Jack had been traveling around the country for about a year when he met Diane Huxley. He was tired, mentally and physically, from constantly being on the move, always looking over his shoulder. There had been that close call in Chicago that he still worried about. Someone other than the four people who kept his secret knew he was alive.

So when he arrived in Mojave, he had no intention of staying long. He found work, on and off, at the oil drill. He tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He did his work quietly and efficiently, and stayed out of the way. But the foreman, Joe, took a liking to him, probably because he was a good worker, and invited him out for a beer after work with some of the other guys. At first Jack declined, having no desire to spend prolonged time with anybody, but he eventually relented, joining him on a couple evenings down at the local bar. He figured it would look stranger if he didn't.

On one such occasion Joe asked him,

"Frank, where ya staying?"

Jack's guard was instantly up, but he answered mildly, "At the motel up on Route 6, why?"

"Jesus, that hole?"

Jack relaxed and shrugged. It was just a casual question. "It's okay." Truthfully, he didn't really notice. Nothing much mattered to him these days, least of all the quality of his accommodations. As long as there was a bed to sleep in, he was fine with it.

"Listen," Joe continued, "The reason I ask is because I have a friend who's renting a room a couple miles from here. I've know her for years, a little down on her luck, jackass husband who left her and all that jazz. Her last renter just moved out a couple days ago, and I told her I would ask around the guys if there was anybody who needed it. You seem like a good guy, and I figured since you're new in town….you interested?"

Jack shrugged again. "Maybe."

"Okay, well," Joe asked the bartender for a piece of paper and a pen, "Here's the address if you wanna look into it."

Jack stuck the piece of paper in his pocket, not really having any intention of pursuing it.

But he found himself lingering in the town, finding it surprisingly easy to go unnoticed among the local population. And when he found the slip of paper in his pocket several days later, he thought, "What the hell?" Maybe he could stay here for a month or two before moving on.

He arrived at the modest house one evening after work. When he knocked on the door, a young man answered it, narrowing his eyes at Jack.
"Yeah?" he asked, in that tone that only teenagers can manage quite right.

"Hi," Jack answered. "I'm looking for," he checked the paper, "Diane Huxley."

"Why?"

Jack almost smiled in spite of himself. This kid wasn't going to make it easy.

"I heard she may have a room to rent."

The kid shook his head.

"Sorry, we don–"

"Derek, knock it off!" a voice from inside the house called. A moment later, a woman in her mid-thirties with auburn hair appeared in the doorway, giving the boy a look as she pushed him to one side.

"Hi," she said in a friendly tone, "Are you Joe's friend? The one he told about the room?"

"Yeah, is it still available? Joe told me a few days ago…"

"Yes, it is. Please come in." She pushed the screen door open, and Jack stepped through. "I'm Diane," she said, offering her hand, which Jack shook. "And this is my son, Derek." The kid gave Jack a wary look before mumbling a greeting and wandering off toward the back of the house. Jack looked Diane in the eye and smiled.

"Frank Flynn," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, Frank," she said. "I apologize for my son. He usually has better manners."

Jack shook his head. "It's fine."

"Well," she said with a smile, "Let me show you the room."

Diane led Jack through the house, and out the side door. The room was small, sparse, but it was clean, and, he had to admit, certainly a step up from the motel he was staying in now.

Jack nodded as Diane looked at him expectantly.

"I'll take it."

She didn't ask him for references – Joe's good word was apparently enough for her. For that, Jack was grateful. The less he had to make up about Frank's past, the easier it was. They agreed on the rent, and Diane handed him the key. He thanked her, and let her know he would probably be back in an hour or two after he gathered his things at the motel.

It was easy living at Diane's. She mostly let him be, and didn't ask any prying questions about him or his past, which had happened at a couple other places he had stayed at too long. She did invite him to join her and her son for a meal here and there, which he occasionally accepted. He found her kind and he enjoyed her company, the first person since he'd left his old life who seemed to take him at face value.

Her son, Derek, was another story. He obviously didn't trust Jack, and made that perfectly clear every time they happened to be in the same room together. Jack did his best to be friendly toward him, but Derek made it hard. He was surly at best when Jack tried to engage him in conversation. He didn't push too hard – he understood the kid was just being protective. Still, sometimes he just wanted to grab him and shake him.

Jack continued to keep himself busy during the day. There was the oil drill, and he picked up all the shifts he could. Joe knew to call him if someone didn't show up. When there was no work there, Jack would pick up some odd jobs he found in the local paper – the kind of day labor that paid decently if you kept your mouth shut and did your work. Jack had no problem doing that.

And he also found himself volunteering to help Diane out around her house. He noticed that there were some things in disrepair, and she was obviously not in a financial situation to have them fixed. Derek didn't appear to be doing anything about them either, probably because no one had ever shown him how. So Jack took it upon himself to fix a leaky sink here, repair some hanging shutters there. Diane would thank him profusely and try to pay him, which he categorically refused.

His nights were a different story. He rarely slept for more than a few hours, tossing half the night before sleep came to him. His thoughts invariably turned to everyone he left behind.

David Palmer. He owed that man his life several times over. It saddened him to think he would probably never talk to him again.

Tony and Michelle. They had risked everything for him. He hoped they were happy, that they were taking full advantage of their second chance. He knew Tony understood the value of that.

Kim. He could only guess what his death had done to her. Chloe said she had taken it hard. He had left her alone, without anyone. That he'd had no choice didn't lessen the weight of the guilt he carried.

Audrey. He purposely didn't ask Chloe about her. He couldn't. Every time he thought about her, an instant tightness settled into his chest. Where was she? What was she doing? Did she still think about him? Had she moved on with someone else? He would never know the answers to those questions. All he knew was that there were nights that he still woke up reaching for her, and all his arms ever found was an emptiness he couldn't fill.

Jack didn't think much about any relationships those days, let alone getting involved romantically with someone. The less contact he had with people, the better. He kept things friendly, but also kept a polite distance.

He was no fool though. As he spent more time with Diane, he noticed the way she began to look at him. It was fairly clear that if he wanted something more, she would be interested.

Yes, he found her attractive. He wouldn't be a living breathing male if he didn't. The curly red hair, the big doe eyes that had obviously seen some tough times yet still carried a certain innocence in them. And she was the first person in a long time who cared about what happened to him. Jack couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him such a simple question as how his day had been.

But he couldn't start anything with her. It wouldn't be fair on so many levels. He might have to disappear again at any moment. He didn't want to put Diane and Derek in any danger.

And though he knew it was absurd, that he had to find a way to let go, he was still in love with Audrey, plain and simple. It was ridiculous, of course, "Jack" was dead for God's sake, but the thought of being with another woman felt too much like he was betraying Audrey. He couldn't do it.

Except that one night, he almost did.

Jack was standing in the back yard one evening, enjoying the cool breeze that had kicked up after the hot sticky day. His room still felt like a furnace, and he knew he wasn't going to sleep anyway, so he had wandered out back. He could see the light on in the house and heard the water running through the open window, figuring either Diane or Derek was doing the dishes. He was standing at the fence and was just noticing that a little further down it was leaning precariously when Diane stepped out of the house and walked toward him, two bottles in her hand.

She handed him one of the beers and said, "You look like you could use one of these."

Jack took it from her, and took a grateful sip. The bottle was frosty cold, and the beer was refreshing.

"Thanks," he smiled, "That's just what I wanted."

Diane smiled back as they both lapsed into silence.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said a minute later.

Jack nodded in the direction of the sagging fence.

"I can fix that one of these days if you want. Shouldn't be too hard." To his surprise, Diane actually laughed. "What?" he asked.

"Is that really what you were thinking about?"

Puzzled, Jack answered, "Yeah, why?"

"It's just that, usually when people are out standing in the dark, they're thinking about something that's bothering them, or I don't know, wishing on a star."

Jack wasn't sure what to say. How could he explain to her that wishing on stars wasn't an option for someone like him?

So he said, "'Fraid not. I was just thinking about the fence. Guess I'm kinda boring," he tried to joke. But Diane fixed him with a stare.

"You're not boring, Frank," she told him. "A bit of a mystery, maybe. But not boring."

Jack looked away and took another swig of his beer. He could tell she was trying to tease him.

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off, unsure where this conversation was headed. It was Diane who again broke the silence.

"Listen, Frank, I just wanted to thank you for all your help around here. I know you won't let me pay you for it, but I want you to know I appreciate it. It's been really nice."

Jack let out a breath, he was back on familiar ground.

"It's nothing, I haven't done that much. Anyone would have–"

"No, Frank, don't do that. Most people wouldn't have done any of it. So please just let me say thank you."

Jack paused for a beat and then nodded.

"You're welcome."

And then before he knew what was happening, Diane moved forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back, and he stared at her, speechless.

She must have taken his silence as encouragement because she once again closed the distance between them, this time softly kissing his mouth.

Jack pulled back and found his voice. "Diane…I.…"

"Frank," she said quietly, "It's okay." And then she was kissing him for real. And despite himself, Jack found he was kissing her back. It had been so long since he'd had contact with anyone. So long since anyone had even touched him. She was warm against him, alive, and he reached his free hand up to touch the soft curls of her hair. He found for once that his mind was pleasantly blank as he lost himself in the sensation.

But a moment later the haze that had settled around his brain lifted as Diane tried to slip her arms around his shoulders.

No! his mind screamed. This wasn't right. It wasn't Audrey. It wasn't Audrey. Jack broke away from Diane abruptly, backing up. Diane looked at him with a surprised expression.

"Frank, what's wrong?"

"Diane, I'm sorry. That wasn't…I shouldn't have done that." Now Diane looked more confused.

"Frank, I'm not sure I understand."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't explain it. I just can't do this." He continued to back up and then spun around, disappearing into his room, leaving Diane staring after him.

In his room, Jack splashed cold water on his face and sat down on the edge of his bed. It would have been so easy, he knew, to have followed her back inside, to have lost himself in her arms for one night. But where would that have left either of them? She would expect things from him he couldn't give her. And he wasn't prepared to explain to her how he still belonged to a woman he could never see again.

The next morning Jack found Diane in her kitchen preparing breakfast. She was turned away from him as he entered the room.

"Good morning," he tried tentatively. He saw her back stiffen.

"Morning," she answered in a perfunctory tone. Jack sighed quietly. He had to fix this.

"Diane, listen, about last night–"

She turned to face him.

"It's fine. You don't have to say anything, Frank."

"Yes, I do," he answered earnestly. "It was unfair to you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong idea. And I don't want you to think it's because I'm not…interested. I'm flattered actually. It's just that…." He had no idea what to say.

Diane shook her head.

"You don't have to explain. It's personal, I get it. I have a knack for picking all the unavailable ones anyway. You might even say it's a talent." She saw the stricken look on his face, and smiled. "It was a joke, Frank. To lighten the moment."

Jack let out a breath and smiled back. "Right."

"Come on," she said, pulling out a third plate and setting it on the table. "Join us for breakfast."

It was a better reaction than he had hoped for. He had been convinced he would be packing his bags this morning and headed out of town. Instead, Diane's acceptance settled him. And though he was by no means ready yet, it was the first time since leaving Los Angeles that he considered the possibility that there may be a future for him. And it may be here.

Two weeks later, David Palmer was shot.