Chris was eager to help, much to Audrey's dismay.
They couldn't come up with another plan, and she was certain Ms. Nightingale's collection held answers she needed, so she swallowed her pride and picked him up at his place. She had wanted Nathan to come along, but Chris had insisted it would be hard enough to keep Ms. Nightingale occupied while she snooped around. Having two people she detested in her home might be too much to ignore despite Chris's supernatural charms. As much as Audrey wanted to protest, the cop in her realized the logic in his reasoning. The two of them it would be.
He sulked when she didn't let him drive, and she threw off his attempts at small talk until he turned to her with a completely straight face and said, "I don't understand the difference between me and Wuornos."
Her resulting laugh was so violent she nearly drove off the road. "Do you want the short list or the long?"
She couldn't think of a single way they weren't different, aside from growing up in the same town. He was the polar opposite of Nathan, and maybe that's what had been appealing. She hadn't realized how deep her feelings ran for her partner at the time, but there had been a general frustration about her life she couldn't shake. Maybe she had subconsciously been waiting for Nathan to make a move, and when he didn't she'd latched onto the first warm-blooded male to show any interest. Not her finest moment, by any means. But as aggravating as Chris Brody could be, at least he'd made it clear from the beginning that he wanted her.
"Ha. I forgot how funny you are. I don't mean as people. When we broke up you said you couldn't stand that I needed you to feel normal. And I get that. I don't like it, but I get it. What I don't get is why you settled for an extremely similar situation. At least my Trouble means I could have any woman I want. His means you're his only option."
"That's not exactly true," she argued, but she knew her words were hollow.
"Biologically, it is," he interrupted, his smug tone making her want to squirm. This was absolutely none of his business, but at the same time she realized he wasn't unjustified in asking. Those were her words he was using against her. "You're the only one he can respond to. That should bother you. But I've been watching the two of you. You touch him all the time. Besides that little show at the bar, it's usually unobtrusive. A hand on his wrist or shoulder. Brushing against him as you walk past. You're anchoring him."
"So?" she pouted. She hated being backed into a corner, particularly one of her own making.
"You made it quite clear you didn't want to anchor me."
"It's different," she insisted. But when that didn't satisfy him she needed to continue.
"You and I didn't meet until your Trouble had already activated. I was always the girl who wasn't swayed by your charms. We didn't have a relationship beyond that. You may have been intrigued, but you didn't know me, and you never would without your Trouble getting in the way. But we'd already worked together for months before Nathan realized he could feel me. He did everything in his power not to make me feel awkward about it. We probably touched less than we would have if he was normal. The way we feel about each other has nothing to do with his affliction. It's about us."
"How can you be sure of that? Being able to feel only you has got to be a powerful aphrodisiac."
It felt profoundly wrong to talk about this with Chris. Even worse to hear voiced the doubts that had once plagued her. How many other people who knew of Nathan's curse and her remedy thought the same?
But he wasn't right. She was certain of that.
"I was supposed to go away for twenty-seven years. Then the Troubles would have ended – all of them. Nathan would have been able to feel again. Have any woman he wanted. I was going to leave. He wouldn't let me. If all he cared about was feeling something he wouldn't have stopped me."
"You weren't kidding when you said there was a lot going on with you I probably wouldn't understand."
"You should probably be glad I cut you loose when I did."
He didn't respond to that. His lack of agreement left her wondering if she had misinterpreted things. "Would you have stopped me?" she asked quietly, keeping her eyes straight ahead and focused on the road.
He didn't answer right away, and she glanced toward him, afraid she'd find him with some lovesick expression on his face, but instead he looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I know this is going to make me sound like a terrible person," he answered when he caught her looking at him. "But if it would have ended all the Troubles – and you were willing to go–"
She breathed a deep sigh of relief and actually smiled. "It's okay. That's what everyone else thought, every other time. It's probably what should have happened this time too. But that's the difference. He loves me, and I love him, and it's not a burden to make him whole."
She expected a cynical retort, but he smirked at her.
"What?" she asked through narrowed eyes.
"You know how long it's been since I've lost an argument?"
She quickly did the math. Sometimes she forgot how long she'd been gone. "About three years?"
"More like seven. What, did you think I only got so smart after my Trouble kicked in?"
"You're an ass," she said with a chuckle, turning her full attention back to the road.
"And I appreciate the fact you can recognize that."
The silence that pervaded the rest of the ride was far more comfortable. Chris didn't speak again until she pulled up to the Nightingale Manor.
"You do realize you have to let me do most of the talking?" he said as they exited her car.
"I'm so looking forward to it."
"You've been spending too much time with Wuornos. His sarcasm is so becoming."
"Shut up."
This time when Mrs. Nightingale came to the door her scowl melted into a smile as soon as she saw Chris. "What a delightful surprise. It's so rare that I find a nice young man on my porch. How can I help you?"
"My friend and I are interested in the history of Haven, and we heard you have some artifacts you might be able to show us."
"Your friend?" When she noticed Audrey her joy faltered, and Audrey was afraid they'd finally found something stronger than Chris's Trouble – hate. She inched toward him, hoping to put him back in the old woman's line of sight.
"You should choose your friends more wisely. Surely you've heard. Not only is she connected to all those dreadful stories, she runs around town with that police officer."
"We're not that kind of friend," he said awkwardly at the woman's disdain and implications. "But we have a shared interest. When she heard I was going to visit you she begged me to let her come. I just couldn't bear to disappoint her."
"A true gentleman. I suppose I could show you the collection. But I must warn you – it isn't nearly as impressive as it once was. Many of the pieces were lost when a meteor hit the house. You can thank your friend for that."
"Thanks," he said as they followed the woman into her residence.
"Laying it on a bit thick," Audrey whispered, rolling her eyes.
"You didn't mention meteors." She'd told him about James and her multiple personalities, but she'd skipped over most of the details of the Barn fiasco, unable to be objective about that when everyone else was listening.
"Be glad you were in London."
"New York, actually. Thought maybe there'd be enough people there I could just blend in."
"Did that work?"
"Hell no. New York's much worse than here, Troubled or not. Though if you and Wuornos could solve this thing and end the Troubles I'd really appreciate it."
"That is the plan."
Ms. Nightingale led them across a vast foyer and through an impressive hallway. Everything in the house looked stately and ancient. Audrey didn't typically have much appreciation for that, but she was ready to make an exception. The furniture and the paintings on the wall seemed to exude history, and she wondered how many secrets this woman knew. But there was a stark impersonality to the entire affair. The place was a mausoleum, not a home.
The woman chattered about various pieces they passed, trying to impress Chris, but they were too modern to hold Audrey's attention. She needed to understand Haven at its founding and the part she had played in that era. The hundreds of years since then were less important.
Just as the children had speculated, the truly old stuff was in the basement.
"You tell that so-called friend I'm keeping an eye on her," the woman scolded before allowing them to enter. She fixed Audrey with a stare that would have curdled milk. "I know what you stole the last time. There's so little of it left now. You won't make off with anything again."
She did a poor job hiding her shock. If Lucy had taken something surely it was important. That also meant it wasn't here – not here to be destroyed by the meteors, but not here for her to discover now, either. But maybe it was still out there somewhere for her to find. But just like Sarah's journal, she had no idea where that somewhere was.
"Haven was founded in 1635 by a group of English Puritans. My family has made it their lifework to protect relics from the town's first one hundred years. The Puritans put great worth in literacy, so there is a surprising amount of written documentation surviving nearly four hundred years later. Or there was."
Audrey flinched. What had been lost that could have been helpful? "I'm really sorry about that."
"Your apology is not accepted."
"Yikes," Chris mouthed when their guide's back was turned.
There was a pedestal near the entrance to the room, which was obviously meant to be a focal point of the collection. But there was nothing atop it besides a black cloth.
"There used to reside Haven's charter, which listed the names of all Haven's residents at the time of its founding. But it was lost in the fire. Burned to ash. Those people will never be remembered now. A second death."
"Tragic," Chris said. To anyone who wasn't besotted his disinterest was extremely apparent.
But it was tragic. A listing of all of Haven's original residents could have been extremely helpful. Would those families correspond to the Troubles still active now? Now she would never know.
"I do have some documents signed by Governor McKee a few years later."
"McKee?" Audrey said sharply.
Ms. Nightingale looked at her, and the dazed expression began to slip from her face. Audrey could almost hear her internally wondering why she'd allowed the thief back into her sanctuary. She took a few steps closer to Chris, who frowned at her.
"It's just not a very British name," he said. "There must be a story there. I'd just love to hear it. But maybe you can show me the documents first."
The woman blinked and smiled. "I would be honored to tell you, handsome."
"Maybe you should stop getting in the way," he whispered to Audrey as he followed the historian. His cheeks were tinged pink, but she kept herself from laughing. She was still trying to process this latest revelation. "Look around. Stop reminding her you're here. I'll keep her distracted."
"Find out everything you can about the governor and his family."
"That name meant something to you," he deduced.
"Let's just say I've met one of their descendents."
"Always so cryptic, you are."
"Just go."
She started examining the painting and framed documents on the walls, but stayed within hearing range.
The circumstances that had brought Robert McKee from Ireland to Britain and then to the New World were apparently quite complex, but Audrey picked out what she most wanted to know. He had crossed the Atlantic with his wife and his sixteen year old daughter, but his wife had perished on the journey. Upon settlement of the colony he was elected governor. With his wife gone, he purchased the indenture of a young servant to help with the household.
Audrey held her breath and waited for the woman to mention tales of witchcraft associated with the pair, but instead she launched into an explanation of the colony's governance structure. Chris, who didn't know the right questions to ask, didn't redirect the conversation.
He did ask about another empty pedestal.
"You should ask your friend about that, since she's the one who stole it," the woman revealed.
Audrey perked up but didn't turn.
"I'm sure you're more forthcoming."
"It was a book thought to date back to the early years of Haven. It is worn, as if the pages were filled. But they're all blank. At least, to the undiscerning eye."
"You think that's a … Haven thing."
"I believe that something was written there, and someone must be capable of reading it. In most places that would be an impossibility, but here there are stranger occurrences."
"Is there anything here that references these occurrences?"
Audrey wanted to listen to her answer. But she had just noticed a large silver pendent on a long chain, resting on a satin pillow. Something drew her toward it. The closer she got the more familiar it seemed. Only once it was within reach did she make out why. She'd spent a good deal of her time in Haven chasing its design. Four men stood at the points of a maze, always searching. The infamous tattoo, the emblem of the Guard. She'd never thought it pretty; perhaps because its implication was always so sinister. But rendered in silver at this size it was delicate and beautiful, its luster bright despite its obvious age. But strangest of all was the surge of affection she felt when she saw it, as if it was some beloved object she'd lost that she'd been searching for for a very long time.
She couldn't help herself – the woman's rules about not putting the artifacts at risk be damned. She reached out for the necklace. As soon as her fingers touched it the world erupted in brightness.
"I have a gift for you."The man sitting beside her was tall and handsome, a bright smile lighting his entire countenance. He waved a small wooden box at her before depositing it in her hand.
Her fingers closed around it, taking in the simple but excellent craftsmanship. Something warm and all consuming swelled within her chest. He made her ache for things to be different in a way she had abandoned when her mother died. "I cannot accept this."
"Surely you can at least take a look before you reject it. I toiled too long for no one to witness its beauty."
Instead of taking offense he was jovial. His good humor was impossible to resist. In this serious place he was always able to make her smile.
She opened the box and gasped at its contents. He had not exaggerated; it was beautiful indeed. The silver gleamed in an intricate pattern the likes of which she had never seen.
"This must have taken ages to craft," she said with awe.
"It did. But it will all be worth it to see it around your graceful neck." The swelling feeling nearly choked her now. She wanted nothing more than to give into his words. But she could not abandon the practicality her father had instilled in her. "You must be like your name," he had told her, again and again.
"I cannot wear this. My mistress will wonder where I got it. She'll accuse me of stealing. The consequences will be dire." Unconsciously she clenched her hands together, trying to hide the marks where Morgan had applied the switch for her apparent laziness. The falling stars had been so entrancing she'd been unable to sleep, and she'd stayed up all night to watch them. But she had not woken at her usual time, and when breakfast had not been prepared before morning prayers Morgan had been extremely displeased.
"Then hide it away where she cannot see. But you must keep it, as a token of my affection. The day will soon come when you can wear it without reprimand."
She hated the tears that threatened to fall the same way the stars had done last night. She had cried very few tears since those at her mother's deathbed, when her father decried them as useless. But there was something about this man that stirred all the emotions she tried to lock away. "There are five years left on my indenture. I'd hardly call that soon."
He reached out and gently took her hands, pulling them apart. She gasped at his boldness. They sat together on a bench by the beach, and while no one was currently near there was no guarantee of privacy. "I will not leave you at that woman's mercy for five more years."He did not mention the marks on her skin, but he ran his thumbs over them gently, and she knew he recognized them for what they were. Her body tingled at the contact. She felt lightheaded and breathless, but she did not want him to stop.
"That is beyond your control," she whispered. "Always be prudent, Prudence. Daydreams are the devil's threshing field," her father had said.
"Not if I buy your indenture."
Her breath hitched, but she did not let her mind wander down that glorious path for long. "The cost of that would be extreme. Morgan delights in bothering me, and her father rarely denies her anything. Why would you do that?"
His thumbs stilled, and his grip on her tightened slightly. "Dearest Prudence, I thought I've made my intentions clear."
She did not allow herself to gaze into his handsome face and hope. She couldn't look at their joined hands either, so she peered at the sand beneath their feet. "You wouldn't be able to marry me. A servant isn't allowed. Marrying her master, furthermore, would cause a scandal. You could be ejected from the colony. Or worse."
His hand lifted her chin gently, until it was impossible not to stare into his eyes. His hands were so warm against the autumn chill. "Then we will wait to wed until your indenture expires. I will be your master in name only. And you will be free of her control."
"It will cost you a small fortune."
"Did Jacob not labor for Rachel for seven years without complaint? I am a prudent man with a flourishing trade – it shouldn't take me nearly that long. And it will be worth every penny."
"You hardly know me."She could not fathom his willingness to look after her, when no one else had ever bothered.
"I know enough. My heart and soul yearn for you. I shall not be complete until our lives are joined."
"Why me?"
He released her chin, but before she had time to mourn the loss of contact he reclaimed one of her hands and raised it, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Heat flooded through her and settled beneath her cheeks. He smiled at her, and it felt like his eyes saw right through her body and into her soul. Instead of a violation it was the most sacred blessing.
"You are like a doe in the field, beautiful to witness. But that doe is not meant to be caged. Nor are you. I cannot change the rules of this place. But in our home you shall be free to do as you please. All I ask in return is that you allow me to stand by your side."
This time she did allow the tears to fall. Maybe it was folly, but the portrait he painted captivated her. All her life she had yearned for a freedom she was not allowed, and someone who loved her enough to give it to her. Surely it was divine intercession that he could speak so clearly to what was in her heart.
She nodded, laughter and tears intermingling. "As soon as my indenture ends I will gladly marry you."
His smile was dazzling like the sun rising over the water. "I shall begin work on the rings next. In the meanwhile the necklace must do."
She retrieved it from the bench beside her and ran her finger over the ridges. "The symbol tis strange. What does it mean?"
"That I would stand on the four points of the world for you."
Everything began to vibrate, his face growing hazy even as he continued to beam at her. She reached for him, but her hands passed through his flesh as if he was not there.
"Audrey. Audrey." Her head pounded and someone kept shaking her shoulder. "Stop it," she slurred, lacking the energy to open her eyes. She just wanted to go back to sleep, to the lovely dream about the man and his gift. But her tormentor didn't listen, his voice loud and jarring. "Come on Audrey. Don't you die on me. Wuornos will kill me, Trouble or not."
His words sparked some recognition within her. "Nathan," she moaned. He'd make her feel better. Always did.
"He's not here. It's just me." Disappointment gave her the strength to pry open her eyes. It was Chris hovering over her, looking more scared than she'd ever seen him, even when they'd been facing killer plants and fast spreading plagues.
"What happened?" Her head was killing her. She was sprawled on her back staring up at the ceiling of Ms. Nightingale's secret museum, and she had no idea how she got there.
"I was hoping you could tell me. One minute you're just nosing around, and the next you drop to the floor and start having seizures. You were unresponsive for like ten minutes. I thought you were dying."
"I was remembering," she realized.
Ms. Nightingale returned and thrust a tissue box in her hand. She looked up at Chris in confusion. "For your nose. You're kinda bleeding all over the place."
She glanced down and realized her blouse was indeed stained with blood. "Right." She held a tissue to her nose, pulled it away, and was shocked at how red it was after only a few seconds. She grabbed another one and pinched down a little harder.
"Remember, huh? What, your grocery list?"
She did appreciate that he wasn't freaking out on her, but really. "I recognized that necklace. It used to belong to me."
"The four hundred year old necklace used to belong to you," he said skeptically.
"Yeah. And I've never remembered anything nearly that far back before. Guess my brain didn't like it much. I've never been out for more than a minute or two."
"So this has happened before? You could have warned me that was a possibility."
"Kinda forgot," she said sheepishly. "Sorry. It's been awhile."
He pinched his nose and peered at her with a longsuffering look. "Let me get this straight. You have nosebleeds and seizures and you remember stuff about these … other people you used to be?"
"Well, just Lucy, before today."
"What about Sarah?" he asked. Most people would only have gotten the basics from the story she'd told him about James' paternity, but Chris had an ear for details.
"Yeah, don't remember her."
"There are so many comments I could make about that."
"Don't," she warned. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but it felt like someone was bashing her brain with a drumstick. "Can you help me up? There're still a few things I want to look at."
"No way. You're not getting up til the ambulance gets here."
"I don't need an ambulance," she protested, trying to sit up, but her arms wouldn't hold her and she sunk back to the floor. "Okay, not feeling great."
"It's already on its way. You were unconscious for ten minutes. You are going to the hospital."
"There might be more clues here."
"We'll come back," he assured, his voice going uncharacteristically soft for a moment.
"All right," she conceded. Truth was she didn't need a hospital, but she wouldn't be any use investigating either. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and let Nathan give her a backrub. She could just sleep this off, and in the morning she'd be fine.
"Do you want me to call Wuornos, have him meet you there?"
She wanted Nathan here with her now. But she shook her head. "He'll just worry. They'll let me out and I'll just go home."
"You sure?"
"Yes," she insisted. But she already regretted her decision when the EMTs arrived a few minutes later and strapped her into the stretcher. She tried to insist she could sit up, and no one listened. The ambulance was huge and empty, and she thought of Will Brady in his coma, being sent home to die.
"You're coming, right?" she called to Chris, hating the weakness in her voice.
"Course. I'm not that big a jerk. I'll take the car and meet you there so we have a ride back."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Really, don't." But he turned to one of the EMTs and grabbed her by the arm. The woman, who had to be in her fifties, nearly devolved into a pile of mush. "You take good care of her, all right?"
The woman swore on her life she would, and then the ambulance barreled off down the road, siren blaring.
They didn't let her out.
They rushed her for an MRI and the doctor started throwing around big words like brain hemorrhaging even before the results were in. When she told her they'd have to keep her overnight for observation even if everything was fine, she turned to Chris with teary eyes from where he was watching from the doorway, trying to keep out of the way.
"Uh-uh," he said, catching her drift. "No way. I'm not putting that on me. The doctors say you need to stay, you need to stay."
"I'm fine."
"You don't know that."
But this was a Troubles thing, not a medical issue, and she hated hospitals and her head hurt and she wanted her partner.
"You should call Nathan. I'm sure he's better at this comforting thing than I am."
She'd never heard Chris call him by his first name before. She wanted to listen, but she kept imagining Nathan's panic and she didn't want to do that to him. "He's going to freak out."
"He'll freak out when you don't come home. He'd want to know sooner than that."
Damn man was right. "Yeah. Can you hand me my phone?"
The room had cleared of all medical personnel, so he figured it was safe to approach. He handed her the cell phone sitting on the table by her bed.
"I don't think you're supposed to use that in here."
"Stand watch?"
"Good thing you're not asking me to use my powers for evil."
She smiled, but it seemed to pull some muscle in her skull and she quickly abandoned the effort.
She stared at Nathan's number for nearly a minute before she pressed call, looking at the photo they'd taken together at the fair a few weeks ago. Why couldn't they stay happy for more than a few hours at a time? Why was Haven always getting in the way?
Why did the memory of him presenting her with that stuffed dolphin remind her of a stranger giving her original self that pendant? She'd felt so young, so uncertain, but there was nothing uncertain about the way the man felt for her.
The thought of anyone besides Nathan loving her that strongly made her decidedly unsettled.
But that was four hundred years ago, and whoever he was was long gone. She wasn't that girl anymore, either.
According to Eleanor's vision they hadn't gotten to be together, but she was Audrey Parker now and she was determined that her and Nathan would get their happy ending.
She started the call. He picked up on the first ring.
"You coming home soon? What did you find out?"
She let herself focus on his voice just for a moment before shattering his calm. "Not as soon as I hoped. Don't freak out, but I'm at the hospital."
"What happened? Are you all right?" He'd gotten so much better at controlling his panic in the past few months, but it was back in full force now.
"I'm fine. I don't even need to be here, but they won't let me out."
"I should never have trusted that bastard to look after you."
"It wasn't Chris's fault. I remembered something. Had one of those episodes. Just please come see me, okay?"
"I'm already on my way."
"Thanks."
She expected him to hang up in his haste to get to her. Instead he added, "I love you," and the pain abated for a moment.
"Love you too."
The doctor had just come in with her results when Nathan burst into her room with crazy eyes. He saw her on the bed and froze.
A harassed looking nurse entered a few seconds later. "Excuse me sir, but you can't be in here."
"Like hell I can't. I'm the Chief of Police," he bellowed.
As glad as she was to see him, his volume wasn't doing her headache any favors. "Okay, Rambo. Inside voices." She flashed the nurse a contrite look. "He'll cause less of a disturbance if you don't try to throw him out."
"Parker," he breathed, his relief rippling through her.
"C'mere," she summoned, patting the bed beside her. "Told you not to freak out."
He dropped down beside her and pulled her into a fierce hug. She laid her head against his chest and let his heartbeat steady her. "You're really all right."
She pushed the hair away from his forehead. "Told you I was. Now let's listen to the doctor so you don't make a liar out of me."
She shifted partway out of his grasp so she could see her doctor, but he kept one of his arms around her, their hands clasped in her lap.
"You're very lucky, Miss Parker. Despite the severity of your episode I see no indication of cerebral hemorrhaging."
Nathan tensed at the word severity, but she leaned back against him and willed him to stay calm.
"I'm really fine. This has happened before."
"That makes this exceedingly more troubling."
"It's Troubling, all right," she said, catching on to the doctor's choice of words. "Very Troubling, if you know what I mean. And as such that's not much you can do. So why don't you let my partner here sign me out and we'll get out of your way. Get lots of rest, drink lots of fluids, no guns till the headache fades. I got it."
"Apparently you do not. I've lived in this town my whole life. I am well aware that there are incidents here that defy medical explanation. But just because the causes are unexplainable does not mean the symptoms cannot be monitored and treated. Seizures and nosebleeds indicate intense cranial trauma. If the brain starts to hemorrhage that could lead to a stroke, which may cause death or irreversible damage. So I strongly suggest you and your police captain stay put and let us discuss this matter further."
"Chief," Nathan muttered. "I'm the police chief."
"My apologies," the doctor said with an indulgent smile. "Your chart says you told the EMTs that you fell and passed out. Witnesses claimed you went into seizures and started bleeding from the nose."
"Sounds about right."
"We've yet to find a medical explanation. But you claim this has happened before."
"Yeah." She didn't like talking about this when she didn't know who she could trust, but Nathan was clearly on edge from the doctor's rant and she didn't really like the possibility of stroking out, either. At least this woman hadn't accused her of arson or adultery – yet – so maybe she'd finally found someone in Haven who didn't know who she was or what her and Nathan had done. "I have these … repressed memories … from a long time ago. When something triggers one I remember, and then I have one of these episodes."
"Did you remember something this afternoon?"
"Yes."
"Would you say the episode was less severe, more severe, or relatively the same severity of previous episodes?"
"It was worse," Audrey admitted. "I've never been passed out so long before."
Nathan's arm tightened around her and she squeezed his hand in response.
"Was there anything different about today that might have made it worse?"
"The memory was older than all the others."
"How much older?"
"A lot." There was no way she was telling her four hundred years.
"Well, it's obvious there is some kind of block that is causing extreme psychological distress whenever these repressed memories surface. I recommend you see a psychiatrist. They may be able to employ hypnotherapy or some other technique to help you unlock these memories more safely."
She was suddenly hit with the dawning horror of Claire's demise, that terrible moment when she'd realized that it seemed like the woman she'd confided in for weeks was sitting across from her, but it was really a monster wearing her skin. "No shrinks."
"Many are hesitant to go into therapy, but I truly believe it's the best option."
"No shrinks," she repeated, the thought of it making her sick. "I saw a therapist when the episodes started a few years ago. We tried hypnotherapy. It didn't really help. I'll just be careful. Try to stay away from any triggers."
"If the episodes get any worse there could be permanent damage."
"You already said that," she said petulantly, sinking against Nathan's shoulder. "Can I go home now?"
"As I've already said, we need to keep you for observation. You hit your head on the way down, and we need to watch you for concussion. And I want to make sure all your vitals remain stable before I release you."
She looked at Nathan, pleading with her eyes for him to pitch a fit and get her out of there, but he ran a hand over her hair and shook his head. "We shouldn't take any chances. Besides, you're always making me go to the hospital. Payback time."
"This sucks," she declared, resigning herself to her fate as her doctor and nurses left the room.
"This wasn't how I planned on spending the night either."
"You'll stay, right?" she asked, clutching at his arm. She wasn't normally so clingy, but she couldn't fathom being alone tonight, with her new memory and her achy brain.
"Of course," he assured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"But I'm going to go," Chris said from the doorway. "Look man, she just started seizing and bleeding. I got her to the hospital as soon as I could. She didn't warn me that could happen."
"Thank you." Shocked by the sincerity of his tone, Audrey twisted to gaze at Nathan's face. He was looking right at Chris, but there was no trace of artificial admiration.
"You're welcome. Wow, that's even weirder when my Trouble's not doing it. Okay. Leaving now. This was fun. Call me if we need to do it again."
He turned back when he reached the doorway. "Hope you feel better soon," he said, somehow making the simple statement awkward.
She managed a small smile. "You did good this time, Chris. Thanks."
He left with a nod and a smirk.
Finally alone with Nathan, she rested her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. "I really don't feel so well," she admitted. "My head's throbbing."
"They give you anything for the pain?"
"Guess I forgot to ask in all the commotion."
"Let me get a nurse."
"No." She grabbed his wrist to stop him. "That can wait. Just stay here with me for awhile."
"Kay. But you should lay down."
She didn't want to disentangle herself from him, but she obeyed anyway, scooting to the edge of the bed before laying down and patting the space beside her.
"Lay here with me."
"Pretty sure I'm not supposed to."
"I've never been too fond of rules, remember?"
He smiled, and some of the fear left his face. "How could I ever forget that?" He stretched out beside her and she shifted against him, rising up briefly so he could slip an arm around her waist. Her body molded against his automatically, muscle memory taking over, and even though she still hated the hospital and wanted to go home she felt safe and almost content.
But his leg hung off the foot of the bed and he was only an inch or two from the edge. "These things really aren't made for two people," he observed. "If I actually fall asleep like this we'll both wake up on the floor."
The thought of her doctor walking in and finding that particular scene made her chuckle. "Fine. You can move when I'm asleep. Not a minute before."
"Deal." His hand wandered across the scratchy fabric of the hospital gown spread over her stomach. "What happened today?" he asked, his voice low and even, as if she was an animal he was trying not to spook.
"The governor – the one whose daughter framed me for starting the Troubles – his last name was McKee."
"Jordan?" he growled, his hand stilling.
She grabbed the other one braced on the bed.
"Distant relative, I guess. Isn't that an awful coincidence?"
"I'm not sure any of this is coincidence."
"Siding with fate now are we?" she teased, recalling their earlier debate on this topic with Duke and Julia.
"Long as fate keeps bringing you back to me, I'm okay with it."
She wanted that so badly to be true. For at least three incarnations it had seemed to be.
"Is that what you remembered?"
"No." She was terrified to tell him the truth. It wasn't that she thought he'd be mad at her for something that happened four hundred years ago. He had not rejected her when she'd thought she had caused the Troubles; surely he wouldn't fault her for being in love so many centuries before he was even born. But she didn't want him to compare the two, to worry that her true love had been her first and he was merely a replacement. She couldn't fathom anything being more all-consuming than the love she felt for Nathan. Whatever Prudence had felt for her suitor, it had not been given the opportunity to flourish.
But there had been something so familiar in the memory.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me." He raised his hands and placed his fingers lightly on her forehead, rotating them in a circular motion. "Does that help?"
It did indeed, the gentle movements sending waves of pleasure through her skull that chased away the pain. She had to bite back a moan. "Mmmmhmmmm. Don't stop."
"Tell me if I'm hurting you."
"You're really not," she assured. She let herself focus on his magic fingers for a minute, the way they soothed away the tension. But he was waiting for an answer.
"They were really in love. The servant and the blacksmith. She didn't put a spell on him. He didn't prefer the governor's daughter. I don't know why the Troubles started but he really loved her. Me. Prudence. My name was Prudence."
She held her breath as she waited for his response. His fingers never stopped moving. When he finally responded, his conclusion was unexpected. "Like your middle name now."
She hadn't thought of that. "Guess so. That's weird."
"Maybe." He sounded distracted, but he didn't sound pained. "What set off the memory?"
"There was this pendant in the collection. He gave it to me, all those years ago. He wanted to get married, but I was indentured, so we had to wait. The governor's daughter was cruel to me. He knew it. He wanted to take me away from that." She could still feel the way the hope the suitor provided flooded Prudence's veins, whispering a way out of the desperation that had dogged her for so many years. She had not despaired of her lot, exactly, but her lot was harsh and lonely, and the blacksmith promised a world of freedom and love.
Just as Nathan had promised her friendship and a partner to watch her back and tolerate her jokes and search for her past when she didn't know where to look.
"It was the pattern of the Guard tattoo. The maze with the people at the corners. It was supposed to be a symbol of his love for me and they twisted it somehow and I don't know why."
Her voice sounded high and hysterical even in her own ears. God knew what she sounded like to Nathan. "Hey." One of his hands drifted down to spread across her cheek. "We'll figure it out."
They would, she knew. She just needed some sleep and a fresh perspective. This would all seem better in the morning.
"What was he like? The blacksmith."
He was trying hard for nonchalant, but she wasn't fooled. He cared.
She wasn't sure what to tell him. She did not even have a clear picture in her mind. The feelings were strong but the visuals were not. He'd been wearing Puritan clothes – harsh, dark wools, and a hat with a brim that threw shadows over his face. He'd been tall, with dark hair and bright eyes. Though she thought there was something familiar about his cheekbones, if Claire was still around she would have told her she was projecting.
What had really struck her was his smile. He was so good-tempered, even in the face of her nervousness and the obstacles standing in their way.
"I don't even know his name. But he cared about me. Enough to buy my indenture and wait five years to get married. I don't know how he could have thought I'd created the Troubles after that."
His fingers had drifted upwards, into her hair. The sensation was a glorious balm which made it hard to hold on to her panic.
"Eleanor said the governor's daughter was jealous, right? So maybe she tricked him. And if she was a witch, she could have used a spell."
"So you believe in witches now?" she ribbed, thinking of his dismissal when Jess Minion was concerned.
"I believe in a lot of things I didn't three years ago. You've broadened my horizons."
His warm voice rolled over her like silk, and she wanted to dwell in his affection forever. "I just want to be happy," she admitted, unable to control her petulance. "Is that too much to ask?"
"History won't repeat this time. I'm not falling for any tricks."
"You may not have a choice."
"Audrey." His hands stopped moving, and when he didn't continue she glanced upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes blazed with a determination so fierce it stole her breath. "Trust me. You'll get that happiness this time around."
But maybe she was being short-sighted. Surely she'd already found it.
We're getting deep into the plot now. Lots of explanations finally coming in the next few chapters, and I'd love to hear what you think. I worked most of this out before this season started, so all revelations about William are being ignored, but I may toss in a few references along the way.
Thanks to everyone who taken the time to read, favorite/follow, and review. You guys make my day.