that would explain anything. Liam nods, understanding.

Liam is one of Henry's closest confidantes and friends. Not only do they spend an egregious amount of time together traveling, training, competing, but he's one of the few on the World Cup tour who isn’t dating another athlete, coach or team member. His long term boyfriend, Spencer, lives in Texas, just like Henry’s family does, so no one understands what Henry's going through quite like Liam does.

He’s had a front row seat to Henry’s months-long identity crisis and has been forced to watch Henry oscillating between joy and despair for weeks on end. Henry had decided months before that he was going to retire and it’s been nothing short of torture, having the joy of being in the best shape of his life, bringing home top results, constantly overshadowed by the agonizing uncertainty of his future.

Henry had talked with his family about 25/26 being his last season, but he never told anyone that he had pretty much made up his mind. Which, in hindsight, had been a good idea on his part because he wasn’t so sure anymore. He’s never performed this well over such a long period of time. He’s 4th in the fight for the overall, and he’s won three Olympic medals, including one gold. Henry is officially the most successful American biathlete in the history of the sport.

(Nevermind the fact that he doesn't even consider himself American, not really.)

Quitting now would come across as stupid. A waste of talent, of potential, and it should be out of the question.

Yet, it isn't.

And that scares him.

While Henry hasn’t voiced all of this to Liam, it’s obvious he’s figured it out. He knows exactly what’s going through Henry’s mind, and it looks like he might want to finally ask about it, but they’re stuck in a car with two other teammates and two of the coaching staff, and it’s not a conversation Henry wants to have in front of an audience.

“Yeah. Not going to lie, that mass start really took it out of me,” Liam says instead and Henry hums in agreement. “I’m so stoked to get to my hotel room, take a long bath, maybe cry, and then sleep for twelve hours.”

“No, none of that,” Campbell Wright, another teammate of Henry and Liam’s, says in his charming Kiwi accent. “Tommy G and the rest of the Italians are throwing a huge party in Milan tonight.

He twists in his seat and looks back at them with a scowl on his face. Well, as close as he can get to scowling, the man seems incapable of not smiling, even when he’s unhappy. It’s one of his many charming qualities.

Henry hadn’t known Campbell long, but there was a special kind of kinship there. Campbell is from New Zealand but his mother is American, not unlike Henry who was raised in London by an English mother and American father.

It is more common these days. If an athlete has a parent with dual citizenship, they'll usually choose to compete for the country with the most resources, the most opportunities. Where they have the best chance of succeeding. And as far as resources go, they’re rather scarce in Britain and New Zealand. It’s not like they have a long, rich history of excelling in winter sports, let alone in biathlon.

“Doro is using that sweet Red Bull money to rent out a ballroom at some five star hotel,” Campbell continues. “Invited basically everyone, even some of the crosscountry guys. Sturla looked like he might throw up when they asked him to come.”

“He’s getting old,” Liam snorts.

“He's our age,” says Henry and throws his teammate a tired look

“What do you mean our? I’m younger than you.”

“One year younger, that barely counts.”

“You're all old,” Campbell interjects. “But you should still go to this party. You haven’t lived until you’ve partied with Tommy.”

“Is Sebbe going?” Paul, the fourth and final teammate, asks. “I heard he’s a fucking blast at these things. They’re still talking about the huge bash after the world championships a few years back.”

“That was a great party,” Henry agrees. “The Norwegians broke into Sebastian’s medal display case and wore his 2018 Olympic medals the whole night.”

Alex had gone with Henry to that party. They’d only been dating a year at that point, and had recently come out. It was the first time Alex really got to spend time with the other athletes and of course he’d charmed everyone. Henry remembers being so in love he thought he was going to burst.

“I heard Sebbe didn’t find the medals until, like, a week later 'cause JTB hid them,” Campbell laughs.

Henry chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

“I doubt he’s going tonight though,” Liam says. “His wife and daughter are here.”

A stab of jealousy hits Henry right between his ribs. Henry wanted his family here too. In their eight years together, Alex had never missed a championship. He tried to attend as many races as possible, but the seasons were long and they only really raced in Europe, which made things difficult.

Championships, however, were sacred. The Olympics, most of all, for purely sentimental reasons.

The two of them met at the 2018 Games in Pyeongchang. It was Henry’s first Olympics, and Alex had been there as a spectator to represent his mother, the President of the United States.

It was really an incredible chain of events that had to come together for them both to be there at the same time.

While Henry was finally a professional biathlete, fresh out of the junior categories, he shouldn't have been picked for the team to begin with. He was barely 21, but when one of the main contenders had to end the season early due to an injury, they chose Henry as a replacement.

Alex’s reason for being there is still a point of great debate in the Claremont-Diaz family. Alex claims he was sent there as a punishment, for something he’d posted on Instagram, as he hates the cold. Ellen says she wanted him to go because he had done so well at the 2016 Summer Olympics, during her first Presidential campaign, so why shouldn't he go to Pyeongchang and represent the President?

Henry, much to his husband’s chagrin, stayed out of it every time the discussion came up. In the end it didn’t matter why Alex was there. The whole point was that they, against all odds, had even met at all.

When Henry was feeling especially nostalgic he’d claim it was kismet, to which Alex would say that they should really thank Henry’s hard work and Alex’s ability to get himself into trouble for getting them there, even though Henry knows Alex likes the idea of fate playing a hand in their meeting. That it was meant to be. They’re both hopeless romantics, in their own ways.

Milan Cortina 2026 is the first international championship of Henry’s that Alex hasn’t attended. It’s also the best championship of Henry’s career. He’s not sure how to feel about that.

These past two weeks, when he wasn’t working, he was thinking of Alex, and their 4 year old twin girls, and how special, how perfect, it would have been if he’d been allowed to share it all with them.

The original plan had been for Alex and the girls to come join Henry in Europe for Christmas break, but then they got sick. Henry almost asked them to come anyway, screw preparations and training camps and the Olympics, but in the end it was decided that it was for the best if they stayed back in Texas. It wasn’t worth the risk, not if he wanted to stay healthy post Christmas break.

Though, Henry would say that there’s nothing healthy about what professional athletes put their bodies through. They push themselves to the brink day after day, willing to do whatever they could to optimise performance and the intensity of it all leaves them vulnerable to injuries or long-term damage to the body’s most basic functions.

For Henry, it was the immune system that took a tumble.

Competing in a wintery climate already put so much strain on Henry’s windpipe and his lungs, causing more damage than most doctors were comfortable with, which meant a cold, no matter how innocuous it might seem, could ruin his entire season. Maybe even his career.

Of course, it isn’t an issue for everyone. Liam, for example, he hardly ever gets sick. And if Campbell feels under the weather, he’s back on his feet the next day, like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, Henry has to completely isolate himself if someone in his immediate vicinity shows just the tiniest sign of a sore throat. Since toddlers have a tendency to catch every bug known to humankind, Henry spends an unreasonable amount of time away from his children. It was infuriating.

So instead of spending some much needed quality time with his family, Henry celebrated Christmas at a hotel in the Italian Alps, with the most important people, the lights of his life, only available to him through a small screen.

Henry is incredibly proud of his career, and he loves that he gets to do this for a living, but with every season that passes, the less motivated Henry finds himself.

The rest of the guys keep going on about the party, making Henry zone out. They’re a good team, but Henry would be lying if he said he didn't look forward to the two week break coming up. He’s in desperate need of some time away. All he has left to do is his final interview at the NBC Olympic Studio in Milan and then he’s going to get on the first flight to the UK where his husband and children are waiting.

Just the thought makes his stomach swoop with excitement and nerves. He hasn’t seen any of them in 95 days. He had missed the twins’ birthday, one anniversary, all of Christmas and New Years. He hasn’t hugged or kissed his husband since November.

Henry glances at the time. It’s just past six p.m, Alex should be calling any minute now.

To pass the time, and to avoid joining the party conversation that is still going on in the car, Henry decides to read Alex’s texts from the race for the thousandth time that day.

Henry smiles reading Alex's reactions back. This is something Alex started doing when he was watching Henry’s world cup races from across the world, with no one to talk to about it because they were either asleep or they didn’t care. It’s just a silly way for him to get all his emotions out, and Henry loves it.

“Shaan, do something,” Liam whines, twisting in his seat to pout at their assistant coach. “Henry’s got that sad, sappy look on his face again.”

“Leave the poor man alone,” Shaan, one of their coaches who’s seated in the back of the shuttle, says. “Or you'll be on the early flight home tomorrow, party or not.”

“Matt.” Liam turns to their other coach. “Shaan is playing favorites again.”

“Henry’s got an individual gold medal,” Matt mutters, his voice hoarse from all the trackside coaching these past two weeks. “Get back to me in four years and I’ll see what I can do.”

They all laugh. Henry turns back to his text messages.

Henry blinks back his tears and puts down his phone.

He missed them. Christ, he missed them so much it hurt.

Soon, he thought to himself. You get to see them soon. Just 18 hours.

They get to Milan in one piece.

Henry has yet to hear from Alex since his last text and he’s getting a little bit worried, but he doesn’t have time to think too much about it because once they set foot in the studio, they’re pulled in five different directions.

He’s greeted by a young woman, no older than 20, who’s got that harried, underpaid intern look to her. Henry finds himself feeling bad for her. She takes him to another woman who doesn’t introduce herself, barely acknowledges the intern, and mispronounces the word biathlon twice.

As they give Henry a quick freshen up, she tells him if he’s got any medals, he should be wearing them when he’s in front of the camera. “It’s easier for people to give a shit if you won something but we’ll make do without it should we need to.”

When Henry asks which one she’d prefer he brings, the silver medals or his individual gold medal, she at least has the decency to look ashamed before she places him on the couch in front of the host, together with the rest of the team.

Biathlon is barely a blip on the radar of American sports. The audience is barely non-existent, even during the Olympics. When Henry says he’s an athlete and represents Team USA in Biathlon people think it’s some niche Winter Edition of triathlon. When he tells them that’s not the case and he explains how the sport works – I ski really fast and then shoot at targets with a rifle – they either laugh because they think he’s telling a really stupid joke or they assume he’s lying.

Over the past couple of years, mainstream media has shown some interest. His relationship with the FSOTUS absolutely caught people’s attention, and recently there were a couple of pieces done from media outlets after Team USA’s successful season last year. It led to NBC doing a feature on the team in the lead up to the Olympics. Now Henry and the team are there to do a follow up, a quick check in now that all their dreams had come true.

Once they go live, the interviewer congratulates them all, gushing about how this has been the most successful Olympics in US Biathlon history. Which wasn’t exactly a hard record to beat, considering the USA have never won an Olympic medal in Biathlon.

Until now.

When they won the silver in the mixed relay, people had sort of chalked it up to a fluke. The favorites had let their nerves get the best of them, but Henry and his teammates kept it together. A lucky but fantastic result for a team of underdogs and honestly, Henry would have been happy with just that one podium. But then, Henry clinched a silver medal in the 20 KM individual, and the team got a bronze in the men's relay.

Then the mass start on the last day, Henry somehow, against all odds, crossed the finish line first and at the prize ceremony they placed a gold medal around his neck.

It was a huge upset, and to say that the community was in shock would be an understatement. The people who knew the sport also knew that the US team was capable of good results, but at the Olympics? And in so many different disciplines? No one had seen that one coming.

“The first US biathlete to ever win an Olympic gold,” the host says, turning his attention to Henry, a bright smile on his lips. “And first Brit to win an international medal at all! How did it feel crossing the finish line, knowing that you had just made history?”

“At the moment I was mostly confused,” Henry admits with a laugh. “I was almost sure there had to have been a mistake. Not because I didn't think I was capable of winning, just based on where I was in the race by the second shooting. I was sure it was over for me.”

“As it stands, you're fourth in the World Cup standings, and now you're leaving Italy with all these medals. You're at the height of your career. What's next for you?”

Henry doesn't have an answer.

“Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead. For now I just want to celebrate and enjoy some time off before the final leg of the season kicks off in Finland in March. But mostly I want to see my family.”

The host nods.

“Right. You mentioned that when we talked earlier this year. How difficult it's been for you to isolate yourself from your husband and children, having to be separated for weeks at a time.”

Henry nods, tears of exhaustion and longing and frustration gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He doesn't say anything for a moment, assuming the reporter is going to continue, to ask a question. When he doesn't, Henry clears his throat.

“Yes. It's been hard.”

A hand rests on his shoulder, Liam’s no doubt.

“When was the last time you saw them?” the host asks. “In person, I mean?”

Henry blinks away his tears. “Uhm. November. Three months and three days, to be exact. 95 days.”

His voice cracks slightly, saying it out loud like that hits even harder, reminds him how long it’s actually been. Liam squeezes Henry's shoulder, an attempt at comfort. The host nods, sympathy written all over his face.

“You must miss them.”

“Terribly.”

The interviewer pauses, like he's listening to something through his earpiece. Then he smiles.

“Well. We reached out to your husband, asking if he'd like to send you a congratulatory message and he immediately jumped on the opportunity. So if you could just look at that monitor right over there,” he says and points to a monitor just behind the camera.

Except, the monitor doesn’t turn on. If Henry wasn't so exhausted, he would have caught on that something was up a lot earlier. He would have questioned why Alex didn’t answer Henry’s calls or texts, he would have noticed the smirks and sideways glances of his teammates, and he would have put it all together before it happened.

But Henry misses all the signs and looks up at the host, hoping he'll explain what's going on.

“What–?” He starts but is interrupted by a very loud, very familiar shriek of joy.

“Daddy!” His daughter, Eliana, shouts from behind the blinding lights on set, and at first he thinks he's imagined it or that the video had started. But no. Soon enough, Eliana comes running across the studio, just barely dodging the camera men and leaping over the cables taped to the floor like it’s second nature.

“Oh my god,” Henry says, to no one in particular. He kneels to the floor and catches Eliana when she throws herself in his arms.

“Oh my god,” he repeats as he's overwhelmed by the scent of her favorite peach shampoo, and he realizes she's real. She's really here. Henry barely notices the cheers and laughter coming from his teammates, all he can focus is on the sweet girl in front of him.

He pulls back, looks at his daughter, really looks. Her wide smile, her brown eyes framed by those perfect Claremont-Diaz eyelashes. He pulls a hand through her dark unruly curls. It's gotten longer since he saw her last.

“Missed you!” She says, absolutely delighted. She grabs his face and clumsily wipes away his tears. He hadn't even noticed he was crying.

“Oh I missed you too, little love.”

He glances over her shoulder and spots his other daughter, Marisol, younger than Eliana by a whole five minutes. While they certainly look alike, they weren’t identical twins. Marisol is a touch shorter, and her hair is far lighter than her sister’s, a honey brown that looks almost blonde under the studio lights. She’s also the more careful of the two. He wouldn’t say she’s shy, just that she's more guarded. More often than not, Eliana will run head first into something new, leaving Marisol to keep watch, assess the situation before she’s ready to engage.

Right now, Marisol waiting patiently for Eliana to have her moment. She’s smiling, but remains quiet. Always so quiet, keeping all her cards close to her chest. She's clutching the hem of her dress. Holding on for dear life, and Henry knows she's trying her hardest not to cry.

“Solie,” he says softly and reaches out with his free hand. Her lower lip trembles slightly. “Oh darling, come here.”

And just like that, she's in his arms too, crying onto his shoulder, going on and on about how much she missed him. Henry cries with her. “I’m so sorry for going away for so long.”

“Is okay,” Eliana says and pats Henry’s head, like she’s comforting him, and he laughs. “We’re here now.”

“You are. I'm so, so, so happy to see you.”

“And what about me?”

Henry finally looks up and a few meters away is his husband. Curls perfectly messy in that way only he can pull off, the most gorgeous smile on his face, and his eyes sparkling with mischief and pride and, what looks like, unshed tears.

“Who are you again?” Henry manages to choke out despite his crying.

Alex laughs, and/or sobs, before he takes one – two – three long strides across the small space and by the time he's reached them, Henry's standing up and the girls have run over to their Uncle Liam, attacking him with hugs. Henry grabs Alex by the collar of his shirt and kisses him in a way that is borderline inappropriate in front of the children.

They part and Alex pulls Henry into a tight hug.

“Hi, baby,” He whispers into the crook of Henry’s neck. He leaves a light kiss there, and even though his lips barely graze the sensitive skin, it’s a promise of something more for when they’re alone. It’s enough to make Henry shiver. “Surprised?”

“You absolute demon,” he mutters, making Alex laugh. “How long have you been planning this?” He doesn't wait for a response, just kisses Alex again. “God, I love you so much,”

Someone clears their throat from behind Henry and he remembers where they are. The other guys are grinning, amused and so unbelievably smug, and had it been any other day, Henry would have turned pink from embarrassment. Right now, however, he couldn’t care less. They all sit down, and there’s questions asked to Alex and the kids and they’ve got the entire room swooning in no time. Henry is barely paying attention, all he can focus on is Eliana and Marisol in his arms and Alex pressed against his side, with his hand on Henry's back. He’s so happy he feels like he could burst.

This, Henry thinks, this is all that matters.

They wrap up the interview and the host gushes over how perfect it was, how great they did. Then he turns to Alex with a curious look on his face.

“I know we’re all here for Henry, but I gotta ask–”

“– Uh oh –” Alex laughs.

“Is it true you’re running for office? For the senate?” He asks, voice low.

“Even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. No offense." Alex shrugs. 

“Not even off the record?”

Alex shakes his head, amused.

“Nope.”

The other man shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. I just want to be able to tell my colleague over at the political desk that I already knew when you announce your candidacy.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Alex throws the reporter an easy smile. He plays it off like it’s nothing but the reality is that he doesn’t actually know if he’s running. There’s been several discussions, there are outlines of possible plans. Congress or Senate or State Senate. The senate is a long shot, but with his name recognition and all the community outreach he’s done since he graduated, on top of his work as a lawyer… it’s not impossible. Far from it.

The only reason Alex hasn’t announced, or even made a decision, is because of Henry. Alex can’t be a full-time dad, lawyer and work on a campaign all at the same time, with Henry across the world.

For Alex's political career to take off, Henry has to retire. It’s something they’ve discussed, and obviously it will happen some day. There’s a shelf life to this entire thing, to being a professional athlete.

But considering Henry’s form, how well he’s performing, he’s still got a few more years in him. Maybe even another Olympics.

And Alex would never ask Henry to give that up.

“We have time,” Alex always tells him when the subject comes up. “We’re still young.”

And it’s true. Technically, they are. There is time for Alex to pursue his dreams. But lately, Henry's been feeling guilty. Guilty and tired.

They leave the studio together, as a family. Alex has Eliana in his arms, while Henry is carrying Marisol, giving her the attention she’s usually uncomfortable asking for. She’s fiddling with the medals that are still hanging around his neck.

“You won the gold!” Marisol whispers, in awe and cradles the medal from earlier in the day. “Gold!”

“I did!” Henry matches her tone.

“It’s a re-mark-a-ble!” she says, putting plenty of pressure on each syllable.

Henry raises his eyebrows.

“Wow, that’s such a big word.”

“Gramps says it all the time, and now I do too.”

“It’s not the only word your father taught them,” Alex mutters.

“Oh no. Do I want to know?” Henry laughs.

“Let’s just say there was some colorful language being thrown around during races. Bea tried to remind him to keep it PG but the damage was done.”

“He said bad words a lot,” Eliana confirms, mischief written all over her face. Alex catches it too, and he gives Eliana a stern look.

“Eliana, what did we say about gramps’ bad words?”

“We don’t repeat them,” Eliana says with a roll of her eyes, causing her to look so much like Alex, it makes Henry feel almost faint.

“I could have done without the attitude, mija, but that’s right. We don’t repeat them.”

“I didn’t do attitude!” She argues. “I said it nicely.”

“You rolled your eyes, Eliana.”

“Did not!”

“Are you really trying to out-argue me right now, mi vida? You know papa is a professional.”

Henry smiles to himself as the two bicker halfheartedly.

Marisol grabs Henry’s gold medal and pulls it over his head before placing it around her own neck. She beams proudly, like she’s the one who won it and not Henry. He doesn’t mind. She could throw it in the ocean for all he cared, he’s just so glad to have her in his arms.

The streets of Milan are busy tonight, and traffic is practically at a stand still, so by the time they get to their hotel, Eliana is already asleep, and Mari is fighting to keep her eyes open. Henry’s parents are waiting by the entrance, smiling cheekily at Henry when he steps out of the car.

“Did you two know about this?” Henry asks them with a pretend glare.

“Of course we did, darling. Cat helped organize it after the broadcaster reached out to Alex.”

Alex raises his hand toward Henry’s mother, and she gives him a high five in return. It’s stupid, and sweet, and Henry almost breaks down crying again. Christ, he’s a mess. And in desperate need of some sleep.

“I’m impressed. You’re terrible with secrets, dad, ” Henry says, shaking his head.

“Oh, your father nearly spoiled the surprise,” Catherine laughs. “I had to pinch his arm in order to keep him quiet.”

“I’ve got a bruise the size of a golf ball on my upper arm," Arthur says, trying to look displeased but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and his smile remains warm and proud.

In the elevator, Arthur puts an arm around Henry's shoulder and kisses the top of his head. It’s such a tender gesture, it brings tears to Henry’s eyes.

“Thank you, dad,” Henry whispers, though he’s not sure what he’s actually thanking him for. For taking the family on those vacations when they were children, maybe. For teaching Henry to ski. Introducing him to this obscure sport, allowing Henry to use all that target practice he’d been forced to do when his grandparents were trying to use hunting as a way of toughening Henry up. Arthur put an end to that pretty quickly, but the practice proved useful, for which Henry was grateful.

Henry wouldn’t have gotten here without his father’s support, and it had been the highlight of Henry’s career seeing his parents in the audience when he was handed the gold medal.

When they get to the suite, Alex and Henry tuck the girls in. Marisol is still wearing the gold medal around her neck and Henry carefully untangles it from her hair, takes it off, and places it on the bedside table.

Alex and Henry sit there in silence for a moment, listening to their children breathing.

“I love them so much,” Henry whispers.

“I know,” Alex whispers back. Henry glances over at his husband, offers up his hand to hold. Alex takes it without a second guess.

“And you. I love you.”

Alex smiles. “I love you more.”

The room is dark, and quiet, save from the almost impressively loud snores coming from Eliana. Henry feels at ease for the first time in weeks, months even, and he knows this is all he'll ever want or need.

“Alex, I need to tell you something,” he starts, ready to finally take the leap.

Alex shakes his head. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re emotional and you’ve missed us and we’ve missed you and it’s been an intense two weeks. Don’t make any decisions now.”

“But I want to–”

“Listen,” Alex insists. “I love you. More than anything, and I want you to be happy. If you want to retire, I support you. You’ve given up so much and you deserve to end this chapter of your life however you want. But…” he licks his lips, looks down on their joint hands.

He looks guilty.

“If you were to retire," he continues. "It would mean you’re home more and we get to really be a family, all of us together. Maybe I would be able to plan a run for office and we could seriously start thinking about having another kid, and I would love all of that. So, so, so much. Which is why, if you told me you’re retiring and then you change your mind in two months… I would support you, of course, but I think it would hurt, you know?”

Henry stares at Alex, heart in his throat.

“Does that make me a terrible husband?” Alex asks with a strained laugh, trying to make it sound casual, playing it off as a joke, but Henry can tell he’s really asking the question.

“No,” Henry says, shaking his head. “You’re wonderful. You’re…” He trails off, suddenly on the verge of tears.

“Hen, hey, don’t cry. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, it’s not that… I just love you so fucking much.”

“Daddy, bad word,” Marisol murmurs, half-asleep. If Henry himself wasn’t so tired, he’d probably be more concerned that she heard that entire conversation, but instead he just laughs and kisses the top of her head.

“Sleep, my love.”

“Don’t leave,” she whispers. He’s not sure what hurts more. Her having to ask him to stay, or the fact that he won’t be able to promise her anything. Not yet at least. 

“I’ll stay right here.”

Henry lies down next to his children, and cuddles close. Alex snuggles up behind him, his breath tickling the back of Henry’s neck.

“I'm not going to change my mind,” Henry tells his husband after a while, once he's sure Marisol is asleep. It sounds almost petulant.

“Okay,” Alex says.

“I'm serious.”

Alex kisses Henry's shoulder, then buries his face in Henry’s hair and does a deep inhale, like he’s trying to savor the smell of him.

“I know, sweetheart.” Alex responds. “We'll talk about it tomorrow.”

Then Alex, somehow, impossibly, moves closer and wraps Henry in his arms. Henry's somewhat aware that they're both still fully clothed, but he's too tired to care. Instead he relaxes into Alex's embrace with a deep, content, sigh, and before Henry knows it, he's asleep.

The subject of Henry's future career is still looming over them the next morning. Henry tries to bring it up after breakfast, but Alex shoots him down.

“There's no rush.”

His next attempt is when they arrive at the family cottage in Wales, where they always stay when they're in Europe.

“Darling," Henry says. "We should talk about it.”

But Alex shakes his head. “After the season.”

Then he gets down on his knees and glances up at Henry through those eyelashes and suddenly the only thoughts going through his head are of Alex's hands and Alex's hair and Alex's mouth and Alex Alex Alex Alex Alex.

Henry tries yet again when they're at the airport a week later.

Alex and the girls are about to board a plane due for Austin, while Henry's flight to Finland, where more biathlon awaits him, isn’t due to leave for another few hours.

Back to work. To reality. Henry desperately wants to go with his family.

“We'll see each other in three weeks,” Alex says, having caught on to Henry's mood, but the tension in his smile tells Henry that Alex is feeling some of that separation anxiety as well. He's trying to keep a brave face on for the girls. And for Henry, too. Henry loves him for the effort. 

Henry nods. “Yeah.”

Mari pulls at his leg. “Daddy, are you almost done working?”

They’d had this conversation more than once the past couple of days, to prepare the girls that they’re, once again, going home without one of their dads. He kneels down to be able to look her in the eyes.

“Soon, sweet girl. I promise.”

“Not a long time?”

He shakes his head. “Three weeks. I’ll be home by papa’s birthday.”

“That’s a lot of sleeps,” she murmurs. Eliana grabs Marisol’s hand in a gesture of support. It’s so sweet Henry could swear his heart grows ten sizes.

“I know it may seem like that, but I’ll be back home before you know it. We’ll go to the lake house, like we always do.” He tucks a curl behind her ear. “And you’ll get to open all the presents I’ve got for you both.”

Her face lights up at the promise of gifts. Just small souvenirs, stuffed mascots from the various race events. There were quite a lot of those, as he received them whenever he placed in the top six.

Henry takes the girls in his arms and hugs them tightly. “I love you both very, very much, my darlings,” he whispers before giving them each a kiss on their temples. If he hadn’t been in the running for the Overall, he would have found a way to go home with them today. To hell with all of it. 

He turns back to Alex.

“We never got to talk about you-know-what,” Henry says softly. “I know you don’t think I’m–”

Alex shakes his head. “Nope. After the season, baby.”

“Alex…” Henry sighs, voice laced with barely concealed exasperation.

“Henry,” Alex responds in the same tone, but with a wide grin on his face. Then he kisses Henry, soft and sweet, and it’s all Henry needs to forget whatever it was they were talking about.

In the end, Henry’s grateful for Alex pushing the conversation. Because Alex was right. Once things settled, the emotions and adrenaline that followed the Olympic Games and Alex’s surprise, that ever present feeling of “should I, really?” starts gnawing at him.

He does well in Finland, moves up to third in the Overall, closing in on the other two. He’s relaxed going into the races, secure in his capabilities, and it delivers him the results he needs to climb in the standings.

By the time they get to Estonia for the penultimate weekend of the season, they’re all within 80 or so points of each other, and with a win being worth 90 points, it’s anyone’s game. It’s all about who can hold it together the longest, who’s able to fight the exhaustion that comes with months of competing, and perform when it matters most.

Henry is certain he’s that person. That he can do it.

When they land in Oslo, ahead of the last weekend, Henry’s stomach is in knots, heart racing at the simple thought that he might win this. The most coveted prize in his sport, even more prestigious than the medals and the titles, Olympic or not.

Except the next morning, Henry wakes up sick. Not from nerves, but with all of the classic symptoms of a regular head cold. Anyone else would waved it away like it was nothing. They’d take some cold medicine and go about their day.

Normally Henry wouldn’t even consider doing the same, but for a moment he does. It’s a fleeting thought of what if? What if it’s worth it?

The thing that Henry’s worked toward his entire career is just within reach, close enough that he can taste it, and his immune system has decided to give up on him with only three races to go. Shouldn’t he at least try to fight for it?

He grabs his phone off the bedside table and considers his options. Henry thinks of his career, how hard he’s had to work up until this point, all that he’s sacrificed. How this is most likely his only chance to make his dream come true.

Calling the team’s doctor to see if there’s something, anything, he can do, to get his body to hold out for a few more days isn’t only justified, but expected. Irresponsible to be sure, but expected nonetheless, and something a majority of his fellow athletes would do if they were in his shoes.

He should try.

He should want to try.

But he really, really, really doesn’t want to.

The realization hits hard and Henry waits for the panic to set in. Panic would be warranted, certainly, but when that doesn't come, he expects at least disappointment. Or heartbreak. Grief or anger. Except, there’s nothing. He doesn’t lose his mind. He doesn’t cry or scream or panic at all.

Instead, all he feels is relief. Relief and gratitude, and that’s all Henry needs to know that he’s done. That he’s retiring.

Henry stays like that for minute, letting the word wash over him. Retirement. It had felt so scary, so impossible, just a few weeks ago. Fear had gripped his heart every single time he even dared to consider it.

And there might be regret down the line. Henry might wake up one morning and miss this part of his life so much it hurts. He expects it’ll happen eventually, but today, in this moment he knows it’s the right choice for him.

Henry sends off a text to team leadership that explains he’s sick and that he’s done for the season. Then he books a seat on the first possible flight back to Austin.

Lastly, Henry calls his husband, not even considering what time it might be in Austin. Alex answers on the first ring.

“Hen?”Alex mumbles, barely awake but lucid enough to know that it’s Henry calling. “Everything okay?”

For some reason it makes Henry laugh, which leads to a coughing fit, then laughter again. Everything is perfect, he thinks to himself. It shouldn’t be, but somehow it is.

“Darling, I’m coming home.”