Takes place after The Frustrating Thing About Psychopaths but before The Man in the Killer Suit.

This newest case didn't sit well with Henry Morgan.

Of course, it was never a good thing when a body had to be checked into his office, especially of someone so young, The fact that their life had been cut short by another makes the death all the more tragic. However, in his occupation, he had, sadly enough, grown used to such a thing. It wasn't even the strange method of death (an unknown toxin entered into the body through long lacerations) that got to him. No, it was the fact that he had seen this before; two times while in New York years ago. The sole two cases he hadn't been able to solve, aside from Jack the Ripper, of course.

It shouldn't have been possible. Whoever had done it then should be dead by now. The only other that had lived that long was Adam. While Henry held no doubt that the man was fully capable of murder, he lacked motive. Besides, out of all the ways to kill someone, why chose the weird poison/slash combo?

Despite the impossibility of it all, he knew it had to have been the same culprit. All three cases were nearly identical. Each of the victims were young, thirteen, fifteen and sixteen, and all wore the same orange camp T-shirts. Although their backgrounds varied quite a bit, they were all found outside in a New York City alleyway. It appeared that the lacerations had all been inflicted using the same curved weapon, each abrasion showing patterns of three to four parallel, giving it an eerily claw-like appearance, though from no animal. It was the poison, however, that had him convinced that this culprit was the real deal, not just some psychopathic copy-cat. The toxin was unheard of outside these three cases. It caused the breakdown of all types of cells but seemed to react particularly with a certain rare gene found in each of the victims' genetic makeup, though their records showed no shared heritage.

The most traceable connection between the three victims was this camp they all seemed to attend on Long Island. He and Detective Martinez were scheduled to visit and talk with the activities director the following day and, if all went well, they would find themselves a lead.

But Henry couldn't shake the feeling that all would not go well. Something just felt off about this whole thing. A crazy idea itched its way into the back of his mind. Some old stories… If only he could remember.

He tore his way up and down aisle after aisle, eyes scanning the spines off countless hardcovers, searching. He finally discovered what he was looking for in a far-off corner. He had just opened it to start his search when the lightbulb overhead flickered out, casting the small lettering into shadow. Sighing to himself, Henry hauled the thick volume over to the nearest table to get a better look. He never gave the young college girl sitting across from him a second glance.

He flipped through the war over the world, through Perseus and through Medusa, wondering if these yellowed pages could really hold the answer. Just as he thought he had to be getting closer, the young lady's mutterings shook him from his thoughts.

"No, no, no," she said. "This doesn't make any sense."

She was clearly getting frustrated at whatever assignment she had been given. History, from the looks of it. "Can I help you with something?"

"Possibly, though I doubt it," she responded, still looking down at the textbook before her. For the first time, Henry noticed that she hadn't been taking notes on the contents of the book, but was rather changing them. Whole sections of text had lines through them and a flowing script filled the margins. "It just is troublesome how little these so-called historians know. Then again, you of all people would understand."

Henry's heart nearly stopped once her gaze finally met his own. He had only seen those eyes, those intense, scrutinizing, paralyzing, beautiful gray eyes once before, over a century ago, but they had left an impression.

"Athena."

She smiled a small, genuine smile that made her look that much less scary, but he knew first-hand what little value an appearance could hold. "You always were a bright one. It is good to see you again Dr. Morgan."

He could hardly believe his eyes, yet he knew without a doubt that he wasn't mistaken. "How are you here?" was all he could think to ask.

"Well," she answered, grin never faltering, "it is a public library. I have just as much of a right to it as anyone else, if not more so."

He glanced down at her textbook graffiti. Yeah, right, he thought.

"I am just trying to fix it." She responded as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and wasn't the least bit offended. "How are children to learn if what they are being taught–"

"You know I didn't mean the library." Henry understood it was rude to interrupt, but at that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was working a million miles an hour and all this women seemed to do was make sarcastic remarks. "How are you still alive?"

"No need to sound so disappointed. If you mean to ask if I am like you, the answer is no. You just won't stay dead. I, on the other hand, am immortal."

So much for being a bright one. "What are you talking about?"

"I think we both know," she responded, sending a pointed look toward the forgotten book that lay between them. The old cover read Greek Myths and Legends in faded ink.

"Athena…" Henry said, the name barely escaping his lips as he mulled over the implications of what she was saying.

"I must ask a favor of you," she went on, going back to her textbook mutilating and ignoring the fact that Henry was still reeling from this new information. "You need to drop your case."

That got his attention. "What?"

"You will never find what killed my nephew, especially since it wasn't human. There is no need to waste time and resources on a dead end. Also, I don't recommend you going to that camp tomorrow. Have your partner look into it if you must, but nothing good will come from you being there."

"And why is that?" he countered.

"Telling you would defeat the purpose of not going."

There was a long silence in which neither spoke. Henry studied the goddess as she tsked over her faulty textbook.

"It is getting late." It took Henry a moment to realize that Athena was addressing him. She didn't bother to look up from her work. "Abraham will be worried."

He knew she was probably right. His son had developed this nasty habit of waiting up for him. Didn't he realize that the father was supposed to be the one worrying about his boy, not the other way around?

With a sigh Henry lifted the volume from the table. There was no way he wasn't going to check the book out now. He was about to leave when another idea occurred to him.

"Do you know… uh…" he started. For a man typically so eloquent with words, he couldn't seem to form the question coherently.

Her pen froze over the page. "No Dr. Morgan, I do not. I have looked into it, but whatever happened to you was the work of no god." Once again, her eyes met his and in that moment Henry knew that the woman before him was indeed the immortal deity she claimed. "All I know at this point is that whatever did this had to have been extremely powerful and is now in hiding."

Henry's mind went into overdrive as he worked to fit these new pieces into his puzzle. "Anyone smart enough to evade the goddess of wisdom for two hundred years had to have put some serious thought and consideration into their actions. No way would I have been chosen at random."

Athena nodded. "My thinking exactly. And going to such lengths to not be discovered? One could only assume what would be so worthy of hiding."

"I see." Henry couldn't seem to wrap his head around this. Why him? What use would an immortal doctor be in the long run? "And what of Adam?" he asked.

"Who?" The goddess's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. The expression looked foreign on her face.

Now Henry was confused. "Adam. The other man like me."

Her expression remained. "There is no one else like you. Was this 'Adam' able to contact you?"

"A few times actually." Something was definitely wrong. "He even killed me once, though I didn't get a look at his face."

"That's not right. That cannot be right." She was now flipping through a small journal, the mutilated textbook forgotten. "I have been keeping an eye on you since 1796 and the only Adams you have encountered was that boy with a broken leg and his father that brought him to you, both of which have died since then."

Henry wasn't exactly how to respond to that. "Uh… No?" It came out more of a question than he had intended.

"I must go check on something now. Goodnight." With that Athena snapped her journal shut, snatched it off the table, and disappeared behind a bookshelf.

"Goodnight?" he replied weakly, already knowing she was long gone. Something definitely didn't sit right with him and he couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't be seeing the goddess again anytime soon.

A young librarian poked his head around the corner. "Sir, we'll be closing in ten minutes. Did you find what you were looking for?"

It really was getting late then. He had almost forgotten about the volume in his arms, the book he had recovered in the fiction section, but now he looked down at its worn cover and faded title once more. "Yes, just about. I'll be up front in a moment."

Henry waited for the boy to be out of sight before seizing the textbook left behind and tucking it beneath his jacket. It would be interesting to see a goddess's take on history.

And maybe, just maybe, when combined with his own knowledge, limited as it may be, it could help to shine some light on a subject cast in shadows. Maybe he could uncover why fate chose him.

Just maybe.

But the Fates hadn't chosen him. They had lost him.

I've had the idea of Henry meeting a god/goddess stuck in my head for a while now and this is what resulted. Tell me what you think of it. Also, review with your own theories behind why Henry is immortal. My personal theory relates to the Fates. Tell me what you think the meaning of that last line is and where Athena ran off to.

Just, please review.