Author's Note: Sorry this took longer than I had expected. The idea for a one-shot popped in my head, and I had to write it at the same time I was writing this chapter. (To make up for the delay, the one-shot is posted as well.) I hope you'll enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 13

Two days.

Clenching her jaw, Jo shook the last of the popcorn into the big plastic bowl, tossed the bag into the trash can, and carried the bowl into the living room. She had spent the past two days reviewing surveillance footage from every holiday attraction and calling every hotel that she could think of in hopes of finding Marcia and Ralph. And what did she have to show for it? A headache, a sore neck, eight new earworms courtesy of being on hold for so long, and a sinking suspicion that Marcia and Ralph would already be back Upstate by the time she had finally tracked their every movement through the city.

She popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth and grimaced. "Needs salt."

She lowered the bowl onto the coffee table and returned to the kitchen for the salt shaker. Not having Henry around to bounce ideas off of or to look over the evidence with wasn't helping. In spite of having a broken finger, he had been recruited to handle accident scenes and another round of hospital and nursing home duty. The pair of times in which she had stopped by the shop to talk, her heart had sunk when Abe had informed her that Henry was still at work. Abe had offered to listen to her, but it just wasn't the same.

She headed back into the living room, salted her snack, and tasted it again. "Much better."

She plopped the shaker onto the coffee table, settled onto the sofa, pulled the popcorn and the remote to herself, and started the DVD. Maybe the only good thing to come out of this was that they had another performance tonight. It had felt like an eternity since their last time together, and seeing his face again would be a breath of fresh air.

She watched until Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy stripped down to his undergarments, dove into the pond, and swam while Elizabeth Bennett visited his estate. Behind him, she could imagine Henry "waking up" underwater and his survival instincts prompting him to swim to the surface. Once on land, she could see him charting a course for the closest shelter and planning his excuses to explain his nakedness if someone caught him on his way home.

Jo paused the video a second time after Mr. Darcy, carrying his suit, had crossed his field and encountered Elizabeth. Jo giggled as she once again saw a wet and annoyed Henry sitting in Abe's car and wondering what on Earth she was doing at their shop. She had watched that scene a lot since she had first seen it in reruns the same summer her family had finally started to pay for cable TV. How come she hadn't noticed that she had a real-life version before?

Henry's comment about Erica calling him out on him not giving his whole heart to her rolled in Jo's mind. She popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth and chewed it slowly.

She laid the bowl next to her hip, shook her head, and smiled. Maybe she shouldn't have been so jealous of Erica. She always could talk to the other immortal whenever she had felt that she couldn't talk to Abe or Lucas about her struggles with the idea of immortality and her issues with Henry's lies during their first year of working together. It would have been natural for Erica to pick up on her and Henry's history with each other, and Erica would have deduced the truth about Henry's feelings for Jo long before he had become aware of them again.

Jo shook her head and grinned. How was it possible for them to have fallen in love with each other? The immortal ME who had been searching for a way to become mortal again and the mortal detective who would have given anything to bring her husband back from the dead? It was a ridiculous love story….

But….

But she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her heart ached for him. She restarted the episode only to stop it when Elizabeth mentioned Mr. Darcy's appearance to the Gardiners. When she had run into Fred and Danny in the joint hallway yesterday, they had mentioned that Henry's boss was reassigning today's autopsies to a new ME. Maybe….

Jo turned off the TV, placed the popcorn in the microwave, and headed to her closet. She pulled out the warmest clothes that she could find and changed into them. A blast of cold air had greeted her while she had peeked out the window this morning, and she wasn't taking a chance on getting sick on everyone.

Once she snatched her stuff from the table in the foyer and slipped them into her pockets, she raced out her door, through the hallway, and down the stairs. She hoped that Henry had told Abe about them. If he hadn't, she would have a lot of explaining to do if his son started asking about the past couple of weeks.

She headed out the building, stopping long enough to close the gate. She shoved her hands into her pockets, squared her shoulders, and huffed. "Here goes."

She pointed herself toward the shop. She wrinkled her nose as drops of water fell on it. Was that…?

Before she could answer her question, a howling gust of wind pushed her toward the intersection. She lost her balance, stumbled, and fell face first onto the sidewalk.

She regained her bearings, pushed herself into a kneeling position, and brushed her hair back over her ear. Where did that gust of wind come from?

She shook her head to clear the remaining cobwebs from her head and rose to her feet. She looked around her and narrowed her eyes as snow pelleted her face and her body. How did it turn so dark so fast?

Snow blew onto her face and stuck to her eyelashes and eyebrows. Her heart pounded in her chest at her realization. She's been through snow squalls before, but she had always ridden them out indoors. How…?

Another cold gust of wind cut through her coat. She pulled her arms together. She needed to get inside now.

She looked around at the buildings. Maybe she could make it to the shop….

She used the streetlights and the dim taillights of the cars crawling to a complete stop to determine where she was. Feeling far more oriented than when she was earlier, she set off for Henry and Abe's place.

As Jo toddled toward a grayish-white cloud, she unleashed an expletive. Maybe she should have waited until tonight. They wouldn't have had as much time for themselves, but she wouldn't be risking her life for it.

"It was great to see Frank and Dottie again."

Henry followed Abe into the kitchen, pulled off his coat, and draped it on the back of his chair. He eyed his son for signs of hypothermia from their walk back to the shop. He had felt that taking Abe's car would have shielded them from the elements today. Abe, however, had insisted that he would be fine taking the subway. One peek at the line of cars crawling along the street had convinced Henry to heed Abe's advice for their trip to the nursing center.

Abe checked the milk in the jug, ambled to the refrigerator, and retrieved the carton. Henry smiled. So far, it appeared that his son's tolerance for the cold remained as excellent as it had been in his youth.

"It was." Henry took the teacup closest to him, poured his tea, and added the freshly poured milk and his lump of sugar. "I'm amazed it went far better than I had expected." Frank and Dottie had been overjoyed to see both him and Abe, and they had believed the men's every word. At the end of the visit, they had promised Henry that they would not reveal what he had told them to anyone, not even their children and grandchildren. Somehow, Henry believed that they would carry their memories of the visit to the grave.

"I'm still surprised that you told them you're immortal." Abe returned to the table, found his cup, and started to pour himself some of the comforting liquid.

Henry settled into his chair, sighed, and sipped his tea. "In a way, I had no choice. It was that, allow them to be evaluated by a psychiatrist should the wrong medical professional overhear their conversation about me, or leave them with questions that would linger well into the afterlife." If there is one.

Abe looked around the room and over the older Morgan's shoulder.

Henry narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the real Henry Morgan. He's got to be here somewhere."

"Abraham." Exasperated, Henry set his cup down on his saucer with a clunk. "You're always encouraging me to evolve, to trust others. Why are you incredulous when I have chosen to disclose my condition to a wedded couple outside of our inner circle?"

"I'm not." Abe seated himself, clasped his cup with both hands, and met his father's eyes. "Given your propensity to avoid conversations about yourself, I think I'm well within my right to question your sudden change of heart."

Henry bowed his head and studied the table's grain. Abe was right. This wasn't like him. Within the past two and a half years, six additional people had learned that he was immortal, and, after rather pleasant afternoons and evenings with them, he had occasionally entertained the notion of Hanson's, Karen's, Marco's, Jerry's, Myron's, and Fawn's knowledge of his condition. He was being careless, and if he didn't watch it, he could be betrayed by the very people closest to him again.

Jo's face appeared before him, and the short time in which they had become acquainted with each other and had fallen in love played before him once again. He chuckled. The first times were always the most difficult. During his first year of working with Jo, he had struggled with keeping Nora's and Adam's voices at bay whenever she had inquired more about his past. Her heartbroken decision to kick him out of her car had awakened him to the price he was paying with his lies, and, during his trudging journey to the basement, he had started to regret not letting her into his life fully to begin with. After he had told her….

He looked back up at Abe and waited until the younger Morgan finished his sip. "I think I'm becoming more comfortable discussing my past and my condition with others. I still struggle with my concerns about others believing me and about being betrayed again, but it's much easier to talk about myself now than it was when I had first begun my consultation work with the NYPD."

"Since you had let Jo watch part of one death and become suspicious about another, you mean."

Henry chuckled and nodded. "In a way, you can say that. I don't know what it was, but there was something about her which had encouraged me to trust her with my true self from the moment we had met."

"I'm not saying that you have a thing for her, but it seems that she has more of an effect on you than almost any other woman outside of Mom."

Hoping to resist an urge to sigh, Henry took another sip of his now lukewarm tea. He had promised Jo that he would discuss their transition from friends to lovers with Abe as soon as he could, but, so far, that hadn't happened yet. Between his workload and Abe's dates with Fawn, he had never had the opportunity to bring it up.

He swallowed the last ounce of liquid and slowly set his cup on its saucer. He rolled his tongue along the side of his cheek. Abe had always supported his relationship with Jo, to the point where, over the past two days, the immortal had asked himself whether his son was attempting to play matchmaker for them. Yet, it was too soon in his and Jo's relationship to bring his child into the picture.

The blue numerical tattoo on Abe's forearm caught Henry's eye and called their and Abigail's early days as a family to his mind. He pulled his lips together into a small smile. Abigail had brought Abe into their relationship long before the older Morgan had known either of their names or how long Abe had rested in her arms when he had spotted them. When they had told Abe the real reason they wanted a wedding and a honeymoon, he had astounded them with his knowledge of their unwedded status. This time….

He huffed. This time was different. Then, Abe had enjoyed ten years of seeing his parents live together as husband and wife before they had made their marital status official. Now, both Morgans were creating families on their own without any more hints about the future than what Henry had believed he had seen.

As he nursed his cup, he took another peek at the few droplets at the bottom. Now would be a good time as any to tell Abe about the past two weeks' events. Otherwise, he had no idea when would be the next time he could breach the topic.

He squared his shoulders and steeled himself for Abe's response. His son, however, stared at a spot behind him, almost oblivious to his father's presence.

"Maybe I should hang a few sprigs of mistletoe over the threshold. It would make the apartment feel more festive."

Henry willed himself to reply. "So you and Fawn can make out, as the younger generation might say, when she comes over?" His lips quirked up into a smile.

Abe met his father's eyes again. "So you and Jo can make out again."

Henry's heart pounded in his chest. He was not hearing that correctly.

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Come on, Pops. It's obvious." Abe pushed his cup and saucer away from him. "You and Jo had finally admitted your feelings for each other and had started seeing each other within the past two weeks. If I had to take a guess when your confession of love was, I would say it was the same day she had taken you to Midtown."

"Why would you think it had happened then? That is, if your assumption is correct."

"Aside from you turning in early that evening?"

Henry nodded.

"After you had come home from your second practice, you had insisted that you weren't drunk. Ordinarily, I would have been worried about your drinking habits, but, when Jo arrived at the shop, you gained more energy than what my hangover cure could ever give you. The next night, you started to prepare coq au vin, a meal which you've told me is meant to invoke romance."

Henry hung his head. He had told his son that when he had first suggested the recipe to Abe years ago.

Henry pointed at Abe. "I let you cook it for me, though. That doesn't count."

"It does to me." Abe stared him down. "The last woman you cooked it for was Mom, and that was like, what? Over thirty years ago?"

Henry opened his mouth. He thought he had made it another time between that night and his and Jo's first dinner as a couple. He hadn't realized he hadn't prepared it since Abigail's disappearance.

"Anyways," Abe continued. "I clearly interrupted something the night Jo stayed over because you two exchanged looks before and after your excuse about her being over because of your case. The next morning, you asked me which scarf went with your intentions toward her, something you rarely do unless you really want to impress a woman who has seen all of your scarves. When she came out of the shower, the look you had on your face was the same one you gave Mom well into her senior years. Not to mention, you've been getting all hot and bothered every time you're around Jo."

Abe took another sip of tea as a smirk crossed his face. "So, it's elementary, my dear Watson. You two finally fell in love with each other recently, and you've become an item."

Henry gaped at his son. Were they that obvious around him?

His fingers ached. He released his grip on his cup and mentally cursed at himself. Thanks to the regular doses of aspirin, the pain was considerably better than it had been three days earlier. Still, he should have remembered to take it easy on the broken digits. After all, his quick healing from an aconite-laced tea would have generated many still somewhat uncomfortable questions, and it would have robbed him of the satisfaction of seeing Dr. Washington's grimace when the two men would encounter each other in the OCME's hallways again.

Abe's mistake registered in Henry's mind. "Sherlock Holmes never said that." He should know. He had read Arthur's stories and novels when they had first come out, and he had never seen the phrase appear on the page.

The rest of the conversation echoed in his thoughts. He tilted his head. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? That you approve of Jo and me seeing each other?"

"Why do you think I criticized Jo's decision to let that billionaire Isaac Monroe decision to court her?"

Henry's eyes widened. "You what?!"

He took a deep breath and regained his composure. "You acted as though you were more concerned about my yearning to be with your mother again than you were about Jo's decision to get back out there."

Abe grew serious. "I was. I thought you were so stuck in your memories of Mom's disappearance that you were going to miss a great thing with Jo."

He took another sip of tea, screwed his face in disgust, and took his cup to the sink. "Besides, if Mom were here, she would have kicked you in your immortal rear end and told you to find yourself another wife."

Henry fingered the rim of his cup as he found the space between him and the saucer. Abe was right again. Abigail had attempted to breach the topic several times before she had left him, but the pain from thinking about that day had prevented him from listening to her. Were he to have reunited with her following his reception of her letter, surely she would have brought it up again before a more natural death, and she would have made him promise to start a new family with someone else.

He scoffed. Honestly, he was glad that Jo had brought the topic up now. Her work had caused him to fear for her life on several occasions, and he had wondered what he would do without her. Although he preferred for the conversation to occur well into the future, at least they could discuss it if she felt unsafe during a case.

Abe came back to the table and poured himself another cup of tea. He gave his father an apologetic look. "I didn't know that Jo had come to the shop to talk to you when I came back with news about Mom. Whatever you were discussing, aside from her and Isaac's breakup, it seemed pretty intense."

Henry chuckled in wonder at his son's observational and deductive skills. "I was the reason she had broken up with Isaac. Or at least that's what I believe she would have said if you hadn't interrupted us."

Abe narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think that?"

His advice to her echoed in his mind. He softly smiled as he started to imagine them getting lost in Paris again. "I had told her that…."

At that moment, the bell over the shop's door jangled, snapping Henry out of both the memories and his daydream. He and Abe exchanged looks. Abe had insisted on keeping the shop closed today in case their visit with Frank and Dottie had taken a turn for the worst. So who…?

Henry shoved himself out of his chair and started for the stairs, stopping long enough to pat Abe on the back. "I'll take care of our visitor. You just sit back and relax."

"Okay, Pops."

Henry peeked out of the window as he passed the kitchen. He swallowed. Somehow, during their conversation, a gray cloud had descended on the city, and snow was pelleting the window with a ferocity he hadn't seen since earlier in the year.

The emergency department physician in him urged him to stop gawking at the snow squall and race downstairs to a potential patient. He sucked in his breath and steeled his nerves as he obeyed the instinct's orders. He hadn't practiced medicine on the living in a long time. He hoped that his skills in treating hypothermia weren't rusty.

He flew into the shop's retail section and unlocked the door. When he opened it, his heart almost stopped at the sight of a snow-covered Jo shivering on their stoop.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in as quickly as he could. He narrowed his eyes as he regarded the rosy color in her cheeks and the tip of her nose. How long had she been out in the squall? And why did she risk her life to come here?

He ushered her into the shop, closed and locked the door, wrapped an arm around her, and held her as tightly against his body as he could. As he gingerly guided her to the living space, he quietly breathed a silent prayer that she would be okay.

"How are you feeling?"

Jo stirred in Henry's arms and willed herself to look up at him. Two cups of tea, a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and the warm blanket over her had made her so comfortable that she didn't want to move.

She smiled as she gazed into his brown eyes. "Still cold." Almost as if it was on cue, her body quivered for a second. "But I'm warmer now than I was earlier."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Tears rimmed his eyelids. She pulled her lips tautly together. Had he been worried about her since she had showed up at his door? She didn't notice she was that cold.

She turned from him and stared at a spot on the brick wall on the other side of the living room. She definitely should have waited until this evening to see him again. She had almost always listened to his concerns about her well-being, and he would have advised her to not take an unnecessary risk. Today should have been no different.

"Maybe I've made a mistake in coming here." She swallowed and dared herself to look at him. "I, um, I…." She sorted out her thoughts. "I couldn't wait to see you again, and I…. I…."

Tears began to coat her own eyes. She wiped them with the hand on his chest. He had been through too much in his long life. He didn't need to come close to losing her this soon.

"I know." His dulcet voice and small smile whispered his forgiveness.

Jo snuggled against Henry and laid her head back on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He responded by holding her tighter and resting his hand on the small of her back.

A strand of hair fell across her cheek. Before she could react, he released her waist and brushed it back with his other hand.

He stroked her cheek again. She closed her eyes, and she could feel herself getting lost in his touch.

The moment his hand returned to her waist, she moaned. Why did he have to do that? They could have spent the rest of the day like that.

The tinkling of dishes in the sink filled the air. She opened her eyes. A quick peek into the kitchen revealed Abe dunking her cocoa mug into the other sink for a rinse. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he wanted to be alone with his feelings.

She fingered Henry's scar. "Looks like I scared Abe as well."

Henry sighed. "You had. He wasn't ready to think about me losing my girlfriend so soon."

She could almost hear him smile. "He might not act like it, but he's glad you're okay now."

"He wasn't ready to think about me losing my girlfriend so soon."

Jo gaped and pushed herself up on the sofa. "When did you tell him about us?"

Henry chuckled. "I didn't." He shook his head almost as if he was in disbelief. "He had figured it out a week ago. We were discussing it before you had arrived at our door."

She blinked, shook her head, and widened her eyes. "We were that obvious around him?"

"Any more obvious, and I would have told you two to get a room." The younger Morgan turned around, migrated to the living room, and leaned against the threshold. "Honestly, it's about time for you to admit your feelings for each other. You've been dancing around the topic for the past two years. Might as well do it before anything else happens down the road."

Jo studied Abe. They had been that obvious since Henry had dated Molly and she had dated Isaac?

Abe pushed himself away from the threshold and took a step inside. "Do you need anything else?"

Jo examined the huge blanket draped over them and checked how thirsty and hungry she was. She shook her head. "Not that I know of." She glanced over at Henry. "Henry?"

"Not really."

Abe looked at his father, then at her, and took them both in. "I'll be in my room. Call me if you need anything."

As Abe slipped back out into the kitchen and started for the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Jo shook her head in amazement. How was it possible for her to find enough love for both Henry and his son?

The idea suddenly hit her. She widened her eyes. If she and Henry were lucky enough to get married, she would be the stepmom to a 72-year-old man and an adoptive step-great-grandmother long before she would have her first child with Henry.

She settled back onto the sofa and smiled. Then again, nothing about Henry was normal. And that was the way she liked it.

She wiggled as close to Henry as she could. Her smile turned into a grin as he pulled her close to him.

She took in as much of him as she could. His arms were strong enough to pull patients to safety and gentle enough to cradle a baby. His hands had done everything from tying kids' shoelaces to playing pianos to weighing brains. His eyes had taken in everything from London during Jane Austen's time to the dawn of the modern era. And, even with the threat of a psychopathic immortal on the loose, Henry's soul had somehow managed to maintain its integrity.

Jo's fingers glided along his scar, almost as though they didn't feel the dress shirt separating her from it. It was a miracle that he was here with her two hundred years after his first death. It was a miracle that she had been assigned to the train crash which had killed him, and it was a miracle that CSU hadn't bagged his watch before she had found it. It was a miracle that he had been assigned to investigate his own death. And it was a miracle that she had recognized there was something different about him and that she had listened to her gut urging her to get to know him better.

His heart marked the seconds following his transformation into an immortal. She smiled. What she wouldn't give for her to wake up to it every morning and to let it lull her to sleep at night for as long as she lived.

She pushed the thought aside for the time being. If fate allowed them, they would get married soon enough. For now, though, she should just enjoy being his girlfriend.

The blanket weighed down on her. She wiggled herself into a better position. She could just….

"Do you mind if I closed my eyes for a while? This blanket is putting me to sleep."

Henry kissed her on the forehead. "Take as much time as you need."

As her eyes slid shut, Jo smiled once more. She had to be the luckiest woman in the world right now. She was with Henry, and, for the moment, that was all that mattered.

Author's Note: You can watch the wet-shirted Colin Firth scene for yourself at "The Lake Scene (Colin Firth Strips Off) – Pride and Prejudice - BBC on BBC Studio's YouTube page. To see where it occurs within the miniseries, check out For Pride and Prejudice's transcript of "Pride and Prejudice 1995 BBC Miniseries Script – Episode 4".

The snow squall that Jo inadvertently walks into really happened on the morning of December 15, 2016. (Sophia Rosenbaum's "Polar Vortex brings a little snow to NYC", December 15, 2016, New York Post, Glenn Coin's "Dangerous snow squall headed for Central NY; warning issued" on 's website, and The Digital Snow Museum's December 15, 2016, page). Information about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous non-quote is from Wikipedia. Part of the conversations in the chapter were inspired during a recent rewatch of "Punk Is Dead" and "Best Foot Forward".