Author's Note: First, if you didn't receive a notification about Chapter 35, I'm sorry about that! Fanfiction's notifications were acting up at the time, and no one—not even I—received an email saying that it was posted.

Second, I started writing this while writing chapters three and six. The first half has been somewhat rewritten to fit the story better, but the basic idea is the same. I hope that you will enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 36

"What do you want to do tonight?"

Abe's question interrupted Henry's concentration on his task. "I haven't thought about it," especially not since my most recent flash of memory. "Did you have any plans?"

Abe pulled his lips together as he reached into the sink and pulled out the stopper. "I have some guests coming over. I hope you don't mind."

Henry eyed his roommate. Perhaps they were the three men whom he had seen in his nightmare. If that were the case, he could meet them and then afford them some much needed privacy by venturing out into the city. He could head to the Lincoln Center and see if they had a performance that he would be interested in. If not, then he could find another source of entertainment. It would feel great to not focus on his issues for the first time in a week.

He finished rinsing the dishes, dried his hands, and joined Abe in the living room. "Not at all. When will they arrive?"

"Soon."

Henry nodded. As he turned to the mantle and gazed at the photograph, his and his wife's clothes caught his attention. For some reason, he couldn't shake the idea that their garments indicated the picture's age. If that were the case, it meant…

The advertisement's question unexpectedly returned to his mind. What would it be like to see history unfold before him? To live in one moment and to immediately realize its significance? To be able to constantly stand with one foot in the past and the other in the present?

His eyes drifted to his wife's image, and he instinctively ran his finger over it. What he would gain in perspective, he would lose in relationships. He would watch his family and friends age and die while he would remain unaging and full of life…forever. If anyone were to realize it, his agelessness would generate many unwanted and unanswerable questions. It could motivate people to harm—or even kill—his loved ones to make him comply with their demands for something that they could not obtain.

Even if no one threatened them, immortality would still create issues within his relationships. It would cause the people whom he cared about a tremendous amount of pain if others observed a discrepancy between their relationship and their physical appearances. They would even consider leaving him or betraying him to avoid the agony that he caused them. The only ways that he could prevent it would be to either move frequently if others became suspicious or to distance himself from any human interaction for as long as he lived.

He sighed. Perhaps the mythological nature of immortality was for the best. If it were real, everyone—both immortal and mortal—would unwarrantedly suffer because of it.

"Would you get the door?"

Henry jumped and turned to Abe. Why would he allow him to stay? Unless…

Eager to begin his evening, he hurried downstairs. Just as he opened the doors separating the living quarters from the shop, his steps slowed to a stop. Three silhouettes, two masculine and one feminine, passed by the shop's window, so engrossed in their conversation that they appeared to be unmindful of their surroundings. A moment later, they slowed as they approached the corner.

His curiosity drew him to the door and urged him to unlock it. Upon his instant recognition of the trio, his mouth dropped open. He was pleasantly surprised to see Jo before him, but he had assumed that Mike and Lucas would rather spend their spare time with their families and other friends. He couldn't imagine what had prompted their visit.

Mike brushed past him, and the pack on his back bumped against Henry's chest. As Lucas quickly followed the detective, Mike looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Doc. Hope you don't mind us coming over."

Before he could respond, Jo's hand slid around his waist, its warmth stalling his thoughts. "We knew that you're worried about tomorrow, and we wanted to see if we could help you jog your memory."

After she eased around him, he rubbed the spot where the faint pressure caused by Mike's backpack still lingered. The moment that he fingered his scar, he sighed. If only he could remember how he had acquired it and how he had cheated death then….

He looked past the trio to maintain his composure. He wasn't making much progress in regaining his memory. Over the past few hours, he was starting to wonder if the events in his past were so painful that his mind was blocking them out and was creating something more pleasant or tolerable to replace them. Perhaps it was best if he left his past alone and live his life without giving it a second thought.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched everyone proceed to the interior door. Although recent memories were becoming increasingly strange, he was remembering a few things about his life with everyone. Perhaps he should try it one final time. If he remembered anything odd, he could always discuss the matter with Kimberley during his appointment on Friday. Perchance she could provide him with the perspective that he desperately needed.

Inhaling, he summoned his courage and followed them to the living room. Here goes.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the movement at the dining room table attracted his attention. Mike handed Jo something while Lucas fished another object out of his messenger bag. None of them appeared to have noticed his approach. Hoping to see what they were doing, he stepped over to the other side of Jo.

Abe caught his eye, moved toward him, and laid his hand on his shoulder. "Let's go sit on the sofa, shall we?"

Henry reluctantly allowed his roommate to guide him to the living room. As he sat down, he slapped his hands onto his knees and rubbed them. Obviously, the night's events had been planned for some time. He should just go with the flow. One of their ideas could be the key to unlocking his memory.

Lucas walked over to them and held something out. "You probably don't remember these, but they came in handy during a case. Be very careful with them. This is one of the rare times which I've taken them out of their plastic covers."

Henry gently took the offered objects. As he pulled them to himself, he furrowed his forehead at the sight of two Soul Slasher comic books.

"Graphic novels, doc."

Henry blinked at the faint memory. When…?

Looking for a clue, he flipped through the publications. A short time later, he suppressed his urge to sigh. The stories of Jack the Ripper and the Black Dahlia needled something, but he didn't know what. The only thing that he was sure of was that his journal of autopsy notes dating to 1888 appeared to be original notes from Mary Kelly's murder.

He swallowed at the thought, closed the book, and gave it back to his assistant. "I'm sorry. I don't remember what case it was."

As Jo and Mike entered the room, Abe reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and tapped the screen. "I can't believe that you found this. I still don't know why you haven't claimed it yet. You usually do with everything else that you find from…." Abe swallowed as he handed the phone to Henry.

Henry studied the image. A family dressed in the same style of clothing that he had seen in his first daydream sat in a living room filled with familiar-looking antique furniture. Two men, one older and one younger, stood behind a settee and flanked the piece of furniture's female occupant.

His heart unexpectedly ached as he gazed at the people. Three more people, a boy and two girls, should be with them. The girls should be sitting on either side of their mother while the boy should have joined his father and older brother behind them. He inhaled as he fought back stinging tears that accompanied the thought. How do I know that?

The young man standing behind the settee attracted his attention, and he almost dropped the device. The hair was longer, curlier, and more unruly. Yet, Henry swore that the lad looked exactly like a younger version of him.

He looked up at everyone. "When was this portrait painted?" He doubted that anyone would know.

Abe caught his eye. "1794."

Seventeen—?! With his hands suddenly trembling, he passed the phone back to the other man. He took a deep breath to calm himself. That couldn't be possible. He wasn't—.

"Henry?" Jo's concerned voice encouraged him to look at her. "Are you alright?"

He offered her a smile. "I'm fine."

She studied him. "Are you sure?"

"I—I was just a little startled by the date." He resisted the impulse to swallow. He hated to lie to her, but he couldn't bear the thought of another argument with her or anyone else in the room if he said what he was thinking.

Seeking a distraction, he nodded toward the book in her hand. "What do you have?"

"This?" She flipped it over and then warily handed it to him.

He opened the leather bound journal. As he read his handwritten pages, he shook his head in amazement. London, Saint Petersburg, Milan, Brussels, Tokyo, Rome, Sydney, Chicago—how had he lived in so many places?

His eyes widened in pleasant surprise when he read that he had lived in Paris. He quickly found the date, 1929. He scanned the other dates. It appeared that he had lived in those places about a century before. No, they must be incorrect. I wasn't—.

He rapidly closed the book, laid it on the coffee table, and huffed in frustration. How was he going to tell them that their efforts to jog his memory were only adding to his confusion?

Mike started to move toward the doors. "I brought my laptop. We could watch the YouTube video that you were interested in."

Henry swallowed. The last time that he had viewed it—in person—he had begun to contemplate that it was possible for him to have lived in New York nearly 130 years ago. "Not today."

"Wait!" A gleeful Lucas hovered near him. "You voluntarily went online for the first time?! Why didn't you tell us? We could celebrate!"

"I didn't think of it." Although he couldn't tell them about his earlier online search, at least his view of the video was the truth. "Perhaps we could celebrate another time."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Mike eventually placed both hands of the back of the sofa. "Jo mentioned that you remembered being in a train crash. Do you want to tell us what happened?"

Adrenaline surged through Henry, and he froze in terror. He couldn't possibly answer the other man. He could neither remember the rest of the incident nor verbalize what had happened that day without sounding like a madman. He would never forgive himself if he drove a deep wedge between the people whom he cared about and himself and permanently fractured his relationships with them.

A gentle pat on his shoulder from Abe freed Henry from his paralysis. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to lash out at the person who had made him this way. He wasn't a religious man, but he felt an innate inclination to blame a deity for his condition. Yet, that didn't sit right with him. A fellow human being was likely at fault for his anguish, and he shouldn't take his anger and exasperation out on a supreme being whom he wasn't sure even existed.

Henry opened his eyes as he sensed Jo joining his side and tenderly taking one hand into hers. With her free one, she traced a path from the top of his head to his nape. Each gentle stroke of her fingers scattered his thoughts and caused them to vanish. Not wanting her to stop until she felt that he no longer needed it, he leaned his head back into her touch. To his pleasant surprise, she continued her loving caress as though she had sensed his wish.

A few moments later, she withdrew her hand. Taking both hands into hers, she settled on the edge of the coffee table. As her knees pressed into his, she looked deep into his eyes and smiled. "Let's try something else. Close your eyes."

Both his surroundings and everyone but her dissolved into a formless mass in his peripheral vision. He dutifully complied with her instructions, automatically dropped his head, and patiently waited for her next request. He would do anything for the woman whom he had given his whole heart to.

"What do you remember?" Her gentle voice relaxed him as her strokes had. "Just take your time. Don't force it."

If he had any resistance to her suggestion, he didn't feel it. He trusted her, and that was all that mattered.

Morgan Family Estate, London, 1815

Nora's expression darkened as she plucked her hand from his chest and pulled away from him. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity.

"No, what you are saying cannot be possible. You are not—."

Henry's eyes maintained a steadfast gaze on her as shock began to overtake him. Nora had always believed in the supernatural. Why was she refusing to believe that he was telling her the truth?

"You have had a great deal of turmoil lately." His wife's increasingly frantic voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "You have lost your father last year. That and your experiences aboard the ship had caused you to—."

"Nora!" A growing alarm propelled him off their bed. "I beg you, please believe me."

She sat up and eyed him. "Henry, you are—."

Mad. He knew that he was not, and he could prove it. He glanced over at the table holding his water bowl and his razor.

Abe's Antiques, New York City, Present-Day

Henry's eyes flew open as everything slowly and silently continued to unfold before him. He rose from his place and walked over to his table. He turned to face Nora. Her eyes grew wider, and she became more panicked with each passing second.

Something brushed his leg and caused the scene to slightly dim, bringing a small piece of another world into his awareness. He paid it no attention. All that he was focused on was watching Nora as she tried to calm him.

He could see himself doing something which was upsetting her. For some reason, he couldn't move in accordance to it. It was almost as if his body knew something that he did not.

Suddenly, she inhaled. "I believe you."

"You believe me?" Anger and sorrow permeated his voice as unbidden words from an undisclosed source flowed out of him. "Because of you, I have spent my life living in fear of being discovered, of being viewed and treated as a beast if people learned the truth about me. When I make friends and find someone to love, I can't bring myself to trust them, and I have lied to them about my life to preserve myself. Even after I tell them the truth about myself and if they accept me, I constantly worry about how I'm burdening them with my condition or if they will lose their lives because of me. Because of you, I have spent the majority of my life hiding myself from everyone instead of enjoying my time with them like I should."

A realization dawned on him. "You know that this isn't me." His voice began to crack, and he felt tears in his eyes. "Yet, I have changed as a result of what I have experienced at your hands. I would have remained the same man you had always known if you believed me when I said that I'm—."

His throat seized at the next word. He tried to open his mouth, but he inexplicably couldn't. Something was preventing him from ever uttering the truth.

A slight jab on the side of his leg jolted him out of the recollection. The scene faded, leaving only the sight of Abe, Jo, Lucas, and Mike watching him in stunned disbelief.

The room immediately felt smaller. His heart pounded, and his legs tensed. He needed to get away—now. With that thought in his mind, Henry snatched his coat off the coat rack and sped toward the antique shop's door.

Jo stared at the door leading to the stairwell. She hadn't seen Henry that panicked since he had told her that he was immortal.

"Jo?" She turned to a concerned Abe. "What did you do to Dad?"

"I don't know." She thought that she was comforting him when it had seemed that he was becoming more frustrated about his memory. She had no idea why he closed his eyes a moment after she had sat down or what had just happened.

Lucas shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "Henry acted like he's seen a ghost. Who would be creepy enough to leave their life in the afterlife behind and stalk him like Adam?"

"Lucas." Mike's stern voice yanked Jo from her thoughts. "Only immortals return from the dead. You know that, especially with the number of times we've had to fish Doc out of the river."

Jo furrowed her forehead as she remembered Henry's words. There was only one person who—.

Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. "Nora."

At the sound of the unwelcomed name, everyone raced through the living quarters, down the stairs, and out the door. As she looked around the area, adrenaline surged through her. They needed to find Henry now. He was terrified of what he was remembering, and they had no idea what he would do.

Abe stepped away from the door and headed down Stanton toward the parking lot near Katz's. She swallowed. She hadn't thought about that possibility.

Determined to find her boyfriend, she surveyed the intersection. She finally saw a man stopping a couple of blocks away. She pointed herself in that direction and began to dash toward him. Hopefully, she could get to Henry before it was too late.

Henry's heart pounded with each step that he took along Stanton. The best way to end his confusion was to leave New York tonight. He could slip into the shop, find and pack a suitcase, and leave on the next flight to London. Perhaps some time in the city of his birth and early life would give him both a perspective and his memories.

He stopped at the crosswalk near Attorney and sighed as Jo's words about his frequent moves because of his issues came back to him. He had chosen the coward's way many times before, and he was choosing it again now. It might be in his best interests to stay and work things out.

The light turned green. He shoved his hands into his pockets and huffed. He still needed to find a way to tell everyone what had happened. This memory was the most intense and the longest one that he had ever had. Based on the furniture and clothes, this one appeared to be from the distant past. Not only that, but the actress in his nightmare was another wife—one whom had apparently hurt him deeply with her disbelief and with the resulting actions.

He shook his head. That wasn't possible…yet, it was. How—?

At that moment, he saw a splash of maroon hanging from his coat. He stopped and pulled the offending object from his coat's lapel. His eyes widened as he saw a scarf. He must had grabbed it when he removed his coat from the coat rack.

He studied the garment and tried to decide how to wear it. He could wrap it around his neck twice. He could throw one end over his shoulder and let it hang down.

His hands had a different idea. They folded it in half and wrapped around his neck. As his hands started to pull the ends through the loop, he startled. That doesn't seem right. He pulled it off, unfolded it, and let the ends hang down over his chest.

As he tugged on the ends to ensure that they were even, he heard angry voices rising above the light traffic. He sped across the intersection. Although he hadn't practiced medicine in a while, he still had a moral obligation to treat whoever had been injured. That is, if he didn't find the person dead upon his arrival.

Just as he entered the alley formed by the apartment complex and the nearby playground, a gunshot pierced the air. Fighting an innate predisposition for self-preservation, he opened the ajar gate and stepped over to the man whom had just fallen. The moment that he squatted to study his patient, he quickly spotted a growing pool of blood coming from the man's left shoulder.

Henry looked around. The gentleman was losing consciousness, and he would need surgery very soon if he were to live. Henry saw a couple of cars parked along the side of the road. Someone should have a can of brake fluid in the trunk. He didn't know what he could use to extract the bullet, but he could find something that would do.

He shook his head. Breaking into a car would attract attention and lead to his arrest. In the meantime, his patient would lose his battle to survive.

He looked at the man's face as he pulled his scarf off so he could apply pressure to the wound. The man was likely frightened by the thought of dying, and he needed hope to live. "Courage. You're a strong man, and you will get through this. You have my word."

He needed to call for assistance. He reached into his pocket for a cell phone, but he couldn't find any. Why don't I carry a cell phone? It would be useful at a time like this.

Suddenly, Henry heard a click. He looked up and saw another man pointing a gun at him. Henry followed the angle of the gun to the location where it was trained on his body. Adrenaline surged through him as he realized that the muzzle was directed at his chest. He swallowed as he looked back at the man.

The start of the man's gruff voice prevented Henry from talking. "Move aside, punk."

Henry gathered the courage to look his would-be attacker in the eye. "Sir, if you refuse to let me treat this gentleman, he will die." Henry kept his focus on the man, hoping that it would convince him to leave the pair alone. Oddly enough, the entire situation felt as though it had happened before—on multiple occasions.

Instead, he heard a bang and felt something piercing through his skin and into his chest. He fell back from the force of it. His entire back stung and his head throbbed as his body hit the ground. He looked up and saw his attacker walk away.

Henry stared through the trees' bare branches at the light-filled sky. Tears tried to form in his eyes as his life began to drain from him. In a few short minutes, his life would end, and his family and friends would suffer the pain of losing him for the rest of their lives. Their heartache and suffering would be his fault because of his memory issues and his own stubborn refusal to acknowledge that they had been holding the key to his past the entire time.

He tried to take a deep breath, and a sharp pain seared through him. If his life ended tonight, the first thing that he wanted to do in the afterlife, if there was one, was to find his family and his other wife—Abigail—and ask them what he was like in the past. When everyone else joined him, he could tell them what he had learned about himself…once he apologized for what he had put them through and asked for their forgiveness.

If he miraculously survived this, he would ask everyone about what he was missing. Whatever it was couldn't be worse than this.

"Lucas! Tend to Henry's patient!"

"Okay…. Are you telling him that we'll see him again in a few minutes?"

"Lucas!"

Henry blinked. Was he hallucinating? He could have sworn that he heard Jo, Lucas, and Mike with him.

Jo suddenly appeared before him. "Hey, there."

He tried to raise himself, but the excruciating pain and an increasing feeling of weakness pinned him to the ground.

"I'm sorry." A sudden inability to breathe easily prevented him from telling her that he regretted leaving the shop and her side. For being so resistant to their attempts to jog his memory tonight. For the future pain that they would suffer at his hands.

Her fingers ran through his hair while her other hand took one of his. He would miss this when he was gone.

He unsuccessfully tried to swallow. He didn't want to leave everyone and everything behind. He wanted more time with them, and he would give anything for it.

A sob escaped Jo and interrupted his thoughts. He longed to take her into his arms to comfort her.

"It's okay. You're scared just like we are." She inhaled as she tried to school her features to give him her strength. "You'll get your memory back now."

"How?" The word barely came out.

At that moment, an ambulance's siren pierced the air. A new sense of hope surged through him. The paramedics would notice his injury and would rush him to the hospital for medical treatment and a more proper reunion with everyone.

Jo glanced over her shoulder and groaned. "Man! Come on, Henry! Just die already!"

What?! He thought that she wanted him to live and to remain by her side for as long as she should live.

She smiled, leaned over, and whispered in his ear. "It's okay. We'll be waiting for you. All of us, even Abe."

What did she mean by that?

Everything became to fade and dim. His life now freely flowed from him. It was clear that he wasn't going to make it.

Suddenly, his life over the past two weeks, the few memories that he had, and, strangely, the daydreams flashed before his eyes.

Jo leaned back and watched his chest rise and fall once more and then stopped. With her free hand, she checked his pulse. She couldn't feel it anymore. In the next second, she felt air where Henry's hand and body had been. She let out a sigh of relief that his secret was still safe from strangers. She pulled out her cell phone and checked the time, in case Henry wanted the time of his death for his journal. Then, she quickly texted Abe to let him know about it.

Suddenly shivering, Jo stood up and staggered deeper into the playground. She leaned against a tree and let her tears flow. She admitted to herself that she was scared because she didn't know what the next few minutes would bring. As far as they knew, Henry had never died while suffering from amnesia before, and no one—not even Henry—knew how it would affect his awakening. If he had stumbled onto a permanent death for himself, she wouldn't be able to cope. She had already lost Sean; she couldn't lose Henry too.

The thought of Adam telling Henry that he had never found a death for himself unexpectedly crossed her mind. As much as she hated the other immortal's attempts to end Henry's life in New York, that comment gave her a small sense of hope. If Adam had experienced something like this and survived, Henry could too. She clung to the hope that Abe would soon spot his father emerging from the river alive and would be making his way toward him to prevent his next arrest.

Behind her, she heard the ambulance that she had called after they had heard the first gunshot pull up and the paramedics removing a gurney from the back of the vehicle. At the same time, a police siren whopped one final time, and the door slammed closed. Jo wiped her eyes, hoped that her mascara wouldn't give her away, and headed toward the others.

"Zack!" Mike's voice rang through the playground.

"Mike? What are you doing here?"

Mike shifted his weight. "We were in the area when the first gunshot rang out. We left where we were to investigate, and we came across this guy. A Good Samaritan must had tried to treat the victim before running away from the second gunshot. Jo and I checked the area for suspects, but we didn't see anyone."

"Uh, huh." Zack noticed Lucas. "Who are you?"

Lucas cleared his throat and extended a hand. "Lucas Wahl, assistant medical examiner. Yeah, I was in the neighborhood visiting a friend when I heard the first gunshot. I ran over and saw the man on the ground. After seeing his injury, I used my scarf to treat him. I heard a second gunshot, but I have no idea where it came from."

She stifled a chuckle as Mike shot Lucas a look. Henry wouldn't mind Lucas' alibi and claim to his scarf if and when he heard about it. From what she could tell, he might even compliment Lucas on his treatment of their patient if he lived.

She finally looked at her colleague. "Hey, Zack."

He turned to her. "Jo?" He studied her in confusion.

She quickly compose herself. "We were in the area visiting a friend when we heard the first gunshot ring out. We ran out of our friend's apartment and came here to investigate. As Lucas treated the victim, Mike and I checked the area, but we didn't see anyone else. We all heard a second shot, but we don't know where it had come from." She hoped that Zack wouldn't suspect that something about all three stories was off.

Zack looked at Mike and Lucas, who nodded in agreement with her version.

When Zack left to phone it in, Jo let out a sigh of relief. No one would suspect that Henry had died here tonight.

Sensing that it was time to leave the scene, the trio walked down Stanton until they knew that everyone wouldn't see them. When they stopped near Attorney, Mike and Lucas hugged her. Jo knew that the circumstances of this death weighed heavily on their minds as well. After all, they had become friends with Henry over the past few years, and they likely were thinking the same thing that she was.

In silence, they made their way back to the antiques shop. As they walked, Jo hoped that, in the next few minutes, they would get some good news. For her, it would be in the form of Henry Morgan walking through the doors of his home—alive and well.

Author's Note: ***holding out my stockpile of virtual tissues after taking one for myself***

Chapter 37 is written already. Due to the nature of this chapter, I plan to post the next one a few days from now. I'm not going to leave you hanging for long.