Notes:

Sorry for the wait but this chapter went through several rewrites. Not sure I'm totally satisfied with it but here it is. I sincerely hope you like it.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

The sound of voices along with the most delightful aromas drifted in from the kitchen and awakened Jo where she lay on the couch. It took her a few moments to become fully awake and remember where she was. It took a few more moments for her to remember some of what Henry had said to her last night while she had drifted off to sleep. When she sat up and threw the comforter back, Henry walked in, smiling at her and with his hands in his pockets.

"I know. I look a mess," she chuckled, smoothing her hair and wrinkled clothing down.

He stepped closer to her, still smiling, and said, "Well, the loveliest mess I've ever seen." Anticipating her need, he said, "There are fresh towels in the guest room's bath."

She smiled (loving the way he said "bawth" making it sound statelier than it really was) and thanked him and went into the guest room at the end of the hallway. It was her first time being in there. Although neatly furnished in cherrywood with a full-size poster bed, a chair, nightstand, and a dresser, it was also clearly being used for storage. There were several cardboard moving boxes on the floor along the wall near the window and in the closet on the floor and on the overhead shelf. Some of the boxes had been opened and the lids folded back down but others were still taped up with mailing stickers still on them. All of the boxes that she could see were addressed to Abe Morgan. Up until now, she had only assumed that Abe's last name was also Morgan.

"Just call me Abe. Everyone does."

That's what he'd told her when they'd first met last year. So, he was definitely related to Henry somehow even though the two of them had hemmed and hawed over exactly how when she'd once pressed them over dinner last year. And he was an antiques dealer so this must be some of the items he'd purchased over the years that couldn't fit into the shop's retail space. Something caught her eye on one of the boxes and she bent down again for a closer inspection. The name on the label's return address was H. Morgan from Antwerp, Belgium with a postmark of July 1988.

"Must have been from Henry's father," she murmured to herself.

Several of the other boxes were from H. Morgan, as well, from Zurich, Switzerland postmarked 1995 and Sao Paolo, Brazil postmarked 2008. They traveled a lot, she concluded. Which is why Henry had learned so many languages while growing up. Just as she decided to stop snooping around their "mail", some of Henry's words from last night came back to her.

"I care too much for you, Jo."

It was the way he had said he cared, had caressed her name so softly with his dulcet tones that had touched her heart, and warmed her from the inside. It had taken all her effort not to react to his gentle touch when he'd tucked the comforter around her. She found herself now wishing to feel the gentle touch of his hand again. And again. And again. She playfully slapped herself on both cheeks and ducked into the bathroom. After she undressed and stepped into the shower, she chuckled at having found the NYPD tracksuit folded up next to the towels they had provided for her. Did he have a collection of those things? After so many arrests for public nudity, one would think he'd want to burn them or rip them up and use them for cleaning rags instead of saving them.

vvvv

In another part of the city, Lucas had also awakened, grateful that his fever had broken. Although he still felt weak, he was thankful his appetite was back and a stack of hotcakes sounded really good. But he'd promised his mother during their phone conversation the night before that he would start out with juice and toast. Juice and toast, then. He also appreciated that Henry had called and offered to come check up on him which he'd politely declined. Even Jo had called and Mike had sent well wishes in the form of a joking threat that if he didn't hurry up and get back to work, he would break into his locker and steal all of his snacks to give to his kids.

"Stay away from my stash!"

"If you're not back in a week, all those chips and jelly beans go to my boys!"

And he really appreciated Abe having brought over some homemade chicken soup yesterday afternoon. That would be lunch and dinner.

The toast went down well with the juice. He flicked on the TV and scrolled through the channels finally selecting a reality show that explored the possibility that descendants of survivors of the bubonic plague had also survived the 1918 flu pandemic. The discussion brought to mind the uncomfortable situation Henry must now be finding himself in. He lowered the volume and dispiritedly plunked the remote on the coffee table and wracked his brain as to how he could help his boss even though Abe had assured him that he had nothing to worry about. He sat forward and rested his forehead against his clasped hands.

vvvv

"Sure you won't stay and have breakfast with us?" Abe asked Jo.

"Everything looks scrumptious," she replied. "But I have to go home and change into some regular clothes." The two men said nothing but grinned knowingly for even though she'd rolled up the cuffs on the arms and the legs, the men's size large suit still draped on her smaller frame.

"You, um, like these tracksuits, huh?" she playfully asked Henry.

He appeared caught off guard at first, the same as when she had asked how he and Abe were connected to each other. "They … serve a purpose," he managed to reply. A haunted look in his eyes quickly came and went and he flashed a dazzling smile at her as he stood up. "I'll see you out."

When they reached the shop's entrance, she watched him unlock the door and open it for her while she fought back the urge to question him about what he'd said to her the night before. He'd said he cared for her; that was nice. More than nice. But he was worried about keeping her safe from someone named Adam. It sounded like this Adam was in a coma but who was he and where was he? What were the odds, she mused, that Henry would know two different people who were both in comas?

"See you later," she told him and walked away and got into her car. She quickly drove away determined to get properly attired and over to the precinct to update Mike and to try to find out who this Adam was.

Henry locked the shop's door again and watched her car disappear down the street. He then returned to the kitchen.

"Why didn't you ride to work with Jo?" Abe asked.

"I'm not up to another round of her probing questions," his father replied. "Besides, she's not going straight to work. I'll take a cab."

"Have you ever thought, Dad, that's it's probably better that you just tell her the truth?" It was less a question but more Abe's sound advice. "I mean, she had you pegged when you tried to break into the crime lab and steal that evidence. Your way doesn't seem to be working."

Henry's hand closed into a fist on the table. "It would seem that they are moving closer to the truth about Adam on their own, therefore, endangering their lives. If I come clean with them, it would only hasten them to their probable demise."

"He's stuck in a coma, Dad," Abe pointed out. "Who knows when he'll wake up again."

Henry, frustrated, sharply replied, "I am aware of that, Abraham."

"It could be years, decades before he wakes up," Abe continued. "Wouldn't it be better if the authorities carted him off somewhere more secure to keep him away from all of us? We'll be gone by then -"

"Abraham!"

"No, Dad, we don't get to live forever," he rationalized. "You and he will have to duke it out after we're all gone. Instead of trying to thwart them, help them put him away somewhere. Someplace where he can't do anybody any harm even if he dies and vanishes."

Father and son exchanged a long, tense stare as if both were silently willing the other to see the situation their way. Henry ended the stare down and left the table to put on his outer coat and scarf. Abe left his seat and walked over to where he was poised at the top of the stairs.

"At least give it some real thought," Abe urged his father, his hand on his arm.

"I will," he replied and patted his son's hand. "I promise."

vvvv

"So, ya think this Adam that Henry referred to is in cahoots with Farber?" Hanson asked as he stood next to Jo's desk.

"I'm willing to bet on it," she replied. "Henry also called him a 'blasted psycho' so that might be why he's been trying to hide all of this from us. Just wish we had a last name for this psycho."

"Bellevue seems to be ground zero for crankin' out psychos that we wind up dealin' with," he carped. "Look, we get the results from the lab and we put the cuffs on Farber. Then we look for this Adam guy."

"Without a last name," she began, "how would we do that?"

"Farber's a clam so we'll have to get it from Henry," he replied.

"And if he doesn't cooperate?" she asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

"We treat him like any other material witness who's withholding information." He frowned at her and sighed. "Sorry, Jo; we both know that's the way it's gotta be."

Hanson's desk phone rang and he quickly went over and answered it. "Okay, thanks. Be right down." He hung up and looked at her. "I'm going down to fetch the results. Be back in a few."

She bit her lower lip and nodded. Usually, once a suspect had been identified and the case was near a close, she felt a great sense of satisfaction, of mission accomplished. But she didn't feel that this time for this case was different. Loose ends had to be tied up and Henry was one of them. At least, what he knew about Farber was. She was equally curious about what Henry could tell them about the "blasted psycho" that had to be this Adam guy. Then, she also recalled with a cynical laugh that Henry had said there was a living person old enough to carry those antibodies in their blood. Was he talking about Adam? That was utterly impossible, she told herself. He simply must have meant something else or she had been too sleepy to understand everything he had said to her in that moment.

The elevator dinged and she heard footsteps. She looked toward the entrance of the bullpen expecting to see Mike but Henry walked in instead. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a well-tailored, dark suit and tie with a maroon shirt. For just a second, he paused as if gathering his courage, and walked up to her desk and bid her good morning but by the look on his face, she could tell that it definitely was not.

"Hey, Henry," she replied. "You look like you just lost your best friend." Her attempt at humor fell flat and was met with silence. Concerned, she quickly stood up and walked around her desk to face him. "Henry, what's wrong?"

He swallowed and lowered his head but maintained eye contact with her. "I …" His demeanor suddenly changed as if a difficult decision had just been reached and he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. "I must speak to you urgently about the DeSoto and Glausser murder cases."

"Alright, um, let's go into the conference room right here," she told him. The hope that he would finally reveal to her what he'd been hiding, warred with the dread she also felt.

'Please, Henry, don't tell me anything that would make me have to arrest you.'

"I warn you, Detective," he began, "This will not be a routine sharing of my observations regarding these two cases." He looked over at Hanson's empty desk and then around the room and back at her. "Where is Det. Hanson? He should hear this, too."

"He should be back any minute," she told him as they entered the conference room and she shut the door. "He's picking up evidence from the lab we think will connect your former therapist, Dr. Farber, to not only those two murders but at least three others. I'm sorry."

A shuddering sigh left his lips and he shook his head. "No. It is I who should be apologizing to the two of you," he said. "Not only for lying months ago about the DNA results in the Glausser case but also for hiding the truth from you about Farber … and about me. But believe me, I was only trying to protect you."

Just then, Hanson entered the bullpen and finding Jo's empty desk, he looked around, spotted her with Henry in the glass-enclosed conference room, and quickly joined them.

"Mornin', Doc," he said with a wave of the file in his hand. He then plopped it down in front of Jo. "It's a match. That strange DNA belongs to Farber." The lines on his forehead creased as he looked from one to the other of his not-so-happy colleagues. He sat down on the other side of Jo and said, "I wasn't exactly expecting applause but I don't understand why you two aren't just a little happier at having got the goods on a serial killer."

"Henry has some additional information to share," she replied to him but kept her eyes on Henry.

"Okay," he said, shrugging. "Spill it, Doc."

"I'm sure you've both speculated about how those antibodies from ancient diseases wound up in Adam's blood," Henry stated. "It's because he was living at the time those diseases ravaged the world's population."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Doc," Hanson said. "You're talkin' about Adam. This new evidence was taken from Farber's blood. And what ya just said sounds crazy, by the way."

"Farber is Adam," he replied. "Or, rather, Adam is Farber." He released a sigh of apprehension mixed with relief. Apprehension because he was prepared for them to not believe him and think that he was still lying or had gone completely mad. Relief because he was finally, finally telling them the truth.

"Henry … you're saying that this man has been alive for, for centuries?" Jo asked, incredulous. "You do know how crazy that sounds."

"Yes, Detective," he replied. "I know exactly how crazy it sounds. But it's the truth and … I can prove it."

Hanson guffawed. "My Grandfather Ignacio is 100. He's old and wrinkled and white-haired. Doc, people who make it to his age are lucky. But they don't usually live too many years beyond 100!"

"I was afraid that you wouldn't believe me," Henry said, more to himself. "But as I said … I can prove it," he told them more confidently.

Hanson eyed him skeptically for a moment or two and then released a sigh. "Doc, we got a collar to make. Whatever malarkey this is you're tryin'a lay on us -"

"Prove it how?" Jo asked, interrupting Hanson.

"Jo -" Hanson's cell phone buzzed and he rolled his eyes and answered it. "Hanson … Yeah, we're on our way over there now … What, ya mean he's dyin'? … No. We're on our way!" He ended the call and muttered a curse. "Just when we got him cornered. C'mon, Jo, let's get over to Bellevue ASAP."

"What did they tell you, Detective?" Henry asked with a squinty, sideways penetrating stare.

"Farber may not make it," Hanson replied.

"You coming?" Jo asked Henry.

"No," he replied. "I'm sure that the hospital's medical staff is enough to attend to him and neither you nor Hanson need any help from me to take him into custody."

Jo eyed him suspiciously but hurried into the elevator with Hanson. Once the doors closed, he hurried over as well and punched the down call button. He had to get to the river just in case the twisted Immortal died and he resurfaced there. When the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, he rushed outside at the same time a cab pulled up. He wrenched open the back door, jumped inside, and barked his urgent destination to the driver. After he buckled his seatbelt, only then did he notice the presence of another person in the backseat.

"Lucas!"

"Hey, Big Guy," he chuckled.

"What are you - why are you in my cab?" Henry asked as the driver hurtled them toward the river.

"Uh, well, it was my cab at first," Lucas explained. "Then you jumped in and commandeered it."

Henry pursed his lips and vigorously shook his head. "And just where did you think you were going?"

"To work but now it looks like I'm ... going with you," he replied. "Where, uh, ever that is."

Henry groaned and palmed his face.

vvvv

Bellevue Hospital, Adam's room …

Hanson, wide-eyed and speechless, stood next to Jo in the same condition in the middle of Farber's hospital room. They had just witnessed the medical staff's unsuccessful attempt to revive Farber after he'd gone into cardiac arrest. Nothing had prepared them for what they'd seen next. Farber had not only flatlined but moments later his body had vanished in a bright flash of white light. The tubes and defibrillator pads lay uselessly on his empty bed, his body's impression on the pillow and mattress the only indication that he'd ever been there at all.

"What just happened here, Jo?" Hanson asked, finally finding his voice. "Did I see what we just saw?"

Everything was beginning to fall into place now. Admittedly, as unbelievable and as unfathomable as it all was, it wasn't making much sense. But now she at least understood why Henry had warned her about pursuing the lead of the strange DNA. It had led them to Farber, who, apparently, was also the "blasted psycho" named Adam that he'd said he wanted to protect her from.

"He could shake off his coma any day."

And he apparently had just done that!

"He was living at the time he contracted those ancient diseases."

And he apparently has been alive for centuries!

Jo concluded that there was nothing more they could do at the hospital. She quickly exited the room with Hanson close behind her, asking again what they should do. As they left the building and piled into her car, her instincts told her to contact Henry. But knowing that he didn't carry a cell phone, she called Abe and hit the speaker button. She was sure that he could provide some answers to this madness.

("Abe's Antiques; how may I help you?")

"Hi, Abe. This is Jo. You can help me by telling me why Adam's body vanished after he just died in front of us," she said, getting right to the point.

("Did you say 'us'? Oh … Geez.")

"I want the truth, Abe," she told him. "And I know that you know what that is."

There was a long silence before he replied.

("Then, I suggest you send the nearest squad car to the East River," Abe quietly and reluctantly advised. "A psycho like him should be recaptured immediately.")

"The East River? Why?" Hanson demanded, confused.

Jo stared incredulously at her phone but … she believed him. She didn't know why she believed anything so crazy but she did.

"Make the call," she told Hanson. He hesitated, uncertain. "Mike, just do it!"

He shook his head but did as Abe and she had advised. He provided Farber's description and that he was suspected of being in the vicinity of the East River Park. They closed in themselves on the location and were simultaneously joined by a patrol car. The responding police exited their car. She and Hanson were surprised to see Lucas standing near the river's edge just beyond the park. What surprised them more was the sight of a drenched Henry (but, thankfully, clothed in a shirt and trousers) emerging from the river with a naked, angry, and struggling Farber (Adam?). The unis quickly took charge of the naked man.

"What the hell?" Jo whispered.

She and Hanson jumped out of the car and ran up to the drenched ME and his assistant, who probably should have still been at home recuperating. They stared, astonished, at the dripping wet recently-deceased man as the unis cuffed him and shoved him into the back of their patrol car. Before they closed the door, he leveled the coldest, darkest glare at Henry and warned him.

"You'd better warn your friends, Henry," he sneered. "Tell them how much trouble their foolish meddling has now brought them."

One of the unis then closed the door and informed them that they were taking him to Manhattan South. They then sped away with him.

"Wait … how … how is that guy still alive?" Hanson asked, total confusion on his face.

"Henry can explain," Jo said matter-of-factly, staring him down. "Can't you, Henry?"