This is the scene I really thought they should have included in 118, Dead Men tell Long Tales. Seriously, there's no reason why Henry couldn't just have said the truth. Not the whole truth of course, mind you, but part of it wouldn't have hurt anyone. So there, my take on things in this episode.

The dialogue in the beginning is taken from the actual episode. Also, English is not my first language, this has not been beta-read, so there may be errors (though I do use ) and likely typos, for which I'd like to apologize in advance. (Jeez, Henry's way of speaking really rubs off on you if you're not careful!)

Hope you like. ;)

"Henry, what the hell is going on with you? What were you doing in that warehouse?" Jo looked at him, one part accusation, one part worry, and one part confusion.

"Examining the artifacts that Rick recovered from the Empress of Africa. I still believe that hidden among them lies the clue to his murder." He didn't, but Jo didn't have to know that.

"That ship has been at the bottom of the ocean for two hundred years," she countered, not surprisingly. "This is obsessive, even for you." And that last part was said with one part worry and one part exasperation. She clearly was at the end of her wits.

Nevertheless, he just couldn't stop himself. "I prefer passionate to obsessive," he declared with a flourish. Hopefully his debonair ways helped her lighten up.

"Your hang-up with that ship is deeper than Rick Rasmussen's murder. What is it?" Which would be a 'no' on the lightening-up-front.

Since distraction didn't work, and he really didn't have it in him, all things considered, to put up much of a front, he dropped the cheap excuses and prevarications. "When the Empress went down", he said, shortening the ships name to what people called her, back in the day. "Three hundred souls died with her. What happened aboard that ship, was a crime. Aren't we supposed to investigate?" It was a last, desperate attempt to get away with ... with ... he didn't even know. He was just used to make light of everything, especially, when there was a possibility that the truth about himself might be revealed.

It didn't work.

"I appreciate that, Henry, I really do." Now her voice was one part, and one part only: worry. "But we have a murder to solve", she continued, "today. I need you here, in the present."

Unknowingly she had hit the nail on the head. Because, of course, he wasn't in the present, his mind was all directed at the past, at those three hundred people that were not just a number to him. The three hundred men, he had seen with his own eyes, every last one of them. The men he had tried to save from the fate his father had intended for them.

"Henry?"

"Right. Yes. You are right, of course." He had died, trying to save those men. No matter it hadn't lasted, he had died for them.

"Henry, seriously," Jo recalled herself to him.

He just looked at her for a moment. "I'm sorry, but..." He pulled a chair over, sat down right next to her and lowered his voice, before he continued. "The Empress of Africa was a slave-ship, and she was owned by the Morgan shipping company, founded in 1683 by one John Richard Morgan."

Jo sucked in a surprised breath. "Morgan, as in..."

"My family, yes. See, they were shipping goods and wares of all kinds for over a century, but never any slaves. Until in the early 1800s, James Morgan, the owner at that time, was met with some misfortune in his businesses. To keep making money, he turned to slavery." He looked sternly at Jo, the disappointment with his father still burning in his eyes. But Jo wouldn't be able to read it for what it was. How could she?

"Henry, I get that that's hardly something to be proud of, but..."

"He was a good man, you know? I mean, from what I know, he seemed to have been a respectable man, with strong principles and..." memories of his childhood flashed across his mind. "And allegedly he was a good father to his son. But he threw that all away, tossed it aside for money. He betrayed his own morals to keep the family estate."

"Maybe he just wanted to provide for his family," Jo considered.

Henry couldn't help snorting at her excuse. "We were filthy rich, Jo, and I mean it. Filthy rich. We had more money than most nobles at the time." Almost too late he realized, what he was saying, and more importantly, how he was saying it. Quickly schooled his words into more distanced ways. "He could have afforded a year of bad business, he could have afforded three years of bad business, and still provide a comfortable life for his family. No, family had nothing to do with it. It was just plain, simple greed." The men behind those bands of iron came back to his mind. "It was simple greed that killed those men."

Jo touched him lightly on the arm. "Ok, I think I get you on that. But that was two hundred years ago. You had nothing to do with it. You never traded humans. You didn't kill anyone."

Except that he had.

"I mean, not counting your stalker right now, because that one was self-defense and therefore doesn't count in this context."

He smiled sadly. If only she knew.

"Henry. You are making it so hard on yourself for nothing."

"Do you know, what James Morgan's son was called?" It was going to be the closest he would ever let her come to the truth.

"What was it?" she asked, but her tone of voice told him that she already had guessed it.

"It was Henry. Legend has it, he died on that ship as well." And then he un-died. "So..." Henry bit off "my father" just in time. "So James, he not only killed three hundred completely innocent people, whose only fault in life was to be born on the African coast. He had also killed his own son." He wiped his face. "That's the family I come from. And I know it's not modern to feel responsible for what your family did, but I'm not a very modern man."

"So I've noticed," Jo interjected in an attempt to humour him.

"I feel responsible. I may not have loaded those men unto the Empress like cattle. I may not nave chased them through the jungle like game. But somebody has to finally take responsibility for that. Somebody has to take responsibility for their senseless deaths. And since, by my knowledge, I am the only Morgan left alive, that responsibility falls to me."

Jo had teary eyes, he realized with astonishment.

"If we weren't in the middle of the precinct right now, with like a million cops watching. I'd so hug you right now," she said, her voice hoarse.

He managed a little smile.

Later that same case...

Jo stared at the case full of gold. When Henry had told her ealier that his family had been filthy rich back in the day... Well, he certainly hadn't been lying. Seven million in gold. And that's just what had been on one ship. She didn't dare think of all the other riches, the Morgans must have possessed.

Henry didn't seem to care, though, at all, which spoke volumes to his character.

"You think, I killed Rick Rasmussen for the treasure I just gave away," Isaac challenged her.

"Philanthropy aside, the gold that you donated, belonged to Rick," Henry said calmly. Nope, didn't care about all the gold and money at all.

"It belonged to me," Isaac countered, undeterred, "and everything else recovered from the Empress of Africa."

"It belongs to Henry!" was what Jo wanted to shout, because it was what she was thinking - shipwreck-laws not withstanding - and because Henry didn't care not at all. This was his heritage, all of it! The gold, the plates, the cuttlery ... even the rusty lantern! The man, who carried the guilt of his ancestors with such conviction and earnesty, should be allowed to have the goods of the ship as well.

It just didn't seem fair.

I took a few licenses along the way ... :)