Author's Note: Honestly, this chapter wasn't planned when I outlined my story. A certain immortal medical examiner and a certain NYPD detective stole it from me! xD This chapter, however, fits this point in the story a lot better than one that I had planned to write. (I had planned to jump straight to what is now chapter 11.) I hope that you'll enjoy it.

Chapter 10

Jo peered into the autopsy room as she exited the elevator. Henry and Lucas stood over the body on one of the tables. Henry and Lucas looked up from their examination, and Lucas quickly noted the pair's findings on his tablet. Lucas said something, and Henry blankly stared at the young man due to the latter's use of an unfamiliar modern pop culture reference. The autopsy room's uncanny silence caused the scene to quickly fade from Jo's sight, leaving only the room's empty tables and equipment. Jo shook her head; she had been daydreaming.

She stopped at Lucas' work station for a minute to steady her surging emotions. Henry's failure to call Lucas by his first name had reignited Jo's concern for the immortal. Since the fatal train crash in 2014, the two had developed an oddball friendship that bordered on a brotherly relationship. Now, it seemed as though Henry didn't know who his assistant was. Either that, or Henry didn't want to draw Adam's attention to Lucas and the rest of the team.

Henry's use of Lucas' last name wasn't the only thing that bothered Jo. Today, it seemed like he was distracted by something. As far as Jo knew, whatever Adam did to Henry could had unnerved her partner and had caused him to lose focus on the investigation. It wouldn't be the first time that it had happened, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. She hoped that something would cause Henry to refocus his attention on the case very soon.

Adam's involvement in all this, however, did not explain Henry's reaction to her touch. Since the Clark Walker incident, they were comfortable with hugging each other and holding hands during difficult times. Today, though, Henry had jumped when she had touched his left shoulder—almost like she was a stranger. She pushed the thought out of her mind. He could had been sore from last week's events. If so, it would resolve itself with time.

Jo inhaled and crossed the room. She stopped at one of the tables outside of Henry's office and studied him for a minute. He was reading a book. His arms cradled the tome. Occasionally, he stopped and made a note about something that he read. She smiled. She could imagine him studying for an exam at Oxford in 1798 or reading in his basement lab as he waited for Abe's return from a date in the present-day.

Henry looked so peaceful that she hated to interrupt him. The investigation, however, now took precedence.

She knocked on the door. He looked up at her. Surprise, a flash of fear, and then embarrassment crossed his face. "Detective, I didn't notice you standing there." He hastily closed his book and set it and his notes aside.

She suppressed her own surprise at his actions and smiled. "I didn't want to bother you."

"Let me get my coat." Henry rose from his chair and pulled off his lab coat. Jo's mouth dropped open when she saw his wristwatch. She looked over at his chair to stop her thoughts, and she noticed that he didn't wear a scarf to work. Then again, it was normal for him to forego the scarf in warmer weather or if he wore more casual clothes. She closed her mouth so that Henry wouldn't see her expression.

As she watched him exchange coats, her thoughts turned to their earlier conversation. "So, what happened in your meeting with your superiors?"

He turned to her; a smile lit his face. "They acknowledged the situation, and they have begun the process of hiring more assistant medical examiners." He tugged on his lapels and buttoned his coat. "In the meantime, Mr. Wahl will be working with me on a more permanent basis when he returns to work tomorrow."

Knowing that Lucas would be taken out of the OCME's rotation pushed the nagging thoughts about Henry's unusual behavior from Jo's mind. "That's great! He'll be thrilled to know that his workload is a lot lighter now."

She eased outside the door to let Henry out of his office. After taking a few steps toward the autopsy room's doors, Henry stopped and looked to his left. "Maybe I should attempt to rid the monitor of the victim's image so no one else will see it."

"Good idea."

She followed him to Lucas' workstation, where Henry took a seat. He awkwardly jiggled the mouse and woke the computer. He studied the screen for a minute and then glanced down at the keyboard. He swiveled toward Jo, causing her to step back so they could avoid a collision. He looked a bit sheepish. "I don't see why I still haven't learned how to operate a computer."

"Your parents were technological Luddites." The second that the words left Jo's mouth, she knew that they sounded harsh. Then again, it was the truth. From what little that Henry had mentioned about his parents, they had shunned most of the technological advances of their day. Jo blamed them for Henry's slow adoption of modern technology.

She looked down at him. He broke from his thoughts and smiled. "You know. I never thought of them in that regard. I've assumed that we couldn't afford the latest technology."

She glanced at the computer screen and then back at him. "You know. Maybe I can help you close the program."

He gave her a blank look, and relief flooded Jo. He naturally wouldn't recognize the term. Even when he had attended the University of Guam, he had handwritten all of his reports.

She spent the next few minutes directing him to the menus and options that he needed to close the program. She smiled as she watched his awkward movements grow more confident. She knew that it was just a matter of time before he would use a computer on his own. Soon, Henry had shut down the computer completely.

He turned to her, a smile on his face. "That wasn't too bad. I should had learned how to do this sooner." He paused, and his eyes met hers. "Thank you for teaching me."

"You're welcome. And you're a quick learner."

After he rose from Lucas' chair, Henry walked over and turned off one of the monitors. Jo took it as a cue to help him close the room. She walked over to the x-ray lamps and switched them off.

"Have you learned more about Mr. Watkins?" He paused. "I mean, Brent."

Jo turned toward Henry as she finished with her last lamp. "Not yet. We're running a background check on him and tracking down the officers Dr. Newell talked to."

They walked back to the middle of the room. Henry suddenly seemed a little worried. "What time did you say that you'll arrive at WNYL's studios?"

Nuts! She looked at her watch. "Around one."

His grin returned. "Well, we shouldn't keep them waiting any longer." He motioned to the door and allowed her to pass in front of him. She took him up on his offer and, together, they headed to the elevators.

Jo looked at Henry as he pressed the elevator button. She thought back to last week's events. Abe had kept her up-to-date about Henry's general condition, but he couldn't give her specifics.

The elevator doors opened, and they boarded the car. She was closer to the panel, so she pressed the button leading to the garage. After the doors closed and the car jerked, she looked over at Henry. "So what did the doctors say was wrong with you?"

He looked surprised, and, then his facial features relaxed. "Oh, right. Well…" Before he could finish his answer, the doors opened. They stepped out of the elevator. Jo tapped Henry on the shoulder so he could follow her. Due to the rain, she parked in the garage instead of in her usual space in the parking lot outside the building.

Henry's British accent kept her attention from wandering. "To answer your question, the neurologist performed the necessary diagnostic tests but couldn't find any evidence of subdural hematoma, toxins, or anything of that nature." He looked at her for a minute. "Personally, I feel as though I should had stayed in the hospital for a couple of more days for more tests to determine how I found myself there. As the neurologist was certain of his diagnosis, though, I couldn't question his judgment."

They stopped at her car. She studied him for a moment before they got in. As she buckled her seatbelt, she resisted the urge to sigh. She had hoped that the doctor had shared more information with Henry due to Henry's medical training. Yet, he knew as much as she and Abe did. The only comfort that she could take was that he agreed that something had happened to him.

She needed to change the subject. Just as she backed up, she turned to him and smiled. "You spent your first day back home reading."

His jaw dropped, and, for a rare moment, he was speechless. It wasn't like Henry to be out-Sherlocked in his observations, but he was a creature of habit. Then, he lowered his head for a moment and grinned. "Yes, I did." He looked at her. "And I quite thoroughly enjoyed my book." He paused. "I wasn't up for any of Abe and my nightly rituals."

She knew that he wanted to know what she did that day also. Her memories of the past four days flooded her mind. "I'm sorry that I couldn't visit you in the hospital or at your place." She turned a corner. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his puzzled look. She inhaled to steady her emotions. "I've been busy with work lately. We got a case the same day you were taken to the hospital."

"The lethal apartment fire?"

Jo smiled. It seemed as though he read her mind. Before she could answer him, the now cloudy sky and drying city streets greeted them. She turned the car toward the studio. "Yeah."

"What have you learned so far?"

"So far, nothing much. All we know is that the fire started about 10:15, and, when firefighters arrived, the fire was already intense. Also, an Officer de los Rios noticed someone in one of the two apartments a few minutes before the fire." She remembered the folder that Marshal Gideons gave her. "Marshal Gideons will send you all of his findings from his investigation into last Wednesday's fire."

"That will be a tremendous help. I need to remember to write him a thank you note when I receive them." He paused. "Have you spoken with the complex's residents?"

"The ones we've interviewed don't know who lived there, and the Red Cross will not let us talk to the others unless we have a warrant. We're hoping that Eric Rowell, the building's owner, could tell us something when he gets back tomorrow."

Henry nodded and thought for a minute. "You're assuming that either Brent or Eric had set the fire. If Eric committed arson, why would he target those specific apartments? And what is his connection to Brent?"

"That's what we want to know." She stopped for a red light and looked at her surroundings. WNYL's studios were a couple of blocks away.

Henry paused for a second. "Maybe you should speak with Officer de los Rios. He might tell you who occupied the apartments. He shouldn't be difficult to find within the NYPD; the last name is rare."

She turned and stared at her partner. She and Mike were so focused on Rowell that they didn't think of Henry's suggestion. She knew that she needed to do that within the next couple of days.

A car's horn pulled Jo out of her thoughts. She drove the two blocks and pulled into WNYL's parking lot. They got out of the car. Jo stole one glance at Henry. She was surprised that the drive was normal. She hoped that the rest of the day would go as well as this.

A few minutes later, the pair entered the building and made their way to the reception desk. Jo noticed that Henry had become very quiet. She smiled; she knew that he was in observation mode.

She walked up to the desk. The receptionist filled out a form. Jo tapped on the desk, causing the woman to look up. "Excuse me, where can I find Craig Koop?" The receptionist looked confused. "The producer for Watkins' Journeys?"

Jo reached into her pocket for her badge. At that second the start of the receptionist's voice stopped Jo from pulling it out. "Take the hall on the right and go to the third door down."

"Thank you." She and Henry turned and headed for the hall.

As they turned the corner, Henry leaned toward her. "I'm curious. As all of your background checks are taking some time to complete, how did you obtain the producer's name so quickly?"

"Mike showed me the credits at the end of an episode." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the puzzled look on Henry's face. She thought, for a split second, that the look started when she mentioned her other partner. She quickly reminded herself that Henry didn't like watching TV.

A couple of minutes later, they entered the production control room. Two men and a woman sat a long desk. They seemed so focused on their work that they didn't notice Jo and Henry's presence.

"Craig Koop?"

All three people turned and looked at Jo. A blond-haired man stood up. "Let me get him." He stepped outside and faced right. "CK!" The man turned around and walked back to his seat. "He should be here in a minute."

A few seconds later, a man with dark brown hair walked into the room. "What's wrong?" He looked at Jo and then at Henry. "Who are you?"

Jo reached into her pocket and pulled out her badge. "Craig Koop? Detective Martinez, NYPD Homicide. This is Dr. Morgan. We're here to ask you a few questions about Brent Watkins."

"Brent? Did you find him? Is he okay?"

Jo glanced at Henry before turning to the producer. "We don't know. His cousin had reported his disappearance to the police again this morning."

Koop stepped back and leaned against the threshold. He inhaled. "Oh, man, no." He shook his head. Then, he looked at the pair.

Jo studied the man for a moment; his emotions threatened to boil over at any second. "Can we talk in someplace private?"

"Yeah, sure. Do you need to see Brent's office?"

Jo nodded. Koop led her and Henry to Watkins' office. Upon entering, Jo looked around the room. It resembled Marshal Gideons, but Watkins' desk reminded Jo of her own paper-strewn desk at the precinct. A couple of pictures, one larger and one smaller, sat on the desk. A bookcase sat beside the desk; several more pictures sat interspersed between the travel books.

She decided to start as she walked around the desk to see what was on it. "What can you tell us about Brent Watkins?"

Koop closed the door and leaned on it. "He's a great guy. He's so full of life and adventure that you can't help but to like him. He's always talking to his cousin Jeff and telling him about his travels. We rib him about not having a girlfriend; he's hoping that the right one will come along. We also tease him about his tendency to lecture." Jo smiled as Koop paused; she knew the feeling. "Then again, what can you expect from a travel writer for the Examiner and a guest lecturer at Baruch College?"

Jo nodded, but her mind started wandering. So far, Koop's and Dr. Newell's descriptions of Watkins agreed.

Just as she thought of asking about the past few weeks, she saw Henry pick the larger picture up off the desk. She almost reminded him to put on his gloves. She didn't, though; he usually kept a pair in his suit coat's pocket.

Henry turned the photo toward him. "Certainly close quarters produce conditions that could generate conflict. Have you found that to be the case?"

Jo glanced over at the producer. Koop wrinkled his eyebrows. "Huh?"

Henry walked over to Koop and showed him the photograph. "This group photograph. It was taken while you were on location." Jo shot Henry a pointed look. For a man who didn't watch TV, he seemed to somehow know how the show was filmed. Then again, Henry had mentioned his own travels on many occasions, and he likely recognized the location.

Koop took the picture out of Henry's hands. "Yeah. This was from our Cambodia episode. It was the one time that we stayed glued to our phones waiting for word from everyone who took the subway here in New York. Lionel, one of our cameramen, lost his wife in the subway crash." Koop passed the photograph back to Henry.

Henry returned the picture to the desk. "That seemed like an unfortunate and terrible accident."

Jo studied Henry as he spoke. He had no expression on his face and no emotion in his voice. She resisted the urge to drop her mouth open. She couldn't believe that Henry had just treated that particular death like her high school history teacher did world events.

Jo heard Koop's soft voice. "It was."

Jo looked at the picture to steady her emotions. A familiar face jumped out at her. On the right-hand edge of the photograph was a man who looked like the one she saw when she and Henry had shut down Lucas' computer.

She turned her attention to Koop. "So, have there been arguments between you?"

Koop shook his head and leaned on the corner of the desk. "No. We're like family. The only time that we sharply disagree is over sports. By the way, all of our brackets were busted in the first round this year."

Jo picked up the photograph and showed it to Koop again. "Which one is Brent?"

Koop pointed to the man whom she recognized. Jo knew that she had to continue her line of questioning. "Did he have an apartment on Central and Grand?"

"No, his apartment is in Astoria."

"Has he ever mentioned an Eric Rowell or a Dean Brewster?"

"Who? No. Why?"

Jo studied the producer's face. It seemed like he was telling the truth. "We just wanted to rule something out."

Koop turned his attention to Henry. "Do you watch Watkins' Journeys?"

Henry dropped his head and chuckled. He then looked at the man. "I'm afraid I don't. I don't even own a TV." Jo smiled; Henry was going with that as his cover.

Koop continued. "Then, catch it online. I think you might like it." He inhaled as the weight of the news bore down on him. "Or, at least, the last of it."

Henry stopped Jo's thoughts. "When we mentioned who we were, you asked us if we have found Brent. What did you mean by that?"

"Brent hadn't come in for work last Monday. We initially thought that he had finally scored himself a girlfriend. Well, Monday turned to Tuesday, and…." Koop's voice caught in his throat.

Jo nodded. "It's not our normal area of investigation, but we'll look into Brent's disappearance."

Koop looked surprised. "Really? That'll…" He started stammering and then sighed. "That'll be great. Thank you."

Jo extended her hand to Koop. "Thank you for your time. We'll let you know what we've found. Of course, we'll have to talk to everyone else."

Koop shook her hand and then Henry's. "Yeah. Go for it. I'm sure they would want to help."

As they exited the room, Jo leaned over to Henry. "Filmed on location? How did you know that?"

She looked at him. She saw that Henry had the same look on his face that he had when he mentioned the places he's been during his long life. "I noticed Angkor Wat in the background."

She smiled. She knew that she'll ask him about his travels to Cambodia later. Right now, she wanted to focus on finding a killer, if there were one.

A few hours later, Jo and Henry exited WNYL's studios and returned to the car. Jo felt as though she needed a break to process all of the information. She turned to Henry as she closed the car door. "So, what do you think?"

They fastened their seatbelts. Jo notice that Henry looked a little surprised at her question. He thought for a minute. "They appear to have the same story."

She waited for a lecture, but none came. She caught a glimpse of him as she pulled out of the parking lot. He stared out the windshield; his eyes were filled with fatigue from the day's events. That could explain his lack of insight.

"You look tired." He turned to her. "Why don't I take you home?"

Relief flooded his face. "Thank you. I appreciate it. I do need to return to the office and get my umbrella and my books. I wanted to research a few things at home." Surprise, and maybe a ting of fear, returned to his face.

Jo pushed any worries from her mind. "Okay." She used the stop at the red light to turn to him. "I'm here if you need me." She resisted the urge to take his hand in hers; he might jump again.

Apparently, that wasn't necessary. His eyes met hers. He was calmer now. "Thank you."

Twenty minutes later, she pulled up to the shop. Henry opened his door, and the smell of red sauce, jerk chicken, and matzo balls filled the air. He got out of the car and removed his umbrella and books from the seat between them. He bent down, and his and Jo's eyes met. "Thank you for the ride home."

"Don't mention it." Jo noticed that he hesitated for a minute. It looked as though he wanted to ask her to stay for dinner. She wanted to, but she needed to return to work.

He must had read her mind. He slightly frowned. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, we will." He grinned. "Get some rest!" He closed the door and took one last look at her before he turned to his home's door.

She watched him as he unlocked the door and walked into the building. The drive home had been normal. He had told her about his hospital stay and his first days at home. Her mouth dropped open when he mentioned that he had left the hospital with a stack of nurses' phone numbers. Then again, she didn't blame them. Had the circumstances been different, she might had slipped him her number when she and Mike had rescued him from being tortured by one of Iona Payne/Molly Dawes' patients.

Jo smiled as she pulled away from the antiques shop. Henry might had worried her a few times today, but there were other possible explanations for his behavior. The drive home convinced her, at least for now, that she was worried about nothing. Yet, she had no idea what tomorrow would bring. She hoped that this was the start of things returning to normal. If not, then she had no idea what would happen next.

Henry opened the oven door and checked the leftover lasagna for the fifth time. The cheese bubbled this time, indicating that it was ready to eat. He pulled it out and set the dish on the island between the salad and the garlic bread. He placed both hands on the countertop and smiled as he admired his work. For a first-time chef, he thought that he did very well with dinner tonight.

He was so tired from the day's events that he wasn't in the mood to cook. He, however, needed a distraction from his thoughts, and preparing dinner would be a way that he could help Abe. He hadn't expected to join the detectives' investigation. When Detectives Martinez and Hanson and Lt. Reece, as Henry had remembered Detective Martinez calling her boss yesterday, included him in their discussion about Jeff's answers to their questions, Henry immediately thought that they were Jeff's best hope for finding Brent.

They, however, expected more from him, almost as if he was a member of the team. Quite honestly, he didn't know what information they were seeking. He decided to use whatever limited experience that he had to answer their unspoken question. Apparently, his answer satisfied everyone. As for his and Detective Martinez's visit to WNYL, his questions were meant to clear up some confusion. They seemingly had performed the same function for Detective Martinez also.

Henry smiled at the thought of Detective Martinez. Even though she was a relative stranger, he found that he enjoyed her company when they weren't investigating the case. She was quite easy to talk to. He didn't know what it was about her, but he wanted to tell her everything about himself.

He, however, had almost revealed his memory issues to her twice. When she had first come into his office, he was worried that she would suspect his incompetency. Her smile and her comment about not wanting to disturb him had quickly dispelled his concerns.

The other time was during the ride back to the shop. The comment about his books had flown out of his mouth before he could think. Fortunately, she had ignored it. At that moment, he knew that he had to be more careful around her. He wanted to enjoy every free moment that he spent with her. If she ever learned of his memory issues, he didn't know how she would react.

The bell on the shop's door rang, bringing Henry back to the present. Abe had returned home with the laundry and possibly some items that he had found at an estate sale. Henry removed the plates and glasses from the cabinet. He arranged them on the table.

As Henry finished setting the dinnerware on the table, he heard Abe's voice behind him. "Something smells good. You cooked dinner?"

Henry smiled as he turned to Abe's voice. "It was the least that I could do. I hope that you didn't mind leftovers." He studied the older man. Abe had a laundry basket filled with clean clothes in his arms.

Abe looked a little puzzled at first. He glanced at the island and then smiled as he turned to Henry. "With Mom's lasagna, no way!" He walked toward the bedrooms. "Let me put away this laundry, and I'll help you with the table."

Adrenaline shot through Henry as he remembered his books on his end table. Abe certainly didn't need to find them; he would prevent Henry from returning to work tomorrow. "Um, if you set my clothes on the sofa, I'll put them away for you."

Abe peeked around the corner. "Relax! You don't have any this week." Abe returned to his task with a smirk on his face.

Henry watched as Abe vanished from view. He must had thought that Henry's comment was a joke. Henry felt the tension in his body leave him. He set out the silverware. By the time he finished setting the table, Abe joined him in the dining room.

Abe sat down and took a bite of his lasagna. "So, how was your first day back at work? Was Lucas glad to see you?"

Who's Lucas? Henry pushed his fork through his salad. He had to say something. "I guess he was. It was difficult to tell."

"What did you mean by that?"

Henry looked up at Abe. "After I sent my assistant home, I found myself in the middle of a possible murder investigation."

Abe wrinkled his eyebrows. "Why did you send him home?"

"He was tired from working for almost two weeks without a break."

Abe nodded. "He had been overworked lately. I bet that he was thrilled to have the day off." He paused and picked up a bit of salad. "So, where was the body this time?"

Henry opened his mouth slightly. Abe's attitude about a person's death was too cavalier. Then again, the eager look on his face suggested that it might be normal for Henry to assist the NYPD.

Henry picked up a bite of lasagna. "Do you remember the newspaper article about the apartment complex fire last week?"

Abe nodded as he chewed. As he finished his bite, his eyes lit up. "Wait! You're working that case?"

Henry nodded. "Yes. We're trying to establish the connection between the body that the FDNY had found and one of my colleague's missing cousin." Henry ate his bite. He was pleasantly surprised; the lasagna tasted almost as if Abe had made it fresh. "I spent part of the day at WNYL with Detective Martinez."

Abe met Henry's eyes, and the older man grinned. "So, how did that go?"

Henry smiled as he remembered his day with Detective Martinez. "It went very well. We talked during the drive to and from the studio." He decided against telling Abe about his and Detective Martinez's conversation about his hospital stay. When she had asked him about it and had mentioned her inability to visit him during that time, Henry momentarily thought that she was the mysterious Jo. Henry chided himself; Abe had never mentioned Jo's occupation. That, however, didn't stop Henry from telling Detective Martinez about the majority of his life so far. She had appeared to enjoy the story.

Henry looked at Abe. The older man eagerly waited for more information about the conversation. "I almost asked her to stay for dinner."

Abe wiped his mouth. "Why didn't you?!"

Henry sighed as he remembered the look on her face before they parted. She had looked as disappointed about her need to return to work as he had felt. "She sacrificed her break to bring me back here after work. We will see each other again tomorrow."

Abe smiled.

"How was your day? Did you find anything at the estate sale?"

Abe's smile faded, and a scowl replaced it. "Those infernal Berkowitz brothers bought everything before I arrived. They were packing it all up when I stepped foot in the house."

Henry looked at Abe as the older man took another bite of his meal. He needed a distraction from the day's events. "What do you want to do tonight?"

Abe looked up. "How about I score us a pair of tickets to The Flying Dutchman?"

Henry took another bite of his meal. He had planned to study his books tonight. He, however, wanted to know his and Abe's evening rituals also. If The Flying Dutchman, whatever it was, didn't last too long, he might be able to fit both into his free time tonight.

"Yes, I think that I would like that."

"Great! There's an eight o'clock performance."

Henry looked at the bothersome wristwatch and noted the time. "We'll have to hurry to make it on time."

The two men hurried through their dinner. As Henry helped Abe with the dishes, a twinge of guilt hit him. He seemed to have helped Detective Martinez today. Tomorrow, however, would be different. He hoped that what little that he had learned today would be sufficient enough to help him determine who died in the lethal fire and how. If it weren't, he shuddered to think about what could happen to both him and Detective Martinez.

He looked at Abe as the older man placed the last washed dish onto the dishrack. Their time together would give him some much needed rest and a chance to get to know Abe better. Henry hoped that Detective Martinez would understand.

Looking for clues to her possible reaction, he remembered their conversation before they parted for the night. She was the one who told him to get some rest. Henry smiled. That was exactly what he planned to do now. He could tell her about his and Abe's night when they would see each other tomorrow.

Author's Note: I do plan to have Henry connect Lucas to his past, and it will be very soon. I promise.