Duke was back on the Rouge, getting ready to make good on his long standing promise to himself to get the hell out of Haven. Now that the whole Mara/End of All Times/Great Suffering situation had finally calmed down—and there was plenty of suffering—and the Personality-Formerly-Known-As-Audrey was back running the show with Nathan, he knew it was time. The Troubles were over, what more could he do?

Well, he knew there was always something more he could do, or would be demanded to do, but no more. He was done.

Forever and finally.

Maybe he'd go somewhere sunny.

They had talked about that a few times; when they were hunting for some normalcy, for something to hang onto through the Troubled madness of Haven. "Somewhere Sunny;" where she could wear a bikini all the time, and she could have a drink in a coconut which she said was something she always wanted to do, and they'd swim in the ocean and lounge on the beach all day, and forget about things like what day of the week it was and what was happening in a little Troubled town somewhere in Maine.

"You think I could get flowers to stay in my hair? Or, ooh, maybe I could put them in yours!"

Duke slammed the cooler he'd been carrying on to the deck. No. Not today. He'd been careful; everything she'd owned had been carefully put back in her room, and the door had been locked; he'd pushed as much of her down and away from the rest of the world, from himself, as he could. It'd done enough to her, to them, it didn't deserve to do this to him too.

"Not today." He mumbled, rubbing his face and still leaning on the cooler.

"Heading somewhere?" a familiar voice called from the pier.

Duke sighed as he stood and turned to see Dwight boarding the Rouge, part of him glad for the distraction, the rest of him immediately going on the defensive in case this was another one of those times where Haven was going to pull him back in and down until it smothered him. He prided himself on his instinct, and his instinct is certain that if he doesn't get away this time, he would never get away.

Duke paused as he looked at Dwight, feeling as if something was missing from the police chief when it dawned on him: the bulletproof vest.

It was still strange to see him without it.

Who knew that his shirts actually continued under the thing?

Duke shrugged, throwing his arms up into it, "Not much to stay for, 'Squatch. Figured you would've left this town in your rearview long before now."

Dwight shrugged back, not nearly as emphatically, "Still work to be done. Now that my life doesn't flash before my eyes every time a gun goes off, I can do a lot more for this town."

Duke hazarded a smirk, "And the fact that 'Chief Hendrickson' has a certain ring to it, has nothing to do with it?"

"You said it, not me." Dwight said, returning Duke's careful smile with his own.

Duke nodded, "Good. They can use all the help they can get in this town, Troubled or not. I, on the other hand, am going to get the hell outta dodge while I can. This town has…taken more than enough from me."

Duke leveled his gaze at Dwight to be sure he understood his meaning as he continued, "I don't owe it anything."

"I never said you did." Dwight replied, crossing his arms.

Duke let out a mirthless chuckle as he turned to the cooler he'd earlier slammed onto the deck. He pulled a beer out of it, letting the lid slam closed, and opened the beer. He sat on the lid, gesturing towards Dwight with the bottle, "It's why you're here, isn't it? Or do I need to ruin our friendship by asking to see a warrant?"

"No. Nothing like that." Dwight leaned against the railing of the boat. Dwight tried to smile at Duke again, "Besides, would it do me any good if I did have one?"

Duke shook his head, taking a drink, "Probably not."

Dwight smirked, letting out the start of a laugh, but didn't say anything more. There was a pause, as Dwight seemed to be considering how he wanted to say whatever it was he'd come to say.

Duke took another swig of his beer, "I've had bad dates that've been less awkward than this, Dwight. What's going on?"

"It's…well, it's about Jennifer." Dwight said, watching Duke carefully.

Everything about Duke seemed to freeze and turn rigid. Dwight was reminded of making eye contact with a mountain lion and realizing you'd crossed into its territory and it was waiting to see how much farther you were willing to go before it struck you down.

Duke held his beer in his hands as he asked coldly, "What about her?"

"When she was…here," Dwight began, deciding it was best to say "here" rather than "alive," and shifting slightly against the railing, "She'd gotten nervous about someone stealing her identity—I think it was shortly after the, uh, the 'Tyler Incident.'"

Duke nodded stiffly, looking just to the left of Dwight and keeping his face stoic. The memory of what Tyler had done to him flashed in his mind, but so did what Tyler had made him do to Jennifer.

"I don't know who you really are, but I will shoot you and I'll probably accidentally hit you in the face so don't come near me."

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back."

"So she had asked me to keep an eye on her card activity," Dwight was saying, pulling Duke's attention back to him even as he continued to stare just to the left of Dwight, "listing me as a contact with the company—in case anything strange popped up, and when she'd…well…"

Dwight let the thought trail off as he studied Duke before continuing his point, "I had taken the liberty of cancelling her cards, but a few days ago something…uh, something came up."

Duke finally looked back at him—well, more accurately, Duke glared at him, his anger already starting to show through the carefully emotionless mask.

Dwight stood from the railing and risked walking closer to Duke, "Is…is there anyone in Boston who would know how to get her cards reactivated? Did she ever mention—,"

"Are you trying to tell me that someone stole her identity and is using her cards back in Boston." Duke asked, but his cold tone made it sound more like a statement.

"I'm not sure." Dwight conceded, uncrossing then re-crossing his arms, "I had a friend of mine in the Boston PD stake out one of the places that this person seemed to frequent. He…he said he saw a woman making the exact purchase that'd been logged by the company that matched Jennifer's description damn near to a 'T'."

Duke's gaze turned lethal, eyes narrowing in anger, "Is this some kind of fucking joke?"

Dwight shook his head, "If I had thought it was, I would have dealt with it on my own. Is there any chance that—,"

"No." Duke nearly shouted, "No there's no fucking chance that it's her."

"Duke, I didn't—," Dwight tried again, holding his hands up like one might do with a snarling dog.

"I was the one who ID'ed her." He was shouting now, and stood up, throwing his beer bottle down and shattering it against the deck, "Now. You're fucking telling me that someone has stolen her cards and is just…just living her life? I'm gonna fucking—,"

"Duke." Dwight shouted back, cutting him off. Duke staggered slightly, as if Dwight had struck him across the face. Dwight stood next to him, posture squared as if he expected Duke to throw himself at him, his gaze steady. Duke glared back at him, his hands shaking at his sides and breathing heavily, but he kept from shouting—or striking—back.

"I don't know what this means, Duke. I just know that you had a right to know what I've found." Dwight said calmly. Duke clenched his jaw but nodded, taking a few careful breaths, as Dwight began to walk away.

"Wait!" Duke yelled after him, "What the fuck do you expect me to—,"

"That lantern I gave you." Dwight interrupted, pausing just before he reached the stairs back down to the pier and keeping his back to Duke, "The purple one. Did Jennifer do what I asked? Did she write something for Lizzy?"

Duke nodded carefully, though clearly confused at the turn in the conversation, "She, uh, she wrote her a letter, along with everyone else Haven lost to the Troubles. She…she told them she loved them and that they were missed. She told Lizzy that you were a hero."

Dwight bowed his head at that, and let out a chuckle, "That was good of her."

Dwight reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope and set it on top of some crates next to him, tapping it gently and keeping his back to Duke, "She was too kind for the things that happened to her."

With that, Dwight went ashore, not looking back. Duke crossed the deck and picked the manila envelope up carefully. He looked in the direction that Dwight had gone, only to see his car pulling away. Duke opened it and pulled out everything Dwight had on whoever it was that was using Jennifer's cards.

Duke let out an agitated breath through his nose.

So much for going somewhere sunny.

"Jennifer!" a voice yelled from the top of the spiral staircase in the back of the bookstore. Jennifer sighed as she marked the page of her book, hopped from her stool behind the counter, and headed towards the voice. She glanced at the couch that was tucked among the shelves of the Fiction section across from her, regarding the large black Great Dane that hadn't even perked his ears up at the noise, "No, don't get up, Little John, I'll take care of it."

Little John only wagged his tail as she spoke to him, earning an eye roll out of her.

She leaned against the poles of the banister to the stairs and looked up towards the beaded curtain of the loft, "Yes?"

Her cousin's head popped out from behind the curtain, causing a makeshift rain sound. The long part of her brown hair was still wet from the shower she had taken, the right side of her head looked freshly shaved, and her glasses looked the slightest bit fogged from being left on the bathroom counter. She looked down at Jennifer through her black rimmed glasses, "When was your thing with Holly? I was thinking of closing early and taking Brielle out for ice cream, but you know how cranky she gets when she doesn't get to see her favorite 'auntie.'"

Jennifer giggled, "Adelaide, you know I wrote this on the calendar."

Adelaide gave her an incredulous look, "We don't own a calendar."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, "Adelaide, it's on the wall behind you. I can see it."

She pointed to just over Adelaide's left shoulder. Adelaide glanced there, pausing as she considered the tropical calendar that was, indeed, hanging just behind her. In cheesy postcard font across the image of the beach were the words, "Visit Somewhere Sunny!"

Adelaide turned back to her, "Well maybe I just wanted to hear your melodious voice."

Jennifer rolled her eyes as she twisted her left wrist to look at the time, "I should have time for at least one 'I Believe I Can Fly,' once she gets here."

Adelaide grinned at her, "You've just saved the world from one very cranky six year old."

Jennifer shrugged, "It's a skill. I've got 'Jennifer Mason: Placater of Cranky Six-Year Olds' printed on all my business cards. Right next to 'Hot Chocolate Connoisseur,' and right underneath…"

Jennifer trailed off, a dull throb suddenly pulsing just behind her eyes. She rubbed her forehead, trying to alleviate the pressure that had sprung up. Little John, who had apparently decided that the mention of hot chocolate must have something to do with him and was now standing next to Jennifer, nudged her elbow with his nose. Jennifer scratched him between his ears and tried to smile at him, even as her vision began to go the slightest bit blurry at the edges.

"Underneath…?" Adelaide prompted, though she sounded, briefly, like she was saying it from far away.

"Hm?" Jennifer replied, looking back up at her cousin who was looking at her quizzically. As she looked and focused on Adelaide, it was as if everything came back into focus; even the throbbing seemed to lessen, if only slightly. "Oh!" Jennifer shook her head, trying to clear the rest of the cobwebs from her brain, "I, uh, I don't remember."

Adelaide looked at her for a moment longer before shrugging and disappearing back behind the beaded curtain, "It probably wasn't important."

Jennifer nodded and turned back towards the front of the store, mumbling, "It probably wasn't important."

Little John followed closely behind her as she walked. She climbed back on to her stool behind the counter, adjusting her gray cardigan around her cream tunic with blue peach blossoms on it. The throbbing behind her eyes had slowly receded, and she tried to pick her book back up, only to have Little John thrust his head into her lap, looking up at her expectantly.

She rolled her eyes at him, "What? What do you need, Little Thing?"

His tail was wagging lazily, threatening to knock down the stacks of books behind him as well as send the papers on the shelves inside the counter flying, and he adjusted his head so that he was the slightest bit closer to her. She only grinned at him and began to vigorously scratch his head with both hands, her book now completely forgotten, telling him, "Oh you're a spoiled little thing, aren't you?"

She remembered when Adelaide had suggested getting a puppy shortly after her mom died. She remembered she had been initially resistant to the idea, asking something along the lines of, "What am I going to do with a puppy?"

But when she had seen Little John, the runt of the litter, come ambling up to her on paws that were too big for his little frame, she'd fallen in love. She'd named him "Little John" after the friend of Robin Hood, as a way of paying tribute to the movie her adoptive parents had seen together on their first date; also because she found naming this behemoth of a dog "little" hilarious. Before he'd grown too much, she'd taken to calling him, "Little Thing"; another tribute to her parents, though more specifically to how her mother had always told her that life was about appreciating the little things.

He was a good boy, always seemed to be in-tuned with what she was feeling and always protective of her, but, try as she might, she couldn't really remember how she'd trained him. In fact, what she did remember of that time seemed more like it had been something she experienced second hand. Like showing a picture book to a child, "See? This happened, and then this. Remember this. Don't worry about anything else, there is only this."

Jennifer hadn't mentioned this lapse in her memory to Adelaide yet; she knew how much Adelaide worried about her in general let alone since the accident.

Little John turned his head and licked her hand, pulling her out of her thoughts and earning a laughing groan out of Jennifer, "Ew! Aw, buddy, that's gross!"

Little John's tail only wagged harder as she glared at him and wiped her now sufficiently slobbery hand on her olive-green pants.

"That's a good way to ruin those pants," Adelaide commented, walking passed her through the beaded curtain that led into the kitchenette. She'd changed into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a ratty band t-shirt, showing off her numerous tattoos, and the long hair on the left side of her head had been pulled back into a ponytail, hanging over the freshly shaved back of her head.

Jennifer shrugged and called after her, "Eh, I'll need to change before I leave anyway. Holly somehow got us into that new Italian place five blocks over that everyone's been talking about."

"Girl's got skills." Came the impressed reply.

Jennifer chuckled as she climbed off her stool, snapping her fingers and gesturing in front of her to direct Little John, "And she knows it too."

Little John obediently, though reluctantly, backed away from Jennifer as she began to walk to the back of the store, towards where her room was. He followed behind her briefly before heading back to the couch that he had previously vacated. Her room was a rather small space, all things considered, and had been repurposed from an office (though, with Adelaide, "office" was just another word for "storage"), but was a peaceful forest green color and luckily had enough room for her mattress and a least some room for walking around it. It was also one of the only rooms in the space owned by Adelaide that still had a real door to it and not just a beaded curtain. Adelaide had tried on more than one occasion to convince Jennifer that her little space would benefit from one of her numerous beaded curtains in her collection. Jennifer had squashed that idea as quickly as she had brought it up, however, snidely commenting that, "If I'm going to be reduced to living in a former office space, I'm going to be living in a former office space that allows me some privacy." She'd been less than pleased at the initial upheaval of her life, post-accident, and she unfairly took it out on Adelaide at the time through snide comments. She'd apologized shortly after, but she still felt like her response to her cousin opening her home to her was unfair and tried, often, to repay Adelaide however she could.

Once inside the room, regardless of how she acquired it, she made quick work of changing, tossing her clothes onto her bed and slipping into a pair of dark tights with transparent flowers on the calves and a gray dress with an embroidered white floral overlay. She put in her yellow flower earrings, and tried to adjust her curls. She considered her reflection as she fixed her makeup.

Her hair had gotten much longer than she last remembered it being. When was the last time she'd had it cut? Was it before the sailing accident? Had time just gotten away from her? After all, there isn't much time to really worry about hair length when you're recovering from a head-wound and partial drowning.

But, then again, no, she thought, tilting her head as the thought occurred to her. That didn't feel right. She almost felt like she'd decided to grow it out because of what someone had said. Someone had told her that they liked the curl her hair got at this length, that they liked running their fingers through it. She felt as if she had liked that idea, like she had loved the idea of their fingers curling with the curl of her hair.

Who had said that? A figure tried to clarify itself in her mind, but when she tried to focus on it, the throb from earlier by the stairs came back, and when she pushed on it, it was as if the throb pushed back.

Water. That was all she could get out of the foggy image; that the figure was by water. Which, of course, is a helpful thing to have pop up, when you live in a city built on a harbor on the East Coast.

She shook her head, sighing, as she finished her makeup and attempted to fluff her hair with her fingers, "It probably isn't important."

Even as she said it, though, she wasn't sure if she believed it.

She grabbed a black blazer, to wear as she walked to the restaurant, from her small closet in the corner, along with her heeled black suede ankle boots from the floor of the same closet. She grabbed her purse from the floor next to her bed, grabbing her keys from her dresser and tossing them in as well, before heading back out to the main floor of the store and closing the door behind her. Little John jumped off his couch and ambled along behind her. Jennifer climbed back onto the stool behind the counter as Little John sat next to her. She began putting her boots on as she called out to Adelaide, "Hey, have you heard anything else from the storage unit people? I really miss having my quilt and my dad's sweater."

"I'll get on the phone with them tonight, maybe make a few workers cry—see if that gets us any results." Came the reply from the kitchenette over the whistle of a teakettle. As the whistle died out, Adelaide continued, "I can't believe they misplaced the key for a storage unit! It's not like it's their fucking job or anything. Once we get your things back, we should definitely look into moving your stuff to a new company."

Jennifer rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone out of her purse to check for any new messages from Holly, and mumbled, "I'd rather move my stuff into my own place."

"Jennifer," it was half a warning and half exasperated, "until the doctors say that you are okay to be alone—,"

The bells on the storefront door jingled, cutting Adelaide off, as a little black haired six year old came bounding through the door, followed by a tired looking black man in a gray hoodie and jeans. The little girl beamed at Jennifer, green eyes sparkling, "Hi Auntie Jen!"

Jennifer grinned back, hopping off of her stool. Little John stayed by the stool obediently as Jennifer walked around the counter, arms spread wide, and exclaimed, "There's my favorite six year old!"

Brielle grinned as she leapt into Jennifer's arms. Jennifer hugged her and looked at the man standing nervously at the door, "Hi, Joshua!"

Joshua smiled, "Hi, Ms. Mason."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, standing but still holding Brielle's hand, "Joshua, I think we've known each other a little too long for you to be calling me 'Ms. Mason.' Heard anything from your sister today?"

Joshua rubbed his buzzed head, "Not yet today. You look nice though; you two're going out to dinner, right? At that new place on Hanover?"

She nodded, "That's right. I'll make sure to give Holly a good lecture for not talking to her little brother today."

Joshua chuckled and shook his head.

She looked down at Brielle, "What do we say to Mr. Joshua?"

Brielle beamed up at Joshua, "Thank you for walking me home, Mr. Joshua!"

He smiled back, "You be good for your Aunt and Momma, now."

Brielle nodded back, "I will!"

He smiled at Brielle and then nervously smiled at Jennifer, "Ms. Mason."

Jennifer smiled back, rolling her eyes at him, and with that, Joshua left, heading back to his own store next door.

When the door jingled closed, Jennifer picked Brielle up and spun her around, singing loudly and off key, "I believe I can fly!"

From the kitchenette, they heard an equally off key, "I believe I can touch the sky!"

Brielle squealed with laughter, as Jennifer slowed her spinning and set Brielle back on the floor, and carefully leaned against the counter as a dizzy spell came over her.

Brielle looked up at her, her little eyes bright with concern, "You okay, Auntie?"

Jennifer just tried to nod, still bracing herself on the counter as the room spun around her a little slower. In the back of her mind, she could just barely hear another voice, one that was startlingly familiar; the figure she'd tried to clarify in her mind earlier came back up, and it was as if some of the fog around it had lessened, but the image was still unclear.

A pier.

The figure was standing on a pier.

"Hey. You okay?"

A hand pressed against her shoulder, she turned to look and saw Adelaide, her own green eyes giving her the same concerned look that Brielle had given her, "Jennifer, are you okay?"

"I just…need a second," Jennifer tried to smile at her, but her own voice sounded like it was coming from a tin can and the edges of her vision were still tinged in black. The spinning of the room lessened as she focused on her cousin, as did the black at the edge of her vision.

This probably wasn't a good sign.

Adelaide shook her head as Jennifer took a few slow breaths, "You know what the doctors said about exerting yourself. Ever since that sailing accident—,"

"Adelaide." Jennifer cut her off, her eyes flashing her cousin a warning as she straightened her posture, "I'm fine. I just need a second."

Adelaide held her hands up, backing away slightly, "Alright. Alright. Excuse the fuck outta me for being a concerned cousin."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, just as her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up and grinned at the screen before pointing at Adelaide sternly, "Don't worry about me so much. I'm fine. Now. I'm going to go have dinner with my other worrywart warden—,"

"Bet you can't say that three times fast," Adelaide interrupted, making a face at Brielle.

"Worrywart warden, worry-wort—," Brielle struggled to say as Jennifer grabbed her purse from the counter. She crouched slightly in front of Little John who sniffed at her face, tail thumbing on the floor. She scratched his chest as Brielle continued to try to say "worrywart warden" and said to him, "You be a good boy. When I get back, we'll go for a nice long walk."

Little John's tail thumbed harder against the floor.

She grinned at him before standing back up, slipping into her black blazer and then hitching her purse over her shoulder as she kissed Adelaide and then Brielle on the cheek, "Be safe and have fun you two! I'll see you tonight!"

"Bye Auntie Jen!" Brielle called as the doors jingled closed.

Adelaide scooped Brielle into a hug, "Hello Sweetness."

Brielle kissed her mom's cheek, "Hi Momma!"

Adelaide held up her left wrist where the name "Desmond" was tattooed in scrawling script, prompting Brielle to kiss the tattoo, "Hi Daddy!"

Adelaide nuzzled her face against Brielle's, "How was your day?"

"I bit a boy who was being mean to me!" Brielle beamed at her as she squished Adelaide's face in her hands.

"Oh, that's gonna be a fun phone call." Adelaide laughed as she carried Brielle and her backpack to the back of the store towards the stairs to the loft, "Did he deserve it?"

"He called me stupid and messed up the picture I was doing." Brielle said matter-of-factly. Little John tentatively scratched at the door to Jennifer's room just before Adelaide could begin her climb up to the loft. Adelaide sighed before walking the rest of the way to the back of the shop. Once there, she opened Jennifer's door and then, as Little John leapt onto the bed happily, closed it.

"Did you break the skin?" Adelaide asked as she finally began to climb the stairs. Once in their loft, she dropped her daughter on to the couch in the middle of their small living room.

Brielle shook her head as she shifted on the couch for Adelaide to sit down, "No, but he's gonna have a bruise for a while."

Adelaide wrapped her arm around Brielle's shoulders, pulling her closer to her side, and kissed her head, "Remember, we don't bite…"

"Unless they deserve it." Brielle finished.

Adelaide's cell phone started buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and grimaced at the screen. She turned back to Brielle, "That's right. Now, you go start on your homework, and then you and I will go get ice cream, how's that sound?"

Brielle grinned and leapt from the couch, "Oh boy!"

Adelaide just grinned as Brielle ran into her room to start in on her homework, her backpack bouncing against her back as she went. Once Brielle had closed the door to her bedroom, Adelaide looked back at the phone, debating on answering it for a moment, before she sighed and hit the "accept" button, "Yes?"

"How's she doing?" the voice on the other end asked.

Adelaide shrugged, "Well enough now."

"'Now'?" the voice repeated.

"We…we had at least two episodes earlier, though." Adelaide conceded.

"What happened." The voice demanded, not even really bothering to make it sound like a question.

Adelaide bristled at the voice's tone, but rather than tell the voice what it could do with its rude tone, she sighed to try to calm herself back down.

"She was talking about business cards and hot chocolate when the first one happened, and then again when she was playing with Brielle." Adelaide answered, glancing back at Brielle's door, "And while I'd rather not be in the position of 'narc,' those were the only two that I actually witnessed."

"I assume you handled the situation." The voice said coldly.

Her earlier agitation flashed back up and she didn't bother stamping it back down, "If you mean I did your dirty work for you, and told an innocent woman that her attempts at remembering over a year of her life and the subsequent pain that that causes her are simply the by-product of a—," she raised her left hand and mimed air quotes for her own benefit, "—'boating accident;' then you'd be right; I handled the situation. But this is the last time. This is not my job."

"You're job is to maintain balance," the voice replied snidely, "just as it was your father's. You are meant to protect—,"

"No." Adelaide snapped, cutting off the voice, "You misunderstand my position. I am the owner of a bookstore. Nothing more. Now, as a decent human being, I have an obligation to help the people that are under my roof but I will help them how I see fit. Not how unattached windbags on the other side of a phone line determine."

"You arrogant—!"

"You should be aware," she interrupted, nearly yelling back at the voice, "that your first mistake was giving me someone that I could care about. You would do well to remember that the next time you speak to me or try to tell me what my job is."

With that, and well before the other side could try to voice a rebuttal again, Adelaide ended the call, tossing the phone on to the couch cushion next to her.

Duke had debated for the better part of the day whether to sail or drive to Boston for what he needed to do.

Well, if he was being honest with himself, need was a complicated term.

What he wanted was to find the person who had stolen her identity and make them pay for it.

Creatively.

Either way, he had finally decided on sailing down to Boston; at least then, whether out of necessity or with some modicum of peace of mind granted him, he'd be able to just sail off to that "Somewhere Sunny."

He'd paid to dock at a marina near the North End of Boston where most of the purchases on the credit cards had been made. He wasn't sure how long he'd be staying in Boston waiting for whoever it was to show themselves (after all, Boston's a big place), but he figured a month was safe; and even if he gave up before then, he wasn't too concerned about losing the money.

He'd brought his truck with him, and drove it off the Rouge to the pier. He didn't have a plan yet and he certainly didn't expect the guilty party to be wearing a sign that said "WANTED: FIST TO THE FACE FOR STEALING AN INNOCENT DEAD WOMAN'S CREDIT CARD INFORMATION", but he figured he could at least drive down to the area the purchases had been made and see if anyone matched up with the detective's report that Dwight had given him. As he drove around, he tried to remember what part of Boston she had said she used to live in; he knew the Aquarium that the Barn had spat him out was in this part of the city, but he could've sworn that she'd said on a couple of occasions that she lived a bit closer to the Globe offices towards South Boston—not that it mattered, of course, where whoever had stolen her cards had decided to start using them.

It wasn't her.

He knew that.

As evening began to fall, and his hunt was proving fruitless, Duke opted to park his car in one of the public parking structures near Hanover street, and decided to walk around to try to find a place to eat.

It'd been awhile since he was last in Boston. At least this time he hadn't been thrown into the seal tank at the aquarium.

Under different circumstances, the thought might have made him chuckle. But under these circumstances, he had to fight the urge to punch anyone who got too close to him. Not that anyone seemed to be willing to tempt him on that. Duke was nothing if not capable of communicating to those around him that he was not a man to be interfered with. Duke buried his hands further into his jean jacket and hunched his shoulders slightly against the cool breeze that was wondering through the streets with him.

It'd been a long time since he'd been in a city of substantial size for anything that wasn't Trouble related, and as he walked, he tried to look at the people around him. He used to like making up stories about the people he saw on the streets, wondering about where they came from, where they were going, what secrets they had hidden away; in a town like Haven, you already knew most of those things, so what was the point in speculating?

Take the stout man who was bustling passed him, looking agitated. In his head, Duke decided that the little man had had the worst day at the office, what with Jerry in Accounting not only drinking the last of the coffee before he even got there, but then Jerry had the audacity to eat his lunch and claimed that it'd been a mistake. Compacted with his impotency issues and the fact that he hadn't actually touched his wife in over a year, though she seemed rather consistently satisfied, and the stout angry man's rage was clearly reaching a head.

The stout man continued to angrily fast walk down the street and rudely bumped into a woman standing outside the Italian restaurant that was just ahead of him.

"Hey, watch it pal!" she yelled after him.

Duke froze in his tracks. He knew that voice. He knew that voice as well as he knew his own. He stared as the woman shook her dark brown curls; the pale skin of her face was lightly flushed from yelling at the stout man. She turned back to her phone, smiling at the screen, and Duke almost fell to his knees in relief and joy.

Oh god.

He knew that smile.

Jennifer.

He hadn't thought her name, let alone spoken it, since he…since he let her go, and yet as he stood there, looking at a woman who couldn't be anyone else but her, he found that that was the only thing that he could think or say.

"Jennifer?" he whispered, already starting to walk towards her. She'd gone from looking at her phone to looking around her now, like she was trying to find someone. Part of him, the part that hoped every time the Rouge creaked it was her coming home, hoped that it was for him.

"Jennifer!" he called, breaking out in a run towards her. He was calling her name as desperately as he had when he'd found the Herald's office ransacked and her missing. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Though, truly, it felt like two lifetimes ago.

She looked up at the man who was yelling her name like he'd been looking for her for years. She didn't recognize him, but before she could say anything about it, he embraced her; hugging her so tightly she struggled momentarily to breathe. She didn't know what to do or how to respond, but she figured it was best to let the man hug her and then try to talk to him. She didn't feel threatened; he was too concerned, too…the more she tried to quantify it, the harder it became to know why it was that she didn't feel threatened when everything told her that she should be.

He broke the embrace, and touched her neck gently as his other hand held her shoulder. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her, studying her face, but he was smiling. She found herself thinking that he had a really nice smile. Focus, Jennifer. She thought to herself, focusing back on him and what he was saying.

"You're okay." He said, his voice wavering, "You're okay."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." she answered, shifting slightly.

Confusion finally broke through Duke's unbridled joy as he registered the problem with what was happening, "How are you okay? How long have you been here? No—wait, how are you alive? Why didn't—," he brought his other hand up to cup her face and leaned down to look at her, thumbs stroking her cheek bones, "Short Stack, why didn't you come home?"

She fidgeted nervously under the touch and gaze of this strange—though admittedly not unattractive—man and carefully placed her hand over his wrist, pushing it away from her face. Something small and quiet that she recognized as the same thing that had popped up earlier that day to tell her about the water and the pier whispered in her mind, protesting how she pushed his hands away.

She smiled nervously at him, even as the dull throb behind her eyes began again, quieting the part of her that protested, "Okay, easy there buddy. What's your name? Is there someone I can…I can call for you?"

Duke clung to his confusion even as his heart started to break at her pushing his hands away, "What? Jennifer, you know who I am. It's me. It's Duke; Duke Crocker. And you're Jennifer Mason. Short Stack, please…"

He moved to touch her again, but she moved back. He held his hands up, demonstrating that he wouldn't move to touch her again, even though every part of him wanted to pick her up and carry her back to the Rouge and not let her go until they were in that "Somewhere Sunny" and probably not even then. Even as he stood there, a plan was forming in the back of his mind to get her back to his car, onto the Rouge, and out on open water before the sun was gone. He focused back on Jennifer, and realized how closed to him she was. He let his hands fall to his sides briefly before sticking them back in his jacket pockets to remove the temptation.

"Okay. Duke." She smiled at him. Duke wanted to stop everything and only hear her say that; just his name, over and over again to make up for all the times this past year that he was sure that he'd never hear her say it again. "That's a nice name. I'd introduce myself but you seem to already know me so—,"

"What happened? Why are you acting like…like you don't know me?" Duke asked, feeling his heart caving in. There was only one reason he could think of for why Jennifer would be alive and not come back to him, and it was something he didn't want to consider.

Jennifer shook her head, "Buddy, I'm really sorry, but I think you've got me very confused with another Jennifer Mason. I've never seen you before in my life."