This chapter is shorter than the previous ones. Mike does get to confront Adam, though. Hope you like it.

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"Pardon me, Sir, but in my opinion, Morgan presents no threat to our national security," General Austin informed his superior on the other end of the phone call. "I think it would be a big mistake to - Yes, Sir, but I'll, I'll need a little more time."

vvvv

"Impressment," Henry rasped through clenched teeth. "The American government plans to forcibly recruit me into the ranks of their secret operatives." He had known of this practice employed by the British Royal Navy that forcibly compelled young men to serve, although he'd served willingly in the late 1700s. The impressment period, called the Age of Sail, lasted from roughly the mid-16th to the mid-19th centuries. In this modern day and age, it both amazed and dismayed him greatly that the practice was still alive and well and now being used by the government of his adopted country against him.

"I knew we weren't safe here! I knew it!" Abe huffed. He managed to calm himself and face his father, his fists on his hips. "You've gotta break outta here, Dad." Abe raised his voice over his father's protests. "Get out of here and bring back the Cavalry for me."

"Wish it were that simple," Henry replied, pursing his lips. "As sound as you may think your suggestion is, you've overlooked the fact that pertinent waterways near here are most likely being guarded in case I might make an, ah, appearance in one of them." He shook his head at Abe's suggestion. "No. We leave here, we leave together."

Abe, deflated, sat down on the sofa and Henry sat down next to him, patting his hand. "Don't worry, son. I have complete faith in Lt. Reece and the others. They promised to come and I'm sure they will."

It was mid-morning but neither of them felt like taking a meal after General Austin had shared the news with them of the government's impending actions concerning Henry. Although they believed that the pained look in his eyes was genuine, it did them little good. Especially since they had been told nothing about what the government's plans were regarding Abe. Would he be taken somewhere and kept in a witness-protection type program but ultimately held hostage in an effort to force Henry's unwilling compliance?

"We need a miracle, Abe," Henry told his son, his eyes darting back and forth.

"Okay. I believe in miracles," Abe replied confidently. He believed in his miraculous Dad. Even that scoundrel, Adam, was a miracle of existence.

They stood face to face and stared determinedly at each other almost mesmerizing each other as if that could produce a brilliant idea from them. A knock at the door startled them, bringing them back to the reality of their surroundings. Another knock and they both sighed. Henry walked over and opened the door. A visibly upset Captain Ness stood before him.

"Dr. Morgan, something's wrong with General Austin," she told him almost breathlessly. The concern on her face and in her demeanor washed over onto him and Abe. "Could you come and see if you can help him?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he replied, his first responder instincts taking over as he and Abe hurriedly followed her into the General's office.

There, they found him pale, sweaty, obviously in pain, partially collapsed with one knee on the floor, and the other leg outstretched as he leaned against the side of his desk. His eyes were half shut and he took short, shallow breaths while one hand fumbled in his side pocket. Henry quickly recognized the signs of cardiac distress. Henry knelt down in front of him, loosening the man's tie. After retrieving what appeared to be nitroglycerin pills from Austin's pocket, he helped administer them to him by placing one under his tongue.

"Help me with him, please?" he asked Abe. Together, they supported him on either side and laid him down on the nearby leather couch. "Shouldn't your own medical staff be attending to you?" Henry asked Austin.

"Those ... first aid ... weekend warriors?" Austin weakly disparaged. He blinked his eyes fully open and looked at Henry. "Thank you. But I wouldn't have blamed you ... if you would've ... refused to come." He closed his eyes again and smiled. "First do no harm ... eh, Doctor?"

Henry didn't respond to Austin's rhetorical question and instead urged him to rest. Captain Ness had retrieved a blanket and pillow from Austin's suite one floor above. He helped her place the pillow under Austin's head and spread the blanket over him. He then motioned for her and Abe to move away from the general.

"How long has he had this condition?" Henry asked Ness, although he guessed from the strength of the prescription that it was a recent development.

Ness shook her head. "I didn't know anything about it or those pills. But when I left to get you, he was still standing."

"Was it his idea to send for me?" Henry asked.

"No," she replied. "He said he didn't think you would come and that it would pass." She looked at Austin and sighed. "Guess I disobeyed orders."

"You probably saved his life," Abe pointed out. "It didn't look like he was gonna be able to take his medicine by himself."

"He's right," Austin said, his voice still weak. "You saved my life, Captain ... by bringing the doctor."

They walked back over to him and Henry knelt down beside him and began checking his vital signs. Austin waved him off, though. "I'm okay now, Doctor. Thank you. Ness?"

"Yes, General," she quickly replied.

"I didn't ask you ... to go for ... the doctor."

"Yes, I know, General. I apologize for - "

" - doing what you felt ... you had to do," Austin finished for her, his voice a bit stronger but his breathing still a bit labored. "Don't ever apologize ... for that," he told her. Ness smiled, visibly relieved at not being reprimanded.

"But I recently ... received orders," Austin continued, "to do something ... I totally disagree with." He cast an apologetic eye up at Henry and Abe and looked at Ness again. "It's been a long time, Captain ... since I wilfully disobeyed a ... direct order. I'd rather ... you not be ... part of this."

"Begging the General's pardon," Ness told him, "but as long as I'm disobeying, might as well keep the streak going."

vvvv

While General Austin and Captain Ness were busy "disobeying" by contacting Lt. Reece to let her know it was time to whisk Henry and Abe away from their no longer safe haven, Adam sat in a holding cell at Ryker's. He recalled how he'd been transferred there from Bellevue wearing a brown mask of high-grade resin that covered his nose and mouth with a barred opening to allow for breathing and speech. They'd strapped him in a straight-jacket over an orange jumpsuit while strapped to a hand truck. He knew that images of the infamous movie villain, Hannibal Lecter, would rise in anyone's mind - indeed, in his own - at the sight of him. The equally despicable Immortal tiredly asked himself if all of that was really necessary since the injury to his arm had not yet healed enough to allow him to use it. Therefore, he was no immediate threat for combativeness.

Mortals. So fearful of the unknown, Adam disdainfully remarked to himself as he'd been pushed from his cubicle in the ER, down the hospital corridors and outside to waiting bus, scoffing inwardly at the occasional but expected gasp from others. But he wasn't going to bite anyone like a damn werewolf or vampire, for God's sake! If only they knew, he smugly assured himself, if only they understood what he was, they would worship him like all those others. Lindsay, her father, Zora in the tarot card shop, who happened to be a true medium. And the others; the many, many others of whom neither the NYPD nor even the government were aware.

The several pockets of mortals throughout the tri-state area who always lowered their eyes at the sight of him, afraid to meet his piercing gaze but too fearful of reprisal to disobey him or refuse him comfort or shelter. From one generation to the next, they were resigned to do his bidding because he had proved in the most gory ways that he could be killed but would always return. Whole and unharmed. And seeking bloody vengeance against any and all who had dared challenge him. Their terrorized state was only increased by the fact that he never appeared to age and had maintained a stranglehold on their lives for more than a century and a half.

It mattered not to Adam that they all would like nothing better than to see him permanently dead. It wasn't uncommon for most people to disagree with their ruler. He knew that. Came with the territory. One had to be strong to attain that high position and remain strong in the face of criticism and opposition. It's what helped to make him even stronger and make him greater. The fact that any mortal would disagree with him or be horrified at his ... suggestions ... only served to confirm to him that he was making the right decisions; the hard and necessary ones.

Mortals knew nothing about power, real power or how to wield it. And poor Henry. Reacting to him the same way that a mortal would. Appalled and fearful. And plotting, most likely; always plotting but never successfully carrying out their plans for his destruction. He always won. If not today, he assured himself, tomorrow. Or another day. Or another year. However long it would take. But he would win in the end.

A white-smocked, green-eyed young woman in her mid-thirties with 1980s big hair approached him. She produced a syringe and smiled as she found a spot on the side of his neck and plunged it in before he could react. He grimaced at the fact that she hadn't even swabbed the area before injecting him. And it brought back memories of when Henry had injected him in the same spot with an air bubble.

"Pleasant dreams," the woman bade him as the drug began to quickly take effect.

He was aware of being unstrapped from the hand truck and lain down on the holding cell's small, uncomfortably unyielding metal cot. One of the uniformed personnel grunted out about him being a heavy sack of shit despite his small stature, which naturally did not sit well with Adam but raised a chuckle from the jokester's companion. Through his enveloping fog, Adam managed to make note of their badge numbers, names, committed their faces to memory. They would eventually be taught the same harsh lessons that others who'd mocked him in the past had learned, he vowed. And no matter how long it took, he vowed to return to the city of New York. If it took a lifetime or two, at least Henry would be there or somewhere in the world when he returned. And mortals, unlike himself and Henry, had no problem proliferating. They proliferated at an enormous rate and there would be others to take the places of those who would die who now cowered under him. Like grapes on a vine they were ripe for the plucking. Always ripe for the plucking.

The two uniformed personnel left the holding cell, taking the hand truck with them. The drug was fogging his brain even more. But before it overtook him, sending him into a dreamless sleep, he saw a figure enter the cell. He fought against the brain fog longer than he knew they expected him to.

It was a man. A man in a suit with dark hair and a ... badge hanging on a lanyard around his neck. Adam blinked and swallowed at the sight of Det. Mike Hanson. But why had he come to visit him alone?

"In a few more minutes," Mike began, "they tell me that you're gonna go under. I just came to warn you that I now know."

"You ... you know what?" Adam asked, fading fast.

"That I have the pugio. The same one that a Roman soldier stabbed you with in 44 B.C., the same day that Julius Caesar was assassinated," Mike replied. "And I know that I can kill you with it. Permanently."

Adam chuckled, his eyes half closed. Mike was a big, fuzzy blur and his voice more and more muffled. But somehow, his words sliced through the fog as sharply as the pugio had sliced into him over 2,000 years ago. He opened his eyes wider and blinked several times at Mike's blurry image. The drug's effects now rendered him speechless but he wanted to tell him something like good luck or "have fun with that" as New Yorkers sometimes mockingly said.

Mike bent over, placing his face closer to Adam's. "Take a good look at me. Concentrate on the eyes since that's what you might remember best," he advised the Immortal. The mirth left Adam, Mike remarked, "Ya see it, don't ya? I just found out that I'm one of those 'sleeping warriors' awake and ready to deliver a permanent dirt nap to you, buddy. And we both know that there ain't nuthin' ya can do to stop me."

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, succumbing to the drug but trying to shake off the truth of Mike's words. The eyes. It was the eyes. The memory of the soldier's eyes hit him hard and he saw them once again in Mike's. The same eyes. Passed down through the ages to this mortal man graced with an ability that could ruin him. For the first time in his extraordinarily long life, he feared someone else. Mengele, he had dreaded. But this man, this ordinary mortal in possession of the pugio that had made him an Immortal, could use it to end his life. Forever.

Notes:

Impressment information found at wiki/Impressment and at

wiki/Age_of_Sail

Slight reference to "Forever" TV show S01/E22 episode "The Last Death of Henry Morgan"