Author's Notes: Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews. I've tried to respond to everyone who left a signed review via PM, but let me say it again...thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Maria, you were asking if I would ever write a Haven story with 70+ chapters? I don't think I would. This one is getting quite lengthy at 26 (and counting). I hope to have it wrapped up around chapter 35, if I adhere to my outline properly. I do, however, have another story in the works. It's a case-fic, with a HEAVY dose of Naudrey.

Well, dear readers, I agonized over this chapter. I mean, I always tend to agonize over them, but this one nearly did me in (and for no good reason, might I add!). I was trying to find the right balance. Goodness, it's tough to take characters from working partners to romantic partners AND keep them in character. Sigh. I hope I succeeded!

Chapter Twenty-Six: "An Officer and a Gentleman"

"How did she seem to you? Do not omit even the most minute detail." Ephraim Brand lifted a snifter to his lips and took a drink of brandy, but his eyes never left his driver, who stood near the door of his office.

The steely gaze of his employer had Frederick McKee shifting from one foot to the other—and silently reprimanding himself for doing so. He'd agreed to this, to work for Brand even though his wife Melanie had been less than thrilled at the idea. He wasn't from Haven and never understood the superstitions surrounding the Brand Estate until he himself stepped foot here and began interacting with the enigmatic owner of the estate. Mr. Brand was a generous, if not intense, employer, however. It was an intensity Frederick had not yet grown accustomed to, particularly in such a folksy town.

"Ms. Parker seemed distracted. Quiet."

Brand considered the other man's words, his eyes narrowing as he tried to envision Audrey on the ride back to her abode. "Did she cry or show any other signs of agitation?"

"There were no tears. At least, not in my presence."

"That's my girl." He smiled, as though at a private joke that Frederick could neither hear nor understand.

"I waited, as you told me to, and watched her room from a discreet vantage point. Just as you suspected, Nathan Wuornos arrived. He entered her room."

Brand's smile faded. "He is staying with her, then, in her room?"

"No. They were inside for only a few minutes but left in his vehicle."

"Did it seem like police business?"

"No," Frederick hesitated, hoping that the adage about shooting the messenger would not apply here. "She was dressed very casually. They walked close to one another. It seemed personal."

"Perhaps it is time to complicate matters. Are you familiar with the Wuornos family?"

"Not particularly. I'm not really from around here. My wife's family, though-"

Brand interrupted. "The Wuornoses, they've been around these parts a long time, nearly as long as my ancestors. They originate from Finland, if memory serves me correctly."

"Your memory is quite impressive, if you don't mind me saying, Sir."

Brand tapped his fingers against the glass he held. "Oh, I never forget anything. Yes, Wuornos. They have a very peculiar family tree, unofficially, of course. A family tree that extends into Shawshank. Perhaps it is time to shake the branches, so to speak."

"The prison?"

"Mmm. Thank you for your help tonight, Frederick. You've been most invaluable."

The drive to Nathan's house was quiet, nothing but the rattle and hum of the old truck and the occasional bump in the road. He looked over at Audrey a few times, and each time she had her head against the headrest and her eyes closed. He didn't think she was asleep though. Instead she looked like she carried the weight of the world on her slender shoulders.

He wished he could take it all away.

Truth was, he couldn't imagine all she had endured since arriving in Haven. When she first showed him the newspaper clipping of the Colorado Kid's murder scene, she was cautiously optimistic. Finally, this was a tangible link to her past. The story she told of how she used to dream that her mom would show up with a bus and take her and all the other kids from the orphanage revealed his first glimpse of the tender heart beneath the no-nonsense, sometimes abrasive exterior.

He'd been blunt and told her it was best to let that dream go. But she'd hoped. Nathan had seen it every time they got even a crumb of information about Lucy, and Audrey pursued each lead doggedly, until it led her to the truth about her past identity and Lucy's relationship with Ephraim Brand.

What the hell were they going to do about him? Obviously, Audrey wasn't legally married to Brand, but Nathan had a sinking feeling that wouldn't deter the man. He had been playing them like they were his pawns in a game of chess, but what was his endgame? Surely Brand didn't actually believe that he and Audrey would simply pick off where he and Lucy left off. And then there were the questions about Brand's role in what was happening around Haven and had been for many years.

Nathan gripped the steering wheel more tightly but could not feel the leather under his palms. Was it because of Ephraim Brand he couldn't feel? But why could he feel Audrey? Audrey who had been Lucy who had been married to Ephraim Brand. It was enough to give Nathan a headache—if only he could feel it.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of his house, Audrey's eyes popped open. Nathan reached behind the seat and retrieved a bag before exiting the truck.

He quickly unlocked the door of the modest abode and turned on the lights in the living room. Audrey followed him in and watched as he closed the door behind her and locked it.

"What's in the bag?" It was the first she'd spoken in a good twenty minutes.

Nathan thought back to the sparkly bag on her bed at the B&B, glad he wasn't the only one who got curious. Earlier in the day, he had halfway thought she would leap on his back if he tried to look at its contents. He still wondered what Julia could've brought over that had Audrey so wound up and figured it had to be far more exciting than the few things he'd purchased at the drug store earlier in the day for her to keep at his house: a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo and conditioner.

"Probably less thrilling than whatever was in the bag you wouldn't let me see."

With everything going on, Audrey had forgotten about the gift bag with the lingerie inside. Of course Nathan hadn't, not when she'd made such a big deal about not letting him see.

She thought she would have to pester him or otherwise beg, but he passed the shopping bag over to her.

"Damn my curiosity," she muttered as she looked inside. Once she saw the contents, she smiled. "Living on the wild side?"

"Bought those for you."

"Oh."

"It's not really anything special. I guess I was just thinking ahead. I mean, you were here the other night, and I thought maybe…" his voice trailed off. Was he a presumptuous jackass?

"This is sweet." She recognized the hair care products. "How did you know what kind of shampoo to get?"

"I found the one that smelled like y-your hair." He stammered slightly, and Audrey wasn't sure whether to laugh at his sudden shyness or try to remove his inhibitions.

"That sensitive nose of yours." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. "Thank you."

"The, uh, the lips are actually one of the more sensitive parts of the body. Even more than noses."

"Nathan Wuornos, are you trying to seduce me with your fun facts?"

"Seduce you? No, I—"

But he didn't have the chance to finish his sentence. Audrey's lips were on his, her kiss light and sweet. "That's too bad," she smirked when she pulled away.

Even if she was teasing him, Nathan was glad to see the spark of humor return to her eyes. Earlier when she had opened the door at the B&B, he'd been so scared of what had happened to her. She had looked haunted, broken, from the slump of her shoulders to the pink nose and watery eyes. Now that he knew, he still was scared. How much could one person take? So to see her smile was everything to him.

"Is it warm enough in here for you?"

"It's fine," Audrey replied, suppressing a yawn. She was hugging herself, an unconscious act; she realized that must have been the reason Nathan asked about the temperature.

"Must be tired."

"A little," she admitted. "It's been a long day. I don't know if I'm ready to go to sleep, though. My mind's racing."

What could he do to help her? There was a reason he was a cop, not a therapist. The right words didn't come easily to him. For that matter, he rarely trusted anyone whose words were flowery. "We could watch a movie, get your mind off things."

She'd love to be able to curl up with him on the couch, no worries in the world. So normal. But Audrey felt anything but normal. It wasn't fair to do this to him. Nathan was a good man, deliciously imperfect but perfect for her. And all she had to offer was a hot mess of a past, a questionable future if her visions were any indication…

No. Don't.

There were so many questions she had, so many doubts, but the one doubt she didn't have was how she felt for him. He was her best friend, the one person she absolutely trusted.

And he was infinitely more.

"What would you be doing if I weren't here?"

"Depends. I might read something. Sleep. Watch History Channel. Do a project."

"Decoupage?" The unmistakable glint in Audrey's eyes relieved Nathan. It was good to see that despite everything, she was still the Audrey he...

"I haven't done decoupage in awhile," he countered. "Other projects."

"You have a secret hobby you haven't told me about?"

It occurred to Nathan that in many ways, Audrey had become his hobby. Looking for information about her past, fighting the Troubles with her, spending time with her. His house had become a place he came to crash before starting the process all over again.

Not that he would tell her that. That was a lot of pressure to put on someone, which was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with everything she had found out earlier in the night. She had lived a whole other life.

Nathan still hadn't processed it. To him, she would always be Audrey. He knew that somehow she had been someone else years ago. How? He couldn't comprehend. Nor could he fathom how she managed to stay so relatively calm about every single obstacle that had been hurdled before her. She was the strongest person he knew, and she couldn't even see it.

"Not quite," he replied. "So…"

"So."

They stared at each other awkwardly waiting for the other to say something. When neither did, they both laughed, acknowledging their discomfort.

Audrey fingered the cuff of the borrowed sweatshirt she wore. "We're being ridiculous. It doesn't need to be weird between us just because we…I mean, maybe there's this air of expectation that's got us both…?"

Expectation. That was one way to put it. Last night, just having him in her small rented room had her ready to cast aside every bit of caution she kept so tightly wound around her like a cloak. A glance from him, a gentle touch, a kiss, and she craved him. Still craved him, actually, if she was being honest with herself. They would have made love if not for her suppressed memory of Lucy and Ephraim making its way to the surface.

Nathan remembered those moments all too well. He had been frustrated with her, with the chief, with himself. And worried. She'd torn out of his house and then urged him to her. Push-pull.

If he concentrated, he could still remember her breath against him, warm, sweet; the feel of her skin under his fingertips and against his lips. Softness. Sureness. Her small hands had been unclothing him, but it was her eyes that captivated him.

They were dark blue, stormy with emotion, with desire for him, a reflection of what he himself felt for her. This wasn't casual with them. It wouldn't have been just sex. It would have been…everything.

But it hadn't happened. Which in the grand scheme of things, what was different? Until recently, their bond had been based solely on friendship—and that bond sustained him in ways his relationships in the past never had. She had drawn him from his self-imposed exile.

And it was there. The attraction. The longing. It lingered between them even now.

"Yeah." Nathan licked his lips.

She was certain he had no idea of how that little movement affected her. A man of few words, typically carefully measured actions, but the little flick of his tongue sent her pulse racing.

"Remind me not to ask you to talk our way in or out of a situation," Audrey remarked, trying to deflect the tension she felt coiled in her.

Nathan looked for relief from the tension between them, as well, when he asked, "Do you want something to drink? Could make some swill."

"Decaf?"

"Could be arranged."

Audrey watched as Nathan disappeared into the kitchen, strangely grateful for the distance. It used to be so much easier between them before she started to look at him that way. Now she found herself distracted by the set of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved under his shirt, the curve of his lips, his long fingers. Get a grip, she chastised herself. He's still Nathan and you're still you.

Am I still me?

She may have had questions about her origin while growing up (what kid in her situation wouldn't?), but she had never doubted her identity. She was Audrey Parker. She prided herself on being direct, efficient, and nobody's victim. When others had pitied her—or worse, reminded her in the cruelest way possible that she was an orphan—even then she had scoffed at the designation. She was a free agent, beholden to no one once she hit adulthood.

But she had been someone's wife, and she couldn't remember it. Nothing—save for a few moments of carnal knowledge. Not exactly what she wanted to know. That memory of Ephraim and Lucy felt like an invasion. But obviously Lucy had loved Ephraim Brand enough to marry him. Why not enough to stay?

Her eyes caught the photos on Nathan's mantle. Mother and son. She had seen it before. How happy the two looked, how lovely Holly Wuornos was. Nathan looked like her—Audrey could see it in his eyes, his cheekbones. Audrey studied the smile on the face of the woman long gone.

Had Lucy destroyed their family?

She wished she could remember.

And she was alternately glad she couldn't.

Mindlessly, Audrey wandered down the dark hallway, finding Nathan's home office. It was in there they'd spent hours sifting through theories about what was happening in their town, Lady Cassandra's visions, and—Audrey smiled slightly at the memory—Nathan had practically drunk her under the table. Looking back, she wasn't sure if she had overestimated her ability to hold alcohol or underestimated his.

She felt around the wall near the doorway for a light switch and found one. The room was much as it had appeared the week before. A sturdy desk was situated near the door, the surface mostly clear except for the pile of papers she had picked up from the floor last time they had a brainstorming session. The dry erase board was still there, scrawled over with the questions they had posited on that night when things seemed so much simpler.

Her eyes fell upon them.

Who or what is the source of the troubles?

What do the afflicted have in common?

Who are those with known memory loss? When was the memory loss detected? What commonalities do those people have?

Who seems to know more than they let on?

Is Lady Cassandra a reliable source of information? If so….

Who was the little boy?

Who was the man Lady Cassandra mentioned she saw with Lucy?

Only a week ago. So much had happened, changed, that it seemed more like a lifetime ago.

They were zeroing in on some answers while also forming more questions. After her tête-à-tête with Ephraim, she felt like the answers to some of these questions could be traced straight back to him. Was he at the heart of the Troubles? Why not try to connect it to the incredibly young looking 300+-year-old man? It certainly wouldn't be the craziest theory they'd had.

Brand seemed to know more than he let on—along with, oh, just about everyone she'd met since arriving in Haven.

The afflictions seemed to run in families, but other than that, they varied greatly. They did not seem to strike a particular ethnic or socio-economic group to the exclusion of others. Based on observing Vanessa Stanley and James Garrick's son, the Troubles seemed to be brought on by emotional distress. But did they have any connection to Brand?

And what had triggered Nathan's Trouble in more recent years? Strange how she had never thought of a catalyst in regards to him, in particular, just in the general sense.

"Thought we were going to try to get things off your mind," Nathan commented as he stood in the doorway of the room, watching her. He held two cups of coffee, piping hot from the look of the steam rising off the liquid.

"Eh. You know me and mysteries."

He extended one of the mugs to her. "Looks like you doctored it," Audrey replied when she looked at the contents.

"Thought I'd see if I could make the coffee less swill-like. Added caramel macchiato, I think."

"Sounds good."

"With some vanilla thrown in," Nathan added.

"Okay."

"And some maple syrup."

"You didn't."

"No, stopped at the caramel."

She could smell the sweetness of the caramel mixed with the aroma of the coffee. "Smells good. I never did ask. Did you see Duke tonight?"

Nathan nodded. "Told him about the family marking and to keep his distance from Brand until we know more."

"Sound advice in any circumstance." Audrey lifted the cup to her lips but quickly brought it away. Too warm still. "Better give it another minute or two."

Nathan paused a beat before adding, "He asked me about you. Why you were with Brand. Whether you and I are getting close."

"What did you tell him?"

"Not much. He knows you're…important."

Warmth washed over Audrey, and it had nothing to do with the piping hot cup of coffee she held.

"I think he'll give Brand some distance. For now anyway. Self-preservation has never been a problem for him."

Audrey studied Nathan's expression. The man gave very little away, but there was something else in his eyes. "There's more."

Nathan hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was heap more complications upon her tonight, but he also knew Audrey wasn't going to let it go if he stonewalled her. "We talked about the day my mom died. Duke said something that got me thinking, something I didn't know. It turns out his dad was with my dad at the hospital."

"What would they have been doing there?" Audrey asked. "Unless something's changed, it's not standard procedure to take…" she tried to phrase her statement more delicately than she would have if they weren't speaking of Nathan's mother, "…a deceased person to the hospital."

"Set off red flags for me, too. So I went to see my dad, asked him about it. He said it was a courtesy."

Audrey looked back at the dry erase board and at her own handwriting. Who was the little boy?

Nathan was either following her train of thought or her line of vision. "I asked him point blank whether I was the little boy Lucy saved. I don't remember ever having a near-drowning incident, but there are a lot of things I don't remember from that time. And with what happened to my mom…"

"He said you weren't." She knew without asking. If Garland Wuornos had told Nathan he was the little boy, Nathan would be anything but calm as he spoke about it.

"And that there was no drowning boy." Nathan's eyes followed Audrey. She was unsurprised that he had asked his father about it, probably because the thought had occurred to her, as well.

"So it goes back to whether Lady Cassandra is to be believed." Audrey took a sip of her coffee and decided she would have to stop calling it swill. This was good. Of course, it probably had an ungodly amount of creamer in it.

Nathan's hand ran to his bandage, just below his collarbone. He couldn't feel them, but he knew they were there: the three marks from the claws of the mountain lion, marks that coincided with a vision Audrey had when Lady Cassandra touched her. "I think we know the answer to that."

"There are so many secrets in this town, maybe it's something your dad just doesn't know."

"Or he knows and isn't saying." Nathan set aside his coffee on the desk. "I got the impression he knew Lucy well. They worked together on cases. She helped the Troubled like you do."

That was the only part of Lucy that Audrey could relate to. She seemed to instinctively know what to do to help calm a Trouble. Brand said Lucy had been the same.

But had helping the Troubled included helping herself to Holly Wuornos's husband?

"What is it?" Nathan asked, noticing her stricken look.

Audrey hesitated. Was there anything to tell Nathan, or was this just Sally Harrington planting ideas in her mind? Some kind of a twisted joke?

"I'm just tired."

"It's late. We should get you to bed." He closed the distance between them. With one hand, he brushed an errant lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes held his; a jolt passed between them. He began to reach for her waist but caught himself and pulled away. "Sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to add to your load."

"You aren't."

He tilted his head, looking at her like she should reconsider her statement.

She set her coffee next to his. "I'm glad I'm here with you," she reiterated.

"Me, too, Parker. And we'll have time to figure this out."

She reached down, finding his hand, palm against palm. His hand was so much larger than her own, she noted with interest, as their fingers intertwined.

He sucked in a sharp breath. It was a quick reaction, and one that he gained control over in the next breath, but she could still see the effect of her touch in his eyes.

"So…sleeping arrangements."

A few days ago it wouldn't have been any question. Now…

"Guest room is open." Nathan was drawing the line, not that she could blame him, but he didn't look like a man that was happy about it if the set of his jaw was an indication.

She tried to lighten the mood. "You're going to have to start charging admission."

"I'll put it on your tab, along with the sweatshirt you're wearing."

She considered challenging him to take it back from her but refrained. "Okay. Guest room it is. I mean, unless you wanted to—?" She took a deep breath. "I'm being pushy again. I have this thing."

"Thing?"

"About trying to make things happen rather than just letting them happen. One of the many things I have to work on. I'll add that onto my list under discover what's happening here in Haven, find out about my past, discover a fat-free cupcake that doesn't suck, and stop saying embarrassing things to my partner."

Nathan had to smile at that. "I don't want you to be something you're not. I like that you're flawed."

"I'm more than flawed. I'm a mess, and I don't even know who or what I am. How can you like that?"

"Easy. You're the woman I—" He stopped himself. This wasn't how he wanted to do it, how he wanted to tell her. He had never been much for the grand gestures; he always thought a man should show a woman he cared in small, genuine ways, but Audrey made him want to do a lot of things he'd never done before. "I'm not good with words. Never have been." He took a deep breath. "I want to be with you. More than I can say. I just—"

She nodded. "Right. There's a lot we should figure out before we go there—things we should talk over."

He rubbed his thumb against the palm of her hand. "I think you've had a long day, found out a lot that's got you reeling. I don't want you to rush into something you'll regret." His voice was tender, that tone reserved only for her.

"You're right. You know, forget I brought it up. It's late. I think I'm just going to go crash in your guest room and try to put this day behind me." The hallway was dark, but she figured she could remember the way. After all, she'd found her way to the office.

She started away, but he still had her hand and wasn't ready to let her go just yet.

"Parker." His one word stilled her. "I want to have this talk with you. I do. There are a lot of things, actually, I want with you." He cupped her face. "I just…I want to do this right. And I think I'm doing it all wrong."

"You're not. I am. I'm not sure whether I'm coming or going."

"And that's why I think it would be better if we don't rush into anything tonight. I want you to be sure this is what you want because it wouldn't be...it wouldn't be casual for me."

"For me, either. You're the only thing in my life I am sure of, Nathan. Anything you asked, I couldn't say no."

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "And that's why I can't ask. Not tonight."

A few minutes later, Audrey had brushed her teeth, put on the t-shirt Nathan pulled out of a drawer for her to sleep in, and was under the covers in the guest room. She was exhausted, but her mind wouldn't quit.

She had been a complete idiot. What a sucky ending to a really sucky day, she thought. What was she trying to prove anyway? Would sleeping with Nathan chase away her demons? Would it make her more real and Lucy less so?

He was right to tell her they should wait. She hated admitting that to herself. Part of her had been reacting to the events of the day rather than acting solely on her desire to be with him. While that desire was definitely there, he deserved more than to just be a band-aid to make her feel better.

Her eyes traced the shadows on the ceiling. When she was a little girl in the orphanage, she shared a room with two other girls, Cindy and Heather. Cindy was plagued by nightmares, to the point that Audrey and Heather both took turns soothing her in the middle of the night. And Cindy would cry over the shadows on the wall and ceiling, convinced that they were moving and after her. It wasn't until Audrey had grown up and come to Haven that she believed in Cindy's fears, namely because she had seen a shadow act on its own volition, take retribution for wrongs done.

But tonight the shadows on the ceiling were thankfully still.

Strange. Audrey hadn't thought about that in ages, but she'd be going back to that place tomorrow, the orphanage where she had spent her formative years. And she was worried—worried what she and Nathan would find, worried about what they wouldn't find. Audrey could fit her whole history into a shoebox. Literally. What if they had nothing to tell her, nothing that could shed some light on her origins? Worse yet, what if she went to the orphanage, and the sisters had no idea who she was? What if Audrey Parker never existed?

Stop. Stop. Stop.

The buzzing of her cell phone on the nightstand stirred her from her thoughts. She retrieved the phone. Ephraim Brand shone on the illuminated screen. Big, bold letters for a bold man.

"It's late." She made no pretense of politeness when she answered it.

"I know, and I apologize for the late call." Ephraim's voice softened. "I wanted to verify you are all right. I was worried about you. The way we left things tonight…"

"I'm fine." Her clipped tone bespoke her lack of interest in a conversation with him.

"I know I foisted a considerable surprise on you."

"Yes, you did, but like I said, I'm fine."

Brand hesitated a moment before replying, "I'm glad. I shall let you go then. It's good to hear your voice again, Audrey, even if you are cross. Pleasant dreams."

She was about to protest his comment, but she realized she couldn't argue. She was grumpy. "Goodnight." She hesitated a moment before adding, "We'll talk soon." And with that, she pressed the END button on the phone to terminate the call.

Lucy's husband. She still couldn't quite believe it.

Audrey's eyes went back to the shadows on the ceiling. There were things far more frightening than what could be seen by the eyes.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. The words repeated in Nathan's mind like a mantra.

The woman of his dreams offered herself to him, and he just wouldn't pull the trigger. Maybe there was something wrong with him. It wasn't as though either of them was a virgin. And they sure weren't kids anymore.

Duke's words from earlier came back to him. Duke, with his jabs hidden behind smiles and what passed in some circles as charm. Why'd he even pay any attention to Duke, of all people?

"… You know, Nathan, I was joking earlier about you sleeping with Audrey, but I guess it has me curious. Can you…without being able to feel…"

Duke had no idea Nathan could feel Audrey, that she was the one person in the world he could feel physically. But feeling was so much more than tactile sensations, neurons firing in the brain, pleasure, pain. It was the connection he had with her that he shared with no one else, not just the physical connection but the emotional one.

When she had brought up the sleeping arrangements, Nathan wanted to take her up on her invitation. For once, he wished he could be more like Duke, stop being a gentleman, live for the moment, but he couldn't stand the thought of complicating her life any further when she was so vulnerable. He had to force himself to keep his mind out of the gutter and his hands off of her.

But he'd wanted her. Still did.

It had been so long, and Audrey was remarkable, stunning, sexy. Seeing her clad in his t-shirt with a toothbrush in her hand was the second sexiest thing he'd ever seen, second only to when she had peeled off her clothes in front of him the day before. The way she leaned over the sink, the muscles in her slender thighs coming into view, forced Nathan to take a step back. She was oblivious to his reaction and how much he wanted those thighs wrapped around him.

He looked down, could see the covers tenting in the area of his crotch. It was strange to not be able to feel his own erection, though in this instance, he supposed he should be grateful.

He wanted to do the right thing by her, but he sure as hell wasn't a saint. Once she was able to work through the turmoil caused by Ephraim Brand, Nathan fully intended to spend a day or two or ten in bed with her.

Then again, he had been around long enough to know Brand probably hadn't shown his full hand to Audrey, not if he was toying with her the way Nathan believed him to be. But that didn't erase the fact that Lucy had been married to the man. They had shared an emotional connection, and there was a physical connection between the two as well that went beyond sex. When Audrey touched Brand, his pain eased. Lucy must have done the same for him, and Nathan couldn't imagine that Brand was going to just let Audrey walk away.

What happened to Lucy?

And why did she have such an effect on the people around her?

How did she somehow become Audrey?

Did that mean the whole process could reverse itself and Audrey could become Lucy once more?

What did it mean for their future?

The future. What a concept. He could barely see past the crisis of the day. Would there be a time when things would be normal again? Where their lives weren't bleeding trees, random crevices opening up around town, nearly getting killed every other day by someone who didn't have a handle on this or that Trouble?

Would he ever be able to feel his own damn skin again?

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Audrey wasn't entirely sure when she had drifted off to sleep. One minute she was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, and the next…

...She was crossing a lush green lawn. The warmth of summer filled the air.

She walked with purpose to the police barricade and ducked under the cordon. For a moment, she thought no one had spotted her, but a sandy-haired uniformed officer approached her.

"What the hell are you doing?" He was gruff, a little older than her, handsome in an everyman way except for his brilliant blue eyes, which were decidedly unusual, almost icy in appearance.

She had not really thought ahead to an excuse for her presence. Thus far, she had managed to avoid dealing with local law enforcement when a Trouble manifested. "Making your job easier, Officer…"

"Wuornos. Garland Wuornos. And you can make my job easier by getting on the other side of the police line."

She had the impression he was accustomed to getting his way and that few dared defy him. Of course, she was used to men with a commanding presence. She was married to one. "Let me talk with him."

She couldn't quite tell if her assertion annoyed him or amused him. He grunted slightly, his mouth forming a lopsided smile. "You have hostage negotiation experience, Miss…?"

"Lucy Ripley." She looked him square in the eyes. "I'm good with the strange ones."

"Parker, you okay? You were calling out."

She could hear him faintly. He seemed so far away.

"Parker?!" His voice sounded sharp.

Nathan's sudden appearance jarred Audrey from her sleep. Her bleary eyes focused as he turned on a lamp. She sat up, the heel of her hand against her forehead.

What the hell was that?

She halfway expected to smell the freshly cut lawn, to see icy blue eyes and disapproval.

Instead, she saw Nathan.

And then came the pounding in her chest. He was tense, worried (if she knew his body language, and by this point, she certainly did), and not wearing much—nothing really, except for boxer briefs. She averted her gaze even though she would have been content to stare.

"I was dreaming." She shivered.

Nathan suddenly became conscious of his own state of undress. He hadn't stopped to pull on pants or a robe when he heard her. It hadn't even occurred to him until that moment how underclothed he was. "Must've been some dream."

"Mmhmm." She pulled the blanket more tightly around herself as her teeth began to chatter.

"Did the boiler break?" For all he knew, the temperature in the house had plummeted, and he was running around in nothing but his skivvies.

"I don't th-th-think so," she chattered. "Sorry I bothered you. I'm a r-rotten house-g-guest."

"Audrey." Her name came out as a sigh. Without another word he crossed the short distance to the bed, and climbed under the covers with her. She gasped slightly as he drew her to him and wrapped his arms and legs around her. He rubbed one hand along her arm trying to warm her. She rested her head against his chest, grateful for his warmth but even more grateful for the closeness. She never was too keen on human contact, probably because she had so little of it growing up; strange how she craved contact with him.

"You don't feel like you have a fever, but your heart's beating a mile a minute. Maybe I should call Julia."

"There's no need." Her fingers trailed across his ribcage. She could feel his sharp intake of breath, as well as the smoothness under her fingertips. "I'm not sure what this sh-shivering is all about. And don't let this go to your head, but my heart sped up when I saw you. Good old fashioned norepinephrine."

Adrenaline.

Attraction.

The corners of Nathan's mouth curled in the faintest of smiles.

"My own personal, smug furnace," she said with a sigh. Her shivering was subsiding. "Wait. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"I'm fine," he assured her.

She pulled back slightly and looked at him, their heads on the same pillow. "Nathan."

He stroked her hair, feeling its silky texture between his fingers. "I'm not just being a tough guy. I heal kind of fast," he reassured her. "Glad you stopped shivering."

"But don't let go."

He stroked her face lightly. The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips. For the briefest of moments, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he rested his hand at the nape of her neck. "Bossy," he teased.

"Eh, you love it. Did I wake you?"

"Couldn't sleep."

She closed her eyes, silently reprimanding herself before she replied, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

He felt so deliciously male against her, all hard planes and muscle. She shifted against him trying to bring him even closer.

"But too much more of that, and it will be your fault," he warned.

Realizing what he was driving at, Audrey's mouth grew dry and her eyes flew open. "Oh."

"Do you want to tell me about it? The dream?"

Was there anything to tell? It felt actual, as though she was living it not dreaming it, but innocuous enough, certainly not the start of some torrid love affair. Audrey could feel Lucy's drive to get to someone who was in trouble and her annoyance over Garland Wuornos questioning her presence. Of course, there was plenty of annoyance to go around if Garland's reaction was any indication.

"Am I certifiable yet?"

"I think you passed that awhile back."

"If you weren't so warm, and I weren't so comfortable, I would flick your ear or something," she threatened. "I remembered being Lucy. At least, I think it was her memory, not just a dream. It seemed so real."

"How much do you remember?"

"Some. Not all. Bits and pieces of a conversation." She took a deep breath, and as she continued, found herself almost smiling. "It was intense and annoying and … for the first time, I kind of felt like I understood Lucy."

"Did you remember something about Brand?"

She could feel him stiffen at the mention of Lucy's husband.

"No. This memory—it was about your dad."

To be continued...