Faithful Tremors readers (both of you), I want it known that your Overlord Rumpy has not abandoned you. Vlad and I have simply hit a bit of a lull and are trying to get back in the swing of things, and I've meanwhile had Forever on the brain. Anyway, fellow Foreverists, I got this idea for a multi-chapter story a week or so ago and it refused to leave me alone despite the fact I should be focusing on school and whatnot. I wrote it out over the weekend. The entire story. Six chapters. In one weekend. (This is not like me.) I'm going to spread it out until the show returns but do not fear: it is already finished! Enjoy!

*DISCLAIMER* RV makes no claim to own Forever or its characters. They are the property of Mathew Miller and ABC. No profit is made from this writing.

Cool air and a quickly lightening sky marked morning in New York as Dr. Henry Morgan arrived on the scene of the recently-reported death on a street in the old city. A middle-aged man lay on the pavement by the sidewalk, a bit of blood on the ground behind his head. Detectives Martinez and Hanson were already on the scene with the usual tangle of other officers taking pictures, collecting evidence, getting statements, and the like.

The medical examiner approached them and glanced over the body. "Some witnesses say he was hit by a car, but not many saw much. Said it was too dark at the time," Jo informed him, watching Henry carefully as he switched his attention to the rest of the extensive scene only he could see, walking back a bit across the road. He didn't offer the detective a word of acknowledgement, or even a nod as he inspected the ground back up to the body, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car himself.

"You're going to kill yourself before you blow the case up, Doc," Hanson said.

Henry looked up suddenly from his silent investigation. "He was hit by a taxi and killed when his head collided with the pavement," he said matter-of-factly. He waited, but received no response, and sent a puzzled look at his partner.

"It doesn't feel good to be left hanging, does it, Henry?" Jo teased.

"I was waiting for 'murder' to work it's way in there somewhere," Hanson added. "That was the most obvious thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

Henry raised an eyebrow at him. "Everything I tell you is obvious to the trained eye." He turned away from the detective's mildly offended frown.

Jo rolled her eyes. "How do you know it was a taxi?" she asked, figuring the 'he was murdered' part would work it's way in sooner or later.

"Flecks of taxi-yellow paint imbedded in his clothing," Henry explained, picking up a single small piece between two fingers and holding it up. "Judging by the size and discoloration along the edges, a quite older one to be precise."

"So," Hanson started, "he was murdered with an old cab?"

"He wasn't murdered," Henry said casually, waiting again for a response but once again getting nothing. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed their shocked looks.

"You are telling us someone wasn't murdered?" Jo repeated, receiving a nod.

"Oh, I get it," Hanson shrugged. "You're joking."

But Henry's expression was serious. "I don't joke about death, detective."

Still clearly surprised, Jo shook her head. "Okay, Henry, what did happen then?"

"It was an accident," he told her. "The skid marks here," he motioned to the dark marks on the pavement, "line up with the body and were likely caused by the taxi that hit the man, suggesting the driver slammed on the breaks in an attempt to avoid hitting him."

"But he did hit him," Jo nodded, "And took off."

"So hit-and-run," Hanson clarified. "Never thought I'd see the day when Dr. Henry Morgan would say it was an accident."

"I don't go looking for murder, detective," Henry informed. "It just seems to have a tendency to find me. I state the facts, I don't make them."

Jo patted the doctor on his shoulder. "Well, looks like this time the facts make our job a bit easier, even if we still need to find the driver. He or she probably doesn't even know they killed the guy."

Before Henry a had chance to reply, he caught something out of the corner of his eye that attracted his attention. A guarded look crossed his face.

"You okay, Henry?" Jo asked, not much more than a whisper.

She was surprised when the man nearly jumped at the interruption of his thoughts. "I'm fine, Jo. I have something I need to attend to. I'll return in a moment."

"Take your time," she nodded and he walked off towards a shadowed alley.

The figure that attracted his eye disappeared into the space between two buildings, but it was so dark there he hardly made it out. Henry plunged into the darkness himself without hesitation, waiting a moment for his vision to adjust before turning his glare to the man standing facing him.

"Nice to see you again, Henry," the all-too-familiar voice sent a chill down the medical examiner's spine.

Henry took a slightly ragged breath to steady himself, eyes scanning the man who had haunted his most recent (sleeping and living) nightmares. If he didn't know this immortal- this monster- he wouldn't think twice about him. He wasn't one to judge by appearance, but the doctor always noticed that he was a smaller man, non-threatening physically, but that did nothing to put him at ease.

Hands in his pockets, Adam took a step towards Henry, who only then noticed that he felt frozen to his spot. He made an effort to relax, and even brought himself another step towards the fellow immortal man.

"I told you," Henry growled, "to leave me alone. I don't want to be manipulated."

"Who's manipulating you, Henry?" Adam asked with a smile that made the doctor consider fighting or fleeing.

"You are!" he snapped. "You manipulated me into killing a man that you manipulated into a killer. I don't want you anywhere near me, anywhere near Abraham, or anywhere near Jo."

"I'm not manipulating you," Adam said, beginning to circle around Henry who turned to follow him. "We're just talking here. Must you always assume the worst of me? You forget that we are the same. Everything you are going through I have experienced myself."

"You and I are nothing alike," Henry responded, voice nearly a snarl. "And I hope we never are."

"Oh, Henry," Adam sighed with a sickening lilt in his voice, "you have so much to learn. If only you would let me teach you." Taking a hand from his pocket, the man placed it on the younger immortal's shoulder. "It would make this so much less painful."

Tensing up at the unwanted contact, Henry jerked away when he felt a pinch on his neck. His hand flew up to the point of the pain, but he didn't feel anything. "What did you do?" Henry demanded. "What was that?"

Adam grinned. "It's an illusion. Just an illusion."

An illusion? What did that even mean? Could Adam be trying to kill him? What would the point of that be? Confusion swirling in his head, Henry turned on his heels to finally follow his instincts and flee.

Before he made it a few steps away, an arm wrapped around his neck from the back, and a cloth was pushed against his face. He knew instantly what was happening from personal experience, and he was blacked out in a moment.

Jo checked her watch. The EMS had just arrived to transport the body to the morgue, and Henry was still gone after nearly twenty minutes. She was beginning to get irritated at the medical examiner. Did he think his job was over because he had figured out what had likely happened? But then she realized how unlike him this was. The last time Henry had disappeared when he was supposed to be somewhere, she had found him being electrocuted by a jealous sado-masochist.

Suddenly nervous, with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turned to Hanson. "I'm going to go see where our medical examiner wandered off to," she told him, hiding the worry in her voice.

"Tell that boy I'll give him a stern talking to when he gets back," the detective joked distractedly, glancing back at her from what he was doing. She swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile.

Jo looked around, unable to actually remember which way Henry had gone. She returned to the spot he had been when he saw whatever it was he saw, standing where he stood and looking where he had been looking. The alley.

After getting across the street during a lull in the much thicker traffic, she quickly made it to the building and peered down the space. She could make out a body lying on it's back through the dim light and her stomach flipped.

"Henry?" she called tightly, voice dripping with worry. She practically sprinted to the body, panic rising in her chest when she made out the distinctive jacket, the unmistakable scarf, and finally his face. "Henry!" she cried, dropping to her knees beside her partner's body. "Oh, God, Henry!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, but he was limp in her hands. She placed her fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Hanson!" she shrieked.