Archive of Our Own

The strangest thing about everything being different is that nothing’s really changed. His apartment is the same. Items tossed around messily, dirty dishes still in the sink. He catches his reflection and he’s older and scarred, but he’s still wearing that same grin from before everything. He’s still the same.

He hasn’t been here since he got back. He’s been spending most of the past week or so bouncing between the other dads’ houses and hell. 

Henry’s helping him get settled back in now. He doesn’t really know what that means. And Henry must not know either, since he hovers awkwardly next to Glenn while Glenn makes idle comments about how much he does and doesn’t remember about the current state of the apartment. 

Glenn grabs him some water and they sit down on the couch. Henry’s tense, but he always is now. Glenn is making an active effort to appear as chill, and unaffected as possible. Maybe if he does it well enough, Henry will leave without trying to stage an intervention. 

“So, Glenn.” Or not. “I was just wondering how you were, you know, feeling? Now that we’re back and all.” 

The rest of the dads have been treating him weirdly for a while now - like he’s a glass sculpture that could shatter if he isn’t handled as lightly as possible. He hasn’t brought it up because then he’ll have to address why they’re doing that. 

“You asking everyone this or just me?” 

Henry looks mildly offended. 

“Wh- everyone, of course! I’m asking because you’re my friend and I care about you so, yes, I am also asking the other people I care about, too!”

He laughs. Because if he doesn’t, Henry’s going to apologise for snapping even though this is the mildest outburst he’s had in ages. 

“I’m fine, Henry, don’t worry about me.” He waves him off absently, and takes a sip of his water in place of taking a drag from a blunt. “What about you, though, man? Lark still hate you?”

It‘s partially a deflection and partially a blunt way of asking a genuine question. He almost considers backtracking - making it a little more polite - but it’s too late. 

“Does Nicholas still hate you?” Henry takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. “No, I’m sorry, Glenn, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. He’s been trying not to think about the Nick shaped hole in his apartment. In his life. “It’s… complicated. I don’t know what’ll happen but, you know… better than before, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s great, Glenn! I’m glad.” 

Henry has that smile on his face where he looks like he wants to cry from joy. Glenn shrugs again, discomfort prickling in his chest. 

“And how is the Lark situation? I wasn’t just asking to be an asshole.”

“I- I know you weren’t, I’m sorry.” Henry reassures hastily. “It’s just… well, nothing but divine intervention or one of the most powerful magical spells in the world can change anything, and there’s no magic here and I don’t think there’s any gods, either-“

“Whoa, Henry.” Glenn chuckles. “Don’t let Darryl hear you say that.”

“Okay, maybe there’s gods.” Henry amends, his hands twisting together. “But they must work differently. They probably don’t do divine intervention in the same way that stupid fucking deck would want.”

“Probably not.” 

“But it’s- it’s fine.” Henry unclasps his hands and smooths out the legs of his shorts absently. “He still loves Mercedes and Sparrow. It’s been difficult on them but we’ll… we’ll find a way to work around it, I’m sure!”

“Well, you’re always welcome here.” Glenn gestures around the apartment. “Not to imply you’re gonna get kicked out of your house or anything, but, like, if the tension gets a little much, you know?”

“Thank you, Glenn.” Henry puts a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re always welcome at my house if the, uh…” Henry’s eyes dart around the room and he seems to bite back the rest of his sentence. “Just in general, you know?”

“Thanks, man.” Henry’s hand is still on his shoulder. Touch still feels weird. “I’ll probably take you up on that.” 

He’s probably going to miss his rent payment and get evicted soon. He doesn’t know what to do as a job now. His hand is busted and he’s going to need to take some time to relearn everything on a professional level. 

Not that he’s going to try and move in with Henry. But if he times everything correctly he’ll probably get a month or so of couch surfing in before the dads start to realise something’s up. And by then he’ll have had enough time to get back on his feet. Hopefully. 

Actually, maybe that’s what Henry assumed he’d be helping with. Getting his job sorted out and all that. 

Oh, well. Glenn’s not going to ask and he doesn’t think Henry knows how to push it.

As they fall into silence, Henry’s hand finally slips from Glenn’s shoulder. He almost wants to put it back, but that thought also makes his skin crawl. Twenty years of almost nothing and now casual touch overwhelms him in a way he really doesn’t want to deal with. 

Well, there was that time in the hammock with Darryl. That was nice. Once the staticky shock of it faded away, at least. 

But he could blame that on the coolness of the night. Chasing after Henry’s touch? That’s a little too vulnerable. And Henry’s the kind of guy who picks up on vulnerability like a shark smelling blood in the water. Not like he’s an asshole about it, just… overwhelming. Doesn’t let it go.

It’s good, Glenn guesses. It means he cares. But Glenn can’t say he cares to turn his life around by addressing the shitstorm that is his past. He just needs to keep moving forward - like a shark, actually. They can both be sharks. 

Henry’s relaxed into the couch a little more. His glass of water is almost entirely empty and Glenn internally debates whether he should offer to refill it or give Henry free range of his kitchen. 

Henry might take the permission to refill the glass as blanket permission access and start making all sorts of weird vegan food. On the other hand, offering to refill it makes him seem like an anxious host. He’s a cool, chill host. People can do whatever they want at his place. 

Within reason. Nothing he wouldn’t do. 

Their silence continues. A little like sharks circling each other curiously - waiting to see whether they should pick a fight or go their separate ways. He’s not actually sure if sharks do that, but he’s already compared them both to sharks so he may as well stick with it. 

It doesn’t feel like Henry’s picking a fight when he gets up to refill his water. It doesn’t feel like a fight when he sits down a little closer to Glenn than before. When he relaxes into the cushions - leaning back into them, his head coming to rest on Glenn’s arm where he has it stretched out along the back of the couch. 

Glenn’s hand twitches. He doesn’t know whether he wants to push Henry away, or drop his arm down to pull him closer. 

He doesn’t do either. He’s confident and unaffected by everything. Henry can lean against his arm if he wants, even if it makes something under his skin itch. 

“You know,” Henry muses, “Ron was right. You are soothing.”

“Ron said that?” And then - because he’s not supposed to be shocked by compliments - he adds, “I mean, like, I dunno if soothing is the word I would use. Maybe chill. I’m pretty chill, I think.” 

He doesn’t feel soothing. He barely even feels chill these days, despite his claim otherwise. 

He feels like a tangled mess of manic energy shoved into the vague shape of a person. Maybe they didn’t put his soul back right after the whole guitar thing. 

“When there’s not… a high stakes, dangerous situation you can be very chill, yes.” Henry agrees. 

“And during those high stakes, dangerous situations I’m cool.”

Henry hums noncommittally. “Sometimes.” 

“Ouch.”

“I just mean-“ Henry rushes to defend himself and then huffs, recognising the bait for what it is. “I was very stressed. And sometimes your energy did not help.”

“Fair.” 

“I’m sure my energy didn’t help much either.” 

“Eh.” Glenn shrugs. “Maybe for the others.”

Henry blinks - as if surprised he didn’t just agree. 

“Well… as I was saying - back when we went into Ron’s mind he chose soothing personas for us, but wanted you to stay the same. And… I get it.” Henry looks away from him. Down at his glass. “I was honestly pretty stressed earlier today, but I feel… more relaxed now, I guess?” 

He hasn’t even done anything to earn that kind of praise. All he did was give Henry a glass of water and mostly sit in silence with him. 

“My chill vibes are pretty infectious, huh?” He says anyway. 

“Yeah. I like that you’re chill in a way my dad would hate.” Henry goes a little red, as if embarrassed by the admission. “I don’t- I don’t mean to boil our friendship down to a rebelling against my father thing, just-“

“Hey.” Glenn leans closer. He tells himself it’s just for the performance of his next words. “I’m perfectly happy to be someone’s rebelling against their father thing.”

“Gosh, I’m too old for that.” Henry says with a laugh, but his blush is still there. “It’s just nice to remind myself that that kind of energy exists outside of my dad, is all. I live in- well, you’re aware - I live in a very rowdy household. Which- which I love, by the way, just… this is nice, too.”

They’re close enough that they’re touching at too many points now. Glenn’s probably too aware of it. He shifts away. 

“I can match whatever vibe you’re after, man.” He claps Henry’s shoulder. “Glenn Close guarantee, baby!”

“I guess that’s a good skill for a DJ to have, huh?” Henry looks up at him again - his face falling into something more serious. “Are you still going to do that? Or are you thinking of something else?” 

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Henry’s eyes dart down to his hand briefly. “You were gone for so much longer than us. Do you- do you need time to, like, readjust, I guess? Because I can help! You know, only if you want me to - I don’t want to push against any boundaries.”

Glenn tries not to grimace. 

Henry’s doing this to be nice. Because he cares about Glenn for whatever reason. But accepting help this big means admitting something is wrong. And Glenn’s fine. He can deal with it. He can deal with the long string of Xs in his notebook and the many he’s sure to write down in the future. 

He’s like a shark. Gotta just keep moving forward. And Henry’s also like a shark in the sense that Glenn’s been quiet for a little too long and soon he’s going to sense that vulnerability and bite. 

Maybe Glenn should stop mentally comparing Henry’s worry for him to violence. That doesn’t seem healthy. Oh, well.

“Nah, man, I’ll sort it out.” He waves Henry off absently. “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

“Oh! Uh, are you sure? Because that’s kinda what I came here to do, and I really don’t mind-“

“I thought that was just code to hang out.”

Henry freezes a little, his face turning red again.

“Well… kind of. I mean- I’m confident in my friendships and don’t feel like I have to come up with a reason to hang out.” It sounds more like an affirmation than him telling Glenn. “I also want to help. We can, uh- we can do both! Right?”

“No offence, Henry, but I don’t really want to mix work and play like that.”

“Oh, that’s- and that’s fair.” Henry nods absently. “That’s your right.”

“I’m gonna put on whatever movie’s in the player.”

“Okay. That sounds… nice.” Despite the pause, he sounds genuine. 

“Cool.” He extracts his arm from behind Henry’s head and stands. “I’ll see if we have popcorn, you can start the movie.” 

He doesn’t - in fact - have popcorn. He barely has anything, actually. Which means he’s due for a grocery trip on top of possibly paying rent and bills. Great. 

“No dice!” He calls out to Henry as he leaves the kitchen. “It’d probably be some brand you’d hate, any- what are you doing?”

It looks like Henry is trying to change the DVD. 

“Oh, Glenn! Hi!” Henry sounds as suspicious as he looks as he covers the DVD awkwardly. “Just, uh, not a fan of this one so I thought maybe we could pick something different?” 

“What is it?” Glenn grins as he crouches down to try and snatch the disc. “I wanna know how shit your taste is.”

“It’s- it’s nothing, don’t worry about it, man.” Henry’s voice is raised in that way he gets when he’s stressed. Glenn wonders how far he can push it before he’s being mean. “Why don’t you just, you know, pick something else, and I’ll put this back?”

“Or…” Glenn - confident that Henry would be more worried about breaking it than hiding it - wrestles the DVD out of his hands. “We could-“

His eye catches on the disc. Despicable Me. 

“Ah.” He’s been trying not to think about Nick. “You’re right, we’re probably too old for this one.” 

Henry makes a nervous sound - almost like he was holding his breath. 

“We could- we could watch Face/Off?” Henry suggests. “You like Face/Off.”

“Fuck yeah, man!”

Mechanically, he puts the DVD away and pulls out Face/Off. He can feel Henry’s eyes on him. The weight of them is heavier than if he was lying under a blanket of amps. Or maybe that wouldn’t be that heavy anymore since he’s buff as hell now. Whatever. 

He’s not going to give anything away because there’s nothing to give away. His brain had a difficult time focusing on this kind of shit back when Morgan died and it’s only gotten harder. 

More often than not it feels like his thoughts are firing around with no place to connect. Skating off of anything solid. Like there’s a wall in his head and if he just tried he’d be able to push past it and everything would click together. 

He doesn’t want to try. 

Henry looks away as Glenn finishes setting the movie up. Glenn retreats to the couch and positions himself the same as before - arm resting along the back of the couch and everything. 

For a second, Henry hesitates. And then he sits down close enough to Glenn that they’re touching. A lot. Glenn tries to focus on the feeling of it. His thoughts slow. His brain feels weird - not unlike the beginning of a bad high. 

It’s not even skin to skin contact, for the most part. But Henry’s warmth is impossible to ignore. Glenn tries to push past the static and focus on the feeling of it. This used to be nice. He missed this. 

He tries to focus on the feeling of it. On the fact it’s Henry. It feels wrong. The guards would only have reason to touch him like this if he did something wrong. He feels fuzzy. 

“Henry.” He hears his voice croak out. 

“Yeah?” Henry shifts to look at him. And he must pick up on something in Glenn’s expression because before Glenn can struggle out a sentence he’s asking, “Geez, Glenn, are you okay?”

Fuck. Fuck. He wishes he could just be fucking normal about this. He’s fine. He’ll be okay. He’s supposed to be fine. 

He drops his arm to rest around Henry’s shoulders and pulls him in closer. Shifts to press his face into Henry’s shoulder. 

“Just- just talk to me, bro.” He can hear his own voice. Shaky, but light. 

“Oh, uh, sure!” Henry brings an arm up to wrap around him. Rubs slow, gentle circles into his back. It’s nice. Guards wouldn’t be touching him like this. “Anything in particular?”

“Whatever you want, man.”

So, he sits there. Half in Henry’s lap while Henry rambles about rocks, and the movie plays distant in the background. 

At some point, it’s like a switch flips. His fucked up brain finally registers the touch as Henry. As someone safe. He’s sure Henry feels the way he melts into him. 

Now he’s stuck with a different problem. If he moves away, he thinks he’ll crumble apart. There’s nothing here to distract himself with. Nothing to hold onto. 

“Are you okay?” Henry’s voice cuts through the fog. “Should I keep talking?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” He tries to get closer. Henry wraps his other arm around him. “And keep talking if you want, man. You know me, I love, uh… rocks.”

“As delighted as I am to hear you say that, Glenn, I want you to know you can be honest with me.” Henry’s voice is shaky. He’s still rubbing gentle circles into his back. Glenn wants him to hug him so tightly that his soul clicks back into place. Maybe that’ll fix him. “And quite frankly this feels like a little more than you wanting to hear about rocks, man.” 

“Nah, bro, it’s fine.”

“Glenn.” Henry sighs. And with more of a murmur to himself than anything that was really meant to be heard by Glenn he says, “I don’t know what to do.”

His chest aches. He doesn’t want either of them to be in this position. 

“This is good.” 

“Okay.” 

One of Henry’s hands cards through his hair. He doesn’t know what Henry was talking about earlier - he isn’t soothing. Especially not compared to Henry.

“You said you were stressed.” Glenn says in an attempt to deflect Henry’s thoughts away from him until he feels like he can move again. “Tell me about it?”

“Oh, um…” Henry’s hands still for a moment before starting up again. “Not much to tell.”

“So? C’mon, man!” He tries to put some of his usual energy back into his voice. “What’s been happening in the life of Henry Oak-García since we got back?”

“A lot of conversations that end negatively.” Henry’s hand stops moving properly now. Instead, he clutches Glenn’s shirt. “Just a lot of… really, really bad conversations.” 

“I’m sure Lark will come around.” He’s aware he sounds dismissive. But hopefully it’s the right kind of dismissive where it’s reassuring, not the I don’t care about your problems dismissive. “I mean… Nick- Nicholas is. Well, kind of. But they both had some weird… reality altering magic happen to them, so rules are probably the same, right?”

“Nicholas isn’t magically compelled to hate you, though.” 

“But in his reality, I was never his dad. And he’s told me that he’s starting to, like, remember bits of it?” Glenn shrugs as much as he can in his current position. “Mostly just flashes at the moment. Feelings and all that. So, maybe it’ll be the same with Lark.”

“Sure.”

“You just gotta give him some space, man.”

“I don‘t-“ Henry cuts himself off from continuing what Glenn is sure was going to be a cutting sentence based on his tone. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” He sighs. It doesn’t do anything to steady the tremor in his voice. “I mean, I may as well try, right? Not like I can screw it up more than I already have!”

“Hell yeah, man, that’s the spirit.” 

It’s probably not, actually. But Henry can be overbearing at worst, and has an incredible amount of anxiety. If anyone needs to take on a fuck it - whatever happens, happens mentality for a bit, it’s him. 

Maybe Glenn should complete the swap. Try Henry’s parenting-slash-general-state-of-living style. 

Nah. 

Way too much effort. It seems exhausting, if Henry’s tone is anything to go by. 

Well, he is trying to open up to his- up to Nicky more. That’s a Henry move, even if it didn’t really work out for him. 

“We, um…” Henry sighs shakily, and shifts - trying to get comfortable. It jostles Glenn. Sends a prickling wave of discomfort over his skin again and he takes it as his cue to pull away, ignoring the disappointed sound Henry makes when he does. “We’ve missed a lot of the movie.”

“Eh.” Glenn fumbles for the remote. “I’ll just restart it.”

Henry laughs. A lot more than Glenn really thinks is necessary, but it’s nice to hear after all that mess just before.  

“I thought you were going to say it didn’t matter - ‘cause, you know, you’ve seen it so much?” 

“Dude. If we’re putting on Face/Off, we’re watching Face/Off.”

“Alright, alright.” Henry raises his hands in mock defence, a smile on his face. “Sorry.”

This time they get through the movie without any breakdowns or interruptions. When it’s over, Henry sits up, stretching. 

“Geez, I could go for some food.” He casts a wary glance to Glenn’s kitchen. “I imagine you don’t have much in the way of stuff I can eat, right?“

“Man, I don’t even think I have anything I can eat.” He stretches, too. “Guess I was due for a grocery run right before we left.”

“Oh, we could go now!” 

Henry looks way more excited than he should. 

“You want to go grocery shopping with me?” 

“Well, it’s been so nice to hang out with you today!” Henry insists as if Glenn didn’t freak the fuck out earlier. “I’d like to, you know, continue that, man!”

“Uh… we could just get take out?”

“C’mon, Glenn, you’re going to need to go eventually. And wouldn’t it be more fun with a friend?”

“I-“

“I know vegan food is a little more expensive, so I can pay.” 

“You- okay, hold on, hold on. Back up.”

“Hm?” 

Henry looks at him with innocent confusion. 

This is a trap. 

He’s not sure where, but somewhere there’s a trap here. 

Either Henry’s trying to convert him into becoming a vegan, or he’s trying to find a way to pay for Glenn’s groceries without offending him by offering outright. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to go home yet. 

“We can go grocery shopping, but, like… you pay for your shit and I’ll pay for mine. And then you can take yours home at the end of the day without it being confusing with, like, who gets to keep what.”

“Or…” Henry drags the word out. “I could… leave it here for when I come over next time?”

Oh. A secret fourth trap. Glenn doesn’t think he minds this one that much. 

“Sure.”

“I mean, well, I don’t want to presume you’ll want to keep inviting me over - I’m perfectly fine with this being, like, a one time thing, but-“

“Henry, my man, chill.” 

Henry stops rambling. His hands are clasped tightly together and he looks about ready to start pacing a hole in Glenn’s floor. 

“I already said you could come over whenever, remember?” 

“Oh. That’s- that’s right.” Henry twists his wedding ring, a distant look on his face. “Sorry. My, uh- my memory hasn’t really been great since we got back? I think- well, Mercedes came up with the idea - we think it’s only happening to me because of my circumstances last time. That I’ve, like… retriggered my amnesia kinda? It’s not as bad, but…” He trails off, eyes still distant. 

“Hey, uh, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Glenn almost wants to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but doesn’t. “My memory’s pretty shit, too. So, you’re, ah, not alone, at least.” 

“Thank you, Glenn.” He drops his hands back to his sides. “And, well, a bit of spotty memory isn’t the worst memory problem I’ve had, so… I’ll get through it.” 

“Hell yeah. And, hey.” Glenn rummages around for a spare key and holds it out to Henry. “Key to the apartment. So you can come over when I’m working if you want.” 

Henry takes it with a mix of confusion and awe on his face. 

“You’re- you’re just giving this to me?” 

“Sure, why not?” He grins. “You’ve had my life in your hands more times than I can count, man, what damage are you going to do with a key?“

“That’s, uh,” Henry’s voice is a little shaky, “that’s very true.”

“And now there’s, like, a physical reminder that you’re welcome here.” 

Henry’s eyes get all watery like he’s about to cry. Back before this whole thing, Glenn’s sure he would’ve had something snarky to say about it. Before prison, he thinks he might’ve given Henry some kind of half hug. 

Now, he doesn’t want to do either. Or more like he doesn’t want to do the former and can’t do the latter. 

“That’s- that’s so kind.” Glenn can clearly hear the tremor of unshed tears in his voice. “Thank you.” 

“Hey, don’t mention it, man.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just… it’s been so…” Henry takes a shaky breath in and then sounds less like he’s about to cry. “Can I hug you?”

“Um…” Yes. No. Yes. Henry let Glenn hug him when he was freaking out, so… yes. Plus, he needs to adjust to human touch anyway, right? He wants to adjust. “Sure. But only quickly, okay?”

Henry darts in, squeezes him tight, and darts away again. Glenn holds back a shudder. Disguises a grimace by turning to grab his jacket. 

Grocery shopping with Henry is weird. Glenn hasn’t been grocery shopping in twenty years, and before that he’d usually go with Morgan, and then Nick. With Nick, he’d just let the kid grab whatever he wanted and go from there. 

He’s not sure whether he should do that again. He doesn’t know whether Nicky is going to visit him, or whether he’ll be going to hell to visit Nicky every time. Maybe he should get stuff for him, anyway. Just in case. Some things are still the same so hopefully the snacks he likes are, too. 

But back to the point. Grocery shopping with Henry is weird because Glenn expected it to be kind of awkward and it isn’t. Henry babbles away about shit that goes in one ear and out the other, but it’s nice. A reminder he isn’t alone, at the very least. 

They all got along pretty well in the Forgotten Realms considering they barely knew each other beforehand and are all extremely different types of people. But despite that and the fast tracked emotional vulnerability between them all, Glenn wasn’t really sure they’d be able to just be friends outside of that place. 

He kind of figured they’d get back, realise how different they all are, have some stilted hang outs, and then agree to just meet up every now and then to remind themselves that it really happened. 

Well, the other dads would probably see each other at soccer. But Glenn would be alone. Minus his occasional trips to hell. 

It’s surprising how easy it is to hang out with Henry. Even just doing something as boring as grocery shopping is a little fun with him around. 

And it’s surprising how fond he feels watching as Henry’s hands wave about while he rambles. He’s talking about recipes now. Running some past Glenn, and attempting to convince him to try them. 

“You won’t even have to cook!” Henry insists. “Or spend any money! That’s a pretty good deal, right?”

“Sure, man.” Glenn’s probably eaten worse than whatever Henry can make for him. It’s fun to rile him up, though. “But-“

Henry groans, and Glenn lets his grin show on his face. 

When they go back home Henry cooks him a vegan meal, and he pretends to hate it long enough for Henry to start pouting about it. It’s pretty good, actually. When he tells Henry that, Henry gets an endearing little self-satisfied smile on his face. 

“But I’m not going vegan, okay?” Glenn warns. “I’ll eat this occasionally but I’m not giving up the good stuff.”

“Sure, sure, that’s fine!” Henry says in a voice that is clearly still riding off the high of convincing someone vegan food can be good. “I’m just happy you’re approaching this with an open mind, is all.”

“Alright.” 

They finish up and Glenn grabs the plates with the intent to wash them until he’s reminded of the pile of dirty dishes still in the sink. He slots them neatly on top. He can deal with it later when he doesn’t have a guest. 

“So,” Henry claps his hands together, “it’s getting late, and I suppose I should probably, uh, get out of your hair, right?”

There’s a hesitance to him. Henry wears so much of his heart on his sleeve. Too much, probably. 

There’s a chance that whatever happened earlier in the day means he doesn’t want to go home yet. He’s also probably worried about leaving Glenn to spend the night alone for the first time since they got back, but Glenn’s going to ignore that. 

“You could stay the night, if you want.” He shrugs, disinterested in the answer. He doesn’t care either way what Henry does. “Give Lark some of that space I suggested, yeah?”

“That’s an excellent idea!” Henry fumbles for his phone and Glenn ignores the relief that floods through him. “I’m just- I’ll just call Mercedes and let her know.”

Glenn wanders back into the kitchen to give Henry some privacy. He could start on the dishes. But if he starts he’ll have to finish and he’s not sure how long Henry’ll be on the phone. 

Henry taps his shoulder. 

“Glenn, hey!” 

His smile is strained with concern. 

“Whoa,” Glenn blinks, refocusing his eye, “that was quick.”

“Was it?” Confusion on top of concern now. “I felt like we were talking for a while.”

Maybe he zoned out. 

“Eh, whatever.” Glenn pushes past him, eager to move the conversation away from whatever that was. “You can take my bed, I’ve got the couch.”

“Oh, I- I couldn’t do that!”  

“I’m a pro-couch surfer, man, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I just mean- well…” Henry hesitates, “we can share the bed? Unless it’s not big enough in which case I will take the couch, thank you very much - I’m not gonna kick you out on your first night home!”

He thinks back to that night with Darryl in the hammock. That was nice. Plus, his bed is big enough that they probably won’t even touch. 

“Sure. Let’s share.”

They still have time before bed, though, so Glenn puts on another movie except this time they mostly talk through it. 

When it’s done, they fall into a comfortable nighttime routine. They’d been practically living with each other before, and it’s easy enough to adapt that to fit Earth and his apartment.

They crawl into bed, and Glenn falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Glenn wakes up. He can’t see. 

“Morgan?” The name is a sleepy murmur out of his mouth as he reaches across the bed to feel if she’s there. 

He comes into contact with someone that definitely isn’t Morgan. 

Right. She hasn’t been here for a long time. 

He sits up. 

It’s too dark to see. Is he blindfolded? He was blindfolded for a while back in prison, but the ground is too soft to be- or, no. He’s in a bed. There were no beds in prison.

Is he back? Did they catch him? He got out didn’t he? His chest aches. 

His hands scramble to tear off a non-existent blindfold and all he manages to do is take off his eyepatch. He can’t see. He couldn’t see back in prison either. Is he back there now? No. There’s no beds in prison. He’s in a bed. 

Maybe he’s just dreaming. 

He hears the sound of someone shifting next to him. 

“Glenn?” Not-Morgan’s voice is filled with sleep. He yawns. “You okay?” 

But if he’s dreaming, it’d be Morgan with him, right? Or Nick? And this isn’t either of them. 

“Pinch me?” 

He holds his arm out. Not-Morgan doesn’t touch it. There’s more shifting, and Glenn’s eyes - eye - starts to get accustomed to the darkness. 

Not-Morgan’s frowning. He pinches him and it hurts. Not dreaming then.

“Are you okay, man?” Not-Morgan asks again. “Do you… do you know where we are?”

“A bed.” He glances around. “A bedroom.” 

“Well, yeah, but… which bedroom?”

His? Glenn’s? A hotel’s? He looks around again. Too messy to be a hotel. His or Glenn’s? 

His and Glenn’s?

“Ours…?” 

“Yours.” Not-Morgan corrects gently. 

Right. His bedroom in his apartment. Not prison. Because he’s out now. He got out. But he can’t- no, he can see now. Faint outlines, at least. 

“Right. I knew that.” 

“Of course you did.” Not-Morgan says placatingly. Which just kind of sounds condescending. 

It’s familiar, though. He knows Not-Morgan didn’t mean to an asshole about it. He’s not sure why he knows that. 

He registers Not-Morgan’s hands in his. He snatches them away - his skin prickling uncomfortably. 

“Do you remember your name?” Not-Morgan asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Glenn. It’s Glenn Close. The guy said it earlier, anyway. 

“Okay. Do you remember my name?” 

He should, shouldn’t he? The face is familiar. Everything’s familiar. But his brain can’t move past that this isn’t Morgan. How wrong that feels even though he knows it makes sense that it wouldn’t be her. 

His chest aches. He misses her. 

“Not Morgan.” 

“That’s true.”

“Not Nick.” 

“Also true.”

He tries to grasp at his memories. 

“I just… I do know, it’s just-“ 

His brain is moving too slow. 

Not Morgan, not Nick, so who else? When he went to jail he was waiting for people. Henry, Darryl, Ron, Pae-

-Henry. 

Fuck, Henry. How could he forget that? The man’s right fucking in front of him and his brain couldn’t even push past the apparent wrongness of him not being Morgan to connect the two dots. 

“Henry.” 

Henry grins, although it looks watery. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

This isn’t something a cool and unaffected guy would do. He climbs out of bed. 

“Gonna grab a glass of water.”

Because he can now. He can go wherever he wants. 

Well, within reason. Trespassing laws still exist. But he cares even less about the law than he did before. What are they going to do? Put him in prison? No cell of theirs could be worse than the Meth Bay Supermax. 

He creeps across the apartment, mindful of Nick. And then he remembers he doesn’t have to be mindful of Nick, but he should probably still be quiet for Henry. 

He’s halfway through chugging back some water before the wires in his brain get crossed again and it starts to feel too much like the smoothies in prison. He puts the glass down too loudly and gags into the sink. Nothing comes back up. 

He wants to hit something. Feels a fiery, spiked ball of energy alight in his chest - an anger at everything rolling through him. 

He pushes away from the sink, and drops to roll back onto the ground until he’s lying on his back. His nails dig into the palms of his hands, and he thinks about how much easier it was to get rid of this feeling - this need to do something - back in the Forgotten Realms. 

He could be violent there and no one would blink an eye - except maybe at his excitement. He can’t start smashing shit in his apartment or else Henry’s going to stage some kind of intervention. 

Maybe Henry will be scared. He doesn’t want Henry to be scared. 

This sucks. 

His hands are shaking. His left one aches. He’s not sure how to spin getting a nightlight in his room that doesn’t make it obvious that he’s scared shitless of waking up back there.

In the Forgotten Realms it was fine. He was always waking up to the low light of the campfire. The moonlight and stars. Not a pitch black room uncomfortably similar to the light levels in prison. 

He didn’t get confused like this. He did sometimes think it was a dream he was inevitably going to wake up from, but he was content indulging in that. And then there’d always be some kind of unignorable pain that dragged him back to  the truth of yes, he’s out. This is real.

The fire in his chest dies out as it always does. He gets up and heads back to the bedroom. 

Henry’s sitting up - waiting for him. He wishes he’d just gone back to sleep.

“Feeling better?” Henry asks, his voice soft. 

“Yeah, man, I’m great.” 

He climbs under the covers and lies down. A signal that this conversation is over, as far as he’s concerned. 

Henry does not take the hint. 

“I, um- I used to get like that.” Henry offers up hesitantly. “When I first came to Earth I kept waking up not knowing where I was, or who I was with. It felt like I should be somewhere else, you know? With someone else. And it’s been happening again a little now with - well, I told you my memory’s acting up again.” 

“Yeah.” 

He’s not sure what Henry expects him to say. 

“I just want- I just want you to know you’re not alone in this.” Henry pauses - hesitant. “If anyone understands, it’s me. And I want- I want you to know I’m happy to talk about it if, you know, you feel you’d like to.”

For a moment, something bitter fills his chest at the idea that Henry thinks he can understand what twenty years of prison did to him. 

He stamps the emotion down quickly along with every other emotion that doesn’t add to his unaffected persona. Only chill vibes here with the Glenn Close experience. 

Besides, Henry never claimed he understood the prison stuff. Just the memory problems. And Glenn’s not enough of a dick that he doesn’t recognise that’s an objective fact - especially when he already made the comparison earlier. 

“Thanks.” He shuffles to get more comfortable. To try and draw this conversation to a close. “I’m fine, though.” 

Henry lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Yeah, alright.” He lies down, too. “Whatever you say, man.” 

His chest aches. 

“Henry?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Seriously. Um… thanks.” 

Henry’s silent for a beat. Probably trying to figure out his tone. 

“No problem, man.” The frustration’s gone now. Something soft replacing it. “Whatever you need.” 

Glenn decides to snip the conversation here before he manages to ruin it. 

“G’night.” 

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” 

When he wakes up again, it’s morning. Soft sunlight streams through the blinds and he can see that Henry’s gone. He can also hear the sound of something cooking in the kitchen, so he figures Henry hasn’t gone far. 

He reaches to take off his eyepatch for a moment now that he’s alone, but he doesn’t find anything. 

He has a hazy memory of trying to tear off a blindfold last night. Which means Henry probably saw the scarring. 

He finds the eyepatch discarded in the sheets and puts it back on. 

Back in the prison, Henry said the eyepatch made him look sexy. He wonders if Henry still thinks that now that he’s seen what it’s hiding. 

Maybe the darkness of the night hid the details. He hopes it did. 

He sleeps in because he can and nothing needs his attention right now. Henry seems fine to do whatever in his apartment so he doesn’t need to entertain him. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Henry’s voice calls to him from the doorway. He blinks his eye awake again. “I made you breakfast - kind of. I made me breakfast and made extra so you could have it if you want it.”

He stretches out and closes his eye again.

“What’s the fucking time?”

“Oh, um… eight?”

“Eight? You suck.”

“I’ve been up since five.”

“Henry, we’ve been through a lot of really weird shit together, but the fact you’re still waking up that early has to be the weirdest.”

Henry laughs. “Oh, I’m sure. C’mon - I can put some toast in for you?”

“Fine.” 

He drags himself out of bed. Henry’ll probably be itching to see Mercedes again soon and Glenn figures he should probably say bye properly. He can always take a nap later. 

They don’t talk about last night. Glenn feels himself relaxing a little as he realises Henry’s not going to mention it. 

He eats the extra portion of breakfast Henry made, and they talk about what their plans are for the day, and then Henry’s at the door. 

“Well!” Henry claps his hands together and rocks on his feet. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” Glenn shoves his hands into his pockets so Henry doesn’t try to touch him in his goodbye. “Don’t forget about that key, man. Seriously, come by whenever. Or - actually, maybe shoot me a text first.”

“You got it!” Henry takes a step backwards so he’s outside the apartment now. “I’m thinking about hosting a dinner later this week, so I’ll let you know when the details are more solid.”

“Sounds great.” 

“Darryl’s probably going to cook.” 

“Even better.” 

Henry pouts, and insists, “You like my food.” 

“I like free food.” Glenn corrects. Then he grins. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I like your food fine.”

“Thanks.” Henry says dryly. “Well… I’ll see you then! Or feel free to drop by earlier, I’m sure Mercedes and the kids won’t mind.” 

“See you.” 

With a final wave, Henry retreats down the building hallway and Glenn closes the door. 

He takes a moment to breathe, and takes off his eyepatch. He should probably do the dishes now. Maybe some laundry. 

But the emptiness of the apartment settles in quickly, so instead he tries to figure out how to open a portal to hell.