I...can't...stay...away...

I keep saying that I'm going to jump from fan fiction to original fiction. And I really, really want to. But every time I turn on the television, story ideas have been throwing themselves at me - *especially* since I falsely declared that "Age of Miracles" was going to be my last fanfic. Heck, I watched an episode of Hawaii Five-O with my husband the other day and I've been forcing myself to *not* write down the painfully obvious White Collar crossover that was being handed to me on a silver platter.

If I stifle the muse, I'm starting to become convinced that she'll take off and I'll stop being able to write anything. So I give up. I'm giving in to the muse and just going to let her run and be happy. Which will mean stories like this one.

STORY DISCLAIMER: This is not a typical crossover fanfic. For the Castle fans who are reading this, I hope you've already given "Forever" a shot. The baseline premise is a New York City Medical Examiner who's a 200 year-old immortal doctor. The origins of how he got his immortality are terrible and the running subplot is destined to annoy the heck out of me, but the case writing is good and the show has a real Esplanie vibe to it. It even looks like it's meant to be a Castle spin-off. Which leads us here...

Technically, this could be (and probably will be) considered a Forever/Castle crossover. In reality, it's a Forever/Guardians of Shangri La crossover. Which means, at it's best, this is going to be for a very tiny subsection of this audience...possibly only me. Yep, this is more Katya practice. :-) For those hardy souls who are surfing for crossover fanfic for a show in its first season, Katya is a character whose story I'm trying to channel into the aforementioned original novel. Saying too much more will spoil it for you. :-)

This is a deep dive into Katya's adventures in the modern world. If you want to read her previous stories, read my Guardian stories "Moonrise Kingdom" and "Many Happy Returns" (you can find them on my author page). For the Guardian die-hards...this story will be set just shortly after the events in Many Happy Returns: Fallon and Katya have just gotten back from their honeymoon, and Phil Coulson hasn't come anywhere near their lives yet...

TECHNICAL DISCLAIMER: I don't own the "Forever" characters (or the "Castle" characters if they should happen to get mentioned in passing.) Katya and her world, though, are mine. Please don't use them without my permission.

And now, let the adventure begin...

#

Nothing annoyed Detective Jo Martinez more than having to pass through a mob of reporters and photographers before ducking under the yellow tape of a crime scene. Fighting through the latest mob, in particular, robbed Jo of her opportunity to take in the full scope of the crime scene until she was past the tape...and realized that she was standing at the heavy wooden door of an old church. It was only then that Jo noticed that the officers around her looked far more shaken than the average cop looks at the average crime scene. Crap, thought Jo, this is gonna be a bad one.

A plain-clothesed detective was waiting for Jo at the end of the closest back pew, and Jo latched on to the familiar face. "Lieutenant Reece," she greeted the other woman, "what do we have?"

"Scene's downstairs," Reece replied, choosing her words carefully.

Jo noticed Reece's hesitation. "That bad, huh?"

Reece suddenly seemed unable to look Jo in the eye. "You gotta see this one for yourself." She set the scene as she led Martinez down to the church's basement. "Sandy ate away at the church's foundations. Not enough to condemn the old girl, but y'know...anyway, the last rainstorm flooded the fellowship hall. First time ever. When the water receded the workers started complaining about a nasty smell. Somebody tracked down the source of the stink to a back wall, broke the wall down and found...this."

Jo was stopped in her tracks by the sight before her. "Jesus," she whispered under her breath. Composing herself quickly, she went from shock to focused anger in a heartbeat. "How many?"

"Twelve, at last count," replied Reece.

Jo looked around, counting the bodies for herself until an 'odd sock' stood out to her. "Only one piece of drywall has been removed. Were they *all* behind that one panel?"

Reece nodded. "You gotta talk to the doc about that, though..."

"Henry?" asked Jo, frowning in confusion. "Why would I need to ask him about that..." Jo turned around, looking for the man in question...and had to stop herself from breaking out in laughter when she found him. "Is he sniffing the walls?"

Jo's partner, Detective Mike Hanson, never looked up from his notepad. "The good doc thinks there might be more victims..."

When Henry backed away from one of the sheet rock panels, then cautiously knocked on the same piece of drywall, Jo's humor left her. "That doesn't look good."

Hanson finally looked up from her notepad and, seeing the grim expression on Henry's face, nodded. "Yeah," he agreed.

Henry backed away from the wall, motioning to a nearby CSI tech. The man pulled a screwdriver out of his toolbox and motioned for several other technicians to follow his lead. When he saw where Jo was standing, he moved to her side and pulled her out of the way of where the technicians were operating. "Detective," Henry instructed Jo, "I don't think you want to be standing in that area..."

Two technicians jumped back as the drywall was removed and another half-dozen bodies fell out from behind the wall. Jo stared at the six new bodies in shock. "Dear God," she finally breathed out, as much a prayer as a curse, "eighteen?"

"So far," Henry agreed grimly. "But I somehow doubt that's the end of it."

"So this is a dumping ground?" asked Hanson.

Henry nodded. "It would appear so."

"Do we know how they died?" asked Jo. "And why no one detected any odor before now?"

"I won't know the causes of death for certain until I get all of the bodies back to the lab," Henry explained. He knelt down next to the closest available body for a more detailed examination. "But I do know why the smell of decaying flesh was not detected."

Hanson's eyes widened in surprise at the doctor's casual declaration. "Okay, why?"

"Because," replied Henry, "these bodies have been drained of all their bodily fluids. There was nothing to expedite the process of decomposition until the basement flooded."

"Why would someone go to that kind of trouble to drain the bodies before dumping them?" asked Jo. "Are we looking at a serial? A pro?"

Henry felt around the victim's neck, carefully using his fingers to verify the evidence that he was seeing. He sighed wearily when his sense of touch confirmed that his eyes, unfortunately, were not playing a trick on him...

#

After almost a century of typical English stoicism, the laissez-faire attitude of the French was something that Henry was starting to truly enjoy. Everyone that Henry was meeting had been far more concerned with eating great food and drinking great wine than in trying to figure out who he was and why he was in Paris.

And that was perfectly all right by him. Henry stumbled away from the cafe and into the darkening alleyway, enjoying the echoing strings of the quartet and the lingering buzz from his last few glasses of wine. It wasn't that he was bored, exactly. More...tired. Yes, tired was the word he was looking for. He had endured more in his lifetime than any man had any right to endure. More than all but a few men even had the opportunity to endure. A hundred and thirty years. He had been alive for a hundred and thirty years. And who knows how many more years of this cursed life would he have to endure? While the world was changing around him, the hearts of men never seemed to change...except to get darker and darker with each passing year. He tried to make a difference. He tried to use his talents for good, but to what end? The longer Dr. Henry Morgan lived, the more he was convinced that he was doomed to be an eternal witness to the worst of man's nature. Surrounded by evil...and, save for the occasional fit of French decadence and revelry, unable to get away from it.

Even in death.

Rough hands grabbed Henry from behind. Henry fought against the hold, thinking the man only to be a desperate robber. A chill ran down his spine, though, when he realized that he was unable to break out of the man's powerful grasp. A second chill radiated through Henry's body when the man started to sniff him. "Mmmmm," the thief's voice whispered hoarsely into Henry's ear, "vous sentez divine..." Two sharp blades dug into the soft flesh of Henry's neck. A seal quickly formed around the wound, causing Henry only a moment's discomfort as something drew blood, and life, out of his body...

Water.

Light.

Cold.

GASP!

Fresh air.

He was in the Seine.

And naked.

Again.

Damn.

#

"Henry?"

Henry shook away the sense of disorientation that he associated with the recall of such vivid memories from his past. He looked up to find Jo starting down at him with friendly concern. "Henry? You all right?" she asked gently.

Hanson seemed to be sharing Jo's level of concern. "Yeah, doc, you even look pale by your standards."

Harry shook off the concern as he stood up. "I need to get these bodies back to the lab right away for autopsy and further testing," he declared.

Jo thought she detected the spark of inspiration under Henry's distraction and...was that fear? "You *do* have a theory, then? About what happened to these people?"

A twinge twisted Henry's insides, knowing and dreading the lies he knew he would have to start telling. "These people were murdered," he replied matter-of-factly.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Do you have a theory of *how* these people were murdered," she asked, spelling out her question for emphasis.

Henry vaguely shook his head as he pushed Jo aside to focus his attention on his team. "Detective," he muttered under his breath, "I doubt you would believe me even if I told you..."