Chapter 244 — Henry's Hands
Morning came quietly.
That was the first thing Henry noticed.
Not safely.
Not peacefully.
Just quietly.
The road had stopped being a road sometime during the night. It had narrowed into a strip of pale dirt between tall grass and crooked trees, then widened again as the sun came up. Nobody had bothered to decide where they would camp. They had simply stopped walking when everyone became too tired to keep pretending they weren't exhausted.
Henry sat beside a dead fire with his back against a fallen log.
His hands were shaking.
He had tried hiding them under his sleeves.
It hadn't worked.
They were still shaking.
Small tremors at first.
Then worse whenever he tried to make them do something.
His fingers wouldn't stay still long enough to tie the cord around his boot.
He pulled the knot tight.
It slipped.
Henry swore under his breath.
He tried again.
The cord slipped through his fingers.
"You're doing that wrong."
Henry looked down.
Charon was hanging upside down from the side of his head.
Henry stared at him.
"You don't even have hands."
Charon's little face formed from Henry's hair tilted.
"Exactly. Therefore, I am an expert."
Henry sighed.
"That's not how expertise works."
"It is for me."
Charon stretched himself into a long, thin arm and poked Henry's forehead.
"Perhaps your hands have betrayed you."
"They haven't."
"They are visibly shaking."
"I noticed."
"Perhaps they are scared."
Henry's jaw tightened.
"No."
Charon went quiet.
For once, he didn't make another joke.
Henry looked at his hands again.
They trembled against his knees.
He closed them into fists.
That made it worse.
He opened them.
Worse.
He rubbed them together.
Still shaking.
Across the small clearing, Sera was packing the remains of their supplies. She had already been awake for some time. Her movements were efficient, almost deliberately normal.
Crowley sat against a tree with his coat wrapped around himself.
He looked asleep.
Henry knew better.
Gabriel stood farther down the road, looking back toward the direction they'd come from.
Tala was sitting near the grass with her boots off, pressing her bare feet into the dirt.
Brook was nowhere in sight.
Henry looked toward the road.
"He'll come back," Charon said.
Henry frowned.
"I didn't ask."
"You looked."
"I can look."
"Of course."
Charon formed a tiny pair of imaginary spectacles over his face.
"I merely observe."
Henry gave him a tired look.
"You're annoying."
"I've been told."
"By me."
"Repeatedly."
Henry almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his hands shook again.
The smile disappeared.
He looked away.
The memory came back without permission.
The cliff.
The empty air beneath his feet.
The moment his body had tipped forward.
Charon's arms forming too late.
Brook appearing.
The mark.
The sudden disappearance.
The impact of being pulled away from death so violently that Henry hadn't even understood what had happened until his knees hit the ground.
Then the roots.
The white thing beneath the tree.
The way everything had moved too quickly.
The way the ground had seemed to become alive.
The way he had fallen again.
Always falling.
Henry swallowed.
His fingers curled into the fabric of his trousers.
"Hey."
Charon's voice was softer.
Henry didn't answer.
"Henry."
"I'm fine."
"You are doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you say you're fine."
Henry looked at him.
Charon's face was small now.
Almost human.
"You always say you're fine when you're not."
Henry looked away again.
"Maybe I am."
"You're shaking."
"I know."
"So you're not."
Henry breathed out through his nose.
"Can you just shut up for a minute?"
Charon considered this.
"Yes."
He disappeared.
Henry blinked.
"…Thank you."
Three seconds passed.
Charon's face appeared on Henry's shoulder.
"That was very difficult."
Henry laughed.
It was small.
Barely there.
But it was real.
Then his hands shook again.
And this time he didn't hide them.
Brook returned carrying two cups.
Not proper cups.
Metal containers they'd taken from an abandoned house several hours back.
One was dented badly on the side.
The other had a crack near the handle.
He handed one to Henry.
"Drink."
Henry looked inside.
"What's this?"
"Something hot."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"It's breakfast."
Henry sniffed it.
"Is it supposed to smell like that?"
Brook sat beside him.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"I didn't cook it."
Henry looked across the camp.
Sera had her back turned.
Crowley was still pretending to sleep.
Gabriel was still watching the road.
Henry looked at Brook.
"You made this."
"I assembled it."
"From what?"
"Food."
"That's not reassuring."
Brook took a sip from his own cup.
His expression didn't change.
Henry took a cautious sip.
He immediately grimaced.
"That's terrible."
"Yeah."
"Why are you drinking it?"
"Because I'm hungry."
Henry stared at him.
Brook stared back.
Then Henry laughed again.
This one lasted longer.
Charon appeared on Henry's shoulder.
"I agree. It tastes like boiled regret."
Brook nodded.
"Exactly."
Henry looked at him.
"You knew?"
"I made it."
"You made it knowing it tasted horrible?"
"I was hoping hunger would win."
"It did."
"Then I succeeded."
Henry shook his head.
For a few seconds, everything felt almost normal.
No Heaven.
No Hell.
No strange tree.
No impossible powers.
Just two people sitting beside a bad breakfast while a floating piece of ectoplasm insulted the cooking.
Henry lowered the cup.
His hands were still shaking.
Brook noticed.
He didn't say anything.
Henry noticed that too.
He looked down.
"How long have you known?"
"Known what?"
"That I'm shaking."
Brook shrugged.
"Since before I sat down."
Henry nodded slowly.
He stared at the fire.
There wasn't much left of it.
Just grey ash and a few stubborn pieces of wood.
"I hate it."
Brook said nothing.
"My hands."
Henry held them out between them.
They trembled visibly.
"I hate that they do this."
Brook looked at them.
Then at Henry.
"You fell."
Henry's eyes hardened.
"I know."
"You almost died."
"I know."
"You've been through a lot."
"I know."
Brook waited.
Henry clenched his jaw.
"That's the problem."
Brook didn't answer.
Henry's voice dropped.
"I'm tired of falling."
There it was.
The sentence had been waiting somewhere behind his teeth for a long time.
Henry looked toward the road.
"I'm always the one who falls."
Brook remained quiet.
"When we were in that city, I fell behind."
He swallowed.
"At the ridge, I fell."
His fingers tightened.
"Yesterday, those roots caught me."
Charon's face appeared beside his.
Henry continued.
"And every time, somebody else has to save me."
"Henry—"
"No."
Henry shook his head.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't."
His voice cracked slightly.
"I'm saying I'm tired of being the person everyone has to save."
Brook looked at the dirt.
Henry rubbed his palms together.
"I know I'm not the strongest."
A pause.
"I know Charon does most of the fighting."
Charon raised one hand.
"I object to the phrasing 'most.'"
Henry ignored him.
"I know I'm a prince."
He laughed bitterly.
"That one doesn't help much outside the Wall."
Brook stayed beside him.
"I know everybody thinks I'm useful."
Henry looked at his hands.
"But sometimes I don't feel useful."
The clearing became very quiet.
Even Charon didn't interrupt.
Henry breathed in slowly.
"I don't want to be the guy everybody looks for after something goes wrong."
Brook's eyes remained on him.
"I don't want to be the one lying on the ground while everyone else is fighting."
His voice became smaller.
"I want to be there before I fall."
Brook nodded once.
Henry looked at him.
"That's all."
Brook didn't give him a speech.
Didn't tell him he was stronger than he thought.
Didn't tell him that everyone had a place.
Didn't tell him that falling wasn't weakness.
He simply sat there.
Beside him.
Henry frowned.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"I just told you all of that."
"I heard you."
"And you're not going to say something inspirational?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you didn't ask for inspiration."
Henry looked at him for several seconds.
Then he smiled faintly.
"You're terrible at this."
"I know."
Charon lifted his head.
"Actually, I thought it was excellent."
Brook looked at him.
"You weren't invited."
"I rarely am."
Henry laughed again.
This time, when his hands shook, he didn't look embarrassed.
They stayed there longer than they needed to.
Sera eventually walked past them carrying a bundle of supplies.
She looked at Henry.
Then at Brook.
Then at Charon.
She understood something had happened.
She didn't ask.
That was her gift sometimes.
Knowing when not to.
Crowley passed next.
He stopped beside Henry.
"Still attached?"
Henry looked up.
"Unfortunately."
"Good."
Crowley continued walking.
Henry watched him go.
"Was that encouragement?"
Brook shrugged.
"From Crowley? Probably."
Gabriel approached last.
He crouched beside the fire and picked up a piece of burnt wood.
"Breakfast?"
Henry grimaced.
"Don't."
Gabriel smiled.
"That bad?"
"Worse."
Brook looked offended.
"People are ungrateful."
Gabriel laughed.
For a moment, Henry forgot his hands.
He watched the others moving around the camp.
Sera tightening straps.
Crowley checking the road.
Tala putting her boots back on.
Gabriel cleaning dirt from his sleeve.
Charon sitting on Henry's shoulder like a small, ridiculous guardian.
And Brook beside him.
Not fighting.
Not commanding.
Not using one of the strange things inside him.
Just sitting.
Henry looked down at his hands again.
They were still shaking.
But less.
Only slightly.
Enough that he noticed the difference.
He flexed his fingers.
Once.
Twice.
Then he reached for the cup.
His hand trembled.
The cup rattled against the metal rim.
He steadied it.
Didn't drop it.
Henry stared at it.
Charon whispered, "Victory."
Henry smiled.
"Shut up."
"Major victory."
"Charon."
"Historic victory."
Henry laughed.
Brook stood.
"Ready?"
Henry looked down the road.
The others were already waiting.
He pushed himself upright.
His legs felt sore.
His hands still weren't steady.
But he stood.
No one reached for him.
No one grabbed his arm.
No one asked if he needed help.
They simply waited.
Henry took one step.
Then another.
Charon settled onto his shoulder.
Brook walked beside him.
The road stretched ahead.
Behind them, far beyond the trees, the white country had disappeared from sight.
The tree was gone too.
At least from where they stood.
Henry glanced back anyway.
Nothing.
Only trees.
Only road.
Only morning.
He turned forward again.
And kept walking.
Far behind them, beneath a canopy of ordinary green leaves, something pale moved through the roots beneath the earth.
It did not hurry.
It followed.
And Henry never saw it.
End of Chapter 244