Hello everyone!
So, like many of you, I have become addicted to ABC's new show Forever as well as Doctor Henry Morgan.
While I was watching episode two, I began to wonder what would have happened had Hanson actually shot Henry. And thus this fic was born. I was having trouble deciding how to end it, however, and so if you begin to feel like you're watching The Return of the King and aren't sure when to leave because it could have ended several times - that's why. Forgive me. I really need a beta, lol.
I do hope you enjoy this nonetheless, however.
Disclaimer: All dialogue you recognize from the show belongs to the writers of the show, not me. I merely borrowed to allow for continuity.
Also, ALL mistakes are my own. Again forgive me. :)
The pain wasn't unexpected but that didn't stop him from reacting to it. Henry's face scrunched into a silent cry as the bullet tore through his right shoulder before making its way into the murder behind him. The man cried out as the same bullet hit him, the knife dropping from his now-limp hand and falling to the floor with a small clatter.
Henry had seen the hesitation on Detective Hanson's face when he'd told the cop to shoot him in the shoulder but as Henry's worry over the potential wound had been dwarfed by the potential of his secret being recorded on camera as well as being revealed, he hadn't paid attention and had kept urging him to pull the trigger. He'd vaguely heard Jo over his left shoulder, simultaneously yelling at her coworker not to listen to the doctor and telling his captor to drop the knife and let him go but Henry kept his focus purely on Hanson. With a final flicker of hesitation, Hanson fired and the pain (mixed with relief) had begun.
With no one to hold him up, Henry fell to his knees with a painful thud. The impact jarred his wounded shoulder, stealing his breath before he'd had a chance to catch it.
All things considered the pain wasn't the worst he'd experienced. No, that spot was awarded to the time that he'd been captured and experimented on before he was eventually hung. But it did come close, almost matching, to the bullet shot that had started his "condition" in the first place. The only difference was the placement. The captain had wanted him dead and therefore had aimed at his heart. So when the bullet had pierced his flesh, it had also gone through several layers of muscle and tender nerves. As Hanson did not wish him dead, merely out of the way of the knife, he'd aimed for the part of the shoulder that would have caused the least amount of damage. Thus the bullet hadn't destroyed or damaged near as much as it could have done as it traveled through him.
His scientific brain had processed all of that in mere seconds but none of it mattered, really. Because the bottom line was that it still hurt, and quite a bit at that. Henry could sort through the varying degrees later.
"Henry!" he heard Jo cry before feeling her hands gently grab his left shoulder. To the outside observer, it would look like she was trying to offer a bit of comfort, perhaps, or some support. But the minute movements her hands continued to make once she'd reached him told him that she was actually looking for the injury.
"I'm alright," he assured her since he was fairly uncomfortable with how much she was touching him. Henry didn't shy away from physical touch, per se, but he didn't welcome it from most either. He liked to know the person truly well before he would openly touch them. And the same was true for the reverse.
"You're not," she objected, now having noticed the hole and the blood beginning to drip out of it. She moved so that she was more in front of him, presumably so that she could get a better look at his shoulder. Once she'd applied pressure to help with the free-flowing blood, she pivoted to look over her shoulder. "I can't believe you shot him," she reprimanded.
Behind her, Hanson shrugged, looking as though he didn't care at all. "He told me to and it seemed a better plan than letting the stand off continue."
"Yes, thank you," Henry said, his tone grateful though pained. "I appreciate that."
Both cops assumed that he was thankful because he had feared for his life and he let them. Better they conclude a lie rather than sniff around and discover the truth.
Suddenly the room tilted and Henry felt his strength fail him. Jo helped to slow his descent and got him settled on the floor as gently as she could while still applying pressure.
"Looks like you earned yourself your very own stay at the hospital," she quipped, reminding him of their first case together and of how she'd been shot
"Somehow I doubt my duration will be as long as yours was," he returned. He winced as she pushed harder and though he could see apology in her eyes, she never voiced it. They both knew what she was doing was necessary and so they both equally understood there was no need for apologies.
Her eyes briefly flicked up to look down the hall, presumably to check on the murderer or the EMT's, before they once again rested on his face.
"Oh, I don't know," she said with a smile. "It's quite the decent sized hole you've got there."
He gave a shaky laugh, his face wrinkling into a grimace at the renewed pain. "Please," he lightly said, "don't remind me."
Her face softened into empathy and she used her free hand to give his left shoulder a pat. "Hang in there, Henry. They're almost here."
Jo sighed as she walked into Henry's hospital room. She'd run into his friend, Abe, on her way in and had been told that he was currently sleeping so she did her best to be quiet as she entered. Going from personal experience, rest was the best thing for Henry right now and she didn't want to disturb that. But she did want to check on him, see for herself how he was doing, and so she'd left the precinct as soon as she'd been able.
The paperwork for the case had been nothing short of a nightmare. Not to mention the incident report she'd had to fill out because Henry had bee shot, and by one of their own nonetheless. Her ears were still ringing from the Captain giving Hanson an earful. As far as their boss was concerned, the situation hadn't been dire enough to warrant shooting their ME and had therefore gotten into a bit of trouble for doing it. The only reason Hanson hadn't been suspended or any such thing was because they had Henry on tape essentially giving him permission to do it.
Jo was still a bit angry with Hanson over the matter herself, but she'd never tell him that. After all, it wasn't her place to be upset when Henry wasn't. She wasn't anything more than his partner and there were boundaries that she liked to observe.
Admittedly, she silently amended as she sat down in a chair in the corner of the room, she did believe they were moving towards friendship but she planned to wait until Henry addressed it before she said anything. He seemed almost as distant as herself when it came to relationships of any kind and she wasn't about to intrude where she wasn't wanted.
A small groan alerted her to the fact that he was waking up and so she stood and slowly walked over so that she was more in his line of sight.
"Detective," he greeted once he noticed her. Though from anyone else's mouth the title would have felt cold, distant even, from Henry it was practically like someone else saying 'hey' or 'hello'. His face wrinkled a bit into an expression of pain but it was gone before she could point it out. "What are you doing here? I would have thought you would be chained to your desk from all the paperwork alone."
She smiled, appreciating that he understood the way her side of the job worked as well as his own. He really was one of the smartest or most observant (she wasn't sure which it was yet) men she'd ever met.
"I stole the key and broke out for a bit," she jested, now sitting down in the chair by his bed so that he didn't have to continue to look up at her. "Hanson can lock them again when I go back."
"And how is Detective Hanson faring?" he asked, sounding a bit concerned, though not overly much. "I hope I didn't get him into too much trouble."
She chuckled a bit at the slight twinkle in his eye "Let's just say, I wouldn't ask him to shoot you anytime soon. He may not be so nice."
"Fair enough," he granted, turning his head so that his face looked at the ceiling. His eyes closed and Jo could practically see the energy draining from him.
Knowing that she needed to get back to work anyways, she stood and gingerly patted his right hand, which limply lay on his stomach.
"Feel better, Henry," she bid with a smile.
She wanted to tell him that she would check on him periodically but she felt uncomfortable and so said nothing. During her recovery, he'd stopped by as often as he was comfortable with. So she figured he shouldn't be surprised if she did the same.
Abe was just coming back to the room, hospital-supplied coffee in his hand, when he saw the detective leave. She had this funny expression on her face. Almost as though she couldn't decide what to do with herself. She turned, like she was about to go back inside, but then she shook her head and walked away.
Abe waited until she'd cleared the doorway before he went in. He wasn't all that surprised to find Henry awake, although it looked like he was slowly falling back asleep. If he'd thought that Henry would actually give in, Abe would have attempted to be quiet but as it was, he didn't bother.
"You just missed a visitor," his father said by way of greeting. It was a bit strange, thinking of Henry as his father when, at the moment, he looked more like he was Abe's son than the other way around. But there it was. Henry was the man who had raised Abe and therefore that's how Abe considered him.
"I saw her," Abe answered, sitting in the chair nearest the bed, just to Henry's right.
His father shifted so that he could face Abe better and a grimace creased his face. Abe rolled his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell the nurse that the pain medication had worn off?" he lectured as he rose to press the call button. "This isn't another experiment, you know," he said once he'd sat down. "You don't have to catalogue the various degrees of pain so you can write them down later."
"That wasn't why I hadn't done it," his father disputed, sounding somewhat affronted at the accusation. "It simply seemed easier to lie here rather than to attempt it."
Again, Abe rolled his eyes, but at least he understood. The button was on the right side of the bed, meaning that Henry would have had to roll over to be able to reach it. And since his father wasn't good at asking for help, having detective Martinez do it was simply out of the question.
"His pain medication wore off," Abe announced when the nurse entered. She smiled apologetically and went to go get another dose. Abe, meanwhile, watched his father as he lay there in the bed, slightly dozing.
It always amazed him how young Henry remained. Sure he knew of his father's "condition" but every once in a while, it still managed to surprise him. Seeing him in the hospital bed, his right arm in a brace to still any movement to the injured shoulder, and his eyes closed, his features free of the worry of being discovered or left behind, Abe was reminded once again how young his father truly had been when he'd been shot the first time.
While awake, Henry always seemed to act his age. He was guarded and distant with the rest of the world and he often frowned on how today's society operated. When he wasn't at work, he was in the basement of the antiques shop, or his laboratory as he called it, working on solving the mystery of his "condition". It was always a struggle to get him to mingle with the rest of the city and even worse if you wanted him to try and make a connection with another human that wasn't Abraham. He'd experienced too much in his 200 years of living to want to feel the pain of losing another friend or loved one and so he shied away from ever having to do so again.
It hurt and worried Abe to think of what would happen to his father once Abe was gone. He doubted that Henry even thought about the day that Abe would die. It seemed to be a prospect that he wasn't even willing to contemplate. But Abe did think about it and his main concern was how it would affect Henry.
The nurse re-entered, a vial and needle in her hand. After noticing that her patient was near asleep, she made sure to be as quiet as she could, giving a smile at Abe.
"Don't bother," he assured her. "He sleeps lightly. Almost like a new mother."
"Are you calling me a woman?" his father murmured.
Once again his face creased in pain and Abe watched as the nurse's face mirrored Abe's concern and sympathy. It was nice to see that some people, especially in New York, still had a modicum of humanity in them. More often than not, most people can't find it them to care about their neighbor, let alone a stranger. Even nurses and doctors.
"There you go," she said as she administered the medication. "You should be feeling the relief soon." She drew in a deep breath and then let it out in a sigh. "Need anything else before I go?"
Henry sighed contentedly. "No, thank you," he said, adding a smile as the medication started to work.
Abe waited until she left before he teased, "I think she likes you."
Henry rolled his eyes, having heard that many times from Abe.
"Why do you persist in trying to set me up with someone?" he asked with annoyance in his voice. "You know-"
"-that there will never be anyone other than Abigail," Abe finished. He nodded. "Yes, I know. But not every woman has to be 'the one'."
"Yes they do," Henry objected. "Once you've had it, anything else does not suffice."
Since Abe couldn't really find it in himself to argue that point, he didn't bother trying. Instead he settled back into the chair and let the subject close. When the silence continued, Henry began to nod off, this time for real. Abe watched his father fall asleep and sighed once he had. There had to be a way to get Henry to connect with other people. And Abe was determined to find it.
A Week Later
Henry sat at his desk, awkwardly attempting to write his final notes within the Hulquist girl's file before he closed the case for good. Technically he was supposed to still be wearing the uncomfortable brace the hospital had strapped onto him but he'd taken it off as soon as he'd been physically able, resorting to using one of his less-liked scarfs as a sling to give the shoulder rest when it needed it.
His office door opened and Lucas' head peered in.
"Vicky's parents are here to pick up the her stuff," he announced. "I'm assuming you want me to handle it?"
"No," Henry answered with a sigh. "It should come from me."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, challenging Henry's ability to physically deliver the box to the parents. Henry returned the eyebrow raise and got up, passing the younger man and going to grab said box. The weight was a bit much for his injured arm but he swallowed the pain and went to give it to the parents.
When the mother's arms wrapped around him, Henry doubted very much that he hid his surprise. What shocked him more was when he found his own arms beginning to encircle her as well, essentially returning the hug she freely 's memory was good but he couldn't remember the last time he'd given a complete stranger a hug. It was odd to say the least.
Since Mrs. Hulquist was unaware of his injury, she squeezed his neck as a thank you for providing her with answers and unknowingly applying pressure to the wound. He winced and failed to stifle the small gasp.
"Honey, let go," the husband bade, beginning to extract his wife from Henry's neck with an apologetic glance. He needn't have worried since, having heard his gasp, she had already released him and was taking a step back to rejoin her husband. "Thank you," he said as he led his wife with one arm out into the hall, holding onto the box with the other one.
Henry waited until they'd disappeared from view before he walked back into his office. Ignoring Lucas' look of undisguised shock, Henry opened the door to his office and let his left hand lift to hold onto his right arm. Fantastic, that would pain him the rest of the day. Not that it wouldn't have hurt if he hadn't been hugged, it would simply hurt more.
"Hey," a new voice said, surprising him entirely as he'd believed his door had closed without anyone having come inside.
He jumped and his hand tightened on his arm to still any movement from reaching his shoulder. As it didn't work, he quickly dropped his arm and settled for attempting not to move the injury instead. He tuned around just in time to see Jo wince.
"Sorry," she said, "Didn't mean to surprise you."
She stepped further into his office, letting the door fully close behind her, and clasped her hands behind her back. He cocked his head to the side, silently asking her if everything was alright since she was acting a bit oddly. She smiled and dropped her arms to her sides.
"I, um, was upstairs and I thought I'd come down and see how you were doing," she said, answering his unasked question. Albeit somewhat hesitantly.
He smiled. "Well thank you Detective, I'm doing well."
As though to show he wasn't lying, he placed his arms on his desk and leaned on them, only to wince and withdraw his right arm.
Jo nodded, looking like she didn't believe him. Her brows drew together and she pointed over her shoulder, "Was that the victim's family I saw leaving?"
"Yes, they wanted to grab Vicky's personal affects."
"Okay," she answered, accepting his reply without question. Her brows furrowed slightly as another thought occurred to her. "Why does Lucas look so shocked?"
Henry peered over her shoulder, just in time to catch Lucas hurriedly returning back to his work, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure. With Lucas there could be any number of reasons."
"Right," she said, letting the matter, and any and all other conversation, drop. "Well, I should go. Got a cold dinner up at my desk waiting for me."
Henry relaxed back into his chair, his arms coming to rest in his lap, and offered her a smile.
"Oh come now, Detective. Surely you can do better than that for your dinner."
Jo looked down, appearing to be uncomfortable, but he knew that she was merely thinking of her recently departed husband. She didn't respond, however. Instead, she offered another smile and answered, "Yeah, well, I have a bit more paperwork to do. So, desk-dinner it is."
He smiled. "Have a good night, Detective," he bid, guessing that she wanted to leave sooner rather than later.
"Good night Henry," she answered. "Try to take it easy, hm?"
"Will do," he promised, though he doubted he'd be able to fully manage that. While Lucas was taking over the physical work that came in, Henry had a terrible habit of micromanaging and therefore usually joined in on the examinations. Still, she didn't need to know that and so he kept his mouth shut.
At her departure, Lucas' head popped up and he watched her walk out, his eyes watching her the entire way, before he went back to work.
Henry chuckled a little at Lucas' fascination with the detective. The poor lad didn't have a chance with Jo but it seemed he didn't realize that yet and Henry wasn't about to get involved. If this case proved anything, it was that involvement proved messy.
Closing Vicky's file, Henry stood up and turned his light off. Night had settled on New York long ago and he believed it was time to call it a night. He gathered his things and left, bidding Lucas a quick 'good night' as he did so.
Abe was waiting in the car when he exited and Henry offered him a smile.
"Shouldn't you be at home?" he asked as he got in and buckled in.
"Well, I figured you wouldn't be in the mood to walk home tonight," Abe offered as he pulled into traffic and took them both back to the antiques store.
"And you would be right," he conceded. His shoulder was hurting properly now and he truly wasn't in the mood to do much walking at the moment. His breath caught as the car hit a bump and he saw Abe's focus briefly shift to him before returning back to the road. "How long had you been waiting out there?"
"Not long," Abe absently answered. He pulled up alongside the curb and parked the car. "An hour or so."
"Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I would have gladly left so you weren't stuck in the car for that long."
Abe shrugged. "I figured you'd leave when you were ready." He eyed Henry closely with a scrutinizing glance. His eyes narrowed and he nodded towards their common rooms as he said, "Why don't you go sit down while I fix us a bit of dinner?"
For a moment, Henry thought about making some sort of comment about not needing to be taken care of. But one look at his son dissuaded him from doing so and he nodded and went to do as was suggested.
Neither he nor Abe were mother hens, but they did care about and take care of one another. Henry liked to keep an eye on Abe the older he got, wanting to make sure that he was in good health while under his watch. He truly couldn't face the thought of losing Abe and he wasn't willing to any time soon. Meanwhile, Abe, it seemed, was beginning to believe that Henry needed more and more looking after. If Henry had to guess, he'd say that having watched him die all those times was starting to weigh on his son. He wished he could find a way to keep those events from happening as often as they seem to be but it wasn't as though he was voluntarily dying. Okay, he actually was, but those were to help with a case at work and they didn't count. It was the accidental deaths that Henry wished he had more control over. But since his "fan" had appeared, he seemed to be thrust into more and more instances where he died.
After taking off his coat and scarf, Henry settled into one of the chairs in the small area that served as living room. He gave a grimace when his shoulder rubbed against the fabric and moved a small pillow behind his back to avoid having that happen in the future.
"You should probably put the sling on," Abe advised as he brought in a couple plates of pasta with a couple bottles of water in his sweater pockets.
"I'm alright," Henry turned down and accepting the plate that was being thrust at him with a grateful smile. Abe placed one bottle of water on the table to Henry's left and then sat down in his own chair, settling his plate in his lap as he did so.
They ate and enjoyed their meal in silence, neither feeling the need to force conversation. The more he ate, the more Henry realized precisely how tired he truly was. He may not be getting any older but that didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was. This latest case had worn him out a little more than the others had. Granted that was probably due to being shot, but that didn't make it any less true.
After having finished. Henry gingerly stood and took his and Abe's empty plates into the kitchen to give them a quick wash before he went to bed. His shoulder protested the weight and the movement but he ignored it. They had a rule that whomever prepared the meal didn't clean up and Henry wasn't going to abandon that rule now.
When he finished, he went back into the living room to find Abe lightly dozing in his chair. Henry smiled, remembering times in the past when he'd found Abe asleep: studying for exams, late nights as a child, or fighting it when he'd been a baby. Not for the first time he wished he could find a way to slow down his son's aging but until he unlocked the secret to his curse, he wouldn't be able to discover a way to do that for Abe.
"If you take a picture, it will last longer," Abe mumbled, sounding half asleep.
Henry smiled at the quip, wondering if he kept the sadness he felt at the statement out of his eyes. At this point a picture would last longer and he hated it.
"You should go to bed," he said, using the same tone he'd used in the years past.
"Pot meet kettle," Abe returned, stiffly getting out of the chair.
Henry stifled the desire to go and help, somehow believing that it wouldn't be wanted, and remained in the doorway to wait for Abe to catch up.
"As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to bed," he said. "I just thought you should go too."
Abe gave him a look that said he didn't fully believe his father but he didn't voice his doubts. Instead he grumpily went upstairs.
"Goodnight, Abe," Henry called with a small note of affection in his voice. He watched long enough to see Abe wave his hand in response and then he went through the apartment and store and turned off all the lights. As an afterthought, he left one in the shop on, making sure that it was dimmed so as not to encourage anyone to come in. Not that he thought anyone would given the late hour but in New York City, you never knew.
After checking to make sure the door was locked, Henry turned to go back into the actual apartment. Halfway there, the phone in the shop rang. Henry sighed. No doubt it would be a customer with a question but since he was there, he might as well answer it.
"Hello," he said, wincing and then switching hands when his shoulder sent pain through his arm.
"Hello Henry," the unfriendly voice of his "fan" answered back.
Henry froze long enough to stop his heart from beating frantically and then he slowly turned around to look out the window, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of this mystery man. As expected, he could see nothing, but he remained facing that the window just in case.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice gruff with emotion he'd rather not show while on the phone with this man.
"I wanted to check and see how your shoulder was faring."
Unbidden, Henry's back straightened causing a bit of pain to the wounded arm. He did his best to hide the pain, however, and answered with a smile, "It's fine, thank you."
"I'm glad to hear it," the voice answered. "I would have called while you were in the hospital but it was hard to catch you awake."
"Yes, well, getting shot does tend to have that effect on people," Henry answered, biting back his impatience as well as his desire to hang up.
"It does at that," the voice agreed, sounding as though his mind was far away rather than in the conversation.
"Who are you?" Henry asked, no longer able to stifle his desire to know.
"My name?" the voice asked. "Well, I've had many."
"How long have you-"
"How long have I been like this?" the voice interrupted, finishing Henry's question for him. "Oh, about 2,000 years, I'd say."
Henry's shock was evident and he didn't try to hide it. He couldn't imagine being around that long. And it answered some of his questions as to why this man sounded like a bored psychopath rather than a human being.
"So if you want to call me something, let's call me Adam."
He rolled his eyes at this one. It was terribly cliche. Yet fitting also.
"I think we should meet," he said, determined to get more out of this man than a fake name and lots of taunts.
"We will," the voice pacified. "In good time. For now you need to get some rest. I imagine the shoulder wound is a bit draining." Henry opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted again. "Patience, Henry. We've got all the time in the world."
The line went dead after that and Henry slowly replaced the receiver. He was frustrated to no end that this man seemed to know everything about him and yet Henry knew nothing about him. Even so, it couldn't help keep him awake as it had done so many times before and he began making his way to his bedroom.
Stripping out of his clothes was a bit of a chore given that his injury was giving him limited motion and causing a fair amount of pain whenever he did move it. But at long last, he got undressed and gently crawled into bed, sighing as the mattress absorbed his body.
Yes he had all the time in the world and tomorrow was another day. For now, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift into sweet abyss filled with memories of happier times. And Abigail.
Fin