Monday became family dinner night. Occasionally they cooked, working in tandem while Nathan did most of the creative work and Audrey chopped vegetables or boiled pasta, relegated to simple tasks where it didn't matter if she got distracted by how sexy he was in the kitchen, focused and confident and one hell of a provider. For a few stolen hours they'd sit around their dining room table and feel strangely normal – until Audrey mentioned Mrs. Mineva's talking tea kettle or James referenced literally not-growing up in a barn.

But such time to slow down was hard to come by. More often than not an unsolved case made it nearly impossible to get out of the station at a reasonable hour so they met up at the Gull. Duke teased them mercilessly about their happy little family, but he always sent over free rounds of beer and sometimes he'd join them for awhile, making excuses about checking the quality of the service. Audrey didn't mind, and she suspected Nathan didn't either. Her boys were all getting along, and it was a wonderful distraction from their looming deadline. Sometimes they had "book club," discussing the obscure clues in Eleanor's journals, but there was an unspoken rule that such talk was not allowed on Monday nights.

She supposed it would always be weird, having a son nearly as old as she was – or as old as Audrey Parker was supposed to be, anyway. But they were adjusting. Even though she couldn't remember holding him in her arms and had missed out on his childhood she was shocked by the strength of the bond between them. She didn't always know what to say to him. In many ways he was still a stranger. But she loved him fiercely in a way she couldn't explain. She could make a list of all the reasons she cared for Nathan. But with James, the strongest draw was the fact that he was a part of her and Nathan both. Their love had overcome supernatural obstacles, their own stubbornness and even the rules of cause and effect to create this brave, clever young man who was now regaling her with stories about rebuilding houses after a flood. Nathan had gotten a call from the station he couldn't avoid, so they'd ordered for him and now awaited his return.

She nursed her bottle of beer, enraptured by the tale of the young boy who'd followed James around through the whole project, making him sing songs and tell stories and even cajoling him into building a dollhouse for his little sister. He would make an excellent father one day. It was odd to think that day could be soon; that she could very well be a grandmother before she was thirty. But not too soon, probably. She could still see the scars Arla's betrayal had left on him, and there were days she wanted to damn that woman even more severely for the damage she had caused. Most days the situation just left her incredibly sad. The Cogans certainly weren't the first to have their love twisted by the Troubles, but it was the case that hit closest to home. Even though Audrey was nearly certain now that she hadn't started the Troubles, she was almost certainly involved, and she hadn't been able to stop them yet either. There were moments when the guilt was overwhelming, especially when she thought of her former daughter in law.

Occasionally she looked at James and saw only the future, not the past. Today was one of those days.

But peace never lasted long in Haven. Someone surely had a Murphy's Law Trouble. "If it isn't the illusive Audrey Parker."

Her stomach dropped at the familiar voice. She looked up and there he was, looking just as dour as always. "Chris Brody," she said, doing a poor job of hiding her dread.

"You're a difficult woman to find. Tried to look you up the last time I was in town and everyone seemed to think you'd vanished into thin air. Funny. I can usually get a better story than that."

"That was pretty accurate, actually."

She hoped he'd take the hint from her lack of eye contact, but instead he pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table and settled into it.

"Well now I'm intrigued." He turned to James with a scowl. "The name's Chris. You won't remember that when I go anyway. You'll be too overwhelmed by the fact that the greatest man to walk this earth sat next to you in a dirty restaurant. Let me tell you, greater things will happen in your life, so there's no need to gush."

James turned to Audrey with a befuddled expression. "What's wrong with him?"

"His Trouble makes everyone adore him. His winning personality predates that." Audrey frowned at Chris and rolled her eyes. "You can cut that out. Your Trouble won't work on him."

Chris actually seemed to relax at the news. "You have a brother you never told me about?"

"Son, actually." The words slipped out without conscious thought. She saw James freeze. It wasn't exactly a secret. Stan had found out a few weeks ago when he'd overheard a family conversation at the station, and she figured from the funny looks she'd gotten since he'd told a few other officers at least. There was no real reason to keep it a secret. She'd already bartered for the Guard's protection over all of them.

But she hadn't exactly been telling people either.

"Rapid aging Trouble?"

She'd forgotten how quick Chris was. She had found that attractive from the beginning. "That makes a lot more sense than the truth. So … sure."

"Well now I'm curious. You can't leave me hanging."

She could do just that. Truth was she probably should. She really didn't want to be having this conversation, and she particularly didn't want to have it in front of her son.

But she couldn't make herself send him away. Part of her knew she had never been fair to Chris. She'd been lonely and confused, and she'd given in too quickly – and then pushed him away just as fast. It was not that she thought he'd been pining all these years. They would never have been happy together. He didn't understand her, and she really didn't give a damn about his sea algae and its ecological ramifications. But she hadn't been able to fix his Trouble, and that was supposed to be what she was good at. Though it certainly wasn't as damaging as many others she'd encountered, there was no doubt that it had upended his life.

She couldn't give him much. Didn't want to, honestly. But she could give him an explanation. For someone who craved order in the universe, that could go a long way. "Remember how I kept saying there were things in my life I couldn't tell you about?"

"How could I forget that when it was so delightful?"

"Turned out I didn't know the half of it."

"I'm listening. I've got nowhere else to be tonight."

She had barely started her explanation when she heard footsteps approach. She looked up and saw Nathan walking toward her – but he saw Brody first.

"Christopher Brody!" he boomed with a dopey grin in the sycophantic voice he'd used to gush over the former mayor. He took the empty seat, but not before dragging it closer to Chris's. "Long time no see. How've you been?"

There was no way she was putting up with Nathan fawning all over Chris. She pushed out of her chair and stood behind him, covering his eyes with her hands. "None of that, babe." He startled at her touch and then slouched slightly, and she could imagine his brain clearing. He growled, and she wasn't sure if it was at the endearment or the frustration at going all man-crush on a guy he hated when he could think straight.

Either way it was a little bit funny. "Sorry. Can't help it. That just slips out sometimes."

"You do realize we can hear you right?" James asked, trying to look disgusted – but she didn't buy it. She had forgotten for a moment that their son was there.

"Something I learned a long time ago, kid – your parents are gross." Duke had arrived with their tray of burgers, his eyes tracking immediately to Audrey and Nathan.

Until Chris asked, "Parents? Shoulda figured," and Duke noticed him.

"Chris Brody! What a spectacular surprise. What causes you to grace my fine establishment?"

The look on Duke's face made her grin. Nathan wasn't allowed to idolize anyone but her, but Duke's rapture at the biologist's presence was kind of hilarious.

"Turn around," Nathan ordered, his tone booking no argument, and shockingly enough Duke obeyed.

A few seconds later he rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh man. So he's back now, huh?"

She couldn't help but giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry. I keep thinking of that day Haven was stuck in a time loop. Most of it was awful, but the highlight of every repeat was watching Duke get excited about cooking Chris waffles."

"I cannot believe you didn't warn me about that."

"That's because it was hysterical," Nathan said drolly, and Audrey snorted.

"They're so mean to me," Duke whined in the direction of James, covering his eyes with a flourish.

"Told you this time," Nathan said.

"That is true. Audrey, on the other hand, wicked woman that she is, is totally delighting in this situation."

"It is pretty funny," James offered.

"I'm still here, you know," Chris reminded them.

"There a reason for that?" Nathan snapped.

"I'm still here because Audrey owes me an explanation for why your son looks about five years younger than you are. And your rudeness is refreshing, by the way."

There were only four chairs at the table, so she sat in Nathan's lap, ignoring his halfhearted protests. She could feel his eyes burning into her neck, but at least he had something to stare at that wasn't Chris. And it could hardly be clearer who her heart belonged to when she was publically invading his space and making them all a bit uncomfortable. She could tell Nathan didn't like it from the way he never relaxed, but she gave Chris the cliff notes version of her life story, ending with her return to Haven.

Chris leaned back in his chair. "Well I'm not exactly sad I wasn't more mixed up in that."

"Maybe you should be," James said. Audrey recognized the tone of dawning realization from her work with Nathan.

"Excuse me?"

"This Trouble of yours – it makes people fall in love with you or something?"

Chris scowled. Whenever Audrey thought it was impossible for someone to be more dour, Chris always managed it. "Or something. It's more like admiration than love. Basically I'm very popular until someone closes their eyes."

"Can you make someone do something?"

Audrey frowned but let Chris answer.

"I wish I could make people go away and leave me alone. Haven't been able to master that."

"I'm serious. If you asked, would people do what you say?"

Chris shrugged. "Probably."

"Then we can use him!" James declared, turning toward his parents.

"James—" Nathan said, but whatever was to follow was cut off by James's rambling enthusiasm. Whenever he got excited he was Audrey's son, through and through.

"We're going to need an extension, and I don't think Bernie's going to give it to you. But if Chris asked—"

"Now this is getting interesting," Chris observed.

"Absolutely not," Audrey asserted, but no one seemed to hear her.

"Who do I need to ask what?"

She couldn't believe James was telling him this. "There's a man whose going to kill us all if we don't find a way to end the Troubles in the next three months."

"Why don't you just take him out?"

"He runs this shady underground group of Troubled people. There's too many of them to take out."

"Also, we're the police," Nathan reminded him. "We don't take people out."

"I'd take people out," Duke piped up. "But the kid's right. There're too many of them."

"What do you need me to do?"

"We don't need you to do anything," Audrey protested. This was a terrible idea, but James and Chris were rapt with attention and it was difficult to judge what Nathan and Duke were thinking when neither could open their eyes.

"I can help," Chris insisted.

"No."

"I didn't do so bad with that psycho root case." That hadn't been her finest moment though, leaving Nathan to face the killer plants with a blow torch while she walked out of there with some jerk she barely knew.

"You did a pretty bad job with the station lockdown. Remember when you gave the man who caused all that my gun?"

"That was a mistake, I'll give you that. But I'm not a cop. I'm not trained in these things."

"That's exactly my point. This is dangerous, Chris. I won't let you get killed for me." He was a loose cannon, and Haven already had enough of those.

"But you'll let your son and your boyfriend get killed just to keep me out of it?"

She glared at him, wishing there wasn't a grain of truth in his words. He'd always been able to pick her arguments apart; damn scientific mind. Truth was she wanted to stay far away from him. Her stomach had been rolling since the moment she heard his voice. Looking at Chris may not have put her out of her mind with desire, but it flooded her with memories of guilt and poor choices and weakness. She had hurt Nathan for a dalliance that had meant nothing to her, and the whole debacle had only made her whole identity crisis worse. She didn't need reminders of that, and Nathan certainly didn't either.

It wasn't even the man's fault, really. He had been pretty much exactly what he always seemed. She'd just been searching for what wasn't there, looking in the wrong places. That made this all the more aggravating.

"Plan is to figure out a way to stop this so no one gets killed," she snapped. "The Guard isn't something to be trifled with. If they discover you're trying to manipulate them they'll take you out, and it will break my deal."

"So they won't discover it," he dismissed.

She could feel the pressure building in her temples. "It's not that easy."

But while she was growing increasingly agitated, he remained maddeningly calm. "Maybe it's not as hard as you make it out to be. I would have been okay with everything that was going on with you when we were dating, you know. But you never let me in."

She was acutely aware that every other man in her life that meant anything to her was overhearing this conversation. "This is really not the time to talk about this."

He chuckled wryly, and there was a tiredness in his dark tone that she recognized. "There will never be a time. But if you ever decide you need my help, give me a call. I'll be around."

She watched him go, three women and one man accosting him on the way to offer him a drink and try to convince him to stay. He brushed them all off, closing the door forcibly behind him.

"Well that was awkward," Duke voiced.

Audrey leaned back into Nathan with a groan, resting her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her loosely. "Didn't miss that guy," he rumbled, his voice a balm to her riled emotions.

"Me either," she promised. "Don't you worry."

"I still think we should consider him a backup plan," James insisted. She recognized the source of his bullheaded persistence and couldn't fault him for it, but this time she wasn't going to cave. This whole mess was enough of a headache without getting Chris involved.

"And I think you two should have a little less PDA in my bar," Duke suggested.

Audrey laughed at his disgust, looping her hands around Nathan's neck. It was inappropriate, and she didn't give a damn. "Shame we don't always get what we wish for."

She should have kept her mouth shut.

They were going through journals a few days later, her head on his leg as she sprawled across the couch and he perched on the end of it. It was a Sunday morning and they didn't have a shift. She'd just as soon have stayed in bed, but she wouldn't be the one to admit that. There were still so many pages to scour, and they were running out of time. Thoughts like that sent the panic skittering through her veins, so she focused instead on the heat from his leg warming her cheek and the way his hand occasionally lowered to comb through her hair. It was hard to focus on the text when she was so tired, but it wasn't a bad position to be in.

"Listen to this." His hand retreated to clutch the other cover of the book. Audrey gazed up at him, intrigued by the concentration etched across his face. "Lucy and I visited Ms. Nightingale's collection today. She asked that I didn't write about what we discovered, and I suppose I should abide by that. But there were many illuminating artifacts from Haven's founding and I believe she is close to understanding the origins of the curse that has gripped our town for centuries."

Audrey pushed herself into a sitting position. "Does she say anything else?"

Nathan paged ahead, skimming. "Doesn't seem to."

"Seriously? This woman writes pages and pages about everything, and leaves out all the important details on something that's actually relevant."

But Nathan didn't seem all that upset. "'Cept for one. Ms. Nightingale."

She leaned toward him. "Do you know who that is?"

"Sure do. Lives in her family's manor down by the harbor. Works for the Historical Society. Kids used to whisper that she had a secret museum."

"Where?"

"Well, we were twelve, so the going theory was her basement."

"If she has artifacts from Haven's past they could help me figure out who I originally was. And if I can figure out why this all happened, I can figure out how to stop it."

Nathan's indulgent smile made her consider delaying their quest, just for a minute. "I think it's time to visit that basement."

She always enjoyed investigating when there wasn't a body. Nathan looked so self-assured when he knocked on the door, his badge at his hip, even though this wasn't official police business.

The house was large and beautiful. From the brightness of its white paint she'd guess it had been recently painted. The hedges were immaculately trimmed, but there was a stump in the yard that seemed out of place.

When Ms. Nightingale emerged she was a slight woman in her mid-seventies, wearing a severe gray pantsuit and a frown.

"Haven PD," Nathan said. "We have a few questions about your collection."

"I know who you are. And I know what trouble you've caused," she snapped.

"Excuse me?" Audrey asked.

"And you." The woman turned to her, pale eyes blazing. "You're worse than he is. He could have stopped the Troubles this time, but you keep coming back, bringing them with you."

"We're trying to fix the damage we've done. We think you can help us." Nathan was inordinately calm considering her accusation, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard them before.

"There's some damage that can't be fixed. You can count the lives lost in the meteor storm and all the chaos that's followed. But everyone dies eventually, except her. As long as there's a record of their lives they can be remembered, even after everyone who knew them is lost. But once those records are destroyed, they can't be recovered. The truth is always rewritten in the retelling. Artifacts don't lie. But once they are gone they tell nothing. Do you know how much of the town burned when you delayed your departure? This house has been in my family for six generations. Every stain on the floor and scratch on the wall told a story. And one flaming rock erased it all. It may look the same on the outside, but that is empty vanity. I'm not interested in creating new stories at my age. Now when I die, my family's history will go with me."

"That kind of stuff is just going to keep happening if you don't help us," Audrey insisted.

"Nothing can bring back what I worked my whole life for. If others must face that disappointment, then so be it. Come back with a warrant if you want to search here. Otherwise if you don't leave I'll call the real police." She turned, slamming the door in their faces.

Audrey understood the fickleness of memory better than most. Their current quest to find some record of the past they could trust seemed to align with Ms. Nightingale's philosophy. But that was a means to an end, not the end in itself. "Well, her priorities seem a little scrambled. It's not the deaths that are important; it's the property damage?"

"We've heard weirder."

"What do we do now?" she asked as they started toward the truck. "A woman so concerned with relics from the past. She's gotta have something useful."

"I have an idea. But you're not going to like it." She could tell by his tone of voice and the look on his face that he didn't like it either. The depth of that dislike sparked a revelation, and she groaned at the unavoidable conclusion.

"Chris."