He'd seen enough gunshot wounds to know that Henry's femoral artery had most likely been damaged. A possibly fatal wound. The blood had gushed down and over Henry's fingers as he'd gripped the wound, fallen down, and grimaced in pain. Then, after the struggle that had resulted in Johnson also getting shot, Henry had simply disappeared. Where had he gone, and so quickly? But later on that evening, when he'd visited the antiques shop for answers, he'd witnessed a pain-free Henry traipsing down the stairs into the shop, just as he'd entered.

vvvv

Det. Mike Hanson walked across the bullpen towards his desk. He could feel his partner's, Det. Jo Martinez's, eyes boring into the back of his head as she followed closely behind him. During the car ride from 1PP back to the precinct, he hadn't shared much more with her than what he (and Henry, obviously) had concocted and served up willingly to the Commish. The guilt of having lied to Jo was eating him up inside. She deserved better. She deserved the truth. But what exactly was the truth? Even though Henry held the key to some pertinent facts, he hadn't felt this kind of guilt since he'd taken his younger brother's ex-girlfriend to the prom a couple of decades ago. Only she had lied to him and said that she'd broken up with his brother, when she hadn't. She'd just felt like being adventurous, she'd said. The guilt was (is) still hard to bear.

I'm not a jerk, though. Just seem to fall into these iffy situations because I have a tendency to take people at their word. He narrowed his eyes when he realized that, like his brother's girlfriend, that weirdo ME, Henry, had lied to him. Was he just feeling adventurous the other night when he'd pulled that disappearing act after getting shot? "I'm gonna get to the bottom of it." he muttered.

"Bottom of what?"

Jo's voice cut into his thoughts as he stood almost frozen behind his desk. It was only then that he realized that she was standing right next to him. Before he could reply, she stepped back a bit and allowed room for Lt. Reece.

"Badge. ID. Gun." Reece said with a satisfied smile as she handed his armor back to him.

He gladly situated them back onto his person in their proper positions, fingered his badge and smiled down at it.

"Welcome back, Mike. You and Morgan did a great job closing this particular case." Reece flashed a bit of teeth in her smile as she stepped away, back to her office.

"Yeah, great." He grudgingly replied. Multiple witnesses, including the victim before he'd died two days later, had described Johnson as the perpetrator. They'd managed to track him, based on his previous modus operandi and to a boarding house near the waterfront. And the standoff in the now infamous alleyway next to the boarding house. Infamous to him, at least. For, because of what had happened there with Henry, he now felt that his life would never be the same again. That he was slowly seeing his prism of a reality, one he'd always taken for granted, easily reveal a spectrum of previously unknown colors.

Jo turned from their Lieutenant, and smirked as she watched him bask in his reinstatement glory. But she'd also noticed the edge in his voice. She dropped her arms and stepped closer to him with that I-smell-a-rat look. He adjusted his tie and pretended not to see it.

"What say we get back to work." He moved to sit down, but she caught his arm and gently but firmly tugged him back up.

"What say we go see Henry." she whispered.

He scoffed and asked, "See him for what? Why? All's been said down at 1PP." He made a wiping motion with one hand. "I got nothin' more to say to the guy - I mean, he and I are through." He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to gather the right words. "The case, the case is through. Finished." He sighed wearily. "So, he's all yours again." He waved his hand dismissively. But he'd just lied again, because as soon as he was off work, he was going back over to that antiques shop and turn the quirky ME upside down and shake the truth out of him, if he had to. And he knew he could do it since he spotted the guy about 50 pounds.

"No, uh, there's something the both of you aren't telling me and we need to get this aired out once and for all." She stood, defiantly, with her arms crossed and head tilted.

He shook his head at her. "Jo. Believe me ... you don't wanna do this. The guy's ... " he spread his fingers as if to grasp something and shook his hands until they eventually crunched into tight fists, "I don't know, hiding something, something ... weird. The guy's just too weird. You'd better let me go talk to him first." Immediately, he knew that that was the wrongest thing he could have said. Of course, she was going to go with him - he couldn't stop her. He relented, defeated. "Okay. Okay. I was gonna go over there when I knocked off, but ... " He nodded vigorously when he saw her roll her eyes and walk out of the bullpen. "Yeah, okay. Hold up, okay?"

vvvv

At Abe's Antiques ...

"Dad, there was nothing else you could have done. You had no choice." Abe said in his best calming voice. "You stayed back, like Hanson had told you. The perp ran, Hanson tackled him, and - "

"And I was shot anyway, yes." Henry frowned and rubbed the back of his hand under his chin. "Abe, I died. The bullet damaged my femoral artery so much that I bled out quickly and, and I'm sure the perp, as you call him, saw me." He stood in the middle of the sitting room gesticulating as he spoke, and shifted his feet around like an awkward ballerina without a tutu.

"Yeah, but who's gonna take his word over that of a brave cop with a stellar record and you?" Abe raised his eyebrows at Henry.

"Thank you, Abe, for that resounding vote of confidence." he said dryly.

Abe shrugged and reminded him of a few bright spots. For instance, the wound had been a through-and-through, which meant the bullet hadn't vanished along with his body, and the CSU had recovered it. That meant that both discharged bullets from Hanson's gun were accounted for. Afterwards, Henry had subjected himself to a deliberate flesh wound at the hands of his son, Abe, still a marksman from his Army Ranger days in Vietnam. He'd been treated for it at Presbyterian Hospital, tying up that loose end for Hanson's report, and for the continued perpetration of his lies to shield his secret. Otherwise, two shots, two victims, one bullet, would equal a big problem.

"Sounds to me like you have nothing to worry about. Everything's accounted for." Abe cast a concerned look at his father. "So, why are you so worked up?"

"Hanson. I could see it in his eyes, the mistrust. The way he's acted towards me ever since. He didn't see me die because he was turned away from me, crouched over the suspect who'd just been shot. The last thing I heard was him calling 911 for two gunshot victims. Can you imagine what must have gone through his mind when he turned around and found me gone?"

"According to your part of the story," Abe pointed at him, "you panicked, wandered away, and some good samaritans must have dropped you off at the nearest hospital. Your memory's patchy because (he wiggled his fingers at the side of his head) you were out of it. Good thing you remembered how to speed dial me on that burner phone I gave you before you ... you know. It all fits, Dad, the detective shouldn't question anything else about it."

He shook his head and groaned. "No, he's smart. And he's not finished digging for answers. Answers I just can't give him."

vvvv

Back at the precinct ...

Mike caught up to Jo and as they waited for the elevator to arrive, a thought crossed his mind. "Wait a minute, Jo. I've already been over there and put his feet to the fire for some straight answers."

"And ... ?"

"Guy still came at me crooked. Look, the perp was treated at St. Joseph's, a different hospital from Henry." He looked at her and saw that she understood what he was getting at, but she was still a bit confused. He jogged back to his desk and retrieved a copy of the medical report on Henry's GSW treatment at Presbyterian that night. He'd made a copy for his own records, just in case. Feeling confident, he jogged back up to Jo.

"Let's hit him in two waves. I'll check out Presbyterian," he held up the report, "you head over to the shop and soften him up. Bat those big pretties at him. That always melts him." He grinned when her jaw dropped and the blush spread across her cheeks. "Yeah, ya think I don't notice that every time you guys catch sight of each other?"

"I - do - not ... "

"C'mon, Jo. Don't have to be a detective to notice that!"

Her eyes widened and she pointed a finger at him. "You're just lucky that I'm still in on this with you. Or else, I'd ... " She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Okay, I'll go to the shop and question him (she spoke louder over his laughter). She gave up and shook her head but he could see that she was fighting against a smile.

"Sorry, Jo." He managed to calm himself. "I'll meet ya at the shop as soon as I can." She sighed and nodded in agreement.

The elevator arrived and they were both one step from the street, one step from snooping around behind their colleague's back, but because of his exhausting secrecy, he only had himself to blame. And this time it had nearly cost Mike his job.

"They're probably gonna say you need a warrant." Jo warned him as they rushed to their respective cars.

Mike chuckled. "Not if you have a friend who works there and owes you big time, you don't."

"Ouch! I think I just heard something that sounds illegal." Jo said, a bit perturbed, as she opened her car door.

"Well, that just means you're listening too hard." He smugly buckled his seatbelt and drove away.

vvvv

Just as a middle-aged woman, oozing Park Avenue garb and glamour, walked happily out of the antiques shop with her newly-acquired mini-bust of Mozart, Jo arrived and parked across the street. She saw Abe give a friendly goodbye wave to his customer before closing the door and locking it up. His hand jerked a bit when he'd spotted Jo as he flipped the Open sign to Closed. Closing so soon? Why? She quickly locked her car up and sprinted across the street when traffic thinned out. The closer she got to the door, the paler Abe seemed to get. What is up with him, he almost looks afraid. She stood on the other side of the door now and waited for him to open it, which he finally did after several awkward moments.

"Jo. Nice to see you. Uh, what brings you here?" His smile, to her, was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill.

"Nice to see you, too." She felt that her words were as empty as his smile. It wasn't like Abe to be so inhospitable and not invite her in. "Came by to see Henry. Is he here?" Of course, he was there, probably hiding in some corner, hatching some new lies for his old secrecy story. She peered over his shoulder into the shop.

"Uh ... Henry ... ?" He smiled but flinched at the utterance of his name.

"Yes, Abe. Henry. Henry Morgan, your roommate."

He chuckled but there was a hollow ring to it. "Oh, Jo. Funny." he pointed at her with raised eyebrows, then his smile faded. "He's, uh, not here right now. But I'll let him know you came by." He winked as he closed the door again and locked it, tapping the Closed sign as if to remind her. He waved and moved back into the interior of the shop and disappeared up the stairs.

Confused and a little hurt over Abe's uncharacteristically disingenuous behavior, she was just about to return to her car when Mike drove up and double parked next to her car. She waved at him to stay in his car, but he got out of it anyway. She ran across the street and they moved to the sidewalk, out of the way of traffic.

"What's up? Thought you'd already be inside, softening up the Doc."

"Abe wouldn't let me in."

"Abe - he what? He's crazy about you. Treats you like his little living doll."

She blinked at him in disbelief and put up a hand. "You know, I'm just gonna let that pass. He's a nice old guy, I like him, I guess he likes me ... just doesn't like me today." She frowned at the shop's second floor windows, her mouth set into a tight line. Not gonna take this personal, she told herself. Be a detective. Henry's hiding something and Abe's protecting him. What is their real connection? That question about the two secretive men had nagged at her for more than a couple of years. Despite being charmed by both of them over dinners and an occasional thoughtful card or small, impersonal gift, their answers to her growingly pointed questions seemed only to generate more questions. There were times when the frustration level threatened to cause her to break friendship with them.

Henry's odd behavior the night of the shooting had jeopardized more than their friendship, though. It had jeopardized Mike's future with the NYPD. And just because he'd managed to paint over the truth with another set of lies that helped Mike get reinstated, was beside the point. Why couldn't he just trust them with whatever he felt he needed to hide? Didn't he know by now that neither she nor Mike posed any threat to him? She moved her gaze away from the shop's windows and onto the report in Mike's hand.

"What did you find out?"

He held it up again and shook it to emphasize his words. "Jo, the Doc was treated for a bullet graze to his outer left thigh, basically, nothing. Problem is that the wound I saw was much worse and much closer to his inner thigh. That bullet went right through him, it didn't graze him. It and all that blood ruined those fancy trousers of his, too." He dropped his hand but continued to clutch the report until it began to crumple.

"Well," she scoffed, "that's strange, but this is Henry, we're talking about. Mike, did you see him when he wandered away?"

"No, my back was to him. I was checking Johnson for vitals after my gun went off the second time during the struggle and he was hit. He looked dead to me, but ... anyway, I was calling 911 when the alley was lit up for like, half a second, with a bright light. Johnson croaked out something that sounded like, 'He's gone', and I turned around to check out Henry and ... yeah ... he was gone except for ... that pocket watch of his." The confusion was written all across his face. "Jo, there is no way that anyone could have stood up, let alone, walk anywhere with a wound like that. Bleeding like that."

"You sure? I mean, maybe - "

"I'm sure! I was in the First Gulf War under Daddy Bush, and had a tour of duty in the Iraq War under Jr. Seen all kinds of horrific wounds in war and during my years on the force. I may not be a doctor like Henry, but I know what kinda wound the Doc had." He ran his fingers through his hair and searched his memory unsuccessfully for sensible answers. It made him conflicted now. The detective in him wanted answers, but the part that had grown to actually like and respect their quirky colleague, didn't want to know.

She silently assessed what he'd just told her and stared across the street at the shop, her arms crossed. "Doesn't look like we're gonna get in there today."

He looked at the crumpled report in his hand, smoothed it out and folded it away into his pocket.

She dropped her arms and turned to him. "Let's just head back to the precinct. Rethink our strategy."

Mike nodded and walked over to his car and opened the door. Before getting in, he looked at Jo and said, "Ya know, whatever it is that the Doc is hiding, for some strange reason I can't help but feel sorry for him."

She nodded, not because she felt pity for Henry, but because her feelings for him ran deeper; and all she wanted to do was comfort him. If he'd only trust her and let her in.

vvvv

The dining room of Commissioner Frank Reagan's residence, later on that evening ...

"So, Francis ... I can't believe you actually found the doctor who treated you when you were a toddler. I was a pretty good detective in my day, and I tried to find him. But he'd just vanished, as if off of the face of the earth." Henry Reagan, the silver-haired, former NYC Police Commissioner sipped his Jameson (Irish whiskey) and smiled over his reading glasses at his son. "He was a few years older ... you sure he's able to make it here? Wouldn't want to be responsible for him falling and breaking a hip or stroking out or something just because I've got an itch to trot down memory lane."

His son, Frank, the current Commissioner, chuckled a bit, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes dancing. "Pretty sure you won't have to worry about anything like that, Pops. And he's not coming here. Dinner's gonna be at Peter Lugar's."

"Ohhh, forgot; special occasion. He's still spry, huh?"

"Yeah." Frank sipped from his own glass of Jameson. "You might say that."

Frank's daughter, ADA Erin Reagan, joined them in the room and he held up his glass to her as she shed her coat from her tall, willowy frame, and draped it onto the back of one of the chairs. She nodded and smiled, but her dark, pretty eyes held a weariness in them. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Grampa." She greeted them both with a kiss on the forehead. Her father started to rise from his chair, but she shook her head, causing her long, dark tendril curls to bounce and sway. "I'll fix my own." She moved quickly to do so.

"What brings you here?" Frank eyed his father, Henry. "Come to discuss the Darnell Johnson case again? Because if you have, I can only tell you again what the arresting officer, Det. Mike Hanson, told me."

"No, his statement will suffice." She turned around with her drink in her hand, a slightly troubled look on her face. "It's the statement of the ME, Dr. Henry Morgan, that bothers me."

"Oh, yeah?" Henry asked. "Why, because of his age? You know, young lady, some senior citizens still have possession of their full faculties." He felt lucky, blessed, to count himself as one of them.

Erin frowned and came to sit next in the chair next to her grandfather. "No," she shook her head. "Grampa, he's - "

"In full possession of all his faculties." Frank finished for her, not ready to reveal too much to his father just yet. "Believe me." He sipped from his glass again.

Just then, Det. Danny Reagan and his wife, Linda, burst into the room in the middle of a disagreement.

"No, Linda, I'm tellin' ya, that ain't such a good idea." Danny frowned at her biting off his words at her.

"I happen to think it's a great idea." Linda's short, blonde hair pixied above her blue eyes and smiling dimpled cheeks. She looked around the room and greeted them all as she unbuttoned her jacket and thrust it into the arms of her surprised husband. She sat in the chair opposite Erin and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Erin, I've found the perfect guy for you!"

"He's not perfect, Linda, the guy's ... I dunno ... weird." Danny whined.

"Intellectual." Linda countered. "He's single, handsome, smart, solves crimes, a doctor - did I mention he's handsome? You've gotta meet him, Erin. You two would make such a cute couple." She giggled and turned to look at Danny. "Oh, I can't believe I'm match-making."

"I can't believe it, either." Danny sighed, clearly not in favor of any of this. "Look, Sis, don't pay any attention to my wife's dingbat idea, okay? The guy she's talkin' about might be all those things, but so, what? He's got a bunch of arrest records for public indecency as long as your arm."

"Danny, just be quiet for a minute. You sister should be allowed to decide for herself. 'Course, if she wants to miss out on meeting a perfectly great guy with a great personality, that's her mistake."

"She doesn't want to meet this guy, Linda."

Frank held up a hand. "Hold it, hold it, you two." The pitch of his voice informed his son and daughter-in-law that he was holding court here, not them. "Now, what is this all about, Linda?" Danny opened his mouth to reply, but Frank held up his hand again. "LIN-da. You'll get your turn." He smiled at Linda and nodded.

"Danny doesn't want me to set Erin up with that dreamy ME, Dr. Henry Morgan. I say they'd make a perfect couple."

"Dreamy. Really? And I, your husband, sitting right here?" Danny asked, mildly annoyed.

"It's merely a clinical observation." She shrugged, then winked at Erin. "So, whaddaya say, Erin? You won't regret, I guarantee it."

Erin frowned. "The same Dr. Henry Morgan who's an ME? The same ME involved with Det. Mike Hanson of the 11th on the Darnell Johnson case?"

Linda cast a confused look her husband's way.

"Yes, to both questions." Danny smiled at the look of disgust growing on his sister's face. He'd won by default. His wife's match-making days were over before they'd begun.

Erin shook her head amidst Linda's protestations. "No, Linda. NO!" She rose from her chair and headed towards the kitchen, Linda trailing behind her. Their voices eventually muffled behind the kitchen door, leaving the three men to release separate sighs of relief.

Henry started to sip his drink, then frowned and lowered his glass. "Francis. Is there something you wish to tell me?"

That phrase directed at him during his childhood and teenaged years when he'd been less than obedient, still humbled him into remembering his place in this household. He was the son and Henry was the father. A smart one who didn't stand for any tomfoolery. But this bit of knowledge had to remain just between the two of them. He couldn't even share it with his own son, Danny.

"Sorry, son. Need to know."

Danny looked from one to the other and waved his hand as he rose from his chair. "Fine, fine. I'll board the Love Boat in the kitchen." He shook his head as he entered the kitchen.

"Now." Henry said. "Is their Henry Morgan ... my Henry Morgan?"

Frank nodded his head slowly three times.

"You're. Kidding."