A/N: I don't own Forever… I'd have thought that obvious. So in response to the 'Big Reveal Ficathon' I've come up with this idea with Hanson. I hope you guys like it… Enjoy!

Houseguest

Raindrops fell steadily on the ground below. Water melded together with red in a dark alley in New York. Blood ran down the forehead of a lawyer. Empty pockets – another robbery gone wrong in the Big Apple; or was it something more?

"Cause of death, gunshot to the head," Henry Morgan stated as he stood up from the victim.

"Thanks, Doc," Hanson deadpanned, "I think we could've even figured that one out."

"His wallet and ID are missing," Jo observed, "Probably just a mugging that went wrong."

"What was a guy like this doing in this part of town?" Lucas wondered, holding his clipboard to his chest, "He looks like one of those guys on Wall Street."

"Once we figure out who he is, we might be able to answer that question," Jo said and turned to Henry, "Do you see anything else aside from the obvious?"

Henry knelt back down to the victim and tilted his head to the side, taking in every detail, "The gunshot looks to be a 9mm. Our victim was in his mid-thirties, I'd say… well-tailored suit, probably a high-paying job and well-respected."

"Could say the same thing about you, Doc," Hanson gestured to his suit.

Henry spared a second to give the detective a side-glare. It wasn't the first time his wardrobe was pointed out to him. He happened to come from a time when men always (at least attempted) to dress their best.

He gently picked up the victim's hand, "Look at his knuckles."

"What about them?" Jo leaned forward trying to garner a closer look.

"They're stiff," Henry started.

"That could have to do with the fact that the guy's dead," Hanson remarked.

"Not what I mean, Hanson," Henry gestured once again with the victim's hand, "His knuckles are stiff as if he was holding on to something for dear life… before it was ripped from him. A briefcase perhaps?"

"We'll get unis to canvas the area," Jo patted his shoulder as Henry stood up, "See if they can find anything… with any luck, our killer could've dumped the vic's wallet nearby or whatever else he took from him."

"A gold wristwatch for one," Henry said. At Jo's furrowed brows, Henry elaborated, "There's a tan line on his wrist where a watch was probably worn."

"Why do you think it was gold?" Lucas joined in the conversation.

"High-paid man… what else would he have?" Henry shrugged.

"You done Sherlocking here, Doc?" Hanson gestured to the crime scene.

"Here, yes. I'll know more once Lucas and I get him back to the lab," Henry nodded.

Henry and Lucas worked rhythmically as they performed an autopsy on their latest case. Upstairs in the bullpen, Jo and Mike did their magic on their side, gathering information on the victim.

"Got an ID on the vic," Hanson held up a picture of the man lying on the table as he and Jo entered the morgue.

"His name is Harrison Morton," Jo continued off of her partner's lead-in, "You were right, Henry. He had a high-paying job. A lawyer… and a damn good one at that, we got a hit when a coworker of his at his firm called in worried when he didn't show up to work this morning."

"Figured as much," Henry nodded, "We found enough remnants of paper cuts on his hand. I thought it was a job with a lot of paperwork."

"Find anything else interesting?" Jo asked.

"The rain from last night washed away a lot. I pegged his time of death to be between nine pm and midnight," Henry began, "But I was right about the briefcase. There are light bruises on Harrison's legs where the briefcase hit the sides of them as he was walking. Whatever was in it was heavy. Did it turn up?"

"Not yet," Hanson shook his head. He stifled a yawn and continued, "No luck on his wallet either."

"You all right, Mike?" Jo asked.

"Just tired," Hanson shrugged, "Was up late last night on the phone. Our pipes burst last night. Flooded everything… Karen took the boys on an impromptu vacation to go visit her mother while it's getting fixed. I had to stay at a motel. Don't know how many more nights I can take of it."

"How long is it going to take to fix?" Lucas asked.

"They're not sure," Hanson was clearly tired, "They think at least a couple of weeks, a month tops."

Hanson let out another yawn, this time un-stifled.

"Well, I'd offer you my couch, but I don't think you'd be very comfortable on it for that long," Lucas offered.

"I'd let you stay in my guest room if I didn't turn it into an office after Sean died," Jo looked apologetic.

Jo, Lucas and Hanson turned to Henry. Getting the idea, albeit a bit hesitantly, Henry spoke up, "I suppose, if you like you could stay with Abraham and I for a bit? It'd be much more comfortable than a motel… and easier on the wallet."

Hanson looked hopeful for a brief second before he let out a huge sigh, "Nah, Doc… I couldn't do that to you and your roommate."

"It wouldn't be trouble, Detective," Henry assured him, feeling a bit guilty. He had the means to help out a friend.

"Hey, take it," Jo nudged Hanson, "Abe's a great cook… and Henry lives closer to the precinct. You wouldn't have as far to commute."

"As long as you truly don't mind," Hanson looked like he was caving in to the idea.

"I'll phone Abe and let him know you're coming," Henry smiled and went off to his office to call his son and let him know they were going to have a houseguest for a little bit.

"You know, when you called earlier and said that we were going to have a houseguest, I thought it'd be Jo," Abe commented as he laid out another pillow on the bed of their guest room.

Henry gave his son a look.

"Not like that, Dad," Abe smirked, "I'm just saying, it's real nice of you to offer a place to stay to Detective Hanson while his house is being fixed."

"Yes, well, everyone else was offering him a place to stay," Henry explained, "And Hanson has become a friend over the past year. Plus, it's only for a couple weeks. I already finished putting away all my death journals and any photos that would be hard to explain."

"Right, well, I better get started on dinner," Abe followed Henry out of the room and into the kitchen.

The phone rang and Henry answered, "Hello?"

"You really need to get a cell phone, Henry," Hanson commented, "I'm downstairs in front of the shop. The door is locked and the sign says closed."

"Oh, sorry," Henry apologized, "I'll be right down."

"Something smells good," Hanson lugged his bags through the door.

"Abe just started cooking dinner," Henry wordlessly took one of Hanson's bags to help.

"Thanks," Hanson followed Henry further into the store and upstairs to the apartment.

"Hey, welcome, Detective Hanson," Abe looked over his shoulder to see Henry and Hanson make their way toward him. They had set Hanson's bags in the guest room already.

"Mike's fine," Hanson waved, "I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here while I'm getting my pipes in my house fixed."

"Eh, it's not a problem," Abe waved the wooden spoon in an 'it's-no-big-deal' manner.

"So, what's cooking?" Hanson asked as he took a seat at the table.

"Something simple," Abe shrugged, "Spaghetti and meatballs."

"It smells delicious as always, Abraham," Henry put his hand on his son's shoulder as he looked over the pot, letting the savory aroma enter his senses.

"Hope you're hungry, Mike," Abe put the top of the pan over the sauce to let it cook a little while longer.

"All I've had today has been coffee and a turkey sandwich," Hanson replied, "A good home-cooked meal is just what I need."

"I'm sure you get that when your wife cooks though, right?" Henry took a seat next to Hanson.

"Yeah, on some nights," Hanson shifted in his seat, "But after all day with the boys… sometimes we just get Chinese takeout or pizza."

"The quintessential New York family dinner," Abe said, "Or so I've heard… I've been more accustomed to cooking."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Hanson smiled, "Jo's had nothing but praise for your cooking."

"Learned everything from my mom," Abe got up once again to stir the sauce and get started on the noodles.

"I'd like to think your father had a hand in your culinary skills as well," Henry added.

"Meh," Abe shrugged as Henry shot a glare at his son's back. He knew he said that on purpose.

Henry decided to change the subject and turned to Hanson, "Any new developments on our victim, Detective?"

"Well, we're dealing with a bunch of lawyers and you know how they can be," Hanson folded his arms, "They're not giving us anything without a warrant."

"You'd think with one of their own murdered, they'd be more cooperative," Abe was almost done with the noodles.

"Yeah, you'd think so, but I think it's encoded in their DNA to be difficult," Hanson remarked. He turned to Henry, "Anything else pop in your autopsy that we need to know about, Doc?"

"Nothing too pertinent," Henry shook his head, "The gunshot to the head seemed to be at fairly close range, but not pressed against the skin."

"Robbery gone wrong?" Abe grabbed Hanson's plate and started to fill it.

"Right now that's what it looks like, but who knows?" Hanson put a hand up to let Abe know that was enough spaghetti on his plate.

"Nothing was out of the ordinary during the autopsy," Henry helped himself to parmesan cheese as Abe took a seat to join the two men at the table, their plates full, "His stomach contents…"

"Ah!" Hanson yelled out with his hand up, "No stomach contents talk while we're eating, Henry. The only stomach contents I'm worried about right now is what's going in mine."

"Yeah, no more death talk at the dinner table, Henry," Abe agreed.

"I bet you have to say that a lot, huh, Abe?" Hanson smirked.

"You have no idea," Abe shook his head with a small smile.

One week later…

"How's Henry faring as a roommate?" Jo took a sip from her coffee. She stayed in step with Hanson as they made their way to the new crime scene.

"Still the same quirky Henry we all know and yet a little more relaxed," Hanson replied as he lifted the crime scene tape for Jo.

"I'd have thought you and him would've arrived together," Jo ducked under the tape, "We both got the call at the same time."

"Henry refused to just have coffee and a bear claw for breakfast," Hanson explained, "He had to sit at the table and have toast and eggs… a proper breakfast, he said."

"Abe cook it?" Jo asked.

"Yeah. You were right, Jo. His cooking is amazing," Hanson took a sip of his own coffee, "I was half tempted to stay and have some eggs, but I had to get over to my house to sign some paperwork."

"How's that going anyway?" Jo asked as they neared the body.

"Okay… they think it'll take at least another week or two to completely finish," Hanson sighed.

"Well, Abraham and I don't mind," Henry's voice appeared behind the two detectives, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Hanson."

"Still very much appreciated," Hanson nodded and then gestured to the body on the lawn, "Looks like another robbery gone wrong."

"Yeah, it almost looks exactly like our as-of-yet-unsolved lawyer murder," Jo agreed.

"Same cause of death," Henry squatted down, "And I'd wager her time of death would most likely be around the same time."

"Her name's Harriet Montoya," Jo read off of her notes, "She's a doctor on the Upper East side. She still had her ID on her, but that was just her hospital ID. Her purse and wallet were missing."

"These can't just be robberies gone wrong," Henry shook his head as he stood up, "Two murders within a week of each other with the same cause of death under very similar circumstances… the only difference of Harriet being in a park and Harrison in an alley."

"All of Harrison's coworkers, friends, and family's alibis all checked out," Hanson listed on his fingers, "And we went over his financials and call history about a hundred times. Nothing popped out as fishy."

"We even found that briefcase you mentioned," Jo continued, "All that was in it were case files… pro bono and nothing out of the ordinary. The reason he probably held so tightly to it to the point his knuckles were stiff was because according to his colleagues, being a lawyer was his life."

"There's something here," Henry wasn't convinced, "We just have to find it."

"Tell Jo and Hanson to be on the lookout for yet another watch," Henry placed Harriet's hand back down on the slab.

"Another tan line?" Lucas peered over the body to get a look.

"No, just an impression," Henry gestured to her wrist, "Like she wore it very often."

"Well, that's another connection between our two victims," Lucas commented as he wrote down more of Henry's notes.

"These two murders are too alike to not be related," Henry shook his head.

"Yeah," Lucas agreed, "That and their initials."

"Initials?" Henry looked up at his assistant.

"Both of their initials were HM," Lucas nodded, "You didn't notice that?"

"Actually no," Henry's eyebrows went up.

"Wow. Your observational skills must be rubbing off on me," Lucas looked proud of himself.

"What's rubbing off on you?" Hanson asked as he and Jo came up to the two medical examiners.

"Lucas noticed another connection to the two victims that I hadn't," Henry answered.

"Good job, Lucas," Jo looked just as proud as Lucas felt.

"Thank you," Lucas smiled.

"What was it?" Jo prodded.

"Oh… yeah, uh, both of our victims had the initials of HM," Lucas said as Henry continued, "And she's also missing a watch."

"Strange connection but weirder things have happened in this city," Jo remarked.

"Maybe there's a serial killer out there killing people with those initials," Lucas theorized.

"Or it could just be a coincidence," Hanson shook his head, "Plenty of people in this town… their initials being the same could just be a coincidence."

"Anything else interesting pop up during the autopsy?" Jo looked to Henry.

"Unfortunately not," Henry sighed, leaning forward on the slab, his palms flat against the surface, "It's remarkable though… the parallels between these two cases. They both were robbed and shot in the head. And they both had watches stolen from them."

"Almost as if the killer is looking for something?" Jo furrowed her brows, trailing off of Henry's thoughts.

"Perhaps," Henry folded his arms, "Did any of Harrison's property turn up?"

"Nada," Jo shook her head, "Well, other than that briefcase. It feels like our killer took more possessions of our vics to cover up their true intentions… maybe the watches."

"Killing someone over a watch? That's pretty extreme," Hanson looked down at the victim with sadness in his eyes. The acts people could do to one another.

"Sadly, people have killed for less," Henry agreed.

"Hanson and I were going to head over to the hospital and see if we can't get more information on Harriet," Jo gave Henry an invitation without actually asking.

"I'll get my scarf," Henry snapped off his gloves.

"Well these doctors are already being more cooperative than the lawyers," Hanson stated as he walked around the office they were directed into once they inquired about their latest victim.

"That surprises you?" Henry lifted an eyebrow, "We doctors all try to help people."

"Just observing, Doc," Hanson answered.

"Sorry about the wait," a young blonde woman entered the office, her heels clicking against the tiled floor before taking a seat in front of the trio.

"Not a problem," Jo assured her, "We appreciate you taking the time to see us, Doctor Taylor."

Doctor Taylor nodded and folded her hands on the desk, "How can I help you? We were all shocked to learn about Harriet's death."

"Had Doctor Montoya been acting out of the ordinary lately?" Jo started the interview.

"Nothing that I can think of," Taylor shook her head.

"Any disagreements with anyone?" Hanson continued.

"No…," Taylor dragged out as if she was second guessing herself as she answered.

"There was a disagreement?" Jo picked up on her indecisiveness.

"I don't know if it could be classified as a disagreement," Taylor looked hesitant.

"Anything you say could help us find her killer," Henry joined the conversation.

"It was a guy," Taylor started. At the three identical expressions directed her way, she immediately elaborated, "Not like that… it was with this appraiser."

"Appraiser?" Hanson stepped forward, almost leaning on the chair where Jo sat.

"She had this watch that she'd never take off," Taylor began. Hanson, Henry and Jo all shared a look as Taylor continued, "Harriet didn't even take it off for surgeries. Despite hospital policies of removing jewelry before performing an operation… she'd cover it with her gloves. We ended up allowing it. The watch had sentimental value."

"Doctor Montoya was getting her watch appraised?" Henry tilted his head to the side.

"That's what she told me when I saw her arguing with this guy," Taylor shrugged her shoulders, "I heard them arguing about the watch and something about its authenticity."

"If it was so important to her, why would she get it appraised?" Hanson wondered, "It's not like she was exactly poor."

"Not all doctors are super rich, Detective," Taylor countered.

"Do you think it really was an appraiser?" Jo wasn't buying it.

"Not really, but I didn't press," Taylor shook her head, "Maybe I should have."

"Did she give you a name?" Jo asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Taylor sighed.

"Would you be willing to work with a sketch artist? It's our most promising lead," Jo stood up.

"Anything to help," Taylor also stood up.

"Come to the station when you get off work and we'll get you with one," Jo shook her hand. Henry and Hanson exchanged handshakes with Dr. Taylor and followed Jo out of the office.

"I knew there was something about the watch. It couldn't have just been a coincidence," Henry walked in tandem with Jo and Hanson out of the hospital with himself in the middle and either detective on each of his sides.

"You think we might just have our killer?" Hanson asked.

"We can hope," Henry replied.

The brief moment of silence was broken when Hanson's phone went off. After a very short conversation, Hanson looked to his partners, "Hey, guys… sorry, I got to take off. More stuff going on at my house. I guess I must've signed something wrong this morning."

"Go," Jo waved him off, "We can handle it."

"See you guys later," Hanson waved and headed off in the opposite direction.

Hours passed and one worn out detective made his way into Abe's Antiques. There was only so much stress one person could take before they were physically and emotionally wiped out. Hanson waved a greeting to Abe who was talking with a customer. He made his way up the stairs and eventually found himself collapsed into bed.

"Rough day at work?" Abe stood in the threshold of the guest bedroom, now Hanson's room.

"Rough day at home," Hanson's muffled reply came as he was talking into his pillow.

"It must've been," Abe remarked, "Henry isn't even home yet."

Hanson lifted his head off the pillow and looked in Abe's direction, "What time is it?"

"About half past nine," Abe replied after looking at his watch, "I just closed up shop."

"Is Henry ever this late coming home?" Hanson was now sitting completely up – a bit of worry etched across his face.

"He's come home later before," Abe shrugged it off, "Why? Is something wrong?"

Hanson let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, "Nah… just my cop brain working overtime piling on to everything that's going on with my pipes getting fixed and the house drying out from all the water damage the exploded pipes caused."

"Everything will work out, Mike," Abe turned out the lights for the detective, "Get some sleep."

"Thanks," Hanson kicked off his shoes and laid back, "'Night, Abe."

"Goodnight," Abe closed the door.

Hanson slowly opened his eyes to the darkness of the room. The strange bed still took a little bit of time of getting used to, even after a week of living with Henry. He slowly pushed himself off the bed and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Reaching up for a glass, he accidentally knocked another one over resulting with a resounding crash.

"Shit," Hanson cursed. Grabbing some paper towel, he knelt down to clean up the glass as much as he could and toss them in the garbage.

As Hanson was kneeling down, Abe and Henry entered the room.

"You're awfully quiet, Henry," Abe turned back to his father, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter.

Hanson stayed knelt down. He knew the right thing would be to stand up and let them know he was there, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so – that glass he broke looked expensive. After all they had done for him; he didn't want to face any wrath for breaking a glass. Rationally, he knew they wouldn't be mad, but he was mad at himself. So, he took the lesser of two evils and stayed put.

"Not so loud, Abe," Henry reprimanded, "Hanson's trying to sleep."

"The guy's exhausted," Abe waved him off, "You should've seen him when I closed up the store; he was practically asleep when I was talking to him."

Hanson now felt even guiltier for eavesdropping, but now he'd be caught if he got up and that would be even more awkward.

"You haven't said anything since I picked you up from the river," Abe folded his arms.

The river? Was Henry skinny dipping again?

"It was the killer, Abraham," Henry confessed.

"What killer?" Abe wasn't following.

"The killer we've been after," Henry elaborated, "The one who killed our two victims the lawyer and the doctor."

Hanson's eyes widened and started to stand up, embarrassment be damned, until Henry's next words stopped him.

"He shot me clear through the head, just like the other two," Henry walked further into the room and leaned on the kitchen island.

Slowly crawling out from behind the island, Hanson peered around to see the two men. Henry was barefoot and dressed like he had at the precinct after his skinny dipping episode, but he had a towel around his shoulders. He looked wet. What the hell was he talking about?

"You mean you were the third victim?" Abe understood.

"Yes," Henry nodded, "I even fit the profile that Lucas thought of… my initials are HM. And I think my watch is missing too."

"Your watch? You mean the one your father gave you?" Abe asked and Henry nodded. "Are you sure that it just wasn't on you when you died and the thing disappeared too?"

"No," Henry started to pace now, his bare feet softly slapping against the hardwood floor, "No, he took it. I wasn't dead the instant the bullet went through my head, believe it or not. I was still partially conscious and I felt him go through my pockets and take it."

"Well, now you know who the killer is! You can tell Jo… or Hanson," Abe yelled and then lowered his voice.

Hanson still watched from his position on the floor. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. What the hell was going on here?

"And how do you propose I tell them, Abe?" Henry felt like he was in between a rock and a hard place, "Tell them the killer is the man in the sketch Dr. Taylor provided us? That after Jo and I talked to him, he must've seen me looking at my pocket watch and as I was walking home, he shot me in the head? And stole my watch? That'll go over really well."

"You have to say something, Henry," Abe calmly replied, "That killer is still out there."

"I'll try to figure something out," Henry looked defeated, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Abraham. After getting murdered, a man deserves a rest."

"Right," Abe agreed, "Goodnight, Henry."

"Goodnight, Abraham," Henry sighed as he pushed himself off of the kitchen island before heading to his room for the night.

After hearing the clicks of both Henry and Abe's doors shutting, Hanson finally stood up. What the hell just happened? They were talking about Henry being killed like it was an everyday occurrence. Were they just putting him on? Did they know he was there and they were just messing with his head?

Unlikely.

If they weren't putting him on… then Henry was really killed that night and was living to tell the tale. How the hell was that even possible? Should he tell Henry he was listening? What would Henry even say? One thing was for certain.

Hanson wasn't getting any more sleep tonight.

A/N: Yay? No? I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Don't worry, I'm just about ready to upload the rest of the story. Let me know what you guys think. :)