Disclaimer: The concept, canon, and canon characters belong to Forever creator Matt Miller and Warner Bros. Studios. All other characters, the plot for the story, and Henry's flashbacks are my own creation. I have posted my story here, and I don't profit from it. (Translation: I don't own Forever, but if I did, we would find out exactly how much Jo knows when she arrives on Henry's doorstep in 1x22.)

Author's Note: What had started as a post to a thread in a forum that I participate in quickly turned into a one-shot. I hope that you enjoy it.

"Aaaa!"

Jo vanished from Henry's sight at the same time leaves rustled and a twig cracked. As a sickening thud rang through the night air, he took another step forward and squatted down beside her. He glanced over her, but, with the dense canopy overhead obscuring the street lights' dim glow, he couldn't see anything wrong.

He placed his fingers on her neck and then moved them under her nose. Her warm breath tickling his fingers and her steady pulse tempted him to breathe a sigh of relief. He resisted it, the doctor in him rising up and whispering its caution about her condition.

"Jo?"

His heart pounded against his chest as she remained as still as her voice. They had chased a suspect deep into Central Park's North Woods, and her cell phone's battery had died before they had left the precinct for their suspect's residence near West 111th Street and Seventh Avenue If she were critically injured or worse...

He stomped the growing thoughts down. He could not dwell on those possibilities now. If he allowed himself to entertain even one of them, he would be in no shape to help her.

Before he could stand to lift her up off the ground, she groaned and pushed herself into a seated position. She reached up and brushed the hair off her face, each pass shaking several leaves out of her bangs and the sides of her hair.

"What happened?"

At the sound of what could have been mistaken for sleep in her voice, Henry pursed his lips. "You tripped over a root and hit your head."

"I did?"

A moment of unconsciousness, a weak voice, and a brief period of amnesia. Those point to….

The moon pierced through the canopy. He heaved a small sigh of relief. He could use that to examine her. Using the scant light, he checked her eyes. His heart almost stopped when he discovered her unequal pupils.

He swallowed. All of her symptoms indicated that she had suffered a concussion. A severe one at that. He needed to get her to the hospital before her condition worsened.

She attempted to stand, and she fell toward him. He reached up and caught her just in time to prevent her from falling again.

Henry eyed her warily, more out of concern than anything else. "Are you all right?"

Jo nodded. "I think that I can make it."

She started to stand once again. Once again, her body swayed into him. He caught her, took her arms, and started to lower her to the ground.

Her legs stiffened. "Henry, what do you think you're doing? We need to get back to Lt. Reece…."

He locked eyes with her. Her lips parted. Under ordinary circumstances, they would entice him to ignore the possibility of rejection and to act on the feelings that he had developed for her since they had first started to work together. Tonight, however, he pushed the temptation aside.

"Jo, you're in no condition to walk. You have a concussion, and I cannot allow you to injure yourself any more than what you already are. We must stay put."

"You're not my doctor," she hissed.

"I am a trained physician." His voice echoed in the woods. "It is my duty to ensure that you—."

"And I'm a cop," she snapped. "We're going after our suspect." She scanned the area. "Which way did he go?"

He gulped. He didn't want to make matters worse by letting her walk. Yet, she was stubborn enough to leave without him.

He looked in the direction from whence they had come. He couldn't return to the last road that they had crossed before entering the woods, but perhaps he could travel west. The terrain was more stable, and there were several footpaths along the way. If he encountered someone on one of them, he could ask them to summon the Central Park Medical Unit for assistance. If he didn't, he could make it to Central Park West and hope someone would stop for him.

He licked his lower lip. It just might work. Otherwise….

"I think we've lost him already. Let's see if we can find a trail that will take us back to your car so that we can go back to the precinct and tell Lt. Reece what happened."

She sighed. "Sounds like a plan to me."

As he nudged Jo toward the road, he hoped that she would make it to the road before anything happened. If not….

He pushed the next thought away. First things first….

"Can we stop?" Jo's voice faded almost as quickly as it started.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She met his eyes and lowered her gaze. "I'm getting a little tired."

He cocked his head. It wasn't like her to acknowledge any physical weakness. He wondered exactly how severe her injury was.

He nodded. "We can, but I think that we should stay put once we do."

He braced himself for another sharp rebuke and rebuttal. Yet, none came.

"Okay." She started to lower herself to the ground, and he gingerly guided her.

Henry pulled his lips together. She didn't give up an argument easily. That meant….

He swallowed. They had no way to summon help with her cell phone. He could try to find a road, but he didn't want to leave her.

He looked on the ground. He could build a fire. It would double as additional warmth in the early fall night.

Noticing the number of twigs, he sighed. There wasn't enough kindling for one. At the same time, the FDNY had prohibited anyone to burn anything near Central Park, threatening to have the culprit arrested if they did. He already had enough charges against him, and he had no idea if the next one would convince Lt. Reece to forbid him from working with Jo ever again. He could not take that chance.

"You know." Jo scoffed. "I never figured you to be a country boy when we first met."

"How so?" Of the moment, his worry crowded out his memory of that period.

"You mentioned poetry reading and pheasant hunting when we visited Emily Sontag's father. Poetry reading. That I believe. Especially with the number of books you own…."

Henry bit back a smile that tempted his lips. She knew him too well.

"…but not many people mention them together." Her voice started to trail off again.

Adrenaline burst up and raced through Henry's veins. That was true. Most people now hunted pheasants for food. The last time that he had gone, though, it had been on the estate of his father's friend and business partner in….

He shook the memory off. That was as unpleasant as the situation before him.

Jo's eyes felt as though they were boring through him. "This sounds crazy, but I'm sure that you're immortal."

His body tensed. He gulped and slowly pivoted toward her. "Why would you believe that?"

She grew silent. Suddenly energized, he marched over the roots, taking care not to trip over them himself. He dropped down next to her, checked her pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief. For the moment, it was still strong.

He nudged her shoulder. "Jo?"

She blinked her eyes open. "Huh? Sorry." She tried to brush back a strand of hair, but her fingers barely touched it. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You had." Hoping that he wasn't taking a little liberty with her, he reached over and pushed it back for her. As his hand grazed her ear, his skin began to tingle, threatening to wipe out all thought. Her weight against him nudged him back to her condition. "You need to stay awake, though."

He choked back his worry. She didn't need to know that. He needed to remain strong for her.

As her eyes started to close again, he swallowed. He knew one way that he could keep her awake for a while. It was something that he had always intended to do, but he never had because of a lack of courage or an interruption. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and hoped that they would survive what happened next.

"So, let me get this straight. You are well over 200 years old. You were shot aboard The Empress of Africa, and one of Isaac's ancestors witnessed it. You knew Gloria Carlyle, Armen Aronov, George Gershwin, Cecille de Mille, the woman who had sculpted the statute at the Stuhler Center, and Ernest Hemingway. You're one of the first MEs in the world…."

Henry bit back his correction. Technically, Galen and Giovanni Battista Morgagni were among the first forensic pathologists, and Julius Caesar's body had undergone an extensive autopsy shortly after his death. Yet, Jo's summary prevented him from saying anything.

Jo inched closer to him. "You've been married twice. Your first wife had you committed when you told her the truth. Abigail is the one in the photo I returned to you. You met her in World War II, and an insane immortal named Adam forced her to choose between your life and hers. We discovered her body three years ago. Adam's been stalking you for about that long. And Abe's your son?"

Henry gulped. With the exceptions of his cellmate at Southwark Prison, Abigail, and Abe, this had been where it had ended very poorly for him.

He willed himself to remain calm. He would rather spend the rest of his life in Bellevue or in prison knowing the reason she rejected him than to continue a relationship based on lies. Whatever she decided, he would abide by.

Hoping that she wouldn't notice his nervousness, he nodded.

She grinned. "Henry Morgan, you make absolute sense now." She shifted her weight and squeezed his trembling hand. "If you're worried about me telling someone, I won't. The story sounds too crazy for anyone to believe me."

Henry's mouth fell open. "You believe me?"

She scoffed. "That old picture of you was the last piece that I needed to figure it out. Remember, I saw Koehler shooting you and the two of you falling off Grand Central's roof." She took a deep, long breath, almost as if she were needing it to strengthen her weak voice. "You should have been dead or in a medically-induced coma in the room next to mine. But you were in my room like nothing had happened. And your scar…."

She yawned. In the dim moonlight, her eyes glowed. "You were shot in the chest, in your heart. No one could survive that." Her voice, dripping with the memory of her killing Mark Bentley in self-defense, wavered.

"Yet, you're still here. That can only mean three things." Her voice started to fade. "You're one very elaborate liar, I'm going crazy, or you're immortal. And I chose immortality."

"I never meant to deceive you. I—."

She grew still and slumped against him. Worried, Henry shook her. "Jo?"

"Hmm?"

"You're drifting off again."

She blinked her eyes open. "Where was I?"

"You were telling me how you had arrived at the conclusion that I'm immortal."

"Oh, right."

Her body weighed heavier on him. He nudged her again, but she didn't respond. Tears welled up in his eyes as each moment of their relationship raced before him. She meant too much to him. He couldn't lose her now.

Henry gingerly wrapped Jo's arms around his neck and slipped his under her knees and around her back. Once again, a tingle washed over his body, but, this time, he ignored the pleasant sensation. As he started off, he literally prayed that he could get her to the hospital in time.

Sighing, Henry stepped over each root along his path. With the soaring tupelo trees and oaks, it was easy to forget that they were even in the city. Although Olmsted and Vaux had designed the rest of the park to look like a European garden, this isolated area bore more of a resemblance to the Adirondacks of Upstate New York.

The woods parted to reveal a clearing. Henry squinted at the bright lights coming from what sounded like a nearby street. Could it be…?

Jo's unconscious body weighed heavily in his arms. He readjusted his grip on her up just enough to ensure that he didn't drop her.

He fought back his fright. "Jo, stay with me."

He pulled his lips together. She was fading fast. If he couldn't get her to a hospital….

Pushing back his knowledge of her future death, he gathered his courage and hoped that he could find someone willing to help them. He walked through the clearing. The bright lights of Central Park West's streetlights nearly blinded him.

He took another step forward. Just as his foot left the sidewalk, a screech and a horn filled in his ears. The lights stopped him in time to keep from getting hit.

The driver appeared out the window. "Hey! Watch it, you idiot! Can't you see where you're going?"

As his eyes readjusted to his surroundings, Henry grinned. For once in his life, he was relieved that he had almost been run over.

Eight Days Later…

Henry drew in a deep breath and took the last few steps leading to Jo's room. According to her doctors, they had finished weaning her off the sedatives that had kept her in a medically-induced coma since her arrival in the hospital, and she had been breathing on her own. Yet, the physician in Henry warned him that, although she was now in a regular room, she could endure life-long complications arising from the concussion.

He sucked in more air to cool his burning lungs. If that were to happen, he would like to see to her care for the remainder of her life. If necessary, he would convert his basement lab or the guest bedroom upstairs into a private apartment for her. The equipment that he normally used for his experiments could monitor her condition in the event of an emergency. And, judging from his son's concern about her and his constant encouragement to include her in their lives, Abe wouldn't mind if she were to become a part of their family.

Henry swallowed the growing lump in his throat. If she didn't remember their conversation in the woods, perhaps, one day, he could summon the courage to tell her his life story again. She had told him that she knew that he was immortal, but he wasn't sure if she would deny her words or reject him in spite of the evidence.

He found her door and knocked on it. Hearing no response, he braced himself for whatever sight would greet him.

He eased into the room. The bouquets sitting on the table beside her bed drew his attention. He smiled. He could remember when only one had sat there a few years ago…and that had come from Hanson and Karen. Now, he could count five—including the one that he had sent to her room the day before—crowding the small surface.

He felt a pair of eyes on him. His own followed the gaze back to the bed. The left side of his mouth sprung up as his eyes met Jo's.

She readjusted herself on the bed. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" From what he could tell, she appeared to be in excellent shape for someone who had been through the ordeal she had experienced.

"I've been worse. I still feel weak, but, other than that, I'm fine." She offered him a soft smile. "The doctors told me that I could go home as early as tomorrow and that I can return to desk duty in a week. I need to take it easy for a while, but they are sure that I will be back to normal soon."

"That's great." Henry took her hand and squeezed it. "Everyone will be looking forward to your return," especially him. Every time that he had ventured upstairs at work, his heart had ached to see her back at her desk or walking out of Lt. Reece's office. In his autopsy room, he had vigilantly watched the door for her arrival, only to be disappointed when she never appeared.

He licked his bottom lip. "Do you have anyone to stay with you during the remainder of your recovery?"

She shook her head. "Mom is taking care of my niece and nephew while my sister and brother-in-law are on their month-long second honeymoon, and I don't want to bother Mike and Karen with this."

Henry nodded. Their two rambunctious sons didn't provide her with enough rest when she was well anyways. "Would you like to stay with Abe and me until you have fully recovered?"

Jo opened and closed her mouth several times. "I, um…"

His eyes searched hers. "I am a trained physician." He let out a small puff of air. "Abe's been worried about you since we were found." He glanced down. "And I have been also."

She looked past him for a moment. "We need to drop by my place and pick up some clothes, my laptop, and my cellphone charger. I'm not going anywhere with a dead cell phone ever again."

His body relaxed. "We will do that."

Her eyes glistened, and she raised her hand to wipe them away. "The doctors also said that whoever had kept me awake probably saved my life."

She bit her lower lip, dropped her gaze, and studied a wrinkle on the bedsheets. When she had finished, she looked back into his eyes. "I don't remember much after we entered Central Park."

"What do you remember?" His heart sank faster than what he had assumed The Empress had centuries ago.

"Hardly anything. Except…." She momentarily broke her gaze again, this time almost as if she were considering something.

Her eyes searched his, preventing him from looking anywhere else. His heart raced, taking his breath away as the rhythm outran his thoughts.

"You told me your life story to keep me awake, and I told you how I figured out the truth."

Her gaze broke from his and roamed the room. When they returned to him, she scoffed. "That's the only thing that I remember between the time our suspect ran and the moment I woke up."

She shifted her weight and took his other hand into hers. Their shared warmth stilled his thoughts, leaving him breathless.

Almost as if she was sensing his disbelief, she squeezed his hand. "It wasn't my concussion talking. I had already figured out that you are immortal and a bit about your life, Abigail, and Abe when I arrived on your doorstep with your watch and your photo. I just needed to hear you say 'I'm immortal', and I would have let you tell your story at your pace."

Henry's mouth dropped open. He wasn't certain what was more surprising: her memory of their conversation or her acceptance of his condition so early in their friendship.

She scoffed. "I never thought that we would have been interrupted, and I never thought that it would take you three years to finally admit the truth." She drew a deep breath. "As for Adam, we'll figure something out. I think we can build a case against him, but I would have to find a way to talk Lieu into it without revealing the full truth."

Henry's heart winched within him. Abe was right. He needed to tell Jo about Adam and get the NYPD behind him. He should have done it sooner, but he didn't want to lose her to the other immortal as well.

Henry bowed his head. "I had never meant to deceive you."

She squeezed his hand again. "I know."

Jo turned her head toward the bouquets and back to him. "A purple flower?" She smiled again. "Why do I think that one is from you?"

Her questions guided him out of his shock. He glanced back at the specialized bouquet for a moment. "It's a purple hyacinth." He met her gaze. "It's my way of asking you to forgive me for not telling you the truth sooner and for believing that I could protect you by hiding my condition from you."

He gazed into her smiling eyes, and his heart skipped. He had never imagined that she would grant him such mercy. To have forgiven him long before he had uttered the truth. To remain by his side all this time.

The smile on her lips grew wider. "Do all the flowers have a meaning?"

He nodded as he moved around to the chair between the bed and the wall. "In the Victorian era, it was quite common to send flowers to communicate one's feelings."

His eyes met hers again, and her steady gaze coaxed his mouth open. He had dreamt of this moment since they had first met, but he had always stopped himself from becoming too hopeful. Now, she was giving him the freedom to be his true self while in her presence.

His vision misted over. Feeling the need to regain control of his emotions, he peered over his shoulder and studied the arrangement. "The white carnations symbolize sweetness and loveliness while the yellow roses signify friendship." He looked back at her. "The dark pink roses indicate thankfulness." He gave her a lopsided smile. "And each rose leaf means hope."

"And the fern?"

His cheeks warmed. He had momentarily forgotten about that one's significance when he had agreed to its placement in the bouquet. "Let's just say, for the time being, it means trust."

Her eyes roamed his. "You're still keeping something from me." She grinned. "And, this time, it's not about your life or yourself."

He returned her smile. One day, he hoped that he could reveal that to her as well. He hadn't realized how much he had cared for her until their time in the woods.

"What do you think the other bouquets mean?"

She wiggled closer to him. His heart pounded faster in his chest, erasing his thoughts with the slightest movement. She had no idea what she was doing to him. Another inch, and he would….

She stopped past that inch, and a lock of hair fell across her face. He released one hand and brushed it back over her ear. Their eyes met, and his lips parted. For the rest of his life, he would always love her.

Her IV pump beeped, jerking him back out of his fog. He grinned as he leaned back and examined the bouquets. He had always heard how the truth would set someone free, but he didn't know how true it was until now.

And he had to admit, it felt as though he had finally found a way out of his own darkness as well.

Author's Note: The meaning of the flowers comes from the web site "The Language of Flowers". According to it, ferns mean fascination, confidence, shelter, and a secret bond of love. The information about the first forensic pathologists comes from Wikipedia.

If you want to know the original idea for the story, well, it started with Camp NaNoWriMo's "Character Campfire" forum. (I've mentioned it before, but, in case this is the first story from me that you have read or if you have forgotten, Camp NaNoWriMo is a more laid-back version of November's NaNoWriMo. It occurs twice a year, in April and July. I've been participating regularly since July 2017.) I had planned for something similar to happen, but with a road trip to Long Island, Jo spraining her ankle, and them finding the other characters which my fellow Camp NaNoWriMo participants had created. Naturally, Henry and Jo had other plans, so this story came as a result. I hope that you've enjoyed it.