Chapter Text
June 27th, 2026 – late morning
It’s the small and mundane things that set Alex off.
Their brownstone feels like a ticking time bomb. No matter where he goes, Alex can’t escape the reminders of the life he had before. It has been almost six months since everything fell apart, and he finds himself stuck in an impossible place: with the reminders of everything he lost everywhere he looks, but unable to get rid of them and unable to move forward in any meaningful way. He can’t, he doesn’t know how to accept that this is his new life.
It's summertime now, but Henry’s winter coat is still hanging by the entrance, toque hat and gloves still prominently placed in the wicker basket by the door.
The hall that leads to the open concept kitchen is full of pictures depicting their years together. A selfie under the linden tree in the Kennedy Garden where they celebrated their first anniversary as boyfriends. The two of them bundled up in winter gear, their cheeks flushed with cold as they rode the Sky Tram in Jasper National Park, the magnificent and powerful Rockies behind them. When they got engaged at the lake house, both proudly showing off their new rings and the widest, happiest smiles on their faces. Every time Alex sees this particular picture, his heart stutters when he gazes at Henry’s beautiful, wide, gummy smile, the one he only showed when he was truly happy. Alex always felt equal parts humbled and proud to be the recipient of that smile.
An unpublished picture of their royal engagement photoshoot, them sitting in the library in Adelaide Cottage, Henry’s home growing up, Henry’s head thrown back in laughter and Alex looking at him with what can only be described as heart eyes. The Buckingham communications team decided the picture was too casual to be published. To this day, it remains one of Alex’s favourites. Both of them hugging tightly during Alex’s convocation ceremony, Henry gifting him again with that gummy smile, the pride in his blue eyes unmistakable. Their historical kiss on the Buckingham balcony after their official wedding ceremony. A selfie taken during their honeymoon in the Maldives, the breathtaking waters behind them. Alex thinks that Henry’s bright eyes are almost as breathtaking as the waters behind them.
Their love, the barriers they have broken, the history they have made, is right in front of Alex’s eyes every time he walks to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Alex is greeted by Henry’s collection of teacups in all the rainbow colours whenever he opens one of the cupboards. The adjacent cupboard is filled to the brim with Jaffa Cakes and specialty teas that the blond brought back during their last trip to London. Every time he opens the fridge, he is confronted by the very mild sauces Henry likes, his British palate unable to adjust to the taste of the stronger spices Alex prefers. Henry’s newest cookbook that focuses on different Latin American cuisines still has a place of honour on the kitchen island, alongside a list of recipes to be prepared together in the near future. The takeout menus from Henry’s favourite restaurants are still inside one of the kitchen drawers, Alex has not ordered any food from them since… since.
It's the sweaty fingerprints left on a corner of their small table in the breakfast nook. Alex is not sure whose fingerprints they belong to: might be his, June’s, Nora’s, Pez’s, Bea’s, but he refuses to wipe them down because they might be Henry’s, and cleaning them off feels like erasing killing forgetting him, and he cannot bring himself to do it, he can’t let him go. So every morning when Alex sits at the table, he’s very careful to clean around the fingerprints.
Their big dining table is located just off the kitchen. Alex can easily picture all the dinners they’ve had there with their friends and family. The laughs, the teasing, the games, the passionate conversations about anything and everything. Alex remembers how most people would get tired of his long rants, but never Henry. His husband always listened to him and even encouraged his passionate rants, a soft smile in his lips and his gaze soft and loving. Alex misses those moments full of joy and spontaneity. The first people they entertained in their house were their closest friends and family: June, Nora, Bea and Pez. Next, Alex’s three parents joined them for their first Christmas together in the brownstone. The first time that Catherine, Philip, and Martha (who was heavily pregnant at the time) visited, intent on making amends and building bridges in the months following Mary’s passing. Alex’s friends from the firm: Todd and his girlfriend Lauren, Amina and her girlfriend Saanvi. Henry’s close friends from the shelter: Kendall and Roman.
The big dark red sectional feels too big when it’s only him and David. The blue, fuzzy, incredibly soft throw blanket that Alex and Henry would cuddle under when they would binge watch shows on Netflix or have one of their regular marathons of the entire Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings franchises, is still lying on the couch where Henry left it.
Across from the couch, the huge bookcase occupying most of the wall is bursting with books and their favourite movies. Some of the books are Alex’s, but the majority belong to Henry. His beloved collection of Jane Austen novels is dutifully organized alphabetically. History books. Hard copies of scripts from Arthur’s movies. His favourite copy of Persuasion left on the coffee table for reading when the mood strikes. Above the fireplace on the other wall, Arthur’s Oscar and a Bond poster hold a place of honour.
Next to the kitchen and living room area are both their offices. In Henry’s office, the forest green cardigan, one of Henry’s favourites, is still draped over his chair where he left it. It’s well worn and a little frayed around the edges, but the blond always loved how comfy and cozy it made him, especially because his office is one of the chilliest places in the entire house. Alex hasn’t washed it, and every week he takes comfort in spraying a bit of Rose 31 on it so it continues to smell like his husband.
The oversized mahogany desk is partially obscured by a multitude of colourful Post-it notes, full of handwritten ideas for his beloved project: the queer anthology telling the story of some of the most important LGBTQIA2S+ people in history. Alex likes touching the little notes, tracing the loopy, cursive, elegant writing of Henry’s. Alex still remembers the many hours he spent listening to his husband talk about his research. How alive and animated he would look with his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Figures like Harvey Milk, Frida Kahlo, Langston Hughes, Barbara Jordan, Hulleah Tsinhnahjinnie, Kiyoshi Kuromiya, Alan Turing, Oscar Wilde, Gilbert Baker, Freddy Mercury, Virginia Woolf, Andy Warhol and Marsha Johnson became prominent topics of conversation over countless dinners and cuddle sessions before bed. This anthology might never be finished now. Alex feels his heart clench painfully at the thought that the world might not see what a talented, sensitive, and knowledgeable writer Henry is.
As he climbs the stairs to the second floor, he’s haunted by more pictures. He and June as small children, seated at their abuela’s kitchen counter. Arthur holding four-year-old Henry in his arms, the little blond boy shyly tucking his face into his father’s neck. Sixteen-year-old Alex holding up a Lacrosse trophy. Henry and Pez hugging each other during their Eton commencement ceremony. A picture from June, Nora and Alex’s first official photoshoot as the White House Trio. Ellen’s second Inauguration, Alex holding the Bible this time around. Bea and Henry in their rooms at Kensington, cuddling with David and Mr. Wobbles. Henry holding his niece Isabella Grace for the first time, a besotted look on his face. Alex standing proud after receiving his Law degree, his three parents, June, Nora, and Henry beside him. Henry surrounded by the teens at the shelter doing arts and crafts. A group vacation to Barcelona. The two of them playing on the floor with Isabella Grace at Clarence House, the toddler offering them one of her dollies.
The shelves in the games and music room are filled with dozens of different board games. Henry’s baby grand piano sits in one corner. If Alex’s concentrates, he can still hear his husband’s beautiful music. Alex can picture long, pale, elegant fingers moving across the keys with a level of dexterity that Alex always admired. There were times when Alex would get so relaxed listening to his husband playing the piano that he would fall asleep right there and Henry would have to carry him to their bed. Now, Alex will often play Mozart, Beethoven, and Rachmaninoff on his phone: hoping it will help him relax, or maybe even sleep. But no matter how hard he tries, nothing can replace the peaceful and relaxed feelings he would get whenever Henry played the piano.
Their home gym, when they would often train together. Now Alex spends many hours a week there, exercising obsessively, trying to tire himself enough to fall asleep.
Alex reaches the third floor and is greeted by their bedroom. Henry’s clothes still in their walk-in closet, Henry’s favourite Pride and Prejudice copy is still on the nightstand.
In their ensuite, Henry’s toiletries are still placed in their vanity. In their tub, Alex is confronted everyday with the sight of Henry’s shampoo, conditioner, body wash and loofa, which makes it feel like Henry is there, in the shower with him. If Alex concentrates, he can feel Henry’s arms around him, gently washing his back, lips kissing just above his pulse point, his gentle hip undulations against Alex, awakening sensations in him that, no matter how many years together, are still as intense as when they first got together. When Alex wants to torture himself, which it has been almost every day since, he takes Henry’s bottle of body wash to his nose and breathes in the scent (a mix of apples and watermelon) and it makes him want to trace Henry’s entire body with his tongue and lips.
Alex has taken to sleeping with one of Henry's old, stained, frayed t-shirt from Oxford. Alex cuddles with it, wishing desperately that it was Henry instead. He also sprays the shirt with Rose 31 every few days, trying to capture Henry’s essence. It helps, but it’s not the same. While the cologne definitely reminds him of his husband, he misses Henry’s unique clean and grassy smell. On Alex’s nightstand, there’s a picture that shows a moment from that small private wedding ceremony they had days before the official one. Alex still vividly remembers how their hands were clammy with nerves and clutching tightly to each other’s. Henry’s shiny eyes and flushed cheeks, Alex’s eyes so intent on his future husband, so full of love.
How, every morning when he wakes up, he still turns towards Henry’s side of the bed, wanting to tangle their limbs and share body heat. How, even as summer fills the city with long, sunny days and warm temperatures, he feels a chill down to his bones when empty space and cold sheets are the only things that greet him in the morning. The threadbare Oxford shirt offers little comfort in the light of the day. Even David barely goes to sleep with him anymore, probably sensing the utter misery permeating through every inch of the bedroom. Poor David, with sad eyes and floppy ears, still sits holding his squeaky monkey toy at the front door, whining and crying, waiting for Henry to come home and take him to the dog park.
How he can feel a ghostly embrace, a phantom laugh, and the words “hello, love” at different times of the day. Alex feels too much, and he wonders if it will ever stop. If he will wake up one day and not feel like the world has ended when he remembers why the other side of the bed is empty. If he will ever stop hoping, wishing, dreaming, for a miracle that might never happen. If it is even possible for him to stop hoping. To stop wanting. To stop loving. Alex wonders if he will ever stop feeling like his chest has been carved open. He has an imprint of Henry in every fiber of his being, and he does not think he will ever be free of it.
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The New York Times (Jan 09, 2026, 10:26 pm): BREAKING NEWS! The Dukes of Wessex involved in a car accident ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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The Daily Mail (Jan 10, 2026, 06:07 am): HORROR! The Dukes of Wessex involved in horrific crash. “There was so much blood!” – Said a passerby in tears
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January 10th, 2026 – Late Afternoon
Alex feels drowsy, his mouth completely dry, body heavy. As he gains more awareness, he notices the strong disinfectant smell, something hanging around his nose. He tries to move his right arm, but a sharp pain stops him. Gasping for breath, his eyes snap open.
“Oh Alex, shh, you’re ok” he hears someone say.
Swallowing with difficulty, Alex turns his head to the left, and after a few moments, his eyes focus on June, who is sitting close by.
“It’s ok, it’s ok, try not to move too much, lil bit,” she says, and Alex can hear the profound emotion in her voice.
“Wh-what, what happened,” he manages to say, his voice breaking and causing him to start coughing. He bites back a whimper, feeling pain in every part of his body.
June grabs something from the side table, and moments later, he feels the cooling sensation of ice against his lips.
“Sorry, I don’t think I can give you any water yet” she says, continuing to rub the ice across his lips. It makes him feel a bit better. “June… what happened?” he manages to ask again after a few minutes.
June’s eyes fill with tears, she puts the cup of ice chips down. “Hm, I need to let the nurse know that you’re awake. I will be right back, ok?”
As she starts to get up from the bed, Alex manages to grab her wrist. “June… Henry?”
A tear escapes. Gently but determined, she gets loose from Alex’s hold. “I will be right back. Going to get the nurse.” She walks out of the room, leaving Alex filled with dread. Where is Henry? What happened?
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One hour later
Alex lies back on the bed, eyes focusing on the ceiling’s cracks. June is again sitting on the left side of the bed, rubbing his arm in an attempt to soothe him. Maybe she doesn’t realize it with how anxious Alex can feel she is, but the way she’s touching him feels like she’s trying to rub something sticky off his skin, almost too hard to be comforting in any way. His mom is sitting on the other side, caressing his messy curls also in a supposedly soothing manner. Her movements are soft and slow enough, but they don’t help. While he’s glad his mom was able to hop on the first flight out of Austin after she got the news, he does not feel soothed by the repetitive motions, and if anything, feels the opposite. An ominous feeling that starts in his chest, his breathing starts to get both faster and shallower at the same time, progressing down to the pit in his stomach. A sensation of a looming panic attack that is all too familiar since the news was broken on the worst day of his life… until now.
It takes several minutes to get the whole story. June starts and stops several times, too anxious and overwhelmed with the situation. Eventually, his mom takes over with her usual even tone and aplomb. A car accident the night before. They do not use the car very often, preferring to walk when possible, but the theatre was far enough and the temperature cold enough that they decided to drive there. On the way back, just a few blocks away from the brownstone, a drunk driver rammed their car on the passenger’s side where Henry was sitting. The PPOs trailing behind them in another car could do nothing to stop it.
And now Henry is in the ICU, unconscious, intubated, with a plethora of injuries that Alex couldn’t quite understand when his mom explained the situation a while ago, his brain already trying to disassociate from the horror. Something about a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, lacerated pancreas and liver, cracked ribs, brain swelling, a possible brain bleed? Alex wants to scream.
His breaths become quicker and shallower, and he starts feeling pain in his chest. He starts gasping, and he feels hot tears rolling down his face. He can distantly hear his mom and sister talking to him, maybe trying to calm him down? His mom hugs him close to her chest, kissing his forehead repeatedly, but he feels claustrophobic. He tries to move away, but his right arm is paralyzed in a sling and his body is not cooperating. He vaguely notices June walking out of the room.
Henry. He wants Henry. He needs Henry. He needs him to be ok. He wants for nothing of this to have happened. More tears slide down and his chest feels more constricted with each passing breath.
Suddenly, June and somebody else appear next to him. A nurse? She stands close to him and starts adjusting the IV pole. He can see her lips moving, and hear some stray words, but he can’t really understand her. She sounds far away, her voice faint, her words nonsensical. Slowly, his breathing begins to slow down, and the pressure in his chest starts to lessen. His eyes start to feel heavy, and after some more moments, he decides to stop fighting it and welcomes the drowsiness, the sleep, the reprieve from this nightmare.
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January 11th, 2026 – Early morning
When Alex opens his eyes again, the room is dark. It takes him a few moments to remember where he is and what happened. A sharp pain stings in his chest as a pained gasp leaves his lips.
“Oh love,” he hears a female voice near him, and a moment later a hand caresses his hair.
Slowly, he moves his head towards the voice, trying not to flinch. Everything hurts. “Bea…”
“I am here, Alex. We all are here for you and Henry.” Bea chokes, tears in her eyes.
“Is he…” Alex isn’t even sure what he is asking. Doesn’t feel sure if he wants to know the answer.
“Still unconscious, love. He was pretty banged up. They have him in an induced coma to help his brain heal.”
Alex nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Your mom… ok?”
Bea manages a small smile. “Managing as best as she can. She and Pip are flying in now. I hopped on a plane as soon as we heard. But the Queen and Prince of Wales needed more time and had to get permission from Parliament” she rolls her eyes at that.
“I… I want to see him, Bea.” Alex says, trying to ignore the pain he feels everywhere in his body.
“I will talk to your doctor and ask when you can go to the ICU and visit him, ok? But right now, it is too early for visiting hours. Can you try to rest some more, please?”
Alex closes his eyes, feeling only despair. Even through the pain, he feels a desperation inside him to go see Henry, to touch him, to make sure he is still alive. “Can you,” he swallows as a tear rolls down his cheek, “play with my hair?”
“Of course, love” Bea says and her hand resumes the soft movements through his thick, limp curls.
Alex lets the soothing movement lull him to sleep.
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January 11th, 2026 – Early afternoon
After much cajoling of his attending doctor and his nurse, Alex is wheeled to the ICU by a nurse attendant to see Henry. He knows he’s being pushy and needy, but he’s desperate to see his husband. Alex has met all of his short-term goals since his admission. He managed to eat some soup earlier and kept it down, and went to the bathroom with only one person’s assistance, which he sees as an improvement from the day before, when due to his anxiety and drowsiness, he was incapable of keeping food down or managing to stay upright. His mom walks by his side, her hand on his good shoulder, offering support. They are surrounded by half a dozen PPOs who are tasked with keeping the royal family safe. He vaguely wonders how many more are spread throughout the hospital, making sure that the place is secure. He hopes their permanent detail, Michael and Jonathan, are doing ok.
They reach the door to Henry’s room and Alex takes a deep breath, doing his best to keep his anxiety at bay. He is terrified of what he will see, but he needs to do this. He needs his husband, and even if he is unconscious, he is sure that Henry needs him too.
The beeping monitors is the first thing to greet him. Henry is barely visible on the bed with the amount of cables and tubes around him. Alex swallows hard and turns his gaze to the side, where both Catherine and Philip are moving toward him, faces drawn and gazes worried.
Catherine kneels in front of him and kisses his forehead, her lips soft against his skin, which is still sore and covered in bruises. “I am so glad to see you, darling,” she says, her voice wobbly, her flowery perfume hitting his nostrils. He leans towards her, wanting to comfort and be comforted.
Catherine kisses him again and slowly stands and moves aside, Philip takes her place and kneels in front of him.
“I am glad that you are doing ok, all things considered,” Philip says softly, squeezing his good arm.
“Thanks, Pip” he manages to get out, but wonders if the lump in his throat will ever disappear.
Philip squeezes his forearm one more time before standing and moving next to his mother, embracing her. The nurse attendant wheels Alex to Henry’s bedside. His mom stands by his side, not letting go of his shoulder.
Alex feels a punch in the gut when he sees his husband: Henry's face is barely recognizable underneath all the bruises and cuts. Alex has refused to look in the mirror, but he thinks he might look similar if the pain in his face is anything to go by. Henry has both a breathing tube and a chest tube.
Alex takes several deep breaths, counting to ten each time and managing to keep his anxiety under control, at least for the time being. His uninjured hand is trembling badly, but he manages to grasp the hand that is closest to him. A small sob leaves him when he realizes that Henry’s wedding band and engagement ring are missing. He looks to Henry's neck, but it’s hard to see with all the cables and tubes surrounding him. “The rings? The key?” he sobs.
“It’s ok Alex, they had to take all his jewelry from him when he was first admitted, but we have everything. They are safe. I can give them to you later, if you want.” Catherine says in a soft voice.
Alex nods at her words and suddenly looks at his hand and realizes that he is also missing his rings. His neck feels empty as well, missing the familiar weight of the chain that holds Henry’s signet ring. He turns and looks at his mom.
“I have them for safekeeping, sugar” she assures him, answering his unspoken question.
He nods and turns his head back to Henry. Slowly, he raises both their hands and brings them close to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on Henry’s hand. “Baby, please… please…” his voice breaks and he starts sobbing, unable to contain the heartbreak he is feeling.
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The New York Times (Jan 12, 2026, 10:47 am): Queen Catherine holds press conference, provides update on the status of HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Wessex ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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The New York Times (Jan 12, 2026, 11:39 am): Former President Claremont and Senator Diaz hold press conference, provide update on the status of their son, Alexander Fox-Claremont-Diaz, Duke of Wessex
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January 13th, 2026 – late afternoon
Alex wiggles quietly in his wheelchair, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels exhausted: physically and emotionally. He is desperate to be discharged and go home, but his blood values are a little bit unstable and the doctors want to keep him a few more days to stabilize him. While he is beyond ready to get out of this godforsaken place, he is terrified of leaving Henry behind.
He takes a shaky breath and starts drawing small circles on Henry’s hand. He raises his eyes and looks at his husband’s face, still partly obscured by the breathing tube. At least the bruises are starting to heal and he can recognize Henry’s stunning face underneath all the bruises and cuts.
“What does this mean?” he hears Philip ask, and his attention is brought back to what is happening in front of him.
Doctor Murray, Henry’s attending, is showing Catherine, Philip, and Bea the images of Henry’s latest CT scan. Alex focuses his attention on the images on the laptop, but he is at a height disadvantage. Besides, he can’t really interpret those images anyway. He takes another shaky breath and waits for the doctor to speak. Next to him, his dad squeezes his left shoulder in support.
Dr. Murray clears his throat and scrunches his bushy eyebrows. “The swelling has gone down significantly, and the thrombolytics, the drugs that we have been using to dissolve the blood clot, are doing their job.” He pauses and offers a small smile. “We are planning to start reducing the timing and dosage of the medications, to bring him out of the coma starting tonight.”
Alex exhales loudly and looks up to his dad, who squeezes his shoulder and offers him a shaky, but wide smile. Alex smiles back and then turns to the rest of his family. Catherine is hugging both of her children while tears run down her face. Bea starts sobbing quietly into her mom’s shoulder, and even Pip looks like he is trying not to cry. Alex can feel the palpable relief and optimism in the room, and he closes his eyes, thanking baby Jesus, Arthur, and his Abuela for this miracle. He prays, and for the first time in days, he feels hopeful that this nightmare’s end is in sight, that his husband will wake up soon and be able to go home with him. Alex hopes, and prays, and keeps drawing gentle circles on Henry’s hand.
He leans as close as he can to Henry and whispers in his ear. “You are going to be ok, baby. We are going to be ok” he murmurs, wanting Henry to be the only one to hear his words.
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Huffington Post (Jan 13, 2026, 8:23 pm): Pride and overwhelming love: Vigils held worldwide to pray for the recovery of the Dukes of Wessex [PICTURES + VIDEOS]
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The Guardian (Jan 14, 2026, 07:11 am): Outpouring of love and support: #prayforfirstprince and #strengthforhenry trend worldwide for the fifth day in a row [PICTURES]
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January 14th, 2026 – late morning
Something goes horribly wrong, and Henry goes into cardiac arrest.
The crash team flies past them, relegating them to a small corner of the room, where they become spectators of the most terrifying thing Alex has ever witnessed. He really doesn’t want to see what’s going on, but he can’t bring himself to leave either. If, if Henry doesn’t make it, he needs to be there for his husband. He feels scared and completely useless, his husband is dying in the middle of the room and he can’t do anything about it except stare and pray. He cannot hold his hand, or kiss him, or beg him to stay, or tell him how much he loves him and needs him.
A harsh sob comes out of his mouth, and he realizes his face is wet with tears. He notices Bea sitting on his right side, hiding her face in his neck and sobbing uncontrollably. On his left side, June is holding his hand as in a prayer. “I am praying, Alex, I am praying” she says in a broken voice. He swallows but is incapable of answering her or doing anything but hang his head and rest it against Bea’s.
He looks around and notices that Philip is sliding down the wall slowly, as if it became impossible to hold his own weight, a broken, terrible look on his face. Catherine is shrinking at the end of the wall, trying to disappear into the corner, harsh, wounded noises coming out of her mouth.
He doesn’t know how much time passes; his eyes are focused on Henry’s legs, which is the only part of his husband that he can see. It could be two minutes or two hours: it’s impossible for him to tell. Eventually the monitor starts beeping again, slowly, sluggishly, and someone yells “pulse!”. A loud sob breaks out of him, and Alex feels that for as long as he lives, he will always remember the mix of emotions of the last few minutes. Terror. Debilitating pain. Hope. Relief. So much relief that he doesn’t know how to control it so he doesn’t try and keeps crying. Henry is alive.
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January 16th, 2026 – early afternoon
Alex looks around the meeting room as Henry’s attending physician, Dr. Murray, and his team enter the room and find spots to sit. He notes the drawn and fatigued faces of Catherine, Philip, and Bea, how the three of them look like they haven’t slept in days, and truthfully, they probably haven’t. All of them have been at the hospital day in and day out, either sitting with Henry or visiting Alex. It’s moments like this that serve as a sharp reminder that Alex is not the only one going through this horrible nightmare, and he feels terrified of what the doctor is about to say. His body tenses and he feels a chill when he remembers that Henry’s heart stopped beating for several minutes a couple of days ago. A horror that will likely feature in his nightmares for a long time.
Dr. Murray puts on his glasses and clears his throat. “Your Majesty,” he inclines his head towards Catherine, “Your Royal Highnesses,” he makes eye contact and inclines his end to each of them, “thank you for joining us.”
Catherine clears her throat. “Thank you for meeting us doctor,” she swallows. “What news do you have about my son?”
The doctor turns his laptop towards them, showing them images of Henry’s chest. “Henry’s collapsed lung was almost healed and we had taken the chest tube out, but with the chest compressions, both lungs have collapsed and more ribs are broken. This is a setback, but not one that is of particular worry at this time.” He clicks another window and shows them images of Henry’s abdomen. “The lacerations in his liver and pancreas are healing well, and there are no signs of more internal bleeding; internal and external bruising is healing at a good rate.” Another few clicks and the doctor shows them Henry’s brain. He pauses for a moment, taking his glasses off for a moment while he pinches the bridge of his nose. Alex fidgets in his seat, trying not to show too much impatience. The doctor puts his glasses back on, and with the end point of his pen, starts pointing at different sections of his husband’s brain. “During the cardiac arrest that he suffered approximately 52 hours ago, his brain was without oxygen for over two minutes, and that has created a major setback in the recovery from his brain injury. We did both an electroencephalogram and another CT scan with angiography earlier today to see the progress. The scan shows that the blood clot has almost dissolved, and the swelling continues to decrease.”
Bea clears her throat. “That is good, right?” she asks, her voice shaky.
The doctor sighs. “Of course, and we have finished the process of weaning him off of the drugs that kept him in a medically induced coma.” He pauses and focuses on Catherine. “Unfortunately, the electroencephalogram has shown reduced brain activity” he turns to his laptop and changes the screen, showing the graphic of the electroencephalogram. Alex looks at the images but does not understand what they mean.
“What does this mean?” Alex manages to say, his heart beating wildly. The reduced swelling and almost dissolved clot are fantastic news, but reduced brain activity sounds terrifying. He doesn’t like these mixed signals and doesn’t know how to feel, if he should feel hopeful or not. Bea, sitting beside him, grabs his hand and squeezes it. Alex squeezes it back.
The doctor puts the pen down and runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair. “He is emerging from the coma, but the reduced brain activity is worrisome. Unfortunately it can happen after an episode of cardiac arrest.”
“Is he… vegetative?” Philip asks, and Alex notices that he is clenching his hands, knuckles white with tension.
“No, he is not showing signs of a vegetative state, but he hasn’t shown signs of waking up yet either.”
“But he will wake up soon, right?” Catherine asks, and Alex can feel the hope in her voice. Bea squeezes his hand again, and he lays his head on her shoulder.
Dr. Murray purses his lips and Alex feels his breath hitch. “It’s hard to tell, your Majesty. Before the cardiac arrest, Henry’s recovery was progressing well. While he is not in an induced coma anymore, he remains unconscious. There are several disorders of consciousness, besides vegetative state. While it is too soon to determine for sure, signs are pointing towards a minimally conscious state.” He pauses again and looks around the table, smiling grimly. “I am afraid it is too early to give a prognosis. Henry could start waking up tomorrow, or…”
“Months, years.” Bea finishes anxiously, and Alex squeezes her hand tighter, feeling the nerves settle in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s too soon to tell. We will do another electroencephalogram in a couple of days. In the meantime, we will try to extubate him in the next day or two and see how he reacts, ok?” the doctor answers her.
Catherine and Philip start asking questions about what will happen if Henry is in a minimally conscious state, and the doctor starts explaining that Henry might show some signs of consciousness, like moaning, crying, small movements, opening and closing eyes, but that it does not mean that he is awake. By this point, Alex’s nerves are making it very hard for him to focus and understand what the doctor and his team are saying. Everything sounds far away. Three days ago he felt so hopeful because they were going to wake Henry from the coma, but now all he can think of is the long road ahead. The possibility that his husband might remain unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time. That he might never wake up.
“Shh, Alex, come on, breathe with me, ok?” Bea says quietly to his ear, and Alex takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Come on, love, let’s get back to Henry, alright?” She tells him before kissing him on the cheek.
“Bea…” he starts to complain, he wants to hear what the doctor is saying.
“Let’s go, love” she says and starts to wheel him out of the room, trying to not draw attention to themselves. Before they leave, Alex makes eye contact with Catherine, who looks back at him with worry. Beside her, Philip nods in understanding, before turning to the doctor again.
Alex manages to focus on his breathing while Bea takes him to Henry’s room. He is overwhelmed with all the information and uncertainty. Moments later, they enter his husband’s room and Alex starts feeling better almost immediately. Bea places the wheelchair as close to the bed as possible and then she sits on the edge of the bed, one hand on her brother’s leg and the other on Alex’s curls, trying to soothe him.
Carefully, Alex grabs Henry’s hand and turns it up, laying kisses on the palm. He puts his cheek against the hand, closing his eyes tightly, trying to fight off the tears, trying to fight off his fears that Henry will not wake up, or that if he does, he will be completely impaired. He opens his eyes and focuses on his husband’s face, still partially blocked by the breathing tube.
“We must stay positive, love. Hen will wake up. We will get him back, ok?” Bea tells him, with a sureness in her voice that he can’t help but admire and hope to emulate.
He swallows. “You’re right” he manages to say, hoping he sounds more positive than he feels. He turns his head slightly and lays more kisses on Henry’s hand.
With effort, he grabs the chain around his neck that Catherine gave him earlier and takes it off. He kisses the key to his childhood home and places it in the nightstand’s drawer. “It’s our key, baby. I can’t put it on your neck yet, ok? But it will be here, close to you, at all times, H.”
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MSN (Jan 17, 2026, 11:17 am): Percival Okonjo gives statement thanking for the overwhelming donations given to the Okonjo LGBTQIA2S+ youth shelters on behalf of HRH Prince Henry [VIDEO]
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January 17th, 2026 – Early afternoon
Flanked by June and Nora, Alex slowly opens the door and enters his home for the first time in a week. Immediately, he can hear the pitter-patter of David coming to greet him, mouth wide open, tongue hanging out, tail wagging excitedly. For the first time in several days, since Henry’s heart decided to stop beating for over two minutes, Alex manages to crack a genuine smile. Slowly and carefully, he manages to kneel, and starts petting and kissing David, who barks happily. “Who is the best boy? Yes, you are” he tells the dog, who proceeds to give him kisses all over his face.
With June and Nora’s help, he stands up again and slowly starts walking towards the kitchen.
“We bought groceries, and the house has been cleaned, so you don’t have to worry about anything,” June says anxiously.
Alex turns to her and gives her a half-hug, wishing for the hundredth time that his right arm was free of the sling. “Thanks, Bug” he says hoarsely.
Slowly, he walks around the house, and he notices that although it has been cleaned, things are still in the same spots they were before… before. “I think I want to lay down for a bit.”
Both girls nod. “Of course! June, do you want to start preparing dinner? I will help Alejandro up the stairs” Nora asks her girlfriend, and June immediately goes to the kitchen.
Linking arms, Alex and Nora climb the stairs, David following them. Once they enter his bedroom, Nora lets go of his arm and kisses him on the cheek. “We are here for you, always. Give a shout if you need anything, ok?”
Alex nods but says nothing, just squeezes her hand. After a few moments, she starts to walk towards the door, but he stops her. “Nora…” he starts, fiddling with the rings on his finger, feeling better that once again they’re in their proper place.
“Hmm?”
Alex swallows the lump in his throat. “Chances… chances on Henry waking up?” he asks her, desperate for some sort of normalcy, desperate for his best friend to use that brilliant brain of hers and tell him that everything is going to be ok.
Nora’s face crumbles and he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. “Oh Alex, I don’t know” she answers while her eyes fill with tears, as if she is disappointed in herself for not being able to give him the answer he wants. Alex nods and closes his eyes, and a few moments later, grabs her arm and pulls her towards him. Nora tucks her head under his neck and holds onto him as tightly as she can, mindful of his injuries. They remain in an embrace for several minutes, drawing comfort from each other.
“I would like to be alone for a bit, please” he eventually says, breaking the hug apart. Nora nods and wipes the tears from her eyes.
“Of course. I will go help June, ok? Shout if you need anything.” She gets on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.
After a few moments, Nora walks out of the bedroom and closes the door quietly. Slowly, Alex walks to the bed and sits on Henry’s side. He grabs his pillow and inhales deeply, but the familiar smell is missing since the sheets have been changed. Carefully laying down, he hugs the pillow to himself and starts crying quietly, David curling up at his feet. He pulls out the chain around his neck, where Henry’s wedding and engagement rings rest besides his signet ring. He clutches the rings desperately as his sobs get louder. With his free hand, he takes the picture on his nightstand and remembers that moment, a picture June took during their very small and private wedding ceremony days before the official ceremony at Westminster Abbey that was broadcasted to the world. In the picture, they are clutching each other’s hands and gazing in wonder at their new rings. They had to take them off again before the night was over, needing to wait until the official ceremony, but the meaning and commitment was there. Alex never imagined they would get to the “in sickness and in health” part of their vows so soon in their marriage.
Alex just feels so anxious and scared. It has been eight days since the accident: he has been discharged and is recovering well enough from his broken collarbone, bruised ribs, cuts, bruises, and unstable blood values. With time and physiotherapy, he will continue healing. Physically. But he is not sure if his heart and mind will heal, not as long as Henry remains unconscious. Alex feels a fist squeeze his heart, emanating pain. He is terrified of what lies ahead, of how long it will take for Henry to wake up, if he will wake up at all.
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Washington Post (Jan 21, 2026, 9:22 am): PizzaGate, Deep State, the Great Awakening… and HRH Prince Henry. A look into the newest Qanon conspiracy theory ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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People (Jan 23, 2026, 6:18 pm): Family Goals! June Claremont-Diaz and Nora Holleran go to bat for brother Alex in Twitter rant [IMAGES]
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Time passes. Alex feels as though every day goes both incredibly fast and super slow at the same time. It’s confusing and maddening. His shoulder is still immobilized for a few more weeks and his ribs are still bruised, which is very uncomfortable at best and super painful at worst. Even though it hurts to move, he decides to start physiotherapy for the lower part of his body so he doesn’t lose too much strength and tone. He also needs to move and to do something lest he goes crazy. So every morning, Monday to Friday, he goes to the rehab clinic that is located within walking distance from the house. There is an injunction against the press, forcing them to remain a couple of blocks away from the brownstone and the hospital. Feeling slightly safe due to the extra protective measures in place, he decides to walk the handful of blocks to the rehabilitation clinic during the first week, flanked by both Jonathan and Michael, their PPOs. Halfway through the week, the paparazzi gets wind of his new routine, and while they keep some distance, it becomes an insurmountable task to walk the handful of blocks without being bothered. The rest of the time, he goes there by car, flanked by their PPOs. While frustrating, he tries not to complain too much, since the pain, stiffness, and soreness are still a big inconvenience. Each afternoon, he goes to the hospital to visit Henry. He sits with him for hours, holding his hand, talking to him about anything that comes to his mind, and begs him. Begs him to wake up, to come back to him. Henry’s lack of response eats at his core.
Three days after Alex’s discharge, Henry is officially out of the induced coma, the latest CT scan shows that the blood clot is fully dissolved and the swelling has almost disappeared, but the electroencephalogram still shows reduced brain activity. The doctors have officially diagnosed Henry as being in a minimally conscious state. They have extubated him, but have a temporary tracheostomy now, to help with ventilation, especially at night. Alex feels anxious when he sees the hole in his throat, the feeding tube, and the multiple IV lines. At least the bruises and cuts on his face are mostly healed, small victories he thinks. If he manages to ignore all those tubes, his husband looks like he’s asleep and peaceful.
He hasn’t seen any of those signs that Dr. Murray spoke of in the first meeting after the cardiac arrest, about showing signs of being awake, but he is afraid of asking the nurses or his family members if they have seen any signs.
At night, he curls in bed with David, holding him tight while he tries to keep the tears at bay. He and Henry have spent many days and nights apart, especially during the beginning of their relationship when their obligations pulled them in different directions, but this feels different. He can’t call him, or text him, and Henry is not able to answer him back. After a little while, David bolts and runs out of the room, probably feeling suffocated from Alex’s sadness and anxiety. He doesn’t blame David: Alex is an insomniatic mess, afraid of sleeping, of having the nightmares that he expects to have. Of the accident. Of Henry dying. Of Henry never waking up.
His anxiety is made worse by the high number of emails and text messages he receives every day. A combination of well wishes and attempts at conversation from relatives, co-workers, and acquaintances, as well as a ridiculous amount of interview requests from media outlets in the US and the UK, and even Canada, Australia and New Zealand. After several days of feeling his nerves heighten with every new email, particularly the interview requests, he makes the choice of turning his email notifications off and almost immediately feels a small amount of relief. He wishes he could turn his text messages and calls off, but he knows he needs to keep in touch with his family and their medical teams. What he cannot stop himself from doing is spending hours scrolling through Twitter and Reddit, going down rabbit holes reading what people are speculating about them, about the accident, dissecting every official communication from Buckingham Palace, until eventually his eyes grow too heavy and he succumbs to sleep, one hand clutching the rings sitting on his chest.
Nighttime is the only time he is alone. Bea is sleeping in one of the guest rooms down the hall, and although Catherine and Philip will have to return to England soon and resume their royal obligations, Bea put her foot down and refused to leave. Thankfully, her mother and brother agreed, and gave her their blessing to stay for the time being.
June and Nora visit him every evening, making dinner for all of them. Pez has managed to reschedule his upcoming commitments and is staying in New York for at least another month. He joins them almost every evening for dinner. Some evenings, the atmosphere is jovial and fun, and Alex can almost pretend that he doesn’t notice his husband’s absence besides him at the table, joking with Pez, remarking how, even six years later, Alex is still the biggest menace to society. Other times, no matter how much his friends and sister try, he cannot shake the feeling of despair and overwhelming sadness hanging over him. Still, he is so appreciative and thankful for their company, their love and their support.
He gets several texts and calls from his parents. Leo sends him messages in the family group chat every day. His mom calls him in the morning and his dad usually after dinner. They were reluctant to go back to their homes only a couple of days after his discharge, but he convinced them he would be fine with June and Nora. He loves his parents (all three of them) very much, but he is not used to them being so doting and attentive. It overwhelms him and makes him feel like he wants to crawl out of his skin, and he knows that June is uncomfortable too. He and June spent a good chunk of their childhood and teen years raising themselves while their parents were too busy chasing their political aspirations. It suddenly feels suffocating to have them there all the time.
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Alex gets home from work, puts his briefcase down, and starts taking off his jacket, gloves, and toque. Christmas is around the corner and the weather is turning increasingly cold. He hangs his jacket on the perch, puts his shoes on the rack and his gloves and toque in the wicker basket. He closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, feeling the tension from work seep from his bones. He can hear Henry puttering in the kitchen, can smell some spices in the air, and can hear the lyrics of Last Christmas by Wham! - one of Henry’s favourite holiday songs.
He is sure Henry is trying a new recipe from the cookbook that specializes in Latin American cuisines, the one that they got a few days ago from their favourite second-hand store. He walks into the kitchen and stops for a few seconds, just watching his husband cooking. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he walks to Henry and wraps his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck. He breathes him in: taking in the cologne that Henry has been using for almost two years now. Alex can pick out the different scents of amber, cedar and cumin, all wrapped in a light bed of rose. Combined with Henry’s clean and grassy smell, it makes Alex want to worship his husband even more than usual. He doesn’t know if he should thank or rue the day that Pez convinced Henry to get his own Le Labo scent.
“Hi, baby” he says softly, laying another kiss on Henry’s neck, and Alex smiles smugly when Henry’s skin breaks in goosebumps.
“Alex! I didn’t hear you come in, love” he says excitedly, putting the spoon down and turning into his embrace.
They kiss softly for several moments. “That’s ok, baby. What are you making?”
Henry smiles and turns back to the stovetop. “Steak, salad, and provoleta, which is in the oven right now.”
Alex hums softly. “I do not know what provoleta is, but it sounds delicious.”
Henry laughs. “It’s Argentinian, lots of grated provolone cheese with caramelized onions. I hope I did it right.”
“I am sure you did, your cooking skills keep improving every day” he says proudly, and starts laying kisses on Henry’s cheek and throat. “Plus you smell so good it makes me want to eat you instead.”
Henry groans. “Alex… do not start something that we can’t finish right now…”
Alex smirks. “Of course we can finish right now” he says before moving to Henry’s lips and claiming them. Before the kiss gets really heated, Henry groans, and it takes a few moments for Alex’s love addled brain to realize that it’s not a groan of excitement, but one of pain. He breaks the kiss and looks at Henry in confusion and worry. “Baby?”
Suddenly, Henry becomes limp in his arms and Alex struggles to hold his entire weight. Slowly, he manages to lay his husband on the floor, and notices that his eyes are closed and his face void of any colour. “Baby? What’s wrong? Henry, open your eyes!” he says with urgency, feeling his blood rush to his ears.
He shakes Henry, trying to wake him up, but he does not stir. Shaking, he puts his right hand on Henry’s neck, trying to find a pulse, but finds none. His eyes settle on his chest and sees no movement either. “Henry… baby…” he manages to say, before a loud sob escapes him.
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January 27th, 2026 – early morning
Alex wakes up with a gasp, his chest heaving and tears in his eyes. This is the third night in a row that he wakes like this, it surprises him that it took this long to start having nightmares. Maybe his brain needed that long to understand the trauma. He runs a hand down his face and tries to calm down. The dream was so real, playing on an actual memory of a night that they had together a few weeks before the accident. If Alex concentrates, he can still taste the provoleta, can feel the kisses and the touches they had while standing in the kitchen. He can remember that they sat with a bottle of wine between them and watched a movie, and how they made love on the couch with the fireplace on, making Henry’s hair shine in so many different shades, the shadows of the fire making him look even more breathtaking.
With a grunt, Alex uses his good arm to push the blankets off him, gets out of the bed, and lays on the floor. His chest still hurts, his arm is still immobilized, but he doesn’t care at that moment. He just wants to exhaust himself enough to be able to sleep without nightmares. Without seeing Henry dying in different ways.
His face contorting in pain, Alex starts to do sit-ups.
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January 31st, 2026 – early afternoon
“Good afternoon Alex, could you please give me some space to check on Henry?” Nurse Linda asks gently.
Alex turns his rapt observation of Henry’s face and turns his face to her, smiling softly. “Sure, no problem.”
Slowly, he gets up from the chair and moves to the window, trying to focus on the snow falling outside. The worst month of his life is finally coming to an end, and he desperately hopes that February will be better, that Henry will wake up.
He rolls his neck and his shoulders, feeling the stiffness and soreness all over his body. His sling should be off in a week or two and he will finally be able to start rehab on his right arm. Physiotherapy is helping a lot with his lower body, but he is still not fully recovered. He pulls out his necklace to absentmindedly play with Henry’s rings while he watches Linda take Henry’s vital signs.
After a few minutes, she finishes and moves towards the IV pole to check the fluid amounts. “Vitals are looking good, Alex. Blood pressure is 117 over 72, respirations are 18, temperature is 97.8 degrees,” she says before he can ask her. She knows him already.
Alex lets out a sigh, he knows he can be quite intense with all the questions. “Thank you, Linda.”
“No worries, Alex” she says while she finishes giving Henry his medications through the IV line. After she finishes, she grabs her tray, ready to head out. As she starts walking towards the door, she trips on one of the legs of the chair, dropping the tray and its contents.
Alex starts moving towards her to help, but a small movement in the bed stops him in his tracks. He looks at Henry and notices some tremors. With his heart beating rapidly, he moves towards the bed instead. “Baby…?” He manages to get out, his eyes looking wildly all over his husband’s body.
Linda picks up the tray and puts it back on the table, and then turns her attention to Henry, who now has scrunched up his face.
Alex turns to her, eyes wide. “He… he… is awake?” he chokes.
Linda sighs and turns to Alex. “Oh Alex, this is normal in his state, getting startled by sudden noises, opening and closing his eyes, making faces, moaning, crying. It’s all normal, sweetheart. It does not mean he is waking up” Linda tells him gently, but firmly.
Alex swallows the lump in his throat. “But I haven’t seen him do any of that.”
Linda smiles sadly and pats his arm softly. “I have, Alex. Not all the signs I told you about, but I have. Other nurses have too. Unfortunately that doesn’t mean he is waking up, darling. Remember the doctor told you yesterday that his electroencephalogram showed no changes compared to last week?” he nods slowly, remembering that conversation with the doctor. “I am not telling you to give up hope, ok? I would never tell you to do that. I hope he will emerge from his state, but him having tremors, clenching his hand, or even opening his eyes will not mean that, I’m sorry.”
Alex nods in understanding, and Linda pats him on the arm one more time before grabbing her tray and heading out, leaving him alone.
Alex runs his hand through his hair and sits down heavily. He looks at Henry again, and notices he is not scrunching his face anymore, as if he was in pain or uncomfortable. Alex grabs his hand again, turning it and laying kisses on the palm. He got so excited for a moment, and now feels the crushing weight of disappointment. He wonders how many moments like this he will have to endure, seeing Henry move, opening his eyes, making noises, but knowing those signs mean nothing. Knowing his husband remains unreachable.