BlueyCapsules | VOLUME TWO

Bittersweet Symphony

Boseman had to do this.

Looking down at the paper in front of him, though, it just looked like...words. It was no use. The pizzeria was closed, another day with no business. Unsurprising. Boseman couldn't think about transferring the business. He couldn't think about anything but his kids.

He hoped it had been quick, and painless.

"Hey, Boss..."

Boseman vaguely heard Henry beside him, but didn't respond. The other man's hand rested on his shoulder, gentle and reassuring. Henry just had that way about him.

"Boss...why don't you come over for a drink at my plagace?" Henry suggested softly. "I think...I think it will help you take your mind off of everything." Henry took the papers from him, pushing them aside. "You don't have to do all of this right now, okay?"

Boseman considered, for a moment, pretending to resist, and then he just sighed and got shakily out of his seat.

"We'll take your car, okay? I can drive."

Henry had a nice home. Boseman followed him meagerly inside, glancing around - there were photos on the wall, a woman, and two children. Boseman recognized one of them as Sammy, but not the other - a little girl. He didn't ask.

"Please, sit down, Boss," Henry said. "Here."

Boseman took a seat on the couch, and Henry gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I'll be right back."

Boseman still had Christmas presents for them in the attic, he thought, wringing his hands in his lap. He sat in silence, thinking about his children. Their rooms had sat untouched since their disappearances, which meant that Cassidy's tarantula hadn't been fed - she would've gotten so angry at him if she knew, he could almost hear her scolding him. He thought about the beach, last summer, and that stupid...sand castle, they'd built. Big enough to fit little Jerry inside. He hadn't seen them work together like that probably...ever. He thought about Disneyworld, and the tickets for next season still sitting in his desk at home.

God. God. He hoped so badly that they weren't in pain.

"Boss?"

Boseman jumped at Henry's voice, and realized that he'd started to cry. Henry was staring at him with concern, holding two bottles of whiskey. Boseman sniffled, wiping over his eyes.

"Ah...sorry, Henry, I just..."

"Don't apologize," Henry said firmly. He began to pour a shot, humming. "I'm not sure how much I should pour you."

"Oh, Henry," Boseman chuckled weakly. "You know damn well I'm going to need the whole bottle."

"Alright," Henry smiled, handing it over to him. "If you say so."

Boseman took a long swig from the bottle, feeling how the liquid burned his throat and warmed his chest. He coughed when he came back up, and let out a shaky sigh, looking straight ahead at the blank television.

"...I don't know what I'm going to do, Henry," he admitted hoarsely. "I...I have nothing left. Everything that ever mattered to me...just stripped away, like they never even existed in the first place." Boseman ran a hand through his hair. "What is the point of living if you have nothing to live for?"

Henry was quiet for a moment.

"Boss...I...I never told you this but..." he swallowed, looking down into his glass. "I used to have a daughter. Charlotte. She was...taken from me last year, in a manner similar to your children. Declared missing, with no trace of her other than the blood in the back alley of the diner. My wife left me and Sammy shortly after Charlie's funeral. I...felt the same way you do now. Like there was no hope, nothing left for me to live for...besides my son, who still needed me." He took a deep breath. "Will helped me get back on my feet, to some extent...but after his son passed mere weeks later, he seemed to change." William had a son that died? Boseman felt a twinge of guilt over the exchange back at the restaurant. "I saw sides of him I never knew existed. For the first time in years...I felt truly alone." Henry was quiet, again. He took a drink from his glass, and cleared his throat. "...But that's what I met you."

Him?

"You came and...you showed me a person full of life and vigor, someone with passion, with confidence...someone who put all of his work into his family and who loved doing what he did because it made them smile." Henry smiled up at him. "It...reminded me of how I used to be. It was the kind of person I wanted to be. I modeled myself after you. I admire you...a lot."

Boseman felt his cheeks grow warm.

"You're the kind of person the world needs more of. You enrich the lives of everyone you meet. If I hadn't met you...I...I don't know where I would be now." Henry looked up at him seriously, keeping firm eye contact as he spoke. "That's why you need to keep on living. And I'm willing to stand with you every step of the way."

Boseman...didn't know what to say. His chest fluttered, his face growing strangely hot as he looked away, covering his face. It was embarrassing. It was...nice. Very, very nice. He laughed quietly to himself.

"Ah..." Boseman chuckled weakly. "You've always had such a way with words, Henry."

"Boss?"

Boseman placed a firm hand on Henry's knee, sighing shakily.

"I have to say...no one had ever said anything like that to me before. I'm...I'm truly grateful that you still care."

Henry smiled kindly at him. Boseman smiled back.

At some point, during the night, Henry had fallen asleep. Boseman tried, really, but he just...couldn't. It was raining outside, and the clock on the wall told him it was three after five. In the morning. Fuck.

What...what was he doing? He couldn't possibly stay here. His children were dead. Boseman's gaze dropped groggily to Henry's sleeping frame. His children were dead...because of him. If only he hadn't created those...the...fuck, he couldn't think. He had to get out of here.

Boseman got up.

The sudden movement on the couch disturbed Henry, and he woke up, looking up in sleepy shock at Boseman as he grabbed his coat.

"Wh - Boss?"

"Henry, I -" Boseman huffed, putting his coat on haphazardly. "I just - I can't be here. Don't follow me. Please."

"Huh?" Henry seemed hurt, getting up quickly to follow him despite his request. "What do you mean? A-Aren't you going to stay for breakfast?" Boseman shook his head, stepping out into the rain. Still, Henry followed. "Boss...what is going on? Did...did I do something?"

Did he do something?

"Yes." Boseman laughed dryly, fumbling with his keys. "You did. You...you made those damn...things. You made that whole place. If you hadn't, my kids wouldn't be fucking dead. I would still have my damn life together. I should have never -"

Through the reflection of his car window, Boseman saw Henry's wide, kind eyes, and his heart sank. What was he saying?

"...No," Boseman shook his head. "No. No...I-I'm sorry, Henry. I shouldn't have said that. This...this isn't your fault. I know you never wanted any of this -"

"It's okay," Henry insisted, grabbing Boseman's shoulder desperately. "I understand what you're going through, Boss. Please...come back inside. I'm worried about you." Boseman shrugged Henry gently away from him. He got in his car, leaving the window rolled down so he could apologize.

"No," he said hoarsely. "I can't. I...I'm not in the right place right now. I need to be alone. I don't...I don't want to risk hurting you anymore."

"Bosley-"

"You have my business information, Henry," Boseman interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't look at Henry's face. "If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call me. I...I hope to keep in touch with you. And..." he looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry."

Boseman pulled out of the driveway and left.

Boseman watched Henry standing in his driveway through his rearview mirror, until he had driven so far that he and Henry's house were both out of sight. Then his gaze turned to the photo tucked into his mirror; His kids, all three of them. He'd taken it just before a road trip to Six Flags. They all looked so happy. Even Cassidy, though she had her middle finger sticking up. He thumbed over the photo sadly.

He would find who did this to them. He wouldn't rest until they did.

And he would make sure they paid.