Disclaimer

The original characters and plot line belongs to those who wrote and created this amazing fictional universe. I do not own any of it. I only own my own characters and plots. Some of the dialoged within this story is identical to the original/ cannon product. I claim no part of that and its entire purpose is to ensure that the characters stay as cannon as possible.

Henry Morgan exited the cab, stepping out onto the sidewalk as he wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. The early morning air carried the crisp bite of winter, signifying that autumn was finally at an end. Henry breathed in deeply, the chilly air reminding him of years long gone. The stench of exhaust jolted him from his reminiscence, and he started towards the alley. He crossed the police line that was at the start of the alley, nodding hello to the officer as he stood up.

"Morning," said Detective Hanson. "Got a weird one for you, Doc. Real freaky."

"I will be the judge of that, Detective" Henry responded. He looked passed Detective Hanson and saw the body, or what remained of it.

The body was a bloody mess. Huge slash marks covered every inch of the body, the skin appearing to be tatters that were barely attached. One of the legs was severed from the body and had been flung metres from the body. The left arm was only attached to the corpse by a few ligaments and muscle fibres. Blood was splattered all over the alley, even staining the far wall.

"It is not often that I agree with you, Detective Hanson, but in this case, you are correct. This is indeed 'freaky'," Henry said, crouching down outside the pool of blood surrounding the body.

"So, Henry," Jo said as she approached the body. "What do we have here?"

"It is hard to tell, given the condition that the body is in," Henry explained. "The body appears to be female, young and probably a prostitute, judging by what is left of her outfit. The first strike was to the stomach, you can tell by how the intestines and internal organs have spilled out of the body. After that, the leg and arms were attacked. And finally, the slashes across the throat." Henry peripherally noticed that Detective Hanson had become a little green during his explanation and had turned slightly away from the body. "This is strange," Henry said as he examined the body further. After waiting a moment for him, Jo attempted to get Henry to continue.

"What is strange?" Jo asked.

"The attacks," Henry answered distractedly, his focus on the body. "They are not possible. Given the blood splatter and the flow rate from each of the wounds, they must have occurred almost simultaneously. But that is not possible. No one person could have caused this damage in that short an amount of time."

"Perhaps there was more than one attacker?" suggested Jo.

"No," Henry said firmly. "The blood spray from the body is only interrupted in a single place. That and the single set of bloody footprints mean that there was only one attacker."

"Footprints?" asked Detective Hanson.

"Over there," Henry said, pointing to some bloody smudges that were leading away from the body.

Detective Hanson and Jo walked over to the marks and squatted down to examine them. "Eh, Doc," Detective Hanson called, "I don't think these are footprints."

Indeed, the smudges did not look like any kind of shoe that Jo had ever seen. The ones closest to the body appeared to be simply large circles of blood about a hand width in size. Further down the alley, the marks took on a more distinct shape, appearing to be arch-like in shape.

"Indeed, Detective," Henry said. "They may not look like it, but those are the tracks that were left by the killer." Henry rose and turned to the two detectives. "Well, Detectives," he said, "I am afraid that is all that I can tell you for now. Once we get the body back to the morgue, we will hopefully be able to answer some of these outstanding questions."

As he and Jo left the crime scene, Jo turned to Henry and asked him quietly, "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Never," he whispered back. "In my two hundred years, I have never seen a death like this. It's fascinating."

"Not the word that I would have used to describe this," Jo muttered.

Jo entered the morgue and headed straight over to Lucas and Henry, who were currently examining the body. Lucas was measuring the sizes of the cuts using a metal ruler, whilst Henry was staring at the body, as though it had offended him.

"We got an I.D. on the victim," Jo said as Henry glanced up from the victim. "Her prints were in the system. Janet Greenwood, a.k.a Emerald. She was arrested multiple times for solicitation. The arrests were in the same area as the alley where we found her body."

"As I thought," Henry said. "Despite her profession, she has taken remarkable care of her body. No drugs in her system and she took remarkable care of her teeth."

"Fascinating," Jo said sarcastically. "What about the wounds?"

Henry glared venomously at the body and tightened his lips in anger. When Henry said nothing, Lucas offered helpfully, "He doesn't know." Henry glared at Lucas, before he turned to Jo.

"The wounds don't make any sense," he explained to Jo. He turned and pointed at the wounds. "They don't appear to have been made by any blade. Rather, they look like the wounds one would see on victims of a bear attack, specifically the Ursus americanus."

"A bear?" asked Jo incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Quite, Detective," answered Henry. "But these were not made by the Ursus americanus. They are too big, too deep. And instead of four claws, there appears to have been five."

"So what made these marks?" asked Jo.

"I don't know," he said. "I have no idea what could have made these injuries, Detective."

Jo reached out and laid her hand gently on Henry's arm. "Don't worry, Henry," she said gently. "We'll figure it out."

It was after nine when Henry finally left the morgue. He stepped off the elevator into the police department and smiled gently at the sight of Jo, asleep at her desk. He walked quietly over to her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Wake up, Jo," he said quietly and smiled as she jerked awake, a post-it note stuck to her face. He lent forward gently and removed the sticky note. Jo grimaced and smiled at Henry, embarrassed. "It's quite alright. You look quite beautiful when you are asleep," Henry said fondly.

"Not in the office, Henry," chided Jo, smiling slightly at the compliment.

"Very well, Detective," Henry said teasingly. "Now, what was so fascinating that you couldn't leave to get some sleep?"

"I was watching the security footage of the alley. An ATM camera caught one of the entrances," Jo answered. "I'm trying to get an I.D. on the people entering the alley after Janet."

"Well, I think that it can wait until tomorrow," Henry said as he leant over Jo's desk to close the window containing the security camera footage. But he froze as he saw the image on the screen.

"Er, Henry?" Jo said as Henry stared at the computer. When Henry didn't respond, Jo waved her hand in between his face and the computer screen. Henry blinked and leant back to look at Jo. "What was that?" asked Jo in concern.

"The woman, on the security camera," said Henry in a shocked tone, "I know her."

"Great!" said Jo enthusiastically. "Who is she?"

"Dr Helen Magnus," Henry answered. "But that is impossible. It cannot be her. She looks exactly the same."

"What does that have to with anything?" asked Jo. "Why can't it be her?"

"Because, the last time that I saw her was on the first day of a two week medical conference in Amsterdam. In 1932."

Henry sat in the large lecture hall in the Amsterdam University of Medical Science. He was wearing his tweed suit, with a waist coat underneath. He took his fedora off and set it upon his brief case, which was on the floor next to his seat. The noise of the lecture hall decreased as the next speaker rose and walked to the podium, but rose almost immediately afterwards. Henry looked up to see what the bedlam was about.

The speaker was a beautiful woman, in her mid-thirties. Her midnight black hair was pulled up in the style of the era, highlighting her exquisite check bones. The black dress clung to her figure, accentuating it to an almost scandalous level, whilst still being modest and elegant. She walked over to the podium, her black heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor. Henry's gaze was riveted on the woman. He had expected Dr H. Magnus to be just another stuffy academic, a middle-aged English man.

Her voice was melodious and strong, silencing the malcontents in the audience. Henry listened, enraptured by her lecture on genetics and how natural selection could affect the population. He found himself intrigued as he listened to Dr Magnus' talk. Her research fascinated him; he thought that the way her research linked into Sewall Wright's was interesting. But he found the doctor herself even more intriguing.

After the lecture had ended, Henry waited until all the other doctors had left the hall and approached Dr Magnus. She was packing up her lecture notes and aids and looked up as he approached. She did not smile, but remained professional.

"Dr Magnus," he said as he extended his hand. "Dr Henry Morgan. I found your lecture fascinating. I would love to hear more about the topic, if you have the time?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Dr Morgan," Dr Magnus said, shaking his hand with a surprisingly firm grip. "I have followed your work on the treatment of tuberculosis. Quite… captivating."

"It is gratifying to be complimented by a fellow doctor, but it is always a pleasure to be complimented by a beautiful woman," Henry said charmingly.

Doctor Magnus raised an eyebrow at his flattery, but smiled slightly at the complement. "I thank you for the compliment, Dr Morgan," she said, as she finished packing her briefcase.

"Would you be willing to accompany me to dinner?" asked Henry, extending his arm to Dr Morgan. "I would love to hear more about your research."

"It would be my pleasure, Dr Morgan," Dr Magnus said, taking his arm. "But only if you are willing to return the favour."

"So, how was your day?" Abe asked as Henry entered the shop. "You know, you should bring Jo around more often…" Abe trailed off as he saw his father's worried expression. "Ok, what happened?"

"It has been a rather trying day, Abraham," Henry said as he walked over to the alcohol cabinet and poured himself a Cognac.

"Tell me," Abe said, encouragingly.

"I saw someone today, related to our case, that I haven't seen in a very long time," Henry said, taking a drink of Cognac.

"How long?" asked Abe, with concern.

"Over 70 years," Henry said. "And now I see her, not having aged a day, on the security cameras near the crime screen."

"Perhaps it was her granddaughter?" suggested Abe. "Surely that makes more sense."

"No. It was her, I am sure of it," Henry insisted. "I know it sounds silly, Abe, but I know it was her."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Abe. "It was over 70 years ago, surely you could be mistaken?"

"I can assure you Abe," Henry said firmly, "I knew Helen well enough to be able to tell it was her, even after 70 years.

Henry rolled over in his bed and opened his eyes. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight that streamed through the window. Hearing a noise in the kitchen of the hotel room, he turned and smiled at the woman standing in the doorway, holding two cups of tea. Helen Magnus looked beautiful in the Chinese robe that covered her silken nightgown. The sunlight flickered through her hair, creating brown highlights as she brought the tea over to Henry. She sat down on the bed and handed Henry his cup.

"Good morning, Henry," she said with a smile.

"Good morning," Henry replied with a smile, sitting up and letting the covers slide down to his waist, revealing his bare chest. Helen's gaze flickered to the scar on his chest, but she said nothing. That was a part of their agreement: no questions about their pasts. His mind flashed back to the previous night; Helen's fingers tracing his scar, unasked questions blazing in her eyes. But she said nothing, just kissed him soundly. He returned the favour, tracing the scar along her arms and abdomen. He wondered how she could have gotten these scars, but refrained from asking. Instead, he kissed each mark upon her skin, enjoying how she shivered when his lips touched her skin.

"You look beautiful in the morning light," he said tenderly.

Helen smiled at him and kissed him. "You need to get dressed," she said. "It is the final day of the conference and the lecture on the new heart surgery procedure begins in an hour."

"We could just stay in," offered Henry, leaning in to kiss Helen. "Seems like the perfect way to spend our last day together."

Helen pushed him away and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. "You have wanted to go to this lecture since the conference began. In fact, I believe that you said that it was the entire reason that you came?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, yes," conceded Henry. "I believe that I said something along those lines."

With a final kiss, Helen stood up and headed over to the wardrobe. "Well then, Doctor Morgan, you had better get dressed."