Forever 1. Henry Muses in his Journal

Masquerade (Sequel to Ambush)  
DJ Dubois

December 2014

Notes: The characters from Forever belong to ABC. Please send comments to dante0220  .

Introduction

_From the Journal of Dr. Henry Morgan, Esq._

_February 14, 2015_

_The winter maintains its tight grip over the city. Observing the lay of the land so to speak, I clearly can tell this in the faces of the passersby scurrying for cover like animals in the elements. Unlike their predecessors, they do not linger or stop into a shop for a friendly word or to browse (as an excuse to warm up). They do not offer a little help to those who are less fortunate with few exceptions…._

…_They are caught up in their own affairs. Others do not concern them. Quite the pity really._

_I sip on my tea and continue to gain appreciation for Abe's jazz collection. Perhaps the music is not my favorite but I can appreciate Pepper Evans' accomplishments. Upon my latest listen to his concertos, Pepper suggested that I take in certain artists to gain a truer sense of Jazz's inner drives and passions…to see it in its truest sense possible…_

_Perhaps it is anarchic but Jazz does offer a view into the musician's soul at that moment in time. It cares not for the agenda but rather the inner drive and passion to brave Life's fury._

_Jo adjusts better than I expected to our new state of affairs. I would like to think my advice has something to do with it to a small degree. Perhaps it does but she is a remarkable woman. She has taken the challenge on and hustles into the fray so to speak. Her advice and companionship grows in value to me with each passing day. _

_Even as we maintain a masquerade to the outside world of sorts, we see each other as we truly are. And that is what is important._

_The sense of truth might have helped the latest homicide victim before he found his way onto my table. In the height of disguise and distorted truths, he lost his way and found bedlam._

_Still leave it to Jo and me to distill truth in all regards. Abigail, you certainly know of what you speak…._


	2. A Party Ruined

Chapter 1 [Chapman Center—Downtown Manhattan]

_Nocturne _painted her best wintry backdrop on that pre-Valentines' Eve. The stars twinkled against their dark backdrop. Crystalline icicles sparkled gracefully while refracting the moonlight. The freshly fallen powder sparkled as well. White puffs of frozen breath rose upward from the mouths of the few souls braving the chill.

Inside of the Chapman Center, a costume ball more suited for _Mardi Gras _the following week unfolded. Men and women dressed in their best finery waltzed on the parquet floor. Other couples drank and carried on small talk at the bar. All wore ornate masks of varied descriptions and colors.

It may have seemed blissful but it wouldn't last…..

In the midst of the revelry, a lone man in a black pelican's mask brooded at the bar. He stared intensely at the quarter full glass with two cubes of ice wading in their shallow Scotch pool. Anger welled up in his heart. He slapped the bar's teakwood surface several times.

The bartender turned from where he wiped a glass with a white cloth. "Maybe I can get you a coffee, Mr. Richards?"

Richards pulled his mask up abruptly. "I'd like another of these."

The bartender shook his head. "You've had enough. Sorry, Sir." He took the ice and drink remnants from Richards. "Anything I can do? I've been told I'm a good listener."

Richards snorted indignantly. "Nothing you can do. Whatever." He pulled his mask back down and stomped away from the bar. His eyes scanned the floor sharply in several directions.

All around him, the other party-goers danced and enjoyed. They seemed not to have a care in the world…at least not about him.

Off to the right, a couple was stealing away from the affair through a set of glass doors. A tall masked figure led a masked woman in a splendidly altered nineteenth century party gown toward some sort of nocturnal affair.

Richards' eyes narrowed while recognizing the woman's dress and her companion's build. "Slathers gets what he wants! Not tonight. And I'll give her a piece of my mind too!" He bulled his way through the activity around himself not caring what attention he garnered one way or the other. He pulled the doors open and headed outside.

The other party goers glared at him in disgust. At least a third of them knew Richards. While he did his job, they didn't think anything of him. His appearance at the affair surprised them actually given that he was such an introvert to be honest. However, just like with the rock hitting the pond, their attention gradually drifted back into their enjoyment.

The scream echoing from the porch however abruptly halted that notion.

Richards limped back into the room. Blood stained the front of his tux. A small pistol rested in his hand. "T…too…late…too late…." He leaned against the wall by the door.

One party-goer glanced out onto the patio and screamed in fright herself. "SOMEONE CALL 911! RICHARDS JUST SHOT THEM!"

Almost too quickly two other masked men grabbed each one of Richards' arms restraining him.

"N…no…no…." Richards slumped into unconsciousness. Drool frothed out of the sides of his mouth. He barely managed to breathe.

A tall and dignified man in a powdered wig and a dark mask strutted forth indignantly toward the disruption. Under his navy blue cape, his blue eyes took in the scene. "What is the meaning of this?"

The two men beside Richards shook their heads. "We don't know, Mr. Cathers. Richards went out to the porch. There was an argument and screaming. Someone said that he shot two people. Then he collapsed."

Cathers frowned under his mask. He'd put so much time and energy into this affair…too much for some malcontent to ruin it. He'd banked a great deal on impressing his clientele in the room. "Wilma asked me to let him in. Wish I hadn't listened." He haphazardly looked Richards over. "Get the police to arrest his ass. We'd best call an ambulance too." He sighed knowing that the party had been ruined.

One party at least. The bigger affair was just getting started…..


	3. Setting Scenes

Chapter 2

[Henry's Sanctum—Thirty minutes later]

Henry sat at his desk in deep meditation and thought. Although his keen insight and wit often deciphered anatomical mysteries in the blink of an eye, a greater challenge stood in front of himself…

…or rather sat in the small box on the work table….

…a challenge of sorts to himself to move on and expand his horizons….

_Abigail said my purpose was bigger than her. As always, she's right. _He popped the box's top open to reveal a golden necklace with a small heart shaped pendant hanging from it. He pulled it out of the box and let it twirl in the air. He considered the sparkle from each golden link. The pendant sped up his heartbeat. _I just hope Jo likes it. It's been so long since I bought a woman such a treasure. I want this to work. Really I do…._

"Henry?" Jo's voice echoed from the top of the stairs. "Are you down there?"

"Yes! Give me a minute if you would?" His contemplative moment having ended, he quickly set the necklace back in its box and concealed it in the table's drawer in front of himself.

She descended the stairs with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Abe said you were down here. You aren't doing the death stuff, are you?"

He turned with an indignant expression on his face. "I promised you didn't I?" He motioned toward the wooden crate in the corner. "The apparatus is still secure in there. I had another matter to consider."

"Oh? And what pray tell _was that_?" She allowed the expression on her face to lighten up considerably. Frankly she still worried about his history with trying to find a permanent cure to their condition.

"Just working on a surprise," he responded with a poker face so as not to give anything away.

"_Oh really?" _She grinned at him. "Something for us maybe?"

"You could say that," he noted while getting up and walking toward her. "Then again you will have to wait until Valentine's Day to find out. Now won't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "You could tell me now…"

He chuckled warmly effectively disarming her verbal nudge. "Now, surprises are like a good wine vintage. We cannot rush them if we want them at the peak of flavor. Now can we?" He kissed her forehead. "Besides I believe you will like it."

"I'd better if you're going to keep me in suspense like this," she advised him. Still she loved when he kissed her forehead like that…almost like a prince greeting his princess….

"I'll keep trying if it doesn't, Jo," he vowed earnestly while gazing deeply into her sparkling eyes.

"And I'll hold you to that, Buster," she quipped right back not giving an inch. She drifted closer to him once more. Her lips hungrily wanting to press up against his again…..

Unfortunately her cell phone buzzed at them.

"And the buzz kill," she groused while grabbing her phone and answering it. "This is Martinez."

"Jo, it's Hanson. There's been a murder at the Chapman Center. Reece wants you down there. By the way, we've been trying Morgan too. Think you can scare him up? Lieutenant wants him in on this one," Hanson replied.

"Yeah I think I can find him," she concurred while shaking her head. "Let Reece know we'll be there in fifteen minutes." She hung up the phone. "Rain check?"

Henry shrugged. Even if Abe had explained what a rain check was to him, he still didn't grasp why people in this day and age put things off with that infernal construction. "Indeed. Just know it is something positive and…a step forward for me. Shall I get my bag?"

"Definitely. Reece has us on a case. Hanson's waiting. Let's roll," she informed him while heading for the stairs.

He grabbed his examination bag and his thick wool coat. Then he looked to his table once last time and sighed deeply. _Perhaps some day we can enjoy things! _He climbed the stairs toward the shop above.

Duty waited for no man…be he in love or not it seemed….

[Chapman Center—Fifteen minutes after that]

Hanson checked his watch and resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He'd already interviewed two suspects and watched the CSIs dealing with the crime scene. "Anytime, you two."

"Has there been any progress, Detective? I _can't _believe this happened!" Cathers protested.

Hanson glared at the party's host. "Maybe if you'd paid closer attention to _him_, _this _might not have happened. I've got two of my best people coming in."

"I would hope so, Detective, I'd hate to see my tax dollars going to waste," Cathers scoffed before turning and crossing back across the room.

_Nice to know he cares! _Hanson bit back the caustic response he would've liked to have fired at the man's back. He looked toward Richards who sat shaking in the corner like a leaf. He considered the dead man out on the veranda and the woman, Wilma Davenport, who was on her way to Fenwick Presbyterian. Seeing Henry and Jo coming toward him, he held his hands up in mock greeting. "Hey, Guys, nice of you to show up."

"Cool it, Hanson," Jo replied curtly. "We came as soon as we heard. What's the deal here?"

"The guy shaking in the corner is Larry Richards. He apparently came without a date. According to the bartender, he had too much to drink and stormed out after a couple onto the porch. Apparently he had a thing for Wilma Davenport because he shot the man she was with and wounded her. I'm about to take him in for questioning," Hanson explained.

Henry walked purposefully about the area. His eyes took in every piece of the puzzle. He noted Richards' condition. He beheld the still-unrumpled state of the other party-goers. A quick glance out onto the balcony revealed the still-covered body out there. "Did you get the glass?"

"Glass?" Hanson queried in confusion.

"Yes. The glass that Mr. Richards was drinking from. I will need to look at that. And have the body sent to my table. We have questions that need to be solved," Henry proclaimed.

"Obviously, Sherlock, that's why we're here," Hanson rebutted.

Jo gave her fellow detective a sarcastic glare shutting him up. Then she added, "He's onto something. I'd leave it at that." She walked back over to Henry's side. "Let's get back to the precinct. You can prep before the body gets there."

"Indeed. The answers must be deduced. Something definitely is off here," Henry declared before heading out of the room.

Jo shrugged. "You heard him." She followed her partner from the room.

_I still don't get those two! _Hanson motioned for the CSIs to make final preparations to bring evidence downtown.

It was going to be a long night….


	4. Understandings

Chapter 3 [Precinct]

After leaving the crime scene, Jo drove them back toward the precinct building. She knew that Reece would want an update as soon as possible. Accordingly she pushed to get Henry back to the morgue in short order as well. Still the situation bothered her. _A guy has a secret crush on his boss and can't deal with her being with someone else. He kills the other guy. She's in the hospital almost in a coma. His life's over. What a damn waste. And all because of some warped sense of honor. _She glanced over toward her partner. "Henry?"

"Hmmm?" he queried while breaking his reverie. "Terribly sorry, Jo. Did you ask me something?"

"You had the million mile stare out the window. Unless you're looking for our friend out there, I'd say you're remembering something," she supposed.

He rubbed his forehead tersely. His mouth twisted itself into a deep frown. "Yes well the case has stirred some memories for me."

"I imagine it has." She parked the car and looked at him pointedly. "Please don't tell me you've fought in one of those stupid duels over a woman's honor."

"Honor is not foolish in itself, Jo. I have not challenged anyone however. But I was challenged myself over a situation very similar to this one," he noted soberly.

She stared at him. "You really fought in one of _those things_? I thought you were a better man than that!"

"That was almost two hundred years ago. Times were different then as you are very well aware. It's something I'd rather not discuss." He smiled for her benefit even if he didn't feel all that happy at the moment. "Just know I respect you as a person and not an object to be fought over."

"Glad to hear it." She nodded in appreciation. She could imagine that it was hard for him to say that. Still to see him turn so morose over something like that bothered her. _He usually is so great at masking his real feelings for everyone's benefit. What the Hell? Note to self: see if Abe knows anything. _"If you want to talk about it, I'll listen without judging. Okay? If and when you're ready."

He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "I appreciate that. Thank you." He pecked her affectionately on the cheek. Then he turned and started up the stairs. "Coming? I'm sure the good lieutenant will want her summation from the scene."

She rolled her eyes at yet another big word coming from him. Still she felt better that he was at least acting normally for him.

Meantime Reece set her cell phone on the desk and took a troubled draught from her mug. Her ear still ached from the mayor's lecturing about his friends and supporters being in the line of fire earlier that evening. She'd promised him a quick resolution to the matter….

…that is if Henry didn't come up with some curveball….

_I hate politics at times like these. _She chased the matter with another caffeinated gulp. Then she redialed the cell phone and waited.

"Hanson here."

"Detective, this is Lieutenant Reece. Any progress?" she queried expectantly.

"CSIs are canvassing the area, Lieutenant. Morgan and Martinez were here. He requested the suspect's glass from the bartender. Sounds like he has one of _those _angles," he informed her.

She sighed deeply anticipating a clash between time and Henry's need for perfection. "I'm sure. Cover every angle, Detective Hanson. I do not want the mayor to be disappointed."

"Yeah several of his prime contributors are here. I made sure to reassure them that we're doing all we can for the victims. They know we collared the suspect. As soon as we're done here, I'll be back there," he assured her.

"Thank you for that." She saw Henry and Jo waiting outside of her door. "They're here." She motioned to them. "Talk to you soon, Detective." She hung up and motioned to the duo. As they walked in, she inquired, "Do you still have the glass?"

"Indeed I do," Henry declared while holding up the sealed bag with the evidence inside. "I believe that the suspect was drugged. I can run tests on this glass to see what kind of residue is on it."

Reece nodded. "We already have motive however, Dr. Morgan. We know jealousy motivated Richards. He shot his employer and her companion. It is open and shut."

"Lieutenant, Richards exhibited the signs of a detoxing addict in that room," Jo pointed out. "Perhaps someone slipped something into his drink to make him go off the deep end?"

"In the meantime, Lucas and I will be looking at the body for every detail," he assured her.

"As long as the investigation does not take _too long_, Dr. Morgan. The mayor wants this resolved as _soon as possible. _Do we understand each other?" the superior pressed.

He studied Reece's face taking in the nuances therein. He knew well the tone and expressiveness in a lower ranked individual when pushed by their superior. While he would do his investigation his way, he wasn't in the mood to antagonize her…especially when Jo would be in the line of fire as well…. "Perfectly. Along those lines, if you will excuse us, we should get right to it."

"I am glad we understand each other," Reece replied evenly.

Jo's eyes went back and forth between the other two. While the conversation seemed professional and cordial, the tone and vibes were anything but those things. "Yeah. Maybe we should get right to that."

"I expect updates and results, People," Reece reminded them.

After they'd walked out of the room, Jo glanced back anxiously and then to him. "What was that about?"

"Somebody with influence just pushed her to get this mess tidied up and put to bed. The host of that party is Calvin Cathers, the latest heir of the Cathers estate, one of the most powerful families in the region. I imagine he does not want the negative publicity getting out. He'd rather cover it up and use Richards as his alibi," he presumed.

"So you agree with Reece then? We should get this to bed," Jo insisted.

"We will _after _I do a _proper _investigation. Just stay up here and allow me to handle the matter. I won't have you losing your job as well," he declared before heading for the stairs.

"Henry!" she hissed before realizing that there was no going back. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Despite his promise not to do so, she realized that he was protecting her…being that chivalric gentleman or whatever…

It annoyed her to say the least….

She grabbed her coat and stomped out of the precinct toward her car. She knew he wouldn't give her the answers. She knew someone else who might. Gunning her car's motor, she took off into the night in search of the knowledge.

Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Henry was about to find out that she wouldn't be denied the truth…


	5. Henry Upsets the Political Apple Cart

Chapter 4 [Morgue—About 45 minutes later]

Henry stood over Stanley Slathers' corpse considering every detail in front of himself. He'd collected the relevant tissue samples and processed blood tests. He'd scan every inch of skin as time allowed. _Lieutenant Reece wouldn't understand a duel like I would…. _He shook his head knowing that the situation seemed to point to that eventuality….

…jealousy….

…backstabbing and the demand for honor to be repaid….

…a life ended when perhaps an apology and some common sense might have set things straight….

_The more things change, the more they stay the same…._

And with that, his mind flashed back…..

[New Orleans—February 10, 1856]

Despite Winter still maintaining its hold over most of the United States, warmth and humidity held the Louisiana bayous in their grasp. Birds and wildlife frolicked in the woods and swamps. Plantations had begun to sow their fields for the annual harvest to come.

And in the Crescent City, civil relations progressed amongst its residents….

Henry strolled down the boardwalk along the _Rue Edouard_ on that fine morning. He'd established a medical practice just two blocks down from his current position. Business, due to the latest epidemic, had been brisk of late. Accordingly he didn't want to keep anyone waiting. _I wish I could discern what is doing this. To think some people still want to use leeches. Intolerable! _

"Excuse me, Dr. Morgan?" a gentile voice queried in its southern tones.

"Yes of course. What might I do for you?" He turned to see a slender Southern belle standing three feet in back of himself. Her blonde hair peeked out from under her bonnet. She wore a long lavender gown. She held her handkerchief in front of her mouth while coughing. "Good heavens, Miss Richeleu! Are you all right?" He saw the tell tale flushing on her face and heard the heavy rasping in her cough.

"I don't know. I felt fine…cough last night. I woke up like this. Can you help me?" she explained before hacking again into her handkerchief.

"Of course. Please come with me," he concurred while helping her down the street and into his office. Admittedly he knew that there would be some questions about them being alone in his office especially since Sister Marie would not be in for another hour yet. He watched for passersby in case he'd need to explain the situation. Seeing nobody in view, he walked into the office and shut the door.

Despite his care in that matter, a pair of eyes had spied him with the Southern belle. A slender dark haired man in a blue suit shook his head. "Michel should know. I knew that Morgan was a cad!" With that, he scurried off to share his misinformed notions.

Trouble seemed to be brewing in the Old Bayou that day….

[Modern Day—Morgue]

Henry shook his head in disgust while checking the body over once again. He'd found the entry wound and extracted the fatal bullet from the man's side….

…and discovered that the shot angled upward from someone much shorter than Slathers…or Richards for that matter….

_Curious. _He scratched his chin and reexamined the entry wound once more through the magnifying lens. "Well now. Nothing is indeed what it seems now is it?" He turned toward the blood samples he'd extracted from Richards and looked at them under the microscope.

Sure enough, something had made the cells swell up and turn a darker shade of purple although they seemed to be slowly returning to normal….

…something other than alcohol…

"Porezipine," he realized. He made careful oral notes into his tape recorder and shut the device off. He had an idea now of what had happened at the party. He snapped pictures of the still-evident effects of the drug on the suspect's bloodstream. Still he had only one question remaining.

"Hey, Doc! Reece wants that report on her desk like pronto!" Lucas reminded him while coming in the door. "Of course you're going to make the corpse do its zombie act and we'll be having drinks before we know it."

Henry rolled his eyes at his assistant's metaphor. "Excuse me? Zombie act? I'm not bringing Mr. Slathers back to life, Lucas. The clues speak for themselves."

"Yeah and as long as they're pointing at Richards, we're all cool," Lucas surmised. Seeing Henry turn his back, he felt his emotions sinking. "Unless…you think they're pointing somewhere else? Doc, please! Just sign the report."

"No, Lucas. I just need to find out one more thing to ascertain that Mr. Richards is in fact innocent of this crime," Henry corrected the other man primly. Then he got on the phone and dialed it.

"Detective Hanson here."

"Hello, Detective. I had one last question for you about the Slathers case," Henry replied.

"Doc, it had better be where you sign off on it. Lucas should have told you that Reece wants that thing like _yesterday_," Hanson informed him.

"I am well aware of the Lieutenant's need for efficiency in this matter. I wanted to know when you examined Mr. Richards' hands, did you see powder burns on them?" Henry queried.

"Powder burns? Are you kidding? I…." Hanson struggled for a second to see where Henry was going on that matter. Then he rolled his eyes. "No. He didn't have any burns like that. And with them, holding Richards down, he wouldn't have had a chance to wash it off." He rolled his eyes knowing the monkey wrench that this revelation would throw at the formerly clean cut motive. "Did you find anything on the glass or the suspect's blood?"

"Porezipine. It's a new psychotropic drug. When combined with alcohol, it boosts whatever emotions are already present in an individual. It also makes them unable to think clearly in large enough doses. Mr. Richards was drugged, Detective, and set up," Henry explained.

"But Richards' fingerprints are on the gun!" Hanson argued.

"I'm sure since whoever fired the fatal shot put it in his hands. No burns. In addition the shot angled upward into Mr. Slathers' side. Whoever killed him was _shorter _than he. The entry vector was all wrong for Richards to have fired the gun in that case," Henry continued.

"Yeah well…the only shorter person was…." Hanson ground his teeth. "Oh you'd _better _have an iron clad case, Doc. Wilma Davenport's not someone you accuse just on a whim."

"I'm sure. I have my evidence. We procure a search warrant and look into her affairs, shall we?" Henry suggested.

Off to the coroner's side, Lucas slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands. Despite the sometimes terse moments working with Henry, he did like his job after all….

"Reece is really going to love us poking around in the victim's affairs," Hanson pointed out.

"If she'd like me to, I'd be more than happy to elaborate for her. Thank you, Detective Hanson. Good day," Henry concluded before hanging up the phone. He turned to Lucas who stared at him incredulously. "And whatever is the matter now, Lucas?"

"Doc, you don't tick off New York's rich and famous and keep your job," Lucas pointed out.

"Yes I suppose so. The evidence points away from Richards and yet everyone seeks to pin the crime on him. We need to find the other fingerprints on the gun as well if they aren't already wiped off," Henry countered. Hearing the phone ring again, he answered, "Morgue, Dr. Morgan here."

"Dr. Morgan, this is Lieutenant Reece. Detective Hanson tells me you spoke with him?" Reece replied.

"I did indeed, Lieutenant. Even if the other party goers saw Richards go out onto the veranda in a state of emotional duress, someone mixed porezipine into his drinks boosting his jealousy and reducing his inhibitions. While Mr. Slathers and Ms. Davenport were shot, Richards had no powder burns on his hands according to Detective Hanson. Besides the entry wound into Slathers' side indicates that a person of shorter height than Richards shot the victim. The only other person out there would be Ms. Davenport," Henry clarified.

"You're sure?" Reece inquired. She couldn't fault Henry for his detailed analysis. Indeed it gave her something to take to the mayor if need be. She hated the fact that the update effectively threw a rock through the proverbial plate glass window so to speak. However, even if she felt pressure from above, she valued a well-documented case more.

"Most of it I am sure of. Perhaps if you acquire a warrant for her premises, we might find the drug there? The bartender from the party might know something. Finally perhaps we can look at her prescription records? A drug like that would be traced carefully due to these side effects," Henry noted.

"I will get the warrant for those records and a search of porezipine in the general database. I hope the search turns up something in her home, Dr. Morgan. Harassing victims is not something I like to do. Are we clear?" Reece insisted.

"Perfectly. Please tell Detective Hanson I can be ready when he is. Thank you," Henry concluded before hanging up. "She took it relatively well."

"I hope so. I don't want to be applying for unemployment any time soon," Lucas worried.

"The good Lieutenant is procuring the necessary search warrant for Ms. Davenport's home and pharmacy visits. We shall see if anything comes of it," Henry indicated while sealing up the test materials and putting them away. He slid Slathers back into the freezer and closed the door. Then he peeled his gloves off and tossed them in the hazardous waste disposal area. "I'm off. If Detective Martinez comes back, please let her know I went with Detective Hanson." He smiled confidently at Lucas. "Chin up. It will be all right. Have faith." He pulled his coat and scarf on before heading out the door.

_Have faith he says. I just hope he's right! _Lucas set to cleaning up the table in his superior's wake.

Sometimes being the right hand to the big man on the coroner strip wasn't all it was cracked up to be….


	6. Jo Gets Advice

Chapter 5 [Abe's Antiques]

Even as Henry prepared to follow up on his discoveries, Jo stood in front of the antique shop with her hands in her pockets. Doubt nagged at her. _How can I deal with this stuff? Was it right of Henry to keep me out of that case? Damn it. I can handle it. I know it. _She frowned with disappointment while opening the door and walking into the store.

Abe glanced up from his ledger at the counter. "Jo! Hey! What's going on? Where's Henry?"

"He's dealing with our latest case. Reece is really caught up in the politics. She wants this wrapped up like yesterday. Henry's wanting the whole deal as usual." She sighed heavily and shook her head. She rubbed the back of her neck.

He nodded knowingly. "He's trying to protect you. Unbelievable. Even if we're in the twenty first century, he's still trying to be the white knight. Want some coffee?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, Abe. I definitely need somebody letting me get my two cents in," she expressed gratefully.

"No problem. Come on," he agreed. He led her to the kitchen/dining area. There he started the coffee maker.

"I didn't get to be a detective by letting others do the heavy lifting," she griped.

"No one is saying that. Henry knows that. He isn't the greatest at sharing the ball if you get my drift," he noted seriously. "I wish he'd understand that."

"Me too." She accepted a hot mug from him. "Thanks. Was he like this with Abigail?"

"She had to balance proving herself with understanding Henry and his situation," he assessed while joining her at the table. "They had some big time arguments. I know Henry talks about the bliss and how perfect things with her were. Trust me. I recall having to stay in my room because things got hot between them."

"Wow. I never thought they'd be like that from the way Henry talks of her." She took a sip from her cup in wonder.

He chuckled. "She knew Henry's feelings and understood him. She didn't take his crap though. They grew together just as you and he need to do. I've told him to trust you. He needs to do just that. Give him time. It isn't a contest. He doesn't want you getting hurt or losing out on the job."

"I can deal with it, Abe," she insisted tersely.

"I know that. You know that. Henry needs to realize that," he pointed out. Hearing her cell phone buzz, he presumed, "That might be him now."

She glanced skeptically at the phone. "Hey. Anything?"

"Actually there is. Detective Hanson and I are on our way over to Wilma Davenport's residence. Meet us there?"

"Sure. What's the address?" She scribbled down the information. "By the way, did we find anything during the autopsy?"

"I shook up the good Lieutenant's open and shut case. I'll fill you in when you get here. See you shortly," Henry concluded. He wanted to add the 'looking forward to it' or another concluding statement but didn't want to give Hanson more grist for the mill.

"Right. Thanks, Henry. See you in a few minutes." She disconnected the line and turned back to Abe. "Seems he thinks it's safe for me to jump in now."

"More than likely he turned the tables on the big shots and found a way to get you involved. Jo, Henry does value you as a partner and more. You two though have some things to talk about however," Abe advised. "Be patient."

"I'm trying. Thanks, Abe." She smiled at him before pulling her coat back on and heading out into the cold once more.

_Just keep trying, Kid. That's the ticket. _Abe put the mugs in the sink. Then he headed back out to the shop in case any customers had come in.

Seemed a friend's work was never done…..


	7. Opposition to Doing One's Job

Chapter 6 [Wilma Davenport's Apartment—Ten minutes later]

Hanson checked his watch and leaned back in his driver's seat in consternation. Along with Henry, he'd been watching the front of the brick apartment building for the previous fifteen minutes. He wanted to walk into the place, serve the search warrant, find the goods, deal with Davenport and leave.

All good police business….

Instead he'd been dealing with Henry and Jo's dance on the eggshells. He couldn't believe that Jo was so wrapped up in her relationship issues that she couldn't deal with this case cleanly.

Not good police business…

"So what's with you and Jo, huh? Everything okay in Lover's Lane?" he supposed.

Henry frowned at him. "We're dealing with things. It is not affecting the case, Detective. We're here with the warrant and a probable cause, are we not? It will be all right." Seeing her dark car pull up just in back of them, he added, "There. You see? Everything is quite all right." He got out and walked toward the other vehicle.

"Yeah peachy," Hanson groused to himself. While he knew that he had arguments with his wife from time to time, he didn't let them interfere with work. _Don't get them started. There'll be time enough for that at some other point. _He sat for a second and watched through the car's rear view window.

Whatever they had going on, he wished they'd settle it….

Jo had used the drive over to settle her nerves and get her mind back on an even keel. She wanted to apply Abe's advice to the situation. Really she did.

She hoped that Henry would get some confidence in her first…..

_At least Henry didn't try to keep me out of it once the stuff with Reece was done. That's a step at least. The other stuff he'll have to learn to deal with. _She rolled her eyes and tapped on the steering wheel impatiently. As he walked up, she lowered the window. "Get everything in order?"

"Detective Hanson has the search warrant. I convinced Reece of the validity of our investigation. Besides you are the detective here, not I," Henry explained. "And I wanted to apologize for being heavy handed before. Whatever you may think, I do have confidence in you."

"I appreciate that. We both need to work on that stuff but I'm glad to hear it," she accepted before getting out of the car. "Just be patient. Okay?"

"Agreed," Henry concurred. He led her over to where Hanson waited for them.

"Sorry. Had to take care of something," she apologized to the other detective.

Hanson shrugged but didn't say anything. Instead he offered, "How about we see what we can find on Davenport? Come on." He led the duo into the building and up two flights of plush covered stairs.

"I would have expected her to have a mansion or something. Not to live in a place like this," Jo presumed while looking around at the fixtures and the doors they passed.

"Not everyone needs an expansive estate," Henry interjected.

"If Cathers is on the level, she's kind of a recluse. She spends a lot of her time in there only going out for parties. Everything else is delivered in. Some life," Hanson presumed while stopping in front of a particular door. "Apartment 1517. This is it." He rapped on the door. "Ms. Davenport? NYPD."

They waited for a full two minutes while noises came from the apartment in question.

Finally a sleepy voice queried, "Can I see a badge?"

"Certainly, Ma 'am." Hanson agreed as he and Jo revealed their badges. "May we come in? We have a search warrant."

The lock clicked off and the door opened. "What is this about, Detective? I thought you got everything with Mr. Cathers at the party."

"We turned up some more details needing clarification," Jo indicated. Her eyes surveyed the residence. Belaying the simple exterior, she could easily tell that there was more than met the eye. Fine oak furnishings stood around the room. A few landscapes from respected artists decorated the walls. The silk drapes and their cloth backings obscured the window views toward the street below. Unlike the rest of the carpeting outside, the carpet underfoot in that place was fine plush.

Obviously someone had redone her little rabbit hole to her own satisfaction.

"Such as? I do need to call my lawyer then," Davenport insisted while going for the phone.

"You could," Hanson concurred. "Course then Detective Martinez and I would have to read you your rights. Come on." He handed her the warrant.

"We will try to be as unobtrusive as we can," Jo assured the resident while heading for the bathroom.

Davenport considered the warrant. "Porezipine? Yes I have some in my bathroom. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Not so much by itself but in concert with everything else, a great deal, Ms. Davenport," Henry interjected sagely. "We have cause to believe you're more involved than just being the victim here."

"_Excuse me?" _Davenport glared at the coroner. "Leave!"

"Not until we got what we came here for," Jo disagreed while walking back out into the living room. "Found the drug bottle. And look what was sitting on the floor in plain sight?" She held up a receipt. "Fencing lessons, Ms. Davenport?"

"I do that as a self-defense and a meditation class all in one," Davenport explained. It's like ballet of sorts."

"True," Henry agreed. "It can also show where on any opponent to strike and what effect such a blow has on said person. I've fenced too."

"I've seen enough," Jo insisted while taking out her handcuffs.

"What is the meaning of this?" another male voice demanded.

They all turned to see Cathers standing in the doorway red-faced and practically blowing smoke out of his ears.

"Police business, Mr. Cathers. Step aside," Hanson insisted.

Seeing the brewing standoff made Henry's mind flash back once more….

[New Orleans—1856]

After escorting Miss Richeleu into his office, Henry examined her as politely and professionally as he could manage. He had her undo her top buttons so that he could place the stethoscope's sensitive piece onto her upper chest and yet be gentlemanly about it. He observed her flushed face and hands. Several times he wiped her face and neck off with cold cloths.

She felt even more faint in the office than she had outside. She burned with fever and winced in pain. "D…doctor?"

"It will be all right, Miss Richeleu. Think of how happy you and Michel are going to be," he assured her. He glanced out the door. For some reason, he felt even more anxious than outside. _Folly! You're just doing your job. _"Can you button back up please?"

"Of…course." She secured her top. "Can I rest…for a minute?"

"You course you may," he relented. He brought a pillow to her for her head and covered her with a blanket. "I'm just going to get some ice. I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Doctor. I…appreciate it," she expressed wearily before closing her eyes.

Now he really wished that Sister Marie would have come in earlier. While he had a good reputation around the Crescent City, Henry knew that Michel was a jealous man. Several times he'd seen the other man nearly get into street side brawls out of pure recklessness. He could only imagine what would happen in this instance….

…that is if he didn't care what happened to his patient…which he did….

"Get to the cellar. Then you can worry about Michel," Henry lectured himself. He walked out of the exam room and opened the door just down the narrow hall. Slowly he descended the dimly lit stairs creaking his way toward the bottom. At the bottom, he found something piled under hay and sawdust and smiled. "Still cold enough to do this. Good thing for Miss Richeleu." He took an ice pick and a mallet and began chipping away at the pile.

Slowly icy shards dropped to the floor at his feet. The pile built until Henry felt satisfied. He covered the ice pile again with the hay and sawdust. Then he collected the ice pieces into a cloth bag he had there for just such an occasion. "This should do the trick." He hefted the bag and creaked his way back up the stairs.

About halfway up, he heard his front door bang open. Furious footfalls echoed to his ears from across the oaken floorboards.

Footfalls which stopped roughly about where the exam room was.

"Allo up there! Be right up!" Henry called.

The footfalls moved yet again at the sound of his voice. They increased in intensity and fervor until they reached the cellar door.

"MORGAN! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"

Henry shook his head recognizing that his worst nightmare relating to the situation was about to come true. "Michel! Calm down! Your _fiancée _is ill! I am trying to treat her!" He climbed the rest of the way up the stairs.

There waited a hulking six and a half foot blonde man in a fine silk shirt and a suit of blue cloth. His blue eyes glared at the doctor. His lip curled indignantly. His face flamed in beat red tones. "You _cad_! You assaulted Therese! How could you?" He grabbed Henry by the arm and began dragging him down the hall.

Down the hall he heard his patient screaming indignantly. "_Arrete! _Stop please!"

"I did no such thing! I left her fully clothed and under a blanket! Let me go!" Henry protested while resisting the other man's treatment. "What's going on there?"

Michel threw him up against a wall. "That is a LIE!" As Henry was still regaining his senses from the sudden impact, he dragged the doctor into the exam room and shoved him into there. "Is _this _professional behavior, _Doctor_?"

Henry staggered to his feet slowly. His eyes went wide in horror as he beheld the mess made of his exam room. He saw his papers and equipment scattered everywhere. He saw his patient.

She sat in a fetal position. Her dress lay gashed and torn. She shuddered and cried. Bruises were forming on her cheeks and right arm.

"My word! What have you done?" Henry gasped incredulously.

"Shut up!" Michel slapped Henry hard across the face.

"See, Michel? I told you Morgan was up to nothing honorable!" the man from the alley accused.

"No…stop. He didn't…Michel, you're mistaken…." she begged. "Do what…you want with me. Don't hurt…doctor. He…was trying to treat…me."

"I'll bet he was! Arrogant Brit over here thinks he can have his way with our women, does he?" Michel accused while shoving Henry up against the wall. He glared at her. "You want him. Don't you?"

"Michel…please stop. It's not like that!" she sobbed. "You both…assaulted me. He tried to…help me."

"SHUT UP!" Michel bellowed. He punched her in the stomach knocking her out.

"Quite…a man yourself, Dijon. Aren't you?" Henry supposed sarcastically. "Let's call a constable, shall we? I think we need to speak with one."

"No police. Just you and me, Morgan. Dawn at St. Louis Cemetery Number 1. Bring your pistol and a second. You'll need them," Michel challenged. He picked her up in his arms and carried her from the room. "Don't be late, Morgan. If you are, I'll hunt you down like the dog you are. Come along, Denis."

The henchman glared at the doctor before departing on his companion's heels.

After the duo absconded with his patient, Henry forced himself to breathe deeply. His ribs ached. His head spun with the indignity of the whole affair. He limped across the room slowly. He began to collect the scattered papers across the floor while avoiding the glass shards everywhere else. He heard the door open again and close. "_Oui_. I will be right with you!"

"_Sacre bleu! _What happened here?" a slender woman with a wrinkled face demanded caringly. Except for that face and her brown eyes, her nun's habit and outfit covered her. "Dr. Morgan?"

"We had a man take exception to how I was treating his _fiancée_, Sister Marie. Therese Richeleu literally staggered into me with the fever. I brought her here and was going to cool her down with ice discretely of course," he started to explain.

The nun nodded while getting the picture. "You should have waited for me. I know of course you would never molest Miss Richeleu. Her brute, Michel Dijon, he stormed in here. _Non_?"

"_Oui. _He and his companion…Denis…made it seem like I assaulted her. Denis left the room like this while Dijon dragged me from the cellar door." Henry sat down painfully. "He challenged me."

"_Non! _You cannot! Such things are forbidden!" she disagreed vehemently.

He frowned and quirked his right brow at her. "Of course they are. However men such as Dijon have the law in their pocket. Miss Richeleu would _never _go against him because she doesn't want to end up on the street or worse. For her sake and mine, I have to go through with the duel."

"It is her choice, _mon Ami_. Do not kill yourself for some chivalric quest. Your skills as a doctor are phenomenal. We need you more here," she countered.

"It is my duty, Sister Marie." He offered her a brave smile. "Hopefully God will help me deal with this wrong. Now if you will, I need to see Jacques and get patched up. Have to be at my best now."

"Indeed. Come with me. The mess can wait," she relented while helping him into his coat. Then they walked out the door slowly and locked it behind themselves.

Even if he was framed, Henry knew he needed to get himself back in workable shape for the next morning's affair….

…that is if he really stood a chance….

[Modern Day]

Cathers stomped into the room. "You get your hands off of her! I'll sue!"

"And I'll shoot if you take another step, Mr. Cathers. We're taking Ms. Davenport downtown. Step aside or be charged with aiding and abetting not to mention assault," Hanson noted as calmly as possible.

"Come along, Ms. Davenport. You'll get that phone call downtown," Jo urged evenly while securing the other woman's hands with the handcuffs.

As she passed by him, Davenport exchanged desperate glances with Cathers before Jo pushed her from the room.

Cathers turned to Henry and spat, "You all think those badges give you power. Wait until I call the mayor! You'll see what power really is."

"Oh I know," Henry responded evenly while meeting the other's eyes with his own. "Detective Hanson, did that sound like a threat?"

"It did from here. Come along, Doc. He isn't worth it," Hanson urged ironically echoing Sister Marie's sentiments from the past. "We'll be dealing with that stuff soon enough."

"I'm sure." Henry relented. He knew of course that in a bygone time such statements would have had graver consequences to both people involved. Yet he wasn't in that time…not anymore. He turned and followed Hanson out.

"Geez, Doc. You acted like he was about to challenge you to a duel or something. Get over it. It's not like you're going to pull out the pistols," Hanson scoffed.

Jo considered Henry while helping Davenport into the car. She noted the sadness in his eyes as well as the anger from some past injustice. _He has been challenged like that! No wonder he's acting the way he is. _"Henry?"

"Hmm?" the coroner wondered.

"Bus is leaving. Hanson can deal with Davenport. Let's go," Jo noted. She rubbed Henry's arm caringly. "There was a duel, wasn't there? What was going on up there made you remember something?"

Henry nodded slowly. "I'm remembering something of that nature. It happened in New Orleans a long time ago. Let's focus on the case. Shall we?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "As long as you promise to tell me sometime. Please don't shut me out, Henry."

"I promised and I'll tell you soon." He kissed her cheek. "Thank you for being you."

"All part of the partner/girlfriend thing. Just don't let it go to your head or anything," she bantered with a smirk for his benefit as they got into the car.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Henry relented as they drove away. Despite his own deep-seeded feelings from the past, he had his balance with her as his companion.

And as such, a little of that pain went away…


	8. Jo Deals with Interlopers

[A/N#1: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone out there! May you have a safe, happy and festive time!]

Chapter 7 [Precinct—Forty-five minutes later]

[A/N #2: This story does not include the last episode before the winter hiatus. Thus we don't know who "Adam" is in this universe.]

Jo sat at her desk inputting her notes on Davenport into the database. She worried about Henry incrementally more with each minute. Despite his promise to let her in on the latest tidbit from his past, she wanted to know _now_.

A call to Abe revealed nothing since he hadn't heard the story. Granted he wanted to know as well….

_Great. Henry, you don't need to keep secrets from us. Abe and I are here for you! Really we are! Grrr! _She shook her head and hit the save button. She took another morose draught from her cup. "I really need to press him on that." She saw Officer Mendoza coming toward her with the day's mail run. "How's everything?"

"Great, Detective. Thank you for asking," the Hispanic slender male replied with a warm smile. He could see the troubled facial expression but decided not to pry. "Just one envelope today. Weird. Desk sergeant said it was slid under the door. Nobody saw who it was from." He handed her a large manila envelope. "Have a great day."

"You too. Thanks," Jo expressed as he walked off. She considered the envelope. It had some weight to it. _Do I open it? If it blows up, I'll be swimming again. Everyone else though will be dead for real though. _She bit her lip and decided to chance it. She ripped open the envelope's top and pulled out a very old newspaper and a note written in Sharpie.

The note read: _"I believe, Jo, that this is what you are looking for. The article on Page 1 will reveal Henry's secret in this regard. Do take care. Adam." _

_That stalker again? _She looked around the bullpen and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She got up from her chair and walked out the door. She scanned the street in front of her for any signs of unusual activity but again found nothing.

Then her cell buzzed at her.

She rolled her eyes at the "Caller Blocked" ID. She answered it, "You're really being a pain."

"Really now?" Adam supposed with an air of sarcasm. "And here I thought I was giving you the answers you're seeking. A detective should appreciate when the puzzle's solution is dropped into his or her lap, _shouldn't you? _Now do open the paper to Page 1. Henry was so gallant that day. Pity his luck ran out. Do be more grateful, _Jo_, for what I give you." With that he hung up abruptly.

"What the Hell?" She stalked back into the precinct in a huff and sat back down at her desk. She opened the paper and found the article in question. Her eyes went wide.

Although sketchy on the exact details, the article did reveal the truth. Henry did indeed participate in a duel and was shot for his troubles. He disappeared before the end could be verified.

_He must have ran from the place before he died and did our disappearing number. _She ground her teeth and shoved the newspaper back in the concealing envelope before anyone else could see.

"Something troubling you, Detective?" Reece wondered while walking over to the latter's desk.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm okay. Lot on my mind. Just hoping that we can put this one to bed soon," Jo responded half-truthfully.

Even if the response had some grain of truth to it, Reece didn't entirely buy it. Something in the detective's voice didn't ring entirely true to her. Still she wasn't going to upset the apple cart by challenging her subordinate at that point. "I would like that as well, Detective. Sounds to me like Dr. Morgan and you are developing some rock solid leads."

"We'll do our best. We won't let you down," Jo vowed.

"I'm sure you won't. By the way, Ms. Davenport is ready for questioning and…." Reece started before turning toward the door.

Cathers stormed in the door with two other men close behind. He purposefully strode toward the two women. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant Reece. I have my lawyer, Raymond Rice, with me. He is representing Wilma at this point. Unless you have something substantial, you are to release her to me now."

"I can still hold her as a material witness," Reece disagreed. "I do have evidence. You'll see it when we go to trial, Mr. Cathers. Until then, I suggest you figure out how to conduct yourself in a police precinct building. Mr. Rice, that goes for you and your associate as well."

"So does knowing _your place _in the food chain," Cathers countered. "I'm prepared to wait this out. Are you?"

Reece folded her arms and glared at the three men. She wasn't going to back down.

"Sorry, Mr. Cathers. We do have proof. This isn't a witch hunt," Jo declared.

"Very well. I'm sure the mayor can settle this," Cathers produced his cell phone.

Reece and Jo exchanged knowing looks. This situation was about to get ugly.

They both hoped Henry had something substantial up his sleeve….


	9. Henry Turns the Tables

Chapter 8

[Morgue—Fifteen minutes earlier]

As soon as he'd returned to the precinct with Jo, Henry made his way back to his professional sanctum. He'd felt troubled by the pill vial in his pocket. While it was indeed the medication which Davenport was taking, he suspected it was a different strain altogether.

"Hey, Doc. Heard you caught that lady. Congrats," Lucas complimented from his cubicle.

"Thank you, Lucas. I do appreciate that. We have a deeper issue however. Did those blood results come back while I was gone?" Henry queried.

Lucas got up somberly and headed over to him. "Yeah. The victim AND that drunk guy both had the same thing in their system. And both had it in such high quantities that any trauma like that stabbing would've caused instant death." He handed the results to Henry. "Regular porezipine doesn't do that at least not in such quantities."

"No it doesn't." Henry concurred grimly while considering the results. "But Racipine does." He poured two pills into his hand. "Observe, Lucas. Rhombus pills."

"Yeah so?"

"Porezipine comes in oval pills. While both are still under Federal drug trials, Racipine was recently rejected because of the side effects you just mentioned. In addition to out of control blood thinning and cellular corporal rupturing, it blocks the nervous system's pain response to trauma as you mentioned, Lucas," Henry explained. He crushed the pills in his hand.

"Doc, those are evidence! What the Hell?" Lucas demanded.

"Patience. I suspect something deeper under the surface. These are the pills which I indeed took from Ms. Davenport's condominium," Henry assured his colleague. He poured the pills' remains under the microscope and peered through the eyepiece. "As I suspected." He straightened himself up and motioned toward the microscope. "Take a look, Lucas."

"Okay." Lucas had long since stopped doubting Henry's ability to sniff out the answer to a mystery. He simply acquiesced to the other's discovery and followed the direction. He peered through the glass and then stared at Henry in shock. "That's the same stuff as was in the blood! And that is the racipine?"

"Precisely. And since this drug was banned from testing three months back, there is only one place to acquire it still. Beltway Pharmaceuticals would have the only supply left and…." Henry realized something and nodded to himself. "I know who's behind it all!"

"Who, Doc? We have Davenport. Who else?" Lucas demanded; his curiosity running amok with his very psyche.

Before Henry could answer, the raised voices from upstairs carried to their ears.

"I believe, Lucas, the answer has just arrived. Follow me!" Henry deduced. He took the results file and pocketed the remaining pills. He rushed out of the morgue and took the stairs two at a time.

"Doc! DOC! COME BACK!" Lucas sprinted after the older coroner. He didn't know what was about to happen. All he knew was that Henry had discovered something _yet again_ and was about to tick somebody off _yet again_.

_How does he do it? _

That seemed to be the question of the day…..

[Precinct Main Floor]

Cathers waited as his cell phone rang the mayor's line impatiently. He smirked defiantly at Reece and Jo knowing that their master would squish them with bugs in the name of political expediency.

"Mayor Richards' office," a female voice finally answered.

"Yes. This is Mr. Cathers. Please inform the mayor that I need to speak to him on a matter of great concern," Cathers explained.

"I'm sorry, Sir. He's currently at a community meeting with other constituents. He'll be back this afternoon. He specifically instructed not to disturb him," the executive assistant replied frankly. "May I take a message?"

"Tell him I called and to answer me!" Cathers hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Seems the mayor doesn't share the sense in your own self-worth, Mr. Cathers," Reece assessed calmly.

"Nonetheless we will take Ms. Davenport with us," the lawyer asserted.

Henry turned brusquely into the room. With great determination he marched right up to the developing standoff. "How convenient that you are here, Mr. Cathers. It saved us some difficulty."

Reece arched an eyebrow at him. "_Excuse me_, Dr. Morgan? You'd best explain that."

"He means that I can drive Wilma home myself because he's about to recant his own findings," Cathers presumed.

Jo stared at Henry in shock. For a moment, she indeed thought this was going to be the case. "Henry, you can't!"

Henry shook his head calmly at his fellow immortal before pressing on. "No, Mr. Cathers, I'm not the one in need of recanting a story. You and Ms. Davenport actually are the ones who need to reconsider the details of your accounts. The evidence from the crime scene is very compelling. Mr. Richards, the fixated drunken man, provided an easy enough mark to be used in your attempt to eliminate the victim in question. He bursts onto the balcony where he apparently challenged Stanley Slathers to some sort of honor duel. Slathers was stabbed. Everyone rushes out there to see Slathers down, Ms. Davenport wounded and Richards holding the gun. That is what you're hanging onto, correct?"

"That _is _what happened," Cathers affirmed angrily. "Dr. Morgan, please! We've been over this!"

"And your point _is_, Doctor?" Reece queried expectantly. Like Lucas, she'd gotten to know when Henry was about to spring a mouse trap on a man such as this one. Accordingly she relented in playing his foil for that purpose.

"It is a convenient illusion. The problem is that there are too many loose ends in your story, Mr. Cathers. Ms. Davenport had the gun powder residue on her hands. Mr. Richards did not. Besides the angle of the weapon implicates a person of her height. The gun had her fingerprints on it. And then there are these pills which we recovered in her apartment. Ms. Davenport takes porezipine, does she not?" Henry continued.

"Of course she does! I arranged for her to participate in the drug study. Then she continued taking it. So what?" Cathers demanded with growing impatience.

"She's supposed to be taking _porezipine _not _racipine_, Mr. Cathers," Henry clarified. He held the vial up. "These are her pills. What shape are porezipine pills supposed to be?"

"Oval last time I checked. Why?" Cathers queried tersely.

"Then why are these rhombus shaped? The only pills of this nature are…_racipine_ perhaps?" Henry deduced. "Now _why _would you encourage Ms. Davenport to take these pills? They failed in clinical drug trials for wildly dangerous side effects. Perhaps it's because despite your friendship, her vote stands between you and the chairmanship of the board. I think if we check, there's probably another vote in that regard a month from now. If she keeps taking the racipine, Ms. Davenport would be dead within a fortnight." Henry frowned. "As I said, it's convenient you're here with your lawyer, Mr. Cathers."

"I agree. Mr. Cathers, you're under arrest for murder and attempted murder. Detective Martinez, would you do the honors please? I want him processed ASAP," Reece instructed.

"With pleasure, Lieutenant." Jo pulled the businessman's hands behind his back and secured them with her handcuffs. As she did so, she let her eyes shine at Henry in approval once again. "Nice work."

"I live to serve, Detective," Henry replied with a warm smile and sparkle of his eyes for his partner.

"You're framing us both! I'll get out and sue!" Cathers threatened as Jo hauled him toward the processing station.

Reece nodded. "Very nice work, Doctor. Not only did you exonerate Richards but you unearthed the two true suspects. I'll be glad when Cathers gets his own cell. Once again you do amaze." With that she walked back toward her office.

"Nice, Doc!" Lucas cheered.

"Thank you, Lucas. Your blood test helped as well. A great job all around," Henry complimented as well. "Now if you'll excuse me, I wish to be in on this interrogation." He relented in a smile for his associate's efforts before heading to join his partner in the interview room.

_He gets the glory and the girl. Man, some guys have ALL the luck! _Lucas shook his head while heading back downstairs for a break and some lunch.

Sometimes Henry did amaze indeed. Even those who knew him continued to be so….


	10. Henry Recalls the Duel

Chapter 9 [Several Hours Later]

As a result of Henry and Lucas' respective discoveries in the morgue, the situation quickly resolved itself. Cathers and Davenport found themselves processed and on their way to separate cells within the hour. Richards found himself released after agreeing to seek help over his drinking issues. Jo pressed herself to get the reports written up and back to Reece for processing.

All in all, a great day overall.

And more was yet to come….

[Abe's Antiques]

Henry stood at the window and observed the scene on the street with interest. He saw the passersby milling up and down the asphalt way in their daily activities. Cars passed on their way to their next destinations. A stiff wind blew stray wrappers and papers about the area in front of the shop. Dark clouds blotted out _Nocturne_'s stellar archipelago above.

He noted that a light snow began to cascade downward, dotting the scene with its first gentle flakes before the forecasted storm proper swept in off of the Sound. _And so nature asserts herself against the human masses. We cannot stand in her wake be we mortal or immortal…. _Another sip reminded him of how arrogant Cathers and Davenport had been and how their schemes had been unwound by his efforts.

_Hubris _was a weak master at that….

He turned from the window and headed back toward the counter. Abe wouldn't be back from an art show for a couple of hours at least. His mind stewed over Cathers' arrogant attempt to strong arm Reece and Jo trying to intimidate them in front of the squad. _It never stops, does it? _He considered an antique brown tome on the desk in front of him. He'd brought it up from the sanctum after getting home but couldn't bring himself to open it…

…to face the account of his last day in New Orleans over a century and a half earlier….

_The rich and powerful rewrite accounts as they see fit. Pity they don't understand the damage they cause in the process. _Henry finished his tea grimly and shook his head. Perhaps once Abe had returned, he'd talk to him about it.

Some things did need to be purged after all….

_I wish more could've been done for Miss Richeleu. To be trapped by that monster in a loveless marriage, that is Hell itself! _He brooded on that last point and nodded in appreciation for his own fortunes.

Perhaps _Fortuna_ had consigned him to walk the immortal path yet she had granted him two of the most wonderful women in the universe as his companions for a time…

…first Abigail…

…and now Jo….

His heart uncharacteristically skipped a beat at the thought of them. He felt his own personal doubt washing away. His soul dropped its mournful baggage if only for a minute. He turned toward the door and smiled broadly.

Jo rapped on the glass outside. She waved and admittedly shivered in the wintry wind.

He hustled toward the door and opened it for her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you wait."

She smiled at him. "I just got here. We'll let it slide this time, Henry." She embraced him while placing her lips on top of his in a long kiss. She felt warm and safe in the harbor of his arms. She felt the energy flowing back and forth between their hungry mouths.

For once, Henry felt his own inhibitions give way on her account. He definitely loved this wonderful woman. He was accepting that Abigail had willed he move on with her. Like her, he felt the energy and imbibed his senses in its wonder.

Both allowed _Amor _to recharge their senses and push them closer together.

Then she broke off the contact and stepped back. "Sorry. It was the moment."

"It's all right. I enjoyed it actually," he assured her.

She nodded in approval. "Glad to see that. I wanted you to know that it's okay for us to be open. When you're ready to talk about that duel, I'll be glad to listen."

He glanced in surprise at her. "How? I never…."

She shrugged with a frown. "You didn't." She held up the manila envelope. "Our resident stalker did. Henry, what possessed you to take that creep on like that?"

He sighed heavily. His mind skittered back and forth between the book and the necklace downstairs. He really wanted to talk about anything but that….

She rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. "Henry, it's okay. It's in the past. We're here now…."

"Michel Dijon was very similar to Cathers. In that case, the whole sordid affair happened because his _fiancée _was ill. I brought her in off the street and tended to her without a witness. One of his associates watched us walk into my office and fetched Dijon. Dijon ransacked my office, beat me and then challenged me to the duel in question. All because he wanted to save face." Henry shook his head. "These fools play at honor. They have no idea."

She smiled at him. "You went through with it just like today, right? You faced Cathers with the proof. You put him away. You protected Reece and me. At least you did it, right?" Her lips brushed his cheek. "I knew you'd be there, Henry. I have faith in you whether you realize it or not."

"It does things easier to bear around us. I appreciate your wanting to work with me…to _be with me_," he expressed. "I saw the doubt in your eyes. For a split second, I had to _seem _like I waivered. It was all a feint in that verbal duel to draw Cathers in. Then I finished him and handed him over to you ladies for the arrest. Case closed. It's amazing what Experience does teach you, isn't it?"

"Yeah it is. That's why you amaze, Henry. Just don't let it go to your head," she complimented half-seriously. "But I do need to know what happened between Dijon and you. Just for my own experience."

He exhaled deeply not wanting to open that door again. However, for her sake, he had to. "All right," he conceded before starting the account again. "It was a chill morning very similar to today in that cemetery…."

[New Orleans—Morning after Dijon's incursion into Henry's Office]

Having been unable to sleep, Henry sat in his office all night putting his affairs in order. He knew Dijon was a crack shot with the revolver having witnessed several demonstrations at the latter's plantation. Consequently he understood the odds were stacked against him.

Lying on the table beside his left hand, a cleaned and polished antique revolver, a small cloth sack and a equally small wooden box sat ready for their service.

In the fireplace, the flames consumed the notes about his condition. Some of his more personal effects lay beneath them in their ashen state.

_A pity really! Not only will I have to leave. I have to destroy everything too. Will people like Dijon not understand what they do? _He stood and stoked the flames a couple of times with the iron fork by the hearth morosely. _I can redo those notes when I get to my next place._

The old grandfather clock wheezed and bonged five times in the corner.

_It is time. Alas, gentle practice, I knew you not well enough! _He stood and retrieved the items from the table stuffing them into his pockets. Then he pulled on his suitcoat and sucked in a heavy breath. While he considered dueling a barbaric practice, he understood and treasured the concept of honor….

…even if ingrates like Dijon manipulated it to their own ends….

Henry lived to stand up to such bullies and manipulative bastards.

He marched out of the office and out the door. He locked the outer portal with a single twist of his metallic key before dropping it in his pocket.

Above the stars still twinkled and danced in _Nocturne_'s backdrop blissfully unaware of what was about to happen below.

He suppressed a shudder and cleared his throat. "Face it like a man, Henry. You can do this." He descended the steps toward the board sidewalk and turned right toward the graveyard.

"Dr. Morgan, wait please!" Sister Marie called while rushing toward him out of the darkness.

"Sister Marie, you are certainly here early," he noted in surprise.

"Almost late apparently. Thankfully the Lord allowed me to catch up to you, Doctor," she corrected him gently. "I cannot believe that insane fool has challenged you like this. It is not for us to presume judgment in such affairs." She followed him as he briskly walked toward St. Louis' necropolis.

"Dijon feels it is apparently," he disagreed.

"Dijon will account for his sins as will we all," she countered as they turned the corner. "I have prayed for you, Dr. Morgan."

As they reached the cemetery's gate, they found the cast-iron portal strangely unlocked.

"Please go back, Sister. I do not wish you to witness what is to come. Please remember me fondly," he requested of his companion.

"As your assistant and friend, Doctor, I shall proceed. Besides you do not have what they call a second, do you? I shall serve as much and then ask God to forgive me later," the nun replied frankly. "I know you. You did not dishonor Miss Richeleu. I have faith that things will work out as they should."

He shrugged. _If only I did! _He led them down a single cobblestone path through the ancient gravestones in that part of the cemetery. Already his skin perspired from the predawn humidity and his own nerves. His eyes skittered this way and that across the rows of granite and sandstone.

Then he saw a silhouetted figure in a top hat waving a torch to signal him from thirty yards away.

"He, I presume, is signaling to us," he deduced.

"Dr. Morgan, I beseech you to go to the constable over this matter. A trial will clear you," she urged.

"It should except that Dijon's money and influence will manipulate those jurors. No. This is the only way." He stood straight and tall. "I will face this for Ms. Richeleu and myself." He proceeded toward the torch to find Denis waiting for him. "Good morrow, Sir. I trust your master is waiting."

Denis rolled his eyes. "_Monsieur Dijon _is waiting for you, Morgan. I trust you've put your affairs in order?" He saw Sister Marie. "And you've brought her? This was supposed to be a _private affair._"

"A demonic affair you mean," she denounced. "This should be settled in a court not out here."

"This is an affair of honor. Leave it for a woman especially one such as you not to understand such things," Denis scoffed before leading them around the cypress tree and a stone mausoleum.

There four torches had been lit and placed in strategic places around the open yellowed grass patch. Dijon spoke to another man dressed in a dark coat and a top hat. Off to the side Ms. Richeleu shuddered fearfully. A nasty bruise had formed on her cheek from where her _fiancé _had presumably struck her.

"Savage!" Sister Marie scowled angrily. She crossed herself furiously.

"Dijon only did what was necessary. Much as he will do in a few minutes' time, you stupid nun," Denis pointed out.

"Certainly not a gentleman's act despite what he believes," Henry rebutted.

"She paid for her indiscretion as will you, Morgan. What you believe is immaterial," Morgan retorted brusquely. He strode toward the two newcomers. "Where is your second? Certainly you wouldn't face me alone, would you?"

"He is not alone in this time, Michel Dijon! You should know that!" Sister Marie lectured sharply.

"Certainly you would not have asked a _nun _to serve as your second, Morgan?" Dijon chuckled sarcastically. "Nobody else would stand with you?"

"I asked no one, Michel, because I would not drag them into this sordid affair. I would ask that you reconsider before it's too late. Apologize to Ms. Richeleu and I will consider the matter closed between us. Misunderstandings and such…." Henry proposed.

"You owe _me _the apology. Such arrogance!" Dijon spat in Henry's face.

"Money does not entitle you to rewrite the rules of honor. Very well. I tried," Henry pointed out not giving an inch. "Let's hope the other there has the common sense not to let this go as far as it might." He marched toward the officiator.

"At least he faces Death like a man. I have to give that damned Brit that," Dijon conceded.

"As you hope you can if there is any justice, Michel Dijon," Sister Marie rebutted. " _Pardonnez moi!" _She stormed off after Henry.

Dijon shook his head. Then he heard a branch snap behind himself on the ground. "_Quoi c'est?" _He spun with his torch to find a hulking brute with long raven hair tied back in a pony tail and dark eyes glowering at him. _"Oncle Bertrand_, what are you doing here?"

Bertrand scowled at his descendant. "You are a fool, Boy. Already you meddle in matters greater than your petty understanding. Morgan is not to be touched by the likes of you. _Nicolas _will be most displeased by this scene of yours."

"Again with this _Nicolas_?" Dijon recalled his uncle's stories of the traitorous liegeman from northern France. "And given what happened in the Vendee, I would think you'd support me."

"I do not need your petulant displays. Nor do I care what _Nicolas _thinks. I will avenge your _aunt _in my own time." He grabbed the younger man and stared intensely into the other's eyes. "You will not go any farther with the matter. Do you understand?"

Dijon fought the other man's powerful grasp. His mind wandered and seemed to go blank for a minute before snapping back to reality. "Stop that! Maybe you do that to others but you've never been able to do that to me!"

The mysterious uncle pushed his descendant away. "Very well, Michel. Do as you will. I will mourn you." With that he melted away into the predawn shadows once more.

"Ingrate! I avenge our family's honor and he acts as such!" Dijon wheeled around on his heel and stomped toward where the others awaited him.

"Are you finally ready, Michel, to proceed? We have been waiting for you," the officiator, a portly man with spectacles and streaks of white in his brown hair, chastised.

"Forgive me. We had an uninvited guest on Morgan's behalf. I dealt with him. I am ready," Dijon apologized.

"Very well. Gentleman, you are here to settle a matter of honor between yourselves. I do not need to remind you that this duel is technically illegal in the state of Louisiana. As officiator, I ask both parties to reconsider their positions. An apology is always preferable to blood being spilled," the officiator stated.

"I have offered my terms to Michel, _Sirrah_," Henry noted primly. "If he calls this affair off and apologizes to Miss Richeleu for striking her, I shall consider the matter forgotten."

Dijon scoffed sarcastically while recalling his uncle's words to him from moments before.

"A worthy proposal," the officiator declared albeit anxiously. He knew Dijon would only play by the rules as far as it suited him to do so. "And you, _Monsieur Dijon_, will you accept Dr. Morgan's gracious proposal?"

"I will not." Dijon spat in Henry's face. "_That _is what I think of your proposal! Prepare yourself, Coward!"

"Very well. Gentlemen, go with your seconds and prepare yourselves. I will call you back when it is time to duel," the officiator noted reluctantly. He glanced around the darkened graveyard for signs of the authorities.

Henry walked over to where Sister Marie and Miss Richeleu sat watching the affair develop. "It is almost time. Are you all right, Miss Richeleu?"

"I will survive, Doctor. I'm sorry for what is about to happen. I…never intended…this…." She coughed sharply and shivered in the icy morning air. Her eyes watered in shame.

"I know." Henry smiled reassuringly at the victim. "Just live as righteously as you can. Same to you, Sister Marie, keep your faith."

"I would ask you to do the same, Dr. Morgan." Sister Marie sighed. "I have prayed for you. And so I shall again…."

"Then that is all I can ask," Henry replied courteously. "If this goes awry, remember me well." He knew of course that he would come back. However he wondered how he'd deal with the exposure if he couldn't get out of there in time. _That will be some sight, I'm sure!_

"Gentlemen! It is time!" the officiator called.

"Go with God, Dr. Morgan," Sister Marie advised sagely.

Henry squeezed the nun's and victim's hands in turn before heading back toward the officiator, Dijon and Denis. In his right hand, he held the revolver aloft ready for its intended purpose. "I am ready."

"As am I," Dijon stated.

"All right, Gentlemen. Here are the rules. You are to stand back to back. When I give the word, you start walking away from each other. You will do so in accordance with my count which will be to five. When I give the word, you turn and fire. If the first to fire does not kill his opponent, the second shall have his shot at the first. The first will stand there and honorably receive the wound. Remember this is not necessarily a battle to the death. The spilling of blood in itself can be considered satisfaction by the ancient laws. A breech of such rules will result in immediate cessation of activities and victory for the other party. Am I clear?"

"_Oui_," Dijon concurred.

"Certainly," Henry relented reluctantly still trying to plan out how to slip away should he get "fatally" shot. He muddled through the affair as he stood with Dijon back to back.

"Are you ready to meet your Maker, Morgan? It is a fine morning to die," Dijon derided.

"Let us get on with it," Henry retorted not giving an inch to the miscreant.

"Gentlemen, pistols raised! March! One! Two!" the officiator started.

Henry marched in step with the officiator's count. His boots crushed the grass underfoot. His heart pounded in his chest.

"THREE!"

Henry took another step. He tried to calm his nerves and keep that Stiff Upper British Lip for himself.

"FOUR!"

_One more count! Please make my shot count! _

"FIVE!"

He tightened his grip on the weapon's handle readying himself.

Before the officiator gave word however, Dijon whirled about and fired his weapon straight at Henry's back.

The bullet struck the doctor in his lower right back somehow missing his spine. Henry staggered and dropped his weapon, gasping from the impact.

"DOCTOR!" Sister Marie exclaimed in horror. She rushed toward him.

"_NON! _NO! I…I need air." Henry staggered toward the mausoleum's cover. He felt the familiar cold creeping across his limbs and tightening his muscles. Blood spilled from the sides of his mouth. His brain screamed at him. He could almost smell Death's spoor.

"Coward!" Dijon bellowed. "COME BACK HERE!"

"You, _Monsieur_, are the coward!" the officiator denounced. "Dr. Morgan is the winner. Apologize to your _fiancée_."

"_Non_. She knows her place. Know yours. Bah! Let Morgan die like the dog he is!" Dijon scoffed while grabbing Miss Richeleu and dragging her away from the scene into the dawning sky. "My slaves prepare my breakfast."

Sister Marie meanwhile rushed off in pursuit of Henry not knowing what she'd find….

Henry hustled as quickly as his dying body would allow. His lungs now burned. His legs buckled just behind the large Cypress tree and he slumped there.

"DOCTOR! DOCTOR, COME OUT!" Sister Marie's plea reached his ears.

"Can't…allow her to see me….like this." Henry reached into his coat pocket gingerly. Slowly he produced a small dagger of humble design. He pointed the blade at his chest and buried it deep into his heart. He gasped as the transition process accelerated.

Then he found himself sliding down the kaleidoscopic tunnel of memory once more knowing nothing else…..

Sister Marie followed the blood trail around the mausoleum. She knew Henry couldn't have made it far in his present state. She looked around furiously. Then she saw an unbelievable sight.

In the torchlight, Henry's blood shimmered and disappeared from the grass right before her eyes.

"_Sacre Bleu!" _She rushed over to the cypress and looked about it. She saw no blood yet discovered Henry's clothes and the dagger in question lying discarded at the tree's base. She collapsed to her knees and looked into the brightening sky before praying on her prayer beads.

And so another phase of Henry's life ended…..

[Modern Day]

Jo stared at Henry incredulously. "I can't believe you actually went through with that! What were you _thinking_?"

"I had to. I couldn't stay in the city if I'd been dishonored. Dijon knew that so he did what he did. He didn't get to enjoy his triumph very long however," Henry noted. "Miss Richeleu at least didn't have to deal with him from what I understand."

"Really? How'd that miracle work out?" she queried expectantly. "I thought that women of that era were supposed to suffer in silence like good little slaves."

"You'd be surprised how strong those women were, Jo. They knew how to carve out their own authority," he clarified for her benefit. "Nora did throw me in the asylum against my wishes." He bowed his head in sadness.

"Nora?" she wondered not understanding. "Was she your wife before Abigail?"

"My first wife back in the nineteenth century. I tried to explain how I survived my ordeal at sea. She had me committed to the asylum," he explained. "Women could and _did _do such things despite the modern historical perception that they were helpless in that era."

"Oh." Jo squirmed in discomfort at having made him relive a painful memory from his past in addition to those from the duel. "I'm sorry, Henry."

"It's all right. You didn't know." He smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. "Besides there is the rest of the story."

"Which is?" she asked; her curiosity needed to be satiated.

"Dijon disappeared from his manor house three days after our duel. One of the slaves found him in the cotton fields with his throat torn out. Miss Richeleu met another gentleman, married him and had a wonderful life with him. Meantime I moved on with some assistance," Henry declared.

"Assistance?" she wondered.

"Yes from a most humble source," he noted as his mind flashed back again….

[Mississippi River's Mouth at the Gulf of Mexico 1856]

Henry surfaced from the clear waters amidst the lightening landscape. He lamented the loss of his practice in the city. However he knew he couldn't return to New Orleans lest his secret be exposed. _Best to move onto another place close by. _He swam as quickly as he could toward the coast just beyond. As he did so, he kept a wary eye for fishing boats and other unwelcome eyes tracking his progress. He staggered onto the muddy shore. His skin dimpled from the chill. His toes squished in the wet sand and dirt underneath themselves. "I need clothes," he realized while ducking behind a bush.

"Come out, _Monsieur_! I know you are there! It is all right!" a female voice called out in French.

"_Pardonnez moi, Madame!" _Henry called out. "I am not decent! I would not scandalize you!"

"I have seen men before, _Monsieur Morgan_. _Oui. _I know who you are," the voice declared.

On cue, something hit the brush in front of Henry. He glanced up to see a pair of brown breeches, a cotton shirt and a coat lying there. He peered at the female rescuers of sorts and stared.

The woman in question wore a nun's habit and the long dark dress of her order. Her eyes intently observed his actions as well. For some reason, she seemed in discomfort from something around herself and bits of smoke rose from her shoulders as well. "My coach awaits, Doctor. I will see you there." She ducked back into the cover of the carriage and shut the door.

Henry pulled on the clothes and hustled over to the rescuing transport. His mind screamed questions as to her strange nature. Besides he didn't understand how a nun who supposedly should have been an austere woman rode around in an aristocratic carriage with the shades drawn behind four stout steeds and a well-dressed coachman. "_Sirrah?"_

"Climb inside, _Monsieur. _She only wishes to aid you," the coachman advised tersely while glancing at him for a mere second.

Henry guardedly opened the door and climbed inside. He sank into the cushions and quickly shut the door. In the dim oil lamps, he could see the nun cutting up an apple and setting the pieces beside some cheese pieces. Admittedly his stomach gurgled in hunger. "_Pardon_."

"You have had quite the ordeal, Doctor," she declared while switching to English for his benefit. "Forgive me. I know who you are but you do not know me. I am Sister Clarise, a fellow passerby on the trail so to speak. My master sent me to assist you in your time of need."

"_Merci beaucoup," _Henry expressed while taking a bite of fruit and then one of cheese. "I needed breakfast. I appreciate it."

"Of course." She took a staff and tapped on the roof signaling for her coachman to pull away. "The sooner we are away from here, the better. _Non?_"

"Indeed. Where are we going?" he queried.

"I have business in Williamsburg. You may travel with me as far as that if you wish," she invited. She sipped on a glass of rouge wine. "When the ways of immortals turn at a crossroads, we must move on. That is inevitable. You will learn this." She shrugged. "It is inevitable….."

[Modern Day]

"You really were rescued by a nun at the riverside?" Jo coughed in disbelief.

"Yes she and I traveled together for two months. Sister Clarise was quite a fascinating woman. Still she was not you, Jo. The important thing is that she pulled me out of a potentially bad situation," he explained cryptically. There were other things he knew about the mysterious nun. However he was not about to reveal those things to Jo….

…at least not yet…..

"But enough of the past. There is something I did have for you since it is Valentine's Day," he insisted. He smiled while telling her, "Close your eyes. I have something for you."

"Henry!"

"It's all right. I have planned this surprise for a time now. Please close your eyes," he begged.

She smiled and went along with his wishes. Then she felt something smooth yet firm being pressed into her hands.

"All right. You can open them."

She opened her eyes to see the small jewelry case in her hands. "Henry, is this what I think it is?"

"Open it and see. I do believe you will be quite pleased with my handiwork in your regard," he assured her.

She chuckled while popping the top open to find the necklace inside. "Oh, Henry! It's beautiful!" She smiled at him while letting her eyes shine into his. "Thank you. Can you put it on me?" She pulled her hair up exposing her neck for the purpose.

"Of course. I'd be delighted," he agreed while taking the necklace from her free hand. He slid the bauble around her neck and clasped it in the back. Then he gazed over her shoulder into the mirror to see it sparkling on her. "I wanted you to have another necklace."

She smiled. "Ramon's okay with it, I'm sure. If not, Abigail's chewing him out. I love it, Henry." She turned to face him. "And you. Thank you for being you." She kissed him in appreciation.

He grinned at her feeling relieved she'd accepted his expression of love to her. "Then in that case, would you be open for dinner at the _Cote d'Jeur_? I hear the _Lamb Ronceval _is to die for."

She nodded back at him. "You're on. I'm a sucker for good lamb as you know. You'd better impress me, Henry."

"Oh I shall. Trust me. Lead on," he agreed while motioning her out of the shop and locking the door behind them.

Perhaps the case and those memories were behind them but good food was never out of order. Combined with companionship such as hers, he knew it would be a night to remember.

And so they pressed on toward their own celebration…a well-deserved one at that…..


	11. Friendly Shows of Support

[A/N: Happy New Year, Everyone! And here at last is the conclusion of our tale! Enjoy!]

Conclusion [Sunset on the Following Day—Precinct]

Fresh off of a very pleasant evening out with his lady fair, Henry emerged from the subway in a great mood. He'd slept well. True to his promise to Jo, he'd dismantled more of his former death-seeking apparatus. He even surprised Abe with some fresh strawberry crepes for a sumptuous late lunch.

Yet he still wondered why the Precinct would be calling him in on his day off. _Could there be some error or misjudgment on my part? This is most curious! _He climbed the stairs and opened the door just as the sun set over the city. He walked into the bullpen area and glanced around.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Officers came and went. Computers' key tapping readily reached his ears. The aroma of pepperoni, sausage and cheese wafted to his nostrils from a pizza in the vicinity.

"Henry, you know what's going on?" Jo wondered as she followed his steps to his side.

"No, Jo, I am afraid I do not," he conceded while glancing around. "Did you get a call as well?"

"Reece called me. Said that there was something for us. Kind of weird for our day off," she presumed.

"Indeed," the medical examiner deduced. His eye scrutinized everybody around them. He could tell that something was indeed up. "It seems that our surprise is on people's minds. People keep glancing at us ever so slightly before hurrying away or turning toward their work. I'd say they're aware of it…keenly so in fact."

"That doesn't make me feel secure, Henry," she indicated. Seeing Hanson approaching them, she queried, "You know what's going on, Hanson? Why they called us in?"

"Yeah I actually do." Hanson chuckled to himself. "Presentation to you, Doc, actually. He held up a big box. "Go ahead and open it."

"Wonder what's inside?" Jo wondered while looking at it.

"I have to admit it's a strange feeling for me to be receiving gifts I must admit," Henry informed her and the others. Seeing Lieutenant Reece approach, he queried, "Good evening, Lieutenant. How might we help you?"

"And good evening to you both. Thank you for coming in especially since it's your day off. I actually felt the need to celebrate given that we solved that homicide. Your work led to an innocent man being free tonight. The mayor felt grateful that we found that his friends were using their association for less than legal ends. So he catered some dinner that's in the break room. The present, I fear, was Detective Hanson's idea. Do enjoy it. I believe the chicken parmesan is superb. Do open your gift, Doctor," Reece explained before eyeing him.

"Your entrance yesterday inspired this, Doc. Just so you know," Hanson handed Henry the medium sized box.

Henry quirked an eyebrow curiously. He resisted the temptation to shake the box to see if it rattled at all. Finally he decided to just open the package and rolled his eyes. He took a large white cowboy hat out and set it on the desk.

Jo chuckled. "Definitely a new look for you, Henry. It suits you." She set the hat on his head. "We all have to get used to new things, right?" She stepped back to take in the sight and folded her arms across her chest. "You do like to be the white knight."

The folks around them in the bullpen applauded.

Henry rubbed his forehead and sighed. His cheeks flushed crimson. He felt conspicuous to say the least. He glanced toward Jo who simply shrugged. He of course had worn such a hat….

…still it had been over a hundred years since he had done so…

"You like it?" he queried. "Very well. Shall we get some of that chicken?"

"I can definitely go with that," she agreed. "Come on. I'm hungry." She smiled warmly at him.

He escorted her toward the break room. As he did, the phone rang. "Yes?"

"I agree. The hat suits you, Henry," Adam complimented sarcastically. "And a new necklace for the Detective too? It seems like quite the day."

"We are trying to have dinner. You're _not _invited," Henry declared sharply before hanging up.

"That had to feel good," she presumed. "We _can _enjoy the moment." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Henry nodded and let his eyes shine warmly at her. For some reason, he felt a lot more secure as if Adam would no longer be a threat to their day. While he didn't know why exactly, he didn't question it.

That and a great meal with his partner awaited…and that was a great thing.

[Alley Across the Street]

Adam scowled as he put his phone back in his pocket. He relished keeping Henry and now Jo on their heels. He wanted control over the other immortals' actions. He wanted to dictate every move on the chessboard.

For really the first time, the tables were being turned on him….

He walked down the street and rounded the corner into the deepening shadows. In case the NYPD decided to pursue him, he'd melt away into the crowd as soon as possible.

That is if he actually made it to the main street and the crowd…which he didn't….

"Going somewhere?" a female voice queried expectantly.

Adam stared in surprise as a rather tall and fit woman with long flowing sandy brown hair. Her eyes glowed faint yellow at him. "And you are?"

She frowned menacingly at him before switching to French. "_Henri _is an old friend. I bear a message from my father and myself. _Arrete. _If you persist, we _will _crush you." Before he could make a move, she seized his hand in a vice grip and twisted the shadowy stalker's hand behind his back. "There _are _ways you can die, _Idiot_. Mind that. _Nicolas _will be most displeased if we have to warn you again." She flung him down to the cold concrete.

"Some actions for a _nun_, Hypocrite," he spat derisively.

"I do His will, _Masacrer. _You could face my mother or stepfather. I doubt you'd survive _that_. There are worst fates than death. Remember _that_," Clarise warned. Then she was gone just as quickly as she'd appeared.

Adam got up slowly and resumed his progress toward the subway. He knew she was watching still in case he decided to make a move in spite of her warning. But there would be another day…

….they could all count on that….

Even as Henry and Jo kept solving cases and wrestling with his past, some elements of the latter worked to their advantage. As they broke down layers of deceit on the part of suspects and criminals alike, their allies both past and present gave them the space to do so….

…more importantly they gave Henry the space to finally develop a life now that he had found it….

Soon the partners would meet those allies. And that would be a telling gathering.

Telling indeed….

THE END (for now)


End file.

Forever