A/N:Hey, everyone. I've been watching a show called "Forever" on ABC and I have to confess, it's awesome! If you haven't seen it, make sure you see it! Anyways, this idea came to me and it hasn't let me alone for the past few days, so I wrote it. This story is a series of drabbles where Adam tries to prove to Henry that he's not as bad as Henry thinks he is. If you like it, I'll write some more!

A Good Night's Rest

The phone ringing at 4 am was not a welcome start to the day. Barely awake, Henry stumbled his way out of bed and toward the ringing nuisance that had awoken him. He tripped a bit on the rug, recovered, and lifted the handset from the cradle. "Hello?"

"Henry?"

"Jo?" Henry glanced at the clock. "Is everything all right? It's four in the morning."

"I'm okay, but I'm at a crime scene. A big one. We could use you here. Can you come?"

Abe shuffled into the hallway, affixing his glasses to his nose. "Something wrong?"

Henry held up a finger, signaling for Abe to wait. "What do you mean a big one?"

"Several victims," Jo clarified. "Can you come down?"

Henry grabbed a pen and paper. "What's the address?"

Abe waited patiently as Henry jotted down the address. "All right. I'll be there in half an hour. Bye, Jo."

Abe's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "Why is Jo calling at four in the morning?"

"Apparently, there's a crime scene with a lot of victims," Henry explained, tearing the slip of paper from its pad. "Lieutenant Reece is calling in all available hands, apparently. Could you call a cab for me while I get dressed and grab my tools?"

"Sure, sure," Abe said, heading to the phone. "Won't be long."

Henry finished dressing in record time, and Abe, bless his heart, had prepared a traveler's mug full of hot coffee. "Have a good day, Abe," Henry said on his way out the door.

"Once it's started," Abe said. "I'll be seeing you, Henry. Night."

Henry knew that Abe would be making a beeline for his bed and for a moment he envied his son. Ah, well. Duty called.

It didn't take him long to get to the crime scene. It was a three-story red-brick apartment building and it had already been cordoned off with yellow police tape. A small herd of police cars were gathered outside the tape, lights flashing and more than one officer was talking into their radios. Henry paid the cabbie and left his cab, ducking under the tape. Hanson was at the door to meet him.

"Hey, doc," Hanson said, stifling a yawn. "Good to see you."

"Likewise," Henry said politely. The detective looked rather the worse for wear. "The entire apartment building is the crime scene?"

Hanson nodded. "Yep. There's something in each apartment."

An officer suddenly dashed out of the building, past Hanson and Henry, and headed for the nearest garbage bin, where he was thoroughly sick. Henry stared, rather surprised. He wasn't used to such a reaction from New York's finest. "Someone new to the job?"

"Actually, Thompson's got five years under his belt," Hanson corrected. "No, what's inside is…bad. Lieutentant Reece has already forbidden us to let rookie cops inside."

"I see," Henry said quietly. "Is Lucas already here?"

"He's inside," Hanson told him.

Someone rushed outside and headed for the same bin.

"He was inside," Hanson corrected.

Henry headed over to his co-worker, concerned. He wasn't so much surprised by Thompson's reaction, but if Lucas, who worked with corpses and had seen what deranged criminals could do to them had this sort of reaction, what was inside had to be truly horrendous. "Lucas?"

Lucas was holding onto the bin, taking deep breaths. A surgical mask was hanging around his neck and he looked pale. "I'm okay," Lucas said faintly. "I'm okay, I'm just trying to quell my stomach."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Henry asked.

Lucas looked at him and what Henry saw in the young man's eyes shocked him.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Henry. It's bad in there. It's…really bad."

Henry looked at the apartment building and then back to Lucas. "What can you tell me?"

"Jo and Hanson told me that the building manager came to the building. Someone had called the office, complaining about a bad smell. He keyed himself in and in every apartment…everyone's dead. Someone…he didn't leave a single body intact. It's really hard to tell…which pieces go with which body."

Lucas had not been exaggerating. Over the next fourteen hours, Henry examined what he could, matched bodies together, and more than once the smell drove him outside to the bins. The heat of the past few days and a broken air conditioning system had contributed to the rapid decay of the bodies, and the heat and dirt and mess inside had left him feeling sweaty and filthy. At the end of those fourteen hours, he found himself sitting on a bench just outside the police tape, breathing fresh air and wishing that he could get all that he'd seen that day out of his head.

"Hey," Jo said, sitting down next to him. "How're you doing?"

"I've had better days," Henry admitted. "Right now, I'm exhausted. I definitely need a nice, long shower."

Jo nodded. "Yep. Lieutenant Reece is sending everyone home to get some rest. Everything's been sent to the morgue and the staff there will take care of it until later."

Henry turned his head and looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"Tired," Jo told him. "Plus, I'd been hoping that I'd never see just how terrible a human being can treat another. Looks like this is a pretty good example."

"Indeed it is."

Jo clapped him on the shoulder. "Mm-hmmm. You look pretty bad. Why don't you head home and get some rest? I'm going to. Can I drop you at home?"

"Thanks, but I'll grab a cab in a few minutes," Henry said. "Right now, I just need to revel in the fresh air for a bit. I'll see you later, Jo."

"All right, then. See you later."

Henry stayed on the bench, enjoying the fresh air and trying to get the knotted muscles in his neck to relax. He let his mind wander for a moment, hoping that his whirling thoughts would settle down...

"Hello, Henry," he heard as a weight settled on the bench next to him. "Long day?"

Henry jerked, his mind snapping back to the present as he opened his eyes to sight of Adam. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and saw you. A crime scene not far away, so it stands to reason that you've been working. Judging from the time it took you to respond to my approaching you, you're exhausted."

"Thank you, Sherlock," Henry said snarkily, consoling himself with the fact that on a crowded street in the middle of New York in broad daylight there was only so much Adam could do to him without exposing their secrets to the world. At the worst, Henry decided, Adam could only annoy him.

"Looks like being tired makes you as cranky as it makes everyone else in this world," Adam said, giving Henry a smile. Before Henry could reply, Adam approached a bicycle vendor and came back, carrying two bottles of Gatorade. "Here. You look like you could use this."

Henry took the bottle and eyed it dubiously. He'd often had Gatorade in the past few years when necessary, usually when dehydration could be an issue, but what he didn't understand was why Adam, of all people, would give him one.

"You're being too suspicious for your own good, Henry," Adam said, re-taking his seat on the bench and opening up his own bottle. "It's ninety degrees out, you've been in a hot building all day, and I doubt if you've taken time to eat or drink anything today. Besides, you just saw me buy that from a vendor. How would I have managed to do something to it in the twenty seconds it took me to bring it to you?"

Henry sighed and opened the bottle, taking a long swallow. The chill of it going down his throat and the rush of refreshment that followed was wonderful.

"Better?" Adam asked.

"Much," Henry admitted. He took another two swallows, enjoying the flavor and the cold. "Forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem the type of person to enjoy such things."

Adam let out a bleak chuckle. "And you are?"

"Well, I am younger," Henry reminded him. "Isn't Gatorade supposed to be popular among the younger set?"

Adam grinned, surprising Henry. "This is what I hoped would happen, Henry."

Henry stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"The two of us, becoming friends, despite the odds. Companions together in time, if you will."

That was all that Henry needed to hear. He shot to his feet and glared at the older man. "You tried to frame me for murder, Adam. I doubt that we'll ever be friends."

"You make it sound so objectionable," Adam complained. "Honestly, Henry."

"Thank you for the drink," Henry said shortly before turning to hail a cab. "I'll return the favor at some point."

A cab had just pulled up when a wave of dizziness hit him. He swayed where he stood and felt someone take hold of his arms, steadying him.

"Woah," Henry heard the cabbie say. "He okay?"

"Looks like the heat just got to him, that's all," Adam replied. "He'll be all right once he lies down somewhere cooler."

"Okay, where to?"

Henry tried to make his mouth work, to scream that this was a kidnapping, but whatever he'd been given was too strong to fight against. His mind slipped away from him and for a while he drifted on the edge of sleep. A confusing montage of images rushed through his head: the cab, Adam's face, the outside of a brownstone building, stairs, and then a dark, quiet, and blessedly cool room. That was when it became impossible for him to keep his eyes open or even to move on his own. He felt Adam lay him down on a bed, and then he felt his clothes being removed. The bare minimum for modesty was left on him and a few seconds later hands wielding a cool, damp cloth wiped off his limbs, torso, back, and face, taking the sweat and grime of the day away with the cloth. A few strokes from a soft and fluffy towel dried him off, and then the hands were back, maneuvering him so that he lay on his side under the sheet and a light blanket.

"Sleep well, Henry." Adam's voice seemed to come from somewhere very far away. "Sleep as long as you need to."

Waking up from his unwanted sleep was difficult. Whatever drug he'd been given, it was a very strong one and it held him in its grip as surely as a vise. He slipped from dreams to waking, the images and sounds in his head giving way to darkness and silence, startling him. It took him a moment or two to realize that he was awake. He was delightfully comfortable in a perfect bed, his limbs heavy and relaxed, his eyes still closed, suffused with the well-being of sleep.

Thoughts of Adam forced him into trying to sit up, to get out of bed and face his foe head-on. Unfortunately, he couldn't move. His limbs were still so heavy that he couldn't budge them. He couldn't even open his eyes.

Well, this is just bloody lovely, Henry thought, willing his body to move. He had to get up...how long had he been gone? Oh, Lord, what about the precinct? How would he explain this kind of disappearance to Jo and the lieutenant?

What about Abe? Panic started to well up in his chest at the thought of his son. Abe would get worried, he would start to look for Henry...what if he crossed paths with Adam? He knew that Adam had stated that he could never harm Abe, but could Henry actually trust that? Dared he trust it?

Worry got his eyes open, and what he saw was a plain but pleasing room, done in blues and browns. It was clearly a guest room, devoid of any personal touches or mementos. Carefully, taking his time, Henry somehow levered himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming a little. Whatever Adam had given him had been one doozy of a drug.

The door opened, revealing Adam holding a steaming mug. "Oh. I have to say, my timing's quite good," Adam said, moving to Henry's bedside. "I'm right on time, it looks like. How are you feeling?"

"You have to ask?" Henry croaked, wishing his throat weren't so dry. A fierce pounding had started in his head, putting him in mind of a timpani drum. If he'd been feeling up to it, he would have tried to strangle his host.

"Oh, here," Adam said, holding out the mug. "To get your feet under you."

Henry eyed the mug the same way some would eye a poisonous snake. "You're either mad, or joking," he said, still holding his head. "Do you remember what happened the last time I drank something you offered?"

"As I recall, you fell on your nose," Adam said lightly, still holding out the mug. "I've put nothing in this, I promise."

"And you expect me to trust you?" Henry said incredulously.

Adam placed the mug on the bedside table. "You've been asleep a while, and you've only just woken up. Why would I want to make you sleep again?"

"For a reason that defies rational thought," Henry muttered, wishing his head would fall off his shoulders and give him some peace.

Adam didn't answer that comment. Instead, he headed to the closest door and opened it. "There are towels on the rack, soap and shampoo on the edge of the tub. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, comb, razor, and shaving cream on the sink. There should be everything you need. If you feel dizzy or sick, call me and I'll help you. I'll get your clothes for you." With that, he left the room.

Somehow, using might and main and good, old-fashioned stubbornness, Henry got himself to his feet and into the bathroom. Once he'd used the toilet and washed his hands he realized that he was no longer wearing what he'd thought he'd gone to sleep wearing. He could remember going to sleep in just his underwear, but now, he was wearing a pair of short cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt. When had he changed clothes? More importantly, had he changed by himself, or had he had...help?

Sternly telling himself not to think about it, Henry showered, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, and shaved. He found a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it on before heading back into the bedroom. As promised, there were his clothes, freshly laundered and folded and his shoes, cleaned and shined for him. shaking his head, he took them back into the bathroom to dress. Once he was dressed, he set the bathroom to rights and made the bed. He headed to the bedroom door and turned the knob.

It was locked.

Temper flaring, he pounded on the door. "I'm finished! Let me out!"

A minute later Henry heard footsteps and the turn of a key in the lock. "Sorry, Henry. Didn't want you to leave before I was sure you were okay. How do you feel?"

"Physically, I'm fine," Henry said through gritted teeth. That was not strictly true, though. His head hurt abominably and he still felt a bit weak.

"Good to hear that," Adam said, turning and leading the way down the hall to the main living area of the apartment. "Here we are. I hope you're hungry. After being asleep for two days, I'm sure you're ravenous."

The words stopped Henry in his tracks. "Two days? I've been here for two days?"

"Getting some much-needed rest, yes," Adam confirmed.

"Where's your phone?" Henry demanded. "I have a phone call to make!"

"If you need to call Abraham, I already have," Adam said as Henry stormed past him, looking for the phone. "I called him shortly after I put you to bed."

Henry stopped and glared at Adam, his eyes promising mayhem. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him who I was, what had happened to you, and that I'd send you home once you'd gotten some rest. I suggested that he call Detective Martinez and make some excuse explaining your absence at work."

Henry took a deep breath. "And what did Abe say?"

"He promised to hunt me down like a dog if I hurt you in any way," Adam said dryly, sounding amused. "He takes after you in the temper department, doesn't he?"

Henry decided not to admit that that phrase had actually been one of Abigail's favorites when she'd been in a less-than-pleased mood. He looked around the apartment, searching for a way out. Finally, he gave up. "Where's the door to this place?"

Adam pointed to a stairwell. "Are you sure you're all right? It shouldn't have taken so long for you to find it."

"I'm fine," Henry growled. "Excuse me." He headed down the stairs and tugged on the door. Then he saw the deadbolt. He turned it and pulled on the door again. Nothing.

Furious now, Henry charged back up the stairs and stared at Adam. "Let...me...out!"

"Like I was saying, I hope you're hungry," Adam said lightly, heading to the laden table in the corner.

Henry groaned. "Being a captive at breakfast is not what I plan to do with my morning!"

"Then you should go ahead and have a seat and have breakfast," Adam stated calmly. "The sooner you eat, the sooner I unlock that door."

Henry looked at the table and his gaze lighted on a knife. If he were fast enough...

"I wouldn't try it if I were you," Adam said, pouring two cups of coffee. "I'll find you as soon as you reappear and then I'll bring you back here and then we'll be right back where we started, Henry. Have a seat."

Henry told himself that murdering his unwanted host would not be a constructive start to the day. He reminded himself that it would probably just make Adam angry and he had no idea what Adam would do in retaliation. Gathering what dignity he could, he joined Adam at the table.

If he were being generous, he might admit to himself that Adam was a good cook. There were eggs, toast, ham, fresh fruit, and of course, coffee. Henry ate what he could and tried to follow the conversation that Adam was insisting on supplying. At long last, Adam glanced across at Henry's plate and smiled. "Very good, Henry."

He couldn't take it anymore. "Why did you do all this, Adam?"

Again, there was that unsettling smile. "I thought that if I perhaps did something like this, you would realize I was not such a bad guy after all."

Henry controlled himself only with a Herculean effort. "I see."

Adam reached under the table and Henry heard the buzz of a door lock opening. "There you are. It should be open. Have a good day, Henry."

Henry was out of his chair and heading down the steps before Adam could finish his sentence. He'd almost reached the door when he heard "Not even a word of thanks, Henry?"

Henry paused only long enough to turn and shout, "THANK YOU!"

Adam's chuckle followed him into the street.