A/N:

This one-shot takes place directly after the close of the season one (technically series) finale. This is written in honor of the show that deserved so much more than the one season it got. If you haven't seen this show, you must go see it as soon as possible. It is one of my favorites I've seen to date.

-----

Until the moment Jo pulled out the photograph, Henry was sure he could come up with an excuse for anything she supplied. He needed to protect his secret. However, the photograph was different. The photograph was real and Jo was an intelligent woman. She could tell that it was real and wouldn't need to run tests because of the clues that were obvious to a person in her field. So, Henry answered plainly, knowing he didn't have a choice in the matter. "It's a long story..."

With a step backwards into the shop, Henry motioned for Jo to enter as well. The detective did as directed, her curiosity peaked. She stole glances around the antique shop, her mind racing. Having been in the shop before, she noted that nothing was different, but now she was looking for clues as to what this could mean. Everything was as it was the first time she entered; antiques were on every table and shelf, on display for customers.

Before she could get another good look, Henry spoke again. "Take a seat," he said, motioning to the chairs he and Abe had been sitting in during their chess game. Abe had pulled a chair over while Jo was looking around, bringing the total number of seats up to three.

Once Jo sat down, and Henry and Abe joined her, Henry began to speak. He started to tell his story, from his birth in 1779 to today. As soon as he began, Jo looked at him as if he were crazy. "Trust me on this," he told her, his eyes pleading with her to give this a bit more of a chance. She gave him a nod, silently giving him permission to continue his story.

"For years, I lived a normal life," explained Henry. I grew up and went to medical school, got married, and had a nice life practicing medicine. Then, in 1814, I was given the opportunity to go on a voyage, and that was the year that I died."

Not surprisingly, that was where Jo gave up on trying to understand. "Okay, let me see if I've got this so far. You were born in 1779...then died in 1814, and you're somehow still here?" Her eyes landed on Henry with shock and disbelief in her eyes.

"It's a crazy story, that's for sure," Abe mumbled under his breath, and Jo could just barely hear it all.

"I know it sounds crazy," Henry began, "but just let me finish." Jo gave him a quick nod, and he continued. "I became a doctor on a slave ship, and there was a sick man on board. The captain, he wanted to kill him so he didn't infect any more of the others, but I refused to let him. So, he chose to kill me instead and threw my body overboard."

Henry paused and looked away for a second. His mind wandered to his past and what had happened. After over two hundred years, he still didn't understand. Why him? Why was he saved? What had he done to receive this opportunity?

After this brief pause, he continued to speak. "For some reason that still eludes me, I came back to life after I was killed. Each time, I return in water." He paused for a second, expecting a negative reaction from Jo.

He didn't get that negative reaction. It was more that she didn't know what to think. That much was obvious in her expression as she spoke just a single word. "Okay..."

Henry looked at her, a bit surprised by the way she was reacting. His mind flashed back to Nora, his first wife, who put him in an asylum when he came back after his first death on the ship. Jo seemed to actually believe him, which was not something he could say about Nora until later on when she got proof. "Do you believe me?" he asked.

Jo didn't answer at first. She looked down at the photo that was still in her hands. Henry was the same age in that picture, and looked happy with a young woman and son. She knew the photo was real. Even though his story was hard to believe, how could she not? "I...I think I do."

Henry was relieved to say the least. He didn't have to worry anymore. She knew. He was about to say more to her, but then she spoke instead. "Tell me more. What do you know so far?"

Henry obliged to tell her what she wanted. He explained who Adam was, related to the stalker that the precinct had looked for. He told her what he thought he knew about the possibilities of what the immortality meant for him and why he had it. Besides Abe, he hadn't wanted others to know. However, now that Jo knew, it was a relief. He had another person to talk to about the things that were going on, and it was a person he could trust. He secretly had wanted another person to know, and now the right person did.

The whole time, Jo jotted down notes the whole time on a piece of paper she had found. While they talked, Abe got up and left the room for a minute to do something, but Henry and Jo hardly noticed. Jo had gone into detective mode, and she had made a goal in her head to help him figure out the truth about this interesting situation he had been put in.

It was late by the time they finished discussing Henry's immortality. Jo noticed the time on one of the antique clocks behind them. At the realization of the late hour, she sighed. "I'd better head back home," she told him and stood up. As she folded her paper back up, she handed him the picture. "This is yours."

He took the picture with a glance at his family from so long ago. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll see you at work tomorrow. We've got work to do, after all," Jo replied with a small smile. As she headed to the door, she turned to look at him. "Besides, you never know what you might find. Maybe we'll figure out more about your immortality," she reminded him before she walked out of the antique shop.

Henry watched her go, his mind racing. With Jo's help, he might be able to be one step closer to finding the reason for his immortality. He couldn't explain it, but something made him feel like this was the end at first; the end of his secret. But, now he knew that it was only the beginning of an even longer story.

Henry Morgan couldn't wait to tell it.