Thomas stared at the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for Henry to come down for dinner; a part of him hoped he would, despite their altercation earlier that day, but he was well aware that it was wishful thinking. He sighed disappointedly as he glanced around to see little Alfie playing with his teething ring while Danny was sat at the table with his elbows on the table, staring out into space. Henry had only been around for nearly a month, but in that time he'd managed to become a real part of their lives; he'd even go far enough to say a part of their family. Perhaps what hurt most was knowing that he jeopardised that all through his own doing.
"Daddy, is Henwy coming?" Danny asked curiously, his big blue eyes staring up at his father and expecting an answer. Thomas groaned quietly to himself; he didn't know what to tell Danny mostly because it was almost entirely his fault.
"Henry might not be joining us, kiddo. But how about I take a plate up to him. Sounds like a good idea, eh bud?" Thomas asked, ruffling the boy's hair as he watched him smile brightly and nod in approval.
Thomas took the plate set out where Henry usually sat and ladled in a healthy helping of beef and potatoes before taking it upstairs to Henry's room; he was aware there was a high likelihood Henry wasn't going to eat it, but the last thing he wanted was Henry to go to bed hungry. He stood before Henry's bedroom door and took a deep breath, taking one hand under the plate so his other was free and he knocked on the door but was met with silence.
"Henry?" Thomas called out thought the door, but with no response. "Henry, I-I know I'm not your favourite person at the moment... But... I am sorry. I shouldn't've breached your privacy like that. I was wrong of me to do so. I know you're cross with me and you've every right to be."
Henry's head rose from his knees as he sat curled up against the door with his clothes from work still on; he'd been sitting there for ages since his argument with Thomas and he couldn't be bothered to change. He felt so hurt, so betrayed, and a part of him terrified of the future to come.
"Henry?" Thomas tried again with no avail. "Can you open the door, please?"
"No..." Henry said softly, though it was enough to hear across the door. Thomas shut his eyes and simply sighed defeatedly.
"I understand." Thomas nodded understandingly, he wouldn't forgive himself either. "I brought you supper..."
"I'm not hungry." Dismissed Henry tersely, praying the man would leave him be.
"I understand." Thomas pursed his lips disappointedly as an idea popped into his head. "It's just that... It was Danny's idea, I'm sure he'd be gutted if you sent it back..." Thomas lied, though he figured if Henry would eat it would be worth the little white lie.
Henry's head perked up once again as Thomas' words crossed his ears, his eyes darting around the room in thought; his quarrel wasn't with Danny, but with Thomas. It'd be terribly unfair for poor Danny to be caught in the crossfire when he was merely an innocent third party in the matter.
"Alright, well. I'm going to leave the plate here, and go..." Thomas said through the door, once again to no response. He quietly left the plate there and took exaggerated steps towards the stairwell so Henry would think he'd gone; but little did Henry know Thomas was hidding behind the corner peeking out to see if the raven haired lad would indeed take it. And take it he did; Thomas watched with a heavy heart as Henry creak the door open and took the plate into his room, feeling a pang in his chest at the clear puffiness under his eyes from crying. Tears for which Thomas was solely responsible...
The next morning, Henry picked himself up, dusted himself off, and carried on about his day; he gave himself ample time to wallow in his anger and misery but now it was time for him to push all his emotions to the back and do his duties as the town's general practitioner. The only issue was that he was meant to take a house call for a family who loved in a small farming hamlet called Milbury about an hour due north of Fir Creek by horse; originally, Thomas had offered to take him there, and therein lied the problem; because the very concept of being stuck in a carriage with Thomas for two hours did his head in.
During his lunch break Henry walked to the post office sent a few letters back home to his siblings; this time including Matthew. A part of him wanted to go home more than anything; he felt like the singular person for whom he'd have stayed in Fir Creek had betrayed him and hurt him. And though a part of Henry understood where Thomas was coming from, it didn't make him any less livid. Henry continued down the road back towards clinic from the post office, forcing smiles as he greeted people on the street; he'd never missed the anonymity of London more than now.
"Hey!" Henry groaned as he walked down the street hearing a familiar voice beckon him from behind paired with the gentle trotting of hooves over the gravel road; the voice of quite literally the last person he wished to speak to in that moment. "Hey." Thomas rode up next to Henry and hopped off his horse; a forced, weary smile on his face with a clearly sad, guilty look in his deep honey eyes. "I didn't see you at breakfast this morning, just wanted to make sure you'd eaten."
"And what's it to you, Constable?" Henry spat angrily out of the side of his mouth.
"Henry, please just..." Thomas pleaded quietly, earning him a glare from the dark haired boy.
"Don't call me that. It's Dr Dunmurry to you. We're not friends, you've absolutely no right to using my Christian name." Henry gritted his teeth angrily as he turned to walk away from Thomas.
"Please." Thomas grabbed onto his arm, stopping henry dead in his tracks. "Please don't push me away, can we at least talk. Please. Just.. Try to understand my perspective."
"Don't make a scene." Henry scolded him quietly, and Thomas heeded.
"Fine." Thomas released his grip on Henry's arm. "What time do you want me to take you to Milbury again?"
"I won't be needing you to take me." Henry muttered lowly, earning a cocked brow from the handsome blond.
"Oh?" Asked Thomas, giving Henry a perplexed look. "Are you not going?"
"No I'm still going, just not with you." Henry sneered bitterly as he glanced forward and smiled brightly at a handsome young man approaching in a black suit with a black shirt underneath and a white clerical collar. "Ah! Father Peter, Just whom I was hoping to run into." Sang Henry cheerily as he walked up towards the handsome dark haired vicar, leaving Thomas to look on in utter confusion.
"Dr Dunmurry, How are you this morning?" Father Peter smiled warmly at the raven haired doctor, nodding respectfully towards the young Constable before turning his attention back towards Henry.
"I'm doing quite well, Father." Henry smiled up at the man. "I actually had a favour to ask of you, I needed to go to Milbury and I remembered you had a horse; I was wondering if you might be able to take me later on this afternoon. I have to make a house call. "
"Ah..." Grimaced the vicar. "I would've loved to, but alas, I've got a previous engagement. Terribly sorry."
"Oh ermm... That's quite alright." Henry blinked his gaze down disappointedly. "I do understand. Well, I'll leave you to be on your way, Father Peter. Good day to you."
"You as well, Doctor." He nodded to Henry. "Constable."
"Enjoy your day, Father." Thomas tipped his hat at him as the clergyman went off on his merry way. Henry huffed frustrated as soon as the man was out of earshot, glancing up to see a cheeky smile plastered across the smartly uniformed young Constable's, handsome face.
"I don't know what it is you're smiling at." Henry folded his arms over his chest with attitude. "However, I should think myself perfectly capable of walking to Milbury on my own." Henry smirked as he watched the smile fall clear off of Thomas' face.
"Don't be ridiculous." Thomas muttered with narrowed brown eyes. "Please, Henry Just... Let me take you. I know you're angry with me. Tell you what! I promise that if you let me take you, I won't speak to you or bother you the entire trip there."
"The entire trip, you say?" Henry's icy blue gaze thawed ever so slightly as he looked at Thomas properly, a part of him feeling bad for him. He looked so concerned, so true, so genuine; his blond hair messy as he'd pulled his muskrat Mountie winter hat off of his head and fiddled with it nervously in his hands, his breath laboured and his flustered pink skin seeming to look even more radiant against his red serge and his navy blue uniform pea cot. "Make it forever and we've got a deal." Henry said coldly, holding down the fort of his much warranted anger.
"If it means I can insure you get there and back safely, then I'll agree to anything you say." Thomas locked eyes with Henry, sending chills down the smaller lad's slender body; his amber brown eyes looked so desperate and authentic that for a second Henry wanted to forgive him, if only for a second.
Thomas offered his open hand towards Henry as an olive branch of sorts, a muted melancholic smile creeping across his dimpled cheeks as he waited and prayed for the young doctor to meet him call a truce just this once. He felt a sense or relief wash over his body as he watched Henry wearily raise his gloved hand up and place it within his, a flutter travelling from his heart through his extremities as their gloved hands met and squeezed warmly.
Thomas hated that he'd just made a promise to not speak to Henry, but he wasn't lying about what he said; Milbury was a far way, though desolate prairies and unforgiving pockets of forests. There wasn't much between Fir Creek and Milbury other than rolling plains and though it wasn't known to be dangerous per say , he'd feel more comfortable knowing Henry were in good hands during the journey.
Just as the young Mountie promised, he lived up to his word. He said nothing to Henry the entire two hour journey to Milbury in Thomas' covered-top horse drawn carriage; and though he felt an itching desire inside to comment on anything from the breathtaking scenery with miles and miles of gorgeous prairie as far as the eye could see, to the dark grey clouds that yet more snow was to blanket the autumn prairie landscape very soon. Instead he internalised his thoughts, choosing to think about how Danny was doing spending the day with Miss Emily, and how Mrs Grey, the town midwife offered to look after Alfie since Emily wasn't used to caring for a baby. Against every fibre of his being Thomas remained silent; he lived up to his word, because a Mountie's word is a Mountie's honour.
Though he promised not to say a word, he didn't promise not to look at the pretty young doctor; and the handsome young officer in red's staring certainly didn't go unnoticed by Henry. He could feel Thomas alternate between staring out at the gravel and sneaking glances towards Henry. A part of him wanted to take the opportunity to talk to Thomas about, well, everything. How much did Thomas find out? What all did he know? How much of Henry's covert operation had been compromised and how much could be salvaged? All these questions circulated torturously though his mind. But a part of him was happier just living with the uncertainty and in blissful ignorance.
After a few excruciating hours of forced silence, they arrived to the house of the Gagarov house; the Gagarovs had moved to Canada a few years prior as refugees alongside many others who were fleeing the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. They didn't speak much about their lives back in Russia, and for the most part they kept to themselves barring the times they'd come to town to sell the grains and potatoes they'd farmed.
The grandfather who was easily a septuagenarian had been suffering from a low-grade fever and a bit of fatigue as of recently. The overall malaise especially in his joints was enough to prompt the old man's son and daughter-in-law to send for the nearest doctor in the nearest town; thus Henry was here. After asking if he had any stiffness, especially upon waking and especially in his joints, Henry got the answer he needed. It was early onset rheumatoid arthritis and though he made clear that it would gradually get worse and that there was no cure barring some remedies to ease the pain and inflammation; the man was in good spirits, jokingly saying 'I'm old, old things fall apart with time'.
Henry bid the man farewell and allowed him to rest in his bed, going back out into the sitting room of the humble but cosy farmhouse the Garagov family called home. They lived by simple means by the looks of it, but there was something about them that Henry couldn't help but feel strangely juxtaposed their lifestyle; they carried themselves very nobly, almost too nobly.
Mrs Gagarov, the older man's daughter-in-law made a hot cup of Russian tea as Henry and Thomas chatted with Mr Gagarov, her husband. Though he found them charming and fascinating enough, he couldn't help but be drawn in by a table of photographs and exquisite frames; all of men and women wearing expensive dresses and tuxedos and decked out in Russian regalia and jewels. It was in that moment Henry knew, this family weren't farmers; at least, not until very recently.
"These photographs..." Henry asked, a strand of his dark falling into his face as he turns to address Mr Gagarov. "Are they of your family?"
"Yes, back in Russia." The man said with a sigh.
"I imagine you miss it terribly." Henry flashed him a supportive look as he continued looking over the photographs.
"Yes, Doctor. We do. We lost everything during the revolution; we left everything that wasn't of precious sentimental value. We thought it was the end for us like it was for so many." Mr Gagarov explained as Henry's eye was drawn to a gold pocket watch laid out amongst the small photographs of ladies in exquisite dresses and men in Russian imperial regalia.
"I'm terribly sorry for what you've had to go through. I'm glad you and your family are safe here." Henry flashed the man and his wife an empathetic smile; he knew all too well what families like the Gagarov's had to go through. His Mama's cousin was Tsar Nicholas II, and he knew all too well how stomach turning it was to hear the news that his mama's Cousins Nicky and Alix along with the girls all were brutally executed by the Bolsheviks in a cellar. He knew all too well...
"This is a Fabergé, isn't it?" Henry said as his he glided his held his hand over the golden pocket watch that looked almost identical to the one he'd lost during the war, except his was fully gold whilst this one had an exquisite blue enamel design over top of it. Henry's Mama's Cousin Nicky who was commonly known as Tsar Nicholas II had given it to Henry when he was Christened since both he and the then 'Prince of Wales' and now King George V were both to be Henry's godfathers. Henry always chuckled remembered the engraving inside 'To my dear little Godson -From your loving Godfather'; for at the time it was made his parents hadn't settled on a name for him. "May I?" Henry's hand hovered over the watch.
"Yes, yes! Please!" Grinned Mr Garagov, nodding profusely as he took the gold watch off the table and placed it in Henry's open palm
The handsome young Doctor gazed down at the watch in his hand as he felt a warm rush of nostalgia and a tinge of dread wash over him. His Mama's Cousin Nicky had given a similar watch to his family when he was born; he'd always carried it with him and even at war where it's weight in his khaki uniform pocket only served as not only a reminder of home and family, but also as a good luck charm of sorts for me. When he lost it during the war, his Papa didn't speak to him for a week, especially since 'Cousin Nicky' would never be able to give him another watch ever again.
Ultimately his Mama helped his Papa see reason, telling her husband that 'watches could be replaced, but lives lost cannot'. He knew his Mama was sad and a bit disappointed, but at the end of the day she was just happy that all her sons returned home when so many homes on both sides were left with loved ones who would never return to them. Nonetheless Henry was understandably gutted about it; it wasn't just the watch that he'd lost, he'd lost something that was given to him by someone who never would be able to give him anything ever again.
"I had one like this, a cousin of my mother gave it to me at my Christening. He was also one of my Godfathers." Henry said softly, though he didn't know why he shared that bit; in a way he felt these people to be kindred spirits, aristocrats one minute and thrusted into a new life through no choice of their own the next. Thomas' gaze shot from the tea cup in his hands straight for the back of Henry's head, a slight smile perking up the corners of his lips as he listened to him speak. "But mine was far less intricate, a simple gold with royal blue enamel work, a mother-of-pearl watch face and diamonds in place of the numbers. But this. This is absolutely exquisite. The engravings are beautiful"
"Thank you, it's our family's crest that's engraved on top. We nearly had to sell it to make ends meet, but I couldn't bare the thought." Mr Gagarov admitted with a hint of shame in his eyes. "It's the last thing we have to remind of our homeland."
"I'm terribly glad you didn't!" Henry's face contorted at the thought. "Keep this carefully. Keep it in the family and cherish it. The world is moving on, Mr Gagarov, and precious little pieces like this are the only thing that keep us anchored to the past..." He said softly as he placed the watch carefully back into the man's palm and closed his fingers in around it. And there was truth to it, Henry felt more and more like the war caused things around him to rapidly change; cousins of his mother's who once sat on thrones now sat deposed and in exile, some tragically dead. Families like his with beautiful stately homes were more and more commonly selling their estates and downsizing to live by more sustainable means. He only wondered if it were a mere matter of time before modernisation should rear its evil head on his own family...