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…)

Author's Note: A special thanks goes out to Be3, who requested this story.

For this short, multi-chapter story, I used the same head canon that I have for most of my other stories set after 1x22. I developed it long before Matt's two Twitter question-and-answer sessions and any other questions that he had answered. I hope that everyone will enjoy it.

There are general references for every episode.

Chapter 1

"Joanie!"

Lt. Joanna Reece looked up from the case file that she was reviewing and closed it. There was only one person on Earth who would have the audacity to call her by that dreaded nickname and who would live to tell about it.

"Mom." Joanna rose from her chair, walked around her desk, and embraced her mother. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"The airline offered a cheaper seat on an earlier date, so I decided to take it. Besides, at this time of year, the airports can become crowded when JFK and LaGuardia are snowed in. I didn't want to spend the holidays in a terminal instead of with you." The woman closed the door behind her once Joanna released her.

Joanna smiled. Leave it to Tricia Reece to find the best deal on anything—even when it was intangible.

"How's Paul?" Her heart ached with a longing to call her step-father by the title that she had given another man years ago. That man had died before she could begin to remember him, and she had regarded Paul Reece as her father ever since her mother had met him.

The older woman regally walked over to one of the chairs and leaned on it. "He's looking forward to coming here the day after tomorrow, weather-permitting. If he can't, he'll make the first available flight. He's also bringing you something, but he won't tell me what it is."

Joanna rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was way too old for gifts. Paul, however, tended to be a doter as he felt that he had missed out on the first nine years of her life.

"How are his environmental studies going?" She sensed that one of them had kept him from arriving in New York with her mother.

"He's still taking on the government. You should have heard him last week at the city commission meeting. He berated the company officials who presented the latest environmental impact study. If their looks could kill..."

Joanna nodded. The normally genial man had suddenly become much more passionate during the meeting.

"Anyway, the latest one's deadline is tomorrow, and he is finishing up the reports to give to the state Department of Transportation." Tricia cocked her head and looked her daughter in the eye. "But, I guess that you already knew that."

Joanna chuckled. "I always know what goes on in my family."

Tricia smiled. "And I bet that you think that way about your precinct too."

The lieutenant stared at her mother in surprise and then nodded. She prided herself on knowing everything that was happening within the 11th Precinct. Not a single detail about her officers and about the two members of the OCME who regularly worked with them escaped her notice.

Tricia's stomach grumbled, and Joanna could see that her mother's brief time in New York's frigid temperatures had resulted in a slight shiver that continued in spite of the building's heat.

"How about we get some lunch and some coffee?" Joanna stepped around her desk and removed her coat. "I know this great place around the corner."

Tricia straightened her posture. "If you're talking about McSorley's, I'm interested. I want to see why you like it so much."

Joanna smiled as she slipped her arms through her sleeves. Aside from the evening drinks, McSorley's lunch menu was one reason that the bar was so popular among both the NYPD and the OCME.

As the two women walked through the door and toward the bullpen, Joanna listened her mother talk about her flight. Since her and Paul's move to Atlanta years ago, time with them had become rare. Sometimes her mother's job as a high school English teacher or Paul's profession as an environmental engineer had kept them apart. At other times, Joanna's work load had forced them to reschedule visits. Occasionally, New York's snowfalls had buried any chance of a family reunion. This time, almost everything came together perfectly. Now, if only Paul could find an earlier flight, everything would be perfect.

In some ways, Joanna wished that they would move back to New York. Both of them were in their seventies. They were strong now, but, in a few more years, they would likely need her help when the effects of old age would begin to overtake them. Yet, they were proud individuals, and Joanna could only hope that they would ask for her assistance when the time came.

The bustle of the bullpen greeted them. Most of the detectives sat at their desks, filling out reports or looking at something on their computers. Several unis wove their way past the detectives. At his desk, Detective Mike Hanson argued with an uncooperative human resources officer on the phone.

A British lilt drifting into the room caught Joanna's attention. She looked at the source and saw Dr. Henry Morgan walk into the area with Detective Jo Martinez. A slight amount of moisture on their coats and hair, Jo's hat, and Henry's maroon scarf signaled that the snow had just returned.

Joanna focused on them. They had just returned from questioning Darryl Spencer's wife about his suspicious death which Henry had declared to be a murder and Darryl's recent travels to Miami. Based on Henry and Jo's conversation, they had discovered something significant during the interview.

"Although I don't appreciate Lucas' comparison of the ulcers caused by one type of Vibrio vulnificus infection to a special effect in one of his horror films, he isn't that far off. The bacteria—"

Jo stepped behind her desk, pulled off her jacket and hat, and stared at him. "Don't tell me how you know this."

"If you recall, I told you once before that I've had a bad case of gastroenteritis apparently caused by the bacteria when I had eaten some oysters and gin years ago." He then mouthed, "A long time ago." He glanced down before giving her a lopsided smile. "Gratefully, though, I've never experienced septicemia from it, and I have no intention to. From what I've seen in people who had suffered from chronic liver disease and other disorders that suppress the body's natural immunity, however—"

Joanna shook her head. For as long as she knew Henry, there was always some strange comment coming from him. She had learned years ago not to ask questions about them.

She, however, needed to file his latest ones under the category of "normal". Henry had a sophisticated palette when it came to food, and it shouldn't be a surprise if he had become ill from a bad dish once in a while. As for his observations, he had likely seen a case or two when he was a practicing doctor.

Joanna took another step toward the hallway. She expected her mother to join her, but the woman was no longer by her side.

She looked over at the other woman. Tricia was rooted to her spot, seemingly lost in thought. To Joanna's relief, she pulled out of them and quickly joined her daughter.

They walked toward Henry and Jo, who were now good-naturedly teasing each other. Joanna started to ask her mother what happened—

Tricia stopped in front of Henry. "Dr. Morgan?!"

At the sound of his name, Henry jerked his head toward her. For a second, he studied the fearless woman. Then, he suddenly turned pale, and he looked as though he wanted to flee the country.

Joanna resisted the temptation to react. She had never seen the usually unflappable medical examiner act this way before. What was it about her mother that terrified him? She wouldn't hurt a fly.

"It's me, Patricia Stanford. I used to live down the hall from you in the apartment complex at 69th and 2nd in the 1950s. Abe and I were classmates at PS 6."

Joanna stared at her mother in disbelief. According to Henry's file and his numerous arrest records, he was born in 1979. What made her mother think that Henry was much older than that?

Then again, Abe was a rare name these days, and the only person whom Joanna knew with that name was Henry's roommate. She didn't know much about how Henry and Abe knew each other, but neither of the men had ever mentioned that they were related. Why, then, was her mother talking about Abe as though he was Henry's son?

The younger Reece inhaled. Clearly, there was a logical explanation for this. Her mother had obviously mistaken Henry for someone else—like Abe's real father. Hopefully, nothing was wrong with her, and she didn't need her daughter's care after today.

To calm her nerves, Joanna looked at Jo and Henry. Jo's eyes were wide, and her mouth was open. Henry remained panicked, and he looked as though he was trying to figure out what to say.

Henry looked over Tricia's shoulder and at his unofficial superior. A beat later, he nervously turned his attention back to Jo. Jo closed her mouth, turned to him, and returned his nervous look with a worried one of her own.

Joanna wished that she knew what conversation they were having with just their eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed important.

Henry leaned toward them and threw his hand up. "Listen, I can't talk about this now." He lowered his arm, inhaled, and looked at the women as he straightened himself and placed his hands behind his back. "I, however, would like to invite you both to dinner at my place tonight. I promise that I will explain everything then."

For once, something sounded reasonable. Joanna finally found her voice. "What time do you want us there?"

"About seven o'clock. I believe that you know my address."

He reached into a pocket in his three-piece suit and pulled out his pocket watch. He briefly opened it to glance at the time. As he slipped the timepiece back into his pocket, he looked over at Joanna and then at Jo. "I really need to return to work. I will see you later."

His eyes lingered on Jo—almost as though he was seeking her encouragement. Her eyes offered it to him, and she mouthed, "Good luck."

They gazed at each other for a moment longer. When they broke off their gaze, he pivoted toward the hallway and headed toward the elevators.

Joanna's eyes darted from a disappearing Henry to a standing Jo who was watching him leave. Jo crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to comfort herself. She bit her lower lip, almost as though she was trying to prevent tears from flowing.

The superior wanted to step over to Jo and ask her what was wrong. Jo had been worried about Henry several times before, but not like this. Why was she concerned about their dinner plans, and why would she wish him luck?

Mike's presence and movement toward Jo stopped Joanna from walking over to her subordinate. Jo tended to keep her emotions to herself, and she would refuse to talk to the older woman. Even if Jo did share her feelings, she would never betray Henry's trust.

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of the lieutenant's stomach. She thought that she knew everything in her precinct—or in her family. What was she missing here?

Joanna looked back at her mother. She was simultaneously puzzled and lost in thought.

"Mom?"

The older woman snapped herself out of her thoughts and looked at her daughter—just like Henry usually did during a case.

"I'm sorry. I was lost in thought." She shifted her weight. "Do you still want to go to lunch?"

Lunch. Right. I almost forgot about that. "Yeah, I do."

As they walked toward the elevators, Tricia looked at her daughter. "What did Dr. Morgan mean by 'you know my address'?"

Joanna groaned. After this, there was no way that she could explain Henry's tendency to sleepwalk while naked to her mother—not without something much stronger than coffee. It was a good thing that McSorley's didn't serve just sodas.