Disclaimer: I do not own Forever, or any of its characters.

Author's Note: This is my first Forever fanfic, so I hope I got the characters right. Feel free to comment. Hope you enjoy!

A Novel Celebration

"Henry." Abe called from outside Henry's room.

A groan of denial came faintly through the door, the sound of a still sleeping man.

Not particularly wanting to spend the next ten minutes trying to wake him, Abe resorted to a rather cruel trick he had first employed when he was ten. In a troubled tone he called. "Dad!"

Sounds of hurriedly escaping the bed reached Abe. Henry opened the door, a worried look on his face, wearing only one slipper and still putting on his robe. "Abraham?" Seeing his son, a guilty look on his face, his own expression changed from concern to annoyance. "Abe..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know, the boy who cried wolf. Please don't tell the story again."

"This is my day off," Henry whined tiredly, tieing his robe. "I was planning on getting some proper sleep then reading."

Abe knew this of course, he'd been the one to wangle this day off for Henry, with the help of Jo. "You've got better things to do than sleep. Go put on your slipper and come down." Henry walked back into his room toward the bed, where the slipper was. "And don't fall back asleep."

Both slippers now on, Henry came downstairs into the sitting room.

Sitting down at the table, Henry picked up the newspaper neatly folded in front of his chair and began to read. "What exactly are these better things which I have to do?"

"Close your eyes." Abe said from the kitchen. He did so and waited.

"Out of curiosity, why is the newspaper on the table and not already scattered all about the shop?"

"You'll find out in a minute." A brief moment of silence. "Still closed?" Abe asked, his voice less muffled by distance.

"Yes." Henry replied, growing impatient with his son's antics. Slow footsteps approachednd halted followed by the sound of something being placed on the table before him.

"Impressive bed-head you got there, Henry."

"Forgive me for not dressing for the opera before coming down. May I open my eyes now?"

"Alright go ahead"

Opening his eyes, Henry saw the cake before him. Its corners were packed with glowing candles, in its center had been written:

Happy

236th

Birthday

"Happy Birthday, Dad!"

Henry was momentarily speechless. "Abe! Did you make this yourself?" He asked in awe, a smile lighting up his face.

"Yeah."

"Thank you. I hadn't even noticed the date."

"Well, I suppose after more than two hundred, birthdays must lose their novelty."

"Not always." He answered, smiling at his son, seated in another chair.

"Come on, Dad, blow the candles out!" Abe prompted, as excited as a young boy. Henry took in a breath.

Bells rung from the shop; caused by the door being opened, strange because of the sign proclaiming the store closed.

"Henry, Abe?" Detective Martinez's voice came from behind the apartment door.

Abe reaching to the cake, swiped his finger to remove the iced '2'.

"Abraham!" Henry scolded, partially for the poor manner and partially for the danger of reaching over the numerous lighted candles.

Abe just nodded toward the door, sucking the icing off his finger. At that moment the detective entered, carrying a couple of hastily wrapped packages. "Jo, what are you doing here?"

"When we were getting this day off for you, Abe told me it was your birthday." Henry gave Abe an affectionate glance as thanks for the consideration. "Any way I thought I'd come over. Happy birthday, Henry!" She placed the gifts on the table and sat down. "Nice cake."

"Thank you." Abe acknowledged the compliment.

"You're only 36? Thought you were a little older." She noted, after taking a closer look at the cake over the prominent light it gave off. "Great bed-head, by the way." Disgruntled, Henry vainly attempted to flatten his untidy hair.

"Ok, Henry go a head blow out the candles," Abe aid diverting the conversation, "the cake's starting to get waxy."

"Don't forget the wish!" Jo added, smiling.

Taking another deep breath, and closing his eyes to think of a wish, he extinguished all the candles in one long experienced exhalation.

"What'd you wish for?" She asked, interested.

"According to tradition, if I were to say, it would not come true." The wish he had wished: that he might someday find the courage to trust her with his secret.

"Never took you for the superstitious type, Henry." Shrugging she continued, "Gifts, then." She handed him one of the presents.