Author's Note: Fun fact: In the program where I write my rough drafts for my stories, the scene where Adam walks into Lt. Reece's office is entitled "Adam Tempting Fate". He certainly was when I was writing it.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 14

Henry and Jo laughed as the warm air of their apartment greeted them. Once the door was closed, he threw his head back onto it and happily panted. The last time that they had attempted to dodge the rain, they had reached her car before they got wet. This time, they had found themselves in it as they exited the museum. They had dashed back to the apartment with his coat over her head, but the rain's slant had made him wish that he had remembered his umbrella.

His gaze followed Jo as she wove her way through the living room and toward her bedroom. The past four days had been a whirlwind, with visits to the museums in Lower Manhattan, picnic lunches in Central Park, intimate dinners in their dining area, and equally intimate discussions on the sofa. Their activities infused him with so much life that he felt that he was ready to burst from it.

His lips parted as she disappeared behind her door. He hadn't felt this young in centuries. He didn't know what it was about her, but, ever since he had first laid eyes on her, the crust of the years fell off of him every time they were together. Over the past few days, however, he felt as though he was starting a second adolescence altogether.

He rolled his tongue in his mouth. He hated for the day to end. The constant rain had forced them to change their plans from a day-long walk through Central Park and a picnic lunch with food from a nearby grocer to a return visit to the nearby natural history museum and lunch at a restaurant near the south end of the park. He had hoped that they could do something outside this evening, but, judging from the appearance of the sky, it wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Her door opened, revealing her figure. Her well-fitted white dress, denim jacket, and knee-high boots took his breath away. He gaped at her as she strolled through the room. He had always been taken aback by her natural beauty. Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, he was watching the movements of someone divine.

Jo's smile brought him back to earth. He took a deep breath to stir his thoughts. "You didn't need to change on my behalf."

Her smile grew into a grin. "I wanted to." She moved closer to him, and his heart pounded itself against his scar so hard that he believed it could break apart the knotted tissue and restore it to its original condition. "I didn't want to spend the rest of the night in wet clothes."

At that moment, he became aware of the way his own clothes clung to his skin. He quickly excused himself, raced for his room, removed the wet garments, and snatched some dry ones out of his closet and drawers. As he pulled a dry polo shirt over his head, he rolled through the events the city had planned. The night was still salvageable. They had several options that he had rashly brushed aside earlier. One would be perfect for their circumstances.

He found his socks and slipped them over his feet. "Do you want to do something tonight?"

"Yeah." Her answer almost stunned his thoughts into silence. "What are you thinking about?"

He put on his sneakers, tucked his belongings into his jeans pockets, and sprang to the door. Once he opened it, he shoved his trembling hands deep into his pockets and bowed his head. "How would you like to go to the movies tonight?"

Her mouth dropped open. "What? I didn't think that you were a movie person."

He chuckled. "What constitutes as a movie today doesn't appeal to me." He stepped toward her. "Abe and Fawn found a film festival featuring movies from the 1940s until the early 1960s. Since you enjoy films from that era, I was wondering if it were something that you would like to do."

Her eyes darted to the side. A couple of quiet moments later, she grinned at him. "I would love to. Where's it at?"

He stopped in front of her. "It's on 57th. I believe that it starts at 7." He laughed. "This time, I'll remember the umbrella." He certainly didn't want a drop of rain to ruin the vision of beauty before him.

He pulled out his watch, checked the time, and pulled his lips together. "I would like to take you out to dinner beforehand, but we don't have much time."

Jo reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. "I'll take care of it. You set the table."

His eyes searched her, and her gaze erased all his thoughts. To honor her request, he reluctantly pulled himself from her and stepped toward the kitchen. He wished that he could stay by her side, but he wanted to comply with her desires.

As Henry gathered the utensils and the napkins, her full orders came back to him. He reviewed the contents of the refrigerator. Every recipe that incorporated the ingredients they had required time to cook. Time which they did not have.

He turned to her. "What are we having?"

He swallowed as she pulled a couple of frozen chicken Alfredo dinners from the freezer. He loved her, but there was no way that she was going to force him to eat one of those.

Blowing out of her filled cheeks, she pointed her finger at him in emphasis. "You promised that you will try one."

He heaved a sigh. "I remember that."

He stared that the pair of meals as she opened the boxes. He gulped. He might as well get her attempt at convincing him to try microwaveable food again over with. The sooner, the better. At least she knew his strong stance against the appliance came from a rather disastrous attempt at preparing one of Abigail's lasagnas in one back in the 1970s. If he were to develop a severe case of food poisoning due to undercooked food—as he had then—maybe Jo would accept why he would never eat another frozen meal for as long as he lived.

Reminding himself of the broken promise of those early appliances, he set off for the table and arranged the silverware. He then found their wine and two glasses. As the glasses in his hand tinkled against each other, he smiled. Perhaps he could focus on the rest of the date to keep his mind off the taste of the food. If he could….

The timer sounded. A couple of seconds later, Jo reappeared in the threshold, balancing the two trays in her hands. He held out his hands and took them over to the table. He surveyed one. The food didn't look that bad. Perhaps he was wrong about it.

He set them down, stepped over to Jo's side, and pulled out her chair. While she settled into the seat, his eyes traced her delicate features. He gaped at her again. He had never seen her look as radiant as he did now.

Her smile invited him to sit down. He found his place and lowered himself into it.

As he took the utensils and one of the boxes and pulled them to himself, she pointed her fork at him. "You know, microwaves have come a long way since you and Abigail tried one. They cook food more evenly now."

"I'm still not too sure about that." The memory of the lasagna's burnt edges, uncooked center, and his and Abigail's search for a properly cooked portion popped up in his mind every time someone, especially Abe, mentioned using one.

Jo trained her gaze onto him. "You won't know until you try one."

He sat in silence for a few moments and sucked in some air. "If anything should happen to me within the next couple of days, at least you know where to find me."

"Shut up and eat."

The cheesy aroma drew him in. He examined the noodles and chicken on his fork. They looked slightly better than the ones from the hospital. He took a bite, chewing and nodding as he tried it.

She raised her eyebrows and took a sip of wine. "So?"

He pointed at the box with his fork. "This isn't an authentic chicken Alfredo. The sauce should have a creamy texture, and the chicken shouldn't be diced. The fettuccine noodles are okay. I prefer to have them a little more tender, but they're edible…."

He ate another bite. "Still, it's better than some recipes that I had tried before." Notably far more superior than the hospital's. He wasn't sure how he had been able to stomach that meal.

Henry smiled as he found another strand to eat. If Jo kept this up, she might be able to bring him fully into the 21st century after all.

He reached over for some wine. After his sip, his eyes roamed her face. "That's all there is to it? Just cook and serve?"

She nodded. "The directions are on the back or side of the box. Sometimes, you need to adjust the time, but it's only by a few seconds."

Henry picked up his tray and scrutinized it. "When did they start packaging frozen meals in plastic trays? The meals that Abe had eaten as a child when he had visited Lyle's apartment had come in trays similar to the ones used on airplanes." He set it down on the table. "Every time that he came home, he would enthusiastically praise the merits of his friend's meals. Abigail and I worried that—."

Jo reached over the table, wound her arm around the wine bottle, and laid a finger on his lips. The movement stunned him into adoring silence.

She locked eyes with him. "If I reheat your meal, it will taste as nasty as Abe's hangover cure. Trust me on this."

As he blinked his eyes, she slid back into her seat and took another bite of her noodles. He gave her one of his lop-sided grins. "Maybe later?"

She smiled. "Definitely later."

Later.

Henry took another bite and checked the time again. Now he could see why she had selected this dinner…and why everyone else raved about the appliance. He had wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, but he had hated the thought of being late for the movies due to their orders in a restaurant. Now, Jo and the marvels of modern technology provided them with more time than he had thought.

He furtively peered from under his eyelashes as he continued his meal. He couldn't get enough of the beauty that was ravishing his heart even more with each passing second. He wished that he could spend all the time in the world with her. Or as much as time as fate would allot to them.

Henry's eyes surveyed the theater's interior as they walked through the glass doors. He closed his umbrella, shook out the water, and smiled. He remembered when movie theaters had resembled Avery Fisher Hall, opera houses, or a traditional theater. This modern one seemed to have brought the past back to life.

Voices rose and fell around him. He shook his head in amazement as he faced their sources. The spring rain appeared to have driven everyone indoors, likely to the newer productions. A few older-looking couples were in the crowd, looking eager to begin their evening.

A buttery aroma wafted through the lobby. Henry sniffed and closed his eyes. With the mouthwatering smell, he could see the newsreels and serials preceding the main feature. Listen to Abe's and Abigail's laughter at the animated shorts. Watch the actors and actresses from the bygone era disappear into their roles and create a believable series of events before his eyes. Feel the warmth and peace inside of him as he—and, later, his family—departed from his seat to return home.

"Henry?"

The urgent whisper dissolved the past around him. He blinked and glanced over his shoulder in time to see Jo pulled away from him, her head remaining cocked. She nodded at the moving line. His cheeks flushed at the thought of keeping everyone behind them waiting.

"Where were you?"

Remembering his accent and his cover, he smiled at their shorthand which granted them the freedom to talk discreetly about his past. "During the Great Depression, going to the movies was one of life's simple luxuries. You could buy a bag of popcorn from a street vendor in front of a theater for five cents, pay five more cents to see the film, and forget about your troubles for a couple of hours. Later, it became an enjoyable family activity with weekend matinees that appealed to children."

"It's been a while since you've done this." She smiled.

Her hand warmed his back, taking his tension with it. "A very long while."

Hoping to see what was being showed, he looked at the sign and rubbed his tongue against his cheek. Jo had once mentioned that she disliked Clark Gable's films. At the same time, he would rather not have memories of Abigail drifting in and out of his consciousness as he tried to enjoy the evening with Jo. If one of Clark Gable's movies was featured, perhaps he and Jo could return to the apartment and fill out another Mad Libs book that they had purchased from the bookstore. If she really wanted to watch a movie, he could squelch his natural tendencies once again and suggest that they should find one on TV.

His eyes locked onto the sign near the ticket counter. Someone jostled him as they passed, but he paid the person no attention. His mouth opened a little wider with each breath that he took.

The night's featured presentation was a Victor Moore film.

He smiled at her. "We're in luck. No Clark Gable films tonight."

One figure stood out in the line leading to the ticket counter and sent a cold chill down his spine. He swallowed. How were they going to handle this?

He wrapped his arm around Jo's shoulders and nudged her away from the line. "Come on."

Her hand flew up to his and wrapped around it. "What's going on?"

The worry in her voice clenched his heart. He hated it. She had been through so much pain and suffering in her short time on Earth. She didn't deserve the hiding and lying that was necessary to preserve her life.

Once at the wall, he unwrapped his arm, moved in front of her, and rested his hand at her eye-level. He hoped that the positioning of his body would shield her from those who sought her life. He glanced over his shoulder and observed the crowd. Once assured that no one was paying attention to them, he turned back to her.

His worries swirled in his head, taking his breath away. He took a deep breath to keep himself from becoming weak. He leaned forward. His eyes roamed her face.

"Abe and Fawn are here."

She narrowed her eyes. "So? Abe knows your accent."

Her own gaze traced his facial features. She leaned her head back, and she mouthed "oh".

Henry nodded his confirmation. Fawn knew nothing about it. If she were to hear him use it, she would immediately notice and would inquire about the need for it.

He sighed. He wanted to spend the evening with Jo, not hide from his own son and his girlfriend. Perhaps it was best if they left. The night was still young, and they could find something else to do.

He turned away from Jo. Just as he charted a course out of the building, his eyes traveled to the young couple laughing at a private joke and Fawn leaning against Abe. In an instant, they transformed into children before him.

An urge to nurture his son sprang up in him. Before he could act on it, the voices around him surged. He blinked and shook his head. He was here with Jo, and she would be displeased if he were to spend his time focusing on the other couple.

He turned back to her and gave her a lopsided grin. Desperate for something to say, he searched his mind for the memory of the last time that he had been to the movies. Once he found it, he dropped his arm.

"Would you like some popcorn?"

Henry kept one eye on the couple while he led Jo into the theater. In times past, he had made it a point to never meet any of Abe's potential mates. The cautionary measure had not sat well with his son, but Abe had consented to it anyway. Once they had discovered that Fawn knew of and accepted his condition—with his true age and the nature of Abigail's death being her only surprises—it was natural for him to welcome her into their lives with open arms.

Henry smiled as Jo directed him into a row. The lone time that Abigail had been pregnant, shortly after their honeymoon aboard the Orient Express, he had periodically permitted himself to dream of raising a daughter as well as Abe. He had always assumed that becoming the father of a girl would never be possible, but fate was now providing him with a second opportunity in ways that he had never dreamed.

Abe took Fawn's popcorn and soda, allowing her to sit down, and arranged them in his arms. Once again, they morphed into twelve-year-old children who had shared their first kiss over milkshakes. Children for whom life and love held a fragile innocence that needed tending to so that they could blossom.

"Hank?"

Behind him, ice cubes jostled against each other in the paper cup that contained Jo's soda. Henry blinked as the chill radiating from the drink flowed into his back.

Chuckling, he craned his neck to her. "I should be paying more attention to what I'm doing, huh?"

He shook his head. He was easily distracted this evening. He needed to reign in his emotions before he erred in either matters of safety or of the heart.

Feeling more awake, he redirected his focus onto the row that Jo had pointed out. From personal experience, it was the perfect distance from the screen and the sound booth. It was high enough so that he could see over whoever would block his view of the film. In addition, it was close enough to the exits in case he were to ease out for more refreshments.

Henry took Jo's snacks. As he juggled the four containers and their umbrella, his hands shook. Hoping to maintain his grip on them, he tightened his fingers around them and willed himself to calm down.

Once Jo was settled, he handed her her box and cup and took the seat next to her. His eyes soaked her in as her glow chased away the dim light. While they had left the subway station close to their apartment, she had stated that she had never been to a movie theater before as she hadn't had the finances as a child or the time as an adult. Yet, somehow, she had searched the deep recesses of his memory and had discovered his usual spot.

Her radiance drew him closer to her, giving off a comforting warmth that warded off the air-conditioned room's chill. If it were not for his snack and his bottled water, he would reach over and pull her as close to him as possible.

Her brown eyes roamed his. She grinned. "What?"

"I—." His voice rose unexpectedly. He cleared his throat. "I was admiring your beauty."

His cheeks warmed as he recognized the low rumble that had replaced his normal pitch. It wasn't untrue. Jo's exquisite features, chiseled and shaped by a master craftsman, were the epitome of beauty. All he, a mere mortal, could do was to helplessly allow himself to be drawn in by their allure.

A couple of voices filtered into the mostly empty theater and gently shook his mind. To maintain a sense of propriety, he languidly and reluctantly averted his attention to the screen.

Before he finished, his regard landed on his son and his girlfriend. Abe slid an arm around Fawn's neck, his hand dangling over her chest.

The motion shocked Henry as though he had suddenly found himself in the East River. He cursed himself. In indulging his delight in Jo, he had permitted himself to neglect his parental duties.

He rubbed his face. How did Abigail manage to swiftly suppress her desire for intimacy during Abe's childhood? It was one of the few things about her that had driven him mad, especially when Abe was an infant. Now, he had found himself in desperate need of the same ability.

His popcorn and Jo forgotten, he eyed the young man. In another time, Abe's behavior would have been deemed necessary reporting in The Gentleman's Magazine. He had lost track of the number of times his parents had discovered his Uncle Dennis' most recent dalliances within its pages.

"How could this happen?"

One idea pushed and shoved against the wall in his mind and cried out on the other side. He quickly silenced it. Abe and Fawn were children, and it was up to him to ensure that their date would occur without Abe giving into impunity.

"Huh?" Jo's voice crept into his ears.

"A man is to treat a woman with respect." His British lilt threatened to break through the surface and reveal itself. "She is, in every way, his superior. She is a creator. A nurturer. A skilled manager of both the workplace and the hearth. She—."

"Hank?"

The unfamiliar name on Jo's tongue beckoned unto him. He kept his gaze trained on the other couple, waiting for Abe's next impertinent move.

"She is to be treated as though she were a queen. A man should not conduct himself as though he were—."

"Hank?"

He thrust his hand toward them. "I raised him better than that!"

"Henry!" Jo hissed in his ear.

The familiar name brought him back to his senses as Abe and Fawn looked at each other. Henry froze and gulped. He hoped that they would not twist around and see him and Jo.

The young couple shifted their attention back to their previous conversation. Henry lowered his gaze. How foolish he was to raise his voice like that. It was unbecoming of a parent. Especially one his age.

"You're spying on your own kid," Jo hissed again. She then bent away from him and widened, closed, and narrowed her eyes. "I'm spying on my potential step-son and his girlfriend."

Henry's own eyes widened, and his grip on his small container of popcorn loosened. Jo had begun to show her care for Abe when they had tracked him through the New York subway system years ago, and she had recently demonstrated that she had adopted him as her own. This was the first time that he had heard her admit it out loud.

Jo took Henry's hand and pulled it to her. Leaning over, she pressed her shoulder against his. "Abe and Fawn are adults, and they've been married before. They know what they are doing."

Her advice slit a hole in his memory. He turned back to the couple, once again looking like adults. He sighed. Seventy-three years had passed since he had first laid eyes on Abe in Abigail's arms. And sixty-one years had come and gone since Abe and Fawn's first kiss. Jo was right. The couple before them were perfectly capable of controlling their passions without any interference from him.

Jo ran her hand over his nape, silencing his thoughts. "Besides, you are supposed to be out on a date with me."

Her hand slid up to the back of his head. Her fingers melted his focus on his son and his potential daughter-in-law. In its place, a warmth and a wholeness permeated his being. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the relaxing rhythm of each of her finger's gentle strokes.

A darkness fell over his eyelids, and a blast of music disrupted his quiescence, forcing him to reluctantly open his eyes. As Jo withdrew her hand, the room grew colder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him as the trailers for the next feature film began.

Jo pushed the apartment door open, Henry's hand resting gently on her back. She giggled as the movie replayed in her mind. "I don't think that I had laughed that hard before."

They slipped into the room, and Henry pushed the door shut. "Neither did I."

One storyline rolled past her, and its familiarity sank her heart. "I hope that we'll never be like Hector and Katie." She and Mike knew almost all of each other's stories, and, until four years ago, they had occasionally scrambled to come up with things to talk about. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if she and Henry were to fall silent.

"I imagine that we'll always be able to find a topic of conversation, even if it's our thoughts about the weather."

Her eyes searched his face for reassurance that she won't be the one who would run out of stories for him. The left side of his mouth lifted up. Her chest expanded as though he had breathed into her mouth while she was regaining consciousness.

She blew out her air. "Will we?" She almost could not hear her soft, low voice as his smile left her incapable of thinking.

Each speck in his eyes glowed. She wanted to reach out, lay her hand on the back of his head, and pull it closer to her for a better look.

Henry quickly averted his gaze, creating an emptiness in her heart. "I didn't mean to almost ruin our evening because of my paternal instincts."

Jo reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. "You're adorable when you're acting like a father."

She grinned at him. It wasn't untrue, yet, his backseat parenting tonight had been a bit annoying at first. As he talked, though, she heard his American accent slipping more and more. The moment he implied that he had failed to raise Abe properly, his British accent had been almost completely audible to her and likely to everyone around them. The only way to remind him of his cover had been to get his attention off of the other couple.

His eyes searched hers. "Admittedly, I was a little nervous about asking you out to a movie when I was considering our first date. I wasn't sure if you would enjoy a rather simplistic outing. I had promised you that I would do something more romantic, but—."

She laid a finger on his lips. "I did enjoy myself tonight."

"But…"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I don't need dinners at fancy restaurants and flowers to feel like a man is romancing me." Isaac Monroe and her former boyfriends had tried that before years ago. The time that she and Henry had spent on the balcony when they had first moved into their apartment and their recent stolen moment at the Delacourt Theater were more romantic than any of her previous dates combined.

"It doesn't?" Henry heaved a sigh of what sounded like relief.

Her grin widened. "It doesn't."

Jo took in her view of him. Her worries about the world always drained away every time that he was close to her. Over the past four days, it was easy to forget about them entirely and enjoy her time with him. This week, she was just Jo.

Her throat tightening, she swallowed in an attempt to regain her composure. The last man who had made her feel this way was Sean…

…and she married him.

Her surging emotions about Henry almost ready to overtake her, she broke her gaze and stepped toward the sofa. Their time with Abe and Fawn in the emptying auditorium after the movie rolled in front of her like their film.

"It was nice to have a little taste of home."

She caught both her words and herself as she stumbled over the table. It was the first time that she had called her frequent visits to the shop "home".

She blinked and shook her head. How did that happen? And why did she see Abe as her step-son while she tried to catch Henry's attention earlier? She cared for the younger Morgan quite a bit, but…

"Indeed, it was." Henry's lilt coaxed her out of her thoughts. He chuckled. "Fawn was pleasantly surprised to hear my other accent."

The smile that Jo felt failed to reach her lips. The four of them had tried to keep their voices down as Abe and the two of them had explained their predicament to Fawn. Jo hoped that no one in the booth or in the auditorium had overheard them.

She swallowed. Or followed them home. Adam wouldn't resist that type of temptation for a moment.

To get her mind off the psychopathic immortal, she glanced over at the pictures surrounding the TV. One was missing.

She cocked her head as she stepped closer to the entertainment center. Her jaw fell open. Their photo of their "time" in Hawaii laid face down on the floor.

"Hank?" She swallowed back her fear.

Henry tilted his head. Jo nodded to the floor. He took one look and threw his head back in recognition of her changed tone.

She creeped to the kitchen's threshold. As she reached behind her, she felt air instead of her gun. She inwardly cursed herself. She should have remembered that she had left it at home. And that she was wearing a dress.

She motioned for him to stay behind her. With each step, she could hear his pocket watch counting off the seconds. She swallowed. Hopefully, they weren't marking the last moments of her life and of his life in New York.

They checked each room, looking in every space that was large enough to hold a body and looking for any other signs of a disturbance. When they had returned to the living room, she crossed her arms and blew out some air.

Her eyes met Henry's. "I don't like the looks of this."

Henry's eyebrows furrowed. "It doesn't appear that anything else was out of place. That doesn't mean that someone could have gone through our belongings and replaced them exactly the way they were."

She bit her lower lip. "Who could have gotten into the apartment?"

Henry sighed. "A maintenance worker or the manager could have entered without our knowledge. Other than that…"

Fear gripped her as several more possibilities popped in her head. Jo averted her gaze as Henry's mouth fell open. She ran her hand through her hair. She didn't expect this.

She turned back to him. "I'm not sure if this is serious enough for us to call Lieu and Mike. We don't have enough evidence to conclusively state that the apartment had been broken into."

Henry shoved his hands into his pockets and bowed his head. "I concur."

Her heart pounded in her chest. She buried her hands under her armpits to hide their shaking. This was their home—for the time being—and she hated that the sanctity of it had been violated.

An arm draped itself around her. A moment later, he pulled her toward his chest and slipped his arms around her. She grabbed onto him and refused to let go until she felt safe.

Once Henry's embrace had completely soothed Jo's nerves, she wiped the few tears threatening to spill over as he released her. She was wide awake. There was no way that she could go to bed now.

She looked at Henry. He looked wide awake as well. He lingered near her, almost as if he were afraid that she would need his embrace again.

She licked her bottom lip. "Are you up for another movie? We can catch one on TV."

Author's Note: The information about popcorn is from Natasha Geiling's "Ask Smithsonian" article "Why Do We Eat Popcorn at the Movies?" and Mo Rocca's CBS News article "Popcorn, the snack that saved the movies". The movie is "We're Not Married!" (I'm serious; that's the title!) I discovered it while looking for a romantic comedy from the 1950s, and I thought that it would be perfect for the story.

And, yes, the date was very fun to write. I've read several stories about Henry's previous experience with microwaves, and they all mention him leaving metal in the appliance and setting the house or apartment on fire. In my head canon for the show, my mind takes the tack that you've read above…at times, complete with another swim in the East River courtesy of food poisoning. I think I spot a little recognition of Clark Gable's name when Abigail mentions him to Henry in "The Man in the Killer Suit". I used that as a springboard for Henry going to the movies in the past. Henry's use of "mortal" to describe himself is metaphorical.

FYI, Jo's knee-high boots are the same ones she refers to in "The Ecstasy of Agony".