Find My Way Back To You

by DeliriousMess

So this is an AU where, sure Jennifer's died, but did she really? Dwight got a ding on her credit cards, and a friend says that someone who looks suspiciously like Jennifer has been seen around Boston. If it is Jennifer? Then why hadn't she come back to the Rouge? What could keep her from coming home? And why doesn't she seem to remember anything about Haven or the Barn?M: Swearing

6. Chapter 6

Duke stood back against the wall opposite where the "kitchen" part of the kitchenette was, surveying the myriad of different ingredients that were spread out on the counter, running the gambit from various fresh vegetables, to canned broths, and thawing steaks. He was surprised that they'd had that much food stashed away in their rather diminutive kitchen space, but then again, Jennifer seemed to be no stranger to consolidation and knowing just how to arrange things so everything fit where it needed to. Her room on the Rouge had been shockingly well organized and she'd managed to keep a good portion of her possessions in that small space while still having more than enough room to make it livable.

Jennifer slipped out of her jacket and hung it on one of the coat hooks next to Duke. She glanced at him as she did, and reached for his hand. He took hers and she gave it a gentle squeeze. From her reassuring smile, he assumed she mistook his position against the wall as an expression of his anxiety at coming to dinner with her family. In actuality, it was to give him the best view of the room, to keep an eye on the two people in the room that he had no reason to trust yet—Joshua and Adelaide. He was pleased, though, by the contact and the fact that she wanted to offer him comfort through touch.

It's the little things, he thought as he smiled back at her and returned the gesture, squeezing her fingers back.

Little John trotted passed Duke, his nails clacking on the tiled floor, and went to lie down under the small table just beyond the counter where Holly, Joshua, and Brielle were gathered. Duke studied Joshua briefly. He wanted to trust Holly's little brother, but after his comment earlier that day, he didn't know what to think of the kid. He was making faces at Brielle who was talking enthusiastically about something to him, while Holly gently bounced her on her knees.

Jennifer released his hand and went to kiss Adelaide's cheek in greeting, "Hey Cos, what'cha workin' on?"

Jennifer's voice brought his attention back to the women in front of him. Adelaide had her back to Duke as she focused on the stove, bare toes absently curling against the tile as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. She'd shed her leather jacket since the last time he saw her and her bandana, showing off the shaved parts of her head and her dark brown hair that was tucked behind her left ear as she worked.

Without her jacket, her back and shoulders were bare, exposing the full extent of her tattoos from her back and out. He wasn't too surprised to see that the main piece on her back that all the other pieces branched off from was a tree. The trunk of it was right along her spine and the branches only became more distinct along her shoulder blades before being lost in the intricacies of the other pieces. It was impressive, with hardly any "blank space" on, in between, or around the pieces, and looked like she'd been perfecting it for a very long time.

Longer than her apparent age would suggest.

She leaned slightly towards Jennifer to receive the kiss as she answered, "To hell if I know, I started with the onions and now I'm just kinda…y'know, goin'."

Jennifer laughed at her as she turned towards the counter and slid a jar of pickles towards her. She opened it and fished a pickle out, crunching on it before commenting, "Oh, that's all we need; you experimenting in the kitchen."

Adelaide glared mockingly at Jennifer over her glasses as she lightly hip-checked her, "Oh get outta here, you're harshin' my cooking vibe. Go see your niece; she's been practicing her sea animal noises all day to show you when you got back. Holly's been losing her shit over the seal bark for some reason."

Adelaide glanced over her shoulder at Duke, "She seemed pretty convinced that you would understand why."

Duke rolled his eyes at that, and risked a glance towards Holly, who was already looking at him. She grinned at him, which only made Duke make the face he'd learned from Jennifer at her. Holly snickered as she looked back towards Joshua, wrapping her arms around Brielle's waist, pulling her closer to her, and kissing her cheek even as Brielle continued to talk excitedly to Joshua, unaffected by the contact.

Jennifer was giving him a confused but anticipatory look. He just shook his head at her, but when her expression held steady at him he just mouthed, "Later" to her. She arched an eyebrow at him, but seemed to accept it as she finished her pickle.

She turned back to Adelaide and leaned against the counter again, "I'll go see my niece in a second, first I gotta ask—hot chocolate?"

Adelaide just smirked, "It seemed like a legitimate question before we finalized dinner plans. Why, did I—," she purposefully glanced back at Duke, a knowing glint in her eyes, "—interrupt something?"

Jennifer scrunched her nose at her, "Don't you always?"

Adelaide made a similar face at her for a moment before lightly tapping Jennifer's nose with her finger. Jennifer swiped at her hand to get it out of her face, causing both of them to giggle. She pushed herself from the counter and made her way around the counter to the small table where Joshua, Holly, and Brielle were.

She smiled at Duke, her skepticism and brief distrust set aside, as she walked passed him, licking the juice from her fingers, and brushing passed him. It was a small space to be sure, but not so small that she needed to pass that closely to him, and the glint in her eyes told him that Jennifer knew it. Duke smiled back down at her, groaning internally at the gesture and at her proximity, and watched after her as she approached the table.

Jennifer made some sort of comment about the conversation being had at the table, but Duke could hardly hear her because of how intently he was watching her legs. Brielle turned from her spot on Holly's lap at the sound of Jennifer's voice and her whole face lit up when she saw Jennifer walking towards them, excitedly greeting her and talking rapidly about all the things she saw at the aquarium as she reached up for Jennifer to pick her up.

"I'm going to sound like more of a mother than I ever bargained for by asking this but: I take it you're staying for dinner, Duke?" Adelaide asked over her shoulder to Duke as she moved the onions around briefly in their pan. Her voice cut through Duke's distracted thoughts to at least assure that he was back to listening to her, even if he still wasn't looking at her.

"And I'm going to sound more like a nervous teenager meeting the Mom of my date than I bargained for by answering: If I can, Ma'am." Duke answered, only glancing at her briefly before continuing to look at Jennifer as she picked Brielle up from Holly's lap so that she could sit with her. Adelaide laughed, commenting that she was far too young for anyone to be calling her "Ma'am" and that doing so wasn't going to earn him any sort of points with her.

Jennifer turned to pull out and take the seat next to Holly on the side of the table closest to the kitchenette, her skirt twirling gently against her legs with the movement. She turned the chair so that she faced towards Holly and could see into the kitchen area slightly as she sat. Little John briefly raised his head as Jennifer moved the chair, tail thudding against the floor as he watched Jennifer, before he let his head flop back down onto Joshua's feet, sighing heavily as he did.

Once she and Brielle were situated, she glanced towards Duke, smiling when she saw that he was already looking at her. She looked back at Brielle before he could smile back, his eyes trailing up from her legs, a blush coloring her cheeks even as she exaggerated her awe at whatever fact or story it was that Brielle was telling her. He'd always enjoyed the discrepancy in the things she'd blush at: sucking her fingers at him did nothing, but catching him looking at her caused the most beautiful shade of pink to color her pale skin.

"Holly—well, I guess I really heard it from Jennifer first—but they tell me you own a bar, is that right? The Gray Gull?" Adelaide was saying to him now.

Duke nodded in response, pulling his focus back to Adelaide completely, "That's, uh, that's right, yeah."

"As well as…oh, how did Holly put it?" She paused in her work, letting her head tilt back to look at the ceiling before rolling it on her shoulders to look at him, "'Transporting certain items for a select clientele'?"

He regarded her briefly, crossing his arms, "Something like that."

Adelaide smirked at him, wiping her hands off with the towel that had been draped over her shoulder as she turned to look at him, eyebrow quirking at his gesture but continuing, "Quite the businessman, then."

Duke just nodded slightly towards her, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile.

She turned back to the stove, tossing the towel back over her shoulder, and spoke over the same shoulder to him, "But in regards to your bar; do you actually know your way around a kitchen or is that for someone else to worry about?"

She turned the heat down on for the onions, turned the oven on, and started surveying the things she had on the counter, apparently formulating a plan about what to do next.

"I've been known to successfully cook on my own; without a fire extinguisher and everything," Duke answered casually, uncrossing his arms and already moving to stand next to her. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to get ready to help however he could. He didn't really know who (or what, if he was being completely honest with himself) Adelaide was or what part she played in what had happened or was happening to Jennifer, but if her invitation to help her cook meant anything, it meant she wanted to talk. More importantly, she wanted to talk to him.

So let's talk, he thought as Adelaide chuckled at his joke. She cleared a cutting board for him and handed him a knife and vegetable peeler.

"Why don't you start in on cutting…these," she grabbed the bag of carrots and celery and placed them in front of him, "They've already been washed, you just have to peel the carrots and then get started on cutting them—julienne, if you can—while I start figuring out what kind of spices I want to put on the steaks here."

"How many do you want cut?" Duke asked, picking up the vegetable peeler and grabbing the bag of carrots.

Adelaide shrugged, "Uh…I dunno. Enough? I'm really just making this up as I go along. Does three sound like a good number?"

Duke shrugged, "It's your kitchen, Chef. Just tell me what to do."

She sighed and rubbed at her buzzed head. She regarded everything on the counter for a moment before saying, "Three or four should about do it. Joshua's got a bottomless pit for a stomach so who knows how much he'll eat."

"I can hear you, y'know." Joshua called from the table, earning a chuckle from Adelaide.

Adelaide looked back at Duke, gesturing briefly to the counter, "We good?"

Duke nodded and set to work as Adelaide rummaged through the corner cabinet above the microwave and started pulling out various spice shakers. Once they were placed on the counter, she grabbed a flat metal pan from the drawer under the stove and some tinfoil to cook the steaks on in the oven, just as the stove beeped to say that it was heated up. Duke switched places with her briefly so that he stood in front of the sink and started peeling the carrots. Through the gap between the cabinets and the counter, Duke could only see the people at the table from about their shoulders down to their midsection. He saw Brielle's torso positioned on Jennifer's lap and he could hear her doing fairly accurate animal impressions. She was doing a rather impressive rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" as a seal to the amusement of Holly, who was laughing so hard she was actually slapping her knee.

"So. You're Jennifer's cousin?" Duke asked over his shoulder to Adelaide, focusing on the task in front of him. Adelaide nodded, humming a response in the affirmative for him, prompting Duke to continue, "It's funny, but my memory's a bit, uh," he held the vegetable peeler close to his temple and moved it in a circular motion there, "fuzzy when it comes to what Jennifer told me about you."

She smirked, "I could say the same about you."

Duke's jaw twitched in mild agitation but he kept a cap on it, choosing instead to peel the carrots with more gusto than was probably necessary, "Touché. That seems to be happening a lot around here lately, though."

Adelaide chuckled, "Must be something in the water."

Duke paused. That was the phrase Jennifer had used earlier, when she was talking about Little John. He tried to just chalk it up as a coincidence—after all, Adelaide and Jennifer were supposed to be cousins who'd been living together for over a year; they were bound to start using the same phrases and such—but his guard was slowly starting to come up. He looked over his shoulder at her expectantly, "You wanna give me a refresher course on what I seem to have missed on The Life and Times of Jennifer and Adelaide?"

Adelaide shrugged, chuckling lightly at him, as she started pouring the spices she selected into a small bowl to mix them together, "Well the Made-For-TV-Movie short version is that we're cousins on our mothers' sides and that we're all that's left of the Mason/Bouquin lines."

Duke glanced at her, "And the Director's Cut long version?"

Adelaide started to rub down the steaks on the flat metal pan with the spice mixture and gave him a sideways glance, smirking at his joke, "Just a bit fuzzy, huh?"

Duke shrugged dismissively, "What can I say? A year's a long time."

"Depends on who you ask," Adelaide said quietly enough that Duke almost missed it; the animated conversation the group at the table was having didn't help either. Once again, his instincts told him something was off, and his guard rose just the slightest bit higher. He glanced back towards the table, trying to check on Jennifer, and while he couldn't see her clearly, he could hear her.

Jennifer and Holly were now reminiscing about something from the trip to Europe that had introduced them, and laughing at shared jokes and stories from the trip, while Brielle seemed to have leaned back against Jennifer's body, apparently struggling to keep her eyes open. She sounded fine—happy even, and relaxed. He tried to let her calm influence him, but if anything it made him more nervous; why didn't Jennifer feel it? Jennifer, apparently noticing Brielle's exhaustion and unaware of Duke's defensiveness, asked Joshua to go find a hairbrush for her so that she could work on undoing the braids in Brielle's hair.

Joshua made his way passed the kitchen and exchanged a look with Adelaide. There was a litany of micro-expressions that crossed over Joshua's face, apparently in response to whatever he was seeing on Adelaide's face. It appeared they were having an entire conversation without saying a single word before Joshua glanced at Duke, smiling nervously, and continued out of the kitchenette. Duke took note of the exchange, thinking there must be something there between Adelaide and Joshua, something that had to be beyond a platonic relationship, but decided to wait before asking anything about that; right now Adelaide seemed willing to share with him what Jennifer's life with her had been like, and that took precedent over everything else.

Know your enemy. He thought, But know for certain whether or not they actually are your enemy first.

And so far, Adelaide kept acting like she had one foot on their side—on Jennifer's side—and another on the side of whoever it was that was working against them. It was a position Duke was familiar with, but he also knew that one way or another, those sides pull you towards them.

Or they pull you a part.

Adelaide rolled her shoulders, "Our mothers were sisters, and both of our fathers were only children so we've always been each other's only family. Laetitia, the younger of the two, married Noël Bouquin and was my mother. Imogen, the oldest, married Arthur Mason and was Jennifer's adoptive mom. Our grandparents died before either of us were born, so for a time our family gatherings were just our parents, then it was them and Jennifer, then me, and then finally, my little brother, Robbie completed our Christmas cards."

As they switched places, Duke having peeled a satisfying number of carrots and Adelaide having placed enough steaks on the pan to feed everyone, Duke was struck with how seamlessly they seemed to be able to move around each other. There was a strange sense of familiarity from being around Adelaide, as if they had known each other for years rather than just a few hours. He wondered if it had something to do with whoever had given Jennifer to her—this ability of hers to seamlessly blend with other people's habits and movements; into other people's lives—if it was part of her ploy or her camouflage to get Jennifer and anyone else in her life to trust her; to do what she needed to do, whatever that was—was that why Jennifer didn't seem to think anything was wrong?

Duke tried to push that thought to the side for now; he didn't like the idea of Jennifer's ease and trust being just another fabrication—He didn't like the implications of how far or deep the people-who-took-her's influence was over her or her situation. Duke looked back at Adelaide briefly, trying to glean some further insight into her. Regardless of anything else he suspected of the woman, Duke was positive about one thing: there was no way Adelaide was just a normal human woman.

There was something unsettlingly easy about being around her. He'd met other people who, like her, inspired a feeling of seamlessness in their interactions with other people, often to inspire trust in their marks. It didn't help his suspicions that he'd only met the majority of those other people in some of his "below board" lines of work, and they were always better to have as friends than as enemies. What side Adelaide fell on remained to be seen.

As he reflected on some of the other people like Adelaide he'd met who'd been so easy to be around and adapt to, he realized that he'd experienced this same ease "above board;" with Jennifer. Something in that thought unsettled him the most; he didn't like what that could imply about what Jennifer was.

"Holly didn't mention a brother." Duke commented as he began to julienne the carrots and as Adelaide placed the pan into the oven, focusing back on the conversation at hand and forcing his suspicions and increasing desire to get Jennifer the hell away from the shop into the backseat of his mind.

Sadness and regret flickered across Adelaide's face, distracting her from the question about why he'd mention Holly over Jennifer talking about their family that Duke expected her to ask, before she steeled her features, unintentionally letting the oven door slam closed and stood up rather abruptly.

The noise caused the conversation at the table to stop suddenly, and Little John to sit up, oofing and growling slightly at the noise. Duke's grip on the knife tightened, preparing to use it for something other than chopping vegetables and he could see Jennifer and Holly jump and turn towards the kitchenette, trying to look towards them as Joshua walked back in.

Adelaide let out a slow breath, closing her eyes and trying to get her body to relax. Once she had reined in her emotions, she crouched and tried to smile back at Holly and Jennifer through the gap between the cabinets and the counter. He imagined Jennifer had offered her a nervous smile in return, which was enough to make Adelaide feel comfortable enough to stand straight again. She rolled her shoulders again to relax herself further as she said quietly to him, "You're getting ahead of me."

There was a pause as Joshua and Adelaide looked at each other again, having yet another conversation without saying a word to each other, before he moved to join Holly and Jennifer back at the table. He handed the brush to Jennifer who thanked him quietly as he took his seat opposite her and Holly. Holly cleared her throat as she turned back to the table and as Jennifer began to work the left braid out of Brielle's hair. Holly tried to pick the conversation back up and, carefully, they started talking again.

Little John stayed at attention long enough for Jennifer to start talking with Holly again, before shifting so that he was closer to Jennifer and slowly lying back down. His head still turned towards the kitchen, ears still perked in the direction of the kitchen, and came to rest on Jennifer's foot. She must've looked down towards him because Duke heard her coo quietly to him, trying to tell him it was all right. He only glanced at her, tail wagging slightly as she spoke, but he didn't move or seem to really relax.

That's a good dog, Duke thought briefly, impressed by how protective Little John was of Jennifer, before turning his attention back to Adelaide.

"I'm sorry." Duke said quietly to Adelaide, his grip loosening on the knife. He knew that there were only a few reasons why someone would give the response that she had and he felt like a tool for bringing it up.

Adelaide shrugged, smirking sadly, "Now you're getting a head of yourself."

He studied her a moment, reading her body language to get a read on what she was thinking. Her body language was relaxed, lost in her memories of the family she'd lost, and while her features showed that she missed them, she looked like she was pleased to talk about them, his most recent mistake aside. Whatever else he managed to glean about Adelaide's character as the night progressed, he wouldn't be able to say that she hadn't experienced great loss, or that she hadn't loved those that she had lost.

Another silence fell between them as Duke finished the carrots and started on the celery. Adelaide washed her hands in the sink and ran the garbage disposal to get rid of the carrot peels from when Duke had been working there previously. It was loud and intrusive on their silence, and apparently gave Adelaide the opening she needed to speak.

"My mother died when I was ten," Adelaide said as she dried her hands and went back to stirring the onions, "Robbie was about eight and Jennifer was twelve—Mom had always had a weak heart—they used to say it was a miracle that she was able to give birth twice and Mom would joke that she only needed one more to be considered a saint and then we'd be living the "good life"—I was never sure if that meant she wanted another child or if she was just waiting for some other "miracle" to happen in her life."

She paused before shaking her head at whatever memory or thought that had come up and continued, "Dad would get on her all the time about it though; she was always pushing herself too hard and too far—he used to try to throw some statistic about how women were supposed to live longer than men but at the rate she was going, she was going to put them both in an early grave. But she insisted on keeping up with Robbie and me—if there was something either of us were involved in, Mom was there, basically doing it with us. Dad was going gray by the time I was six; Mom stressed him out that badly—I, uh, I don't know if he ever really forgave himself for being right."

Her way of speaking about personal things—loss in particular—was so similar to how Jennifer spoke about it, Duke could almost believe that they were related.

Adelaide shifted in front of the stove from one leg to the other, "After Mom died, Robbie and I spent a lot of time out at Aunt Imogen and Uncle Artie's, and, of course, with Jennifer. Jennifer kind of took on a 'big sister' role for us; making sure we were keeping up in school, getting enough sleep, eating right, somehow just knowing when we'd had a nightmare, staying up with us if we couldn't sleep—y'know, shit like that. She…you know, her parents could handle what they saw of Robbie's and my mourning, but they…they understood Dad's better somehow—they tried to be careful with us, since they knew that we were impressionable or whatever and I'll always be appreciative of them for that—but a kid can only be treated like she's made of glass for so long before it stops being helpful. Jennifer took the brunt of what was actually happening—she didn't sugar coat things for me or Robbie, or if she did, she made sure it was for our benefit and not just because she felt sorry for us, God love her."

"Sounds like her," Duke said quietly behind her, "Always offering help beyond herself."

She let out half a laugh as she nodded and paused briefly, collecting her thoughts. She continued, "Dad…Dad got really lost without Mom. He threw himself into what work he could here at the shop—it was actually during that time that he built a lot of the domestic elements here; the kitchenette, the loft upstairs, the plumbing, all of it."

"I've never heard of a bookstore owner who sided in construction," Duke commented, sliding the cutting board over to her.

She picked up the cutting board and began to scrape the carrots and celery into the pan with the onions, which certainly wouldn't have been Duke's first thought to do with them, but then again, it wasn't his kitchen.

She smirked, "No, and he certainly wasn't either. A contractor, that is. Thankfully, he was clear headed enough to hire a company to help him with the major stuff. Working with the contractors and getting this place to be more profitable, it…it helped to focus him, y'know? Kept him from fixating on the past and his loss."

"Just his?" Duke asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She turned and pointed the wooden spatula she'd been using to stir the vegetables with the onions around at him menacingly, "Don't you try to psychoanalyze me, buddy. I'm not even done with your 'refresher course' yet."

Duke held his hands up in mock surrender as he propped his hip against the counter. As Adelaide turned back to her cooking, he ducked down to look at the group at the table, leaning across the counter. They'd been rather quiet since the oven door slammed closed. Duke's guard had yet to go back down and the group's continued silence wasn't helping. Holly and Joshua seemed to be playing a card game and if the collection of loose change and small bills around her was any indication, Holly was cleaning house. Duke made a mental note to never play against Holly—at least not for money.

Jennifer had only managed to really brush out the left side of Brielle's hair. It fell all the way down her back in black waves and it was taking Jennifer some time to brush it all out. He could only see the side of Brielle's face, so he couldn't be sure the complete extent of her exhaustion, but her shoulders were sagging and her whole body swayed back and forth gently when Jennifer ran the brush through her hair. Duke could tell she was struggling to stay awake. Jennifer stayed focused on brushing her hair, and even though he couldn't hear it, he was almost certain she was humming something. Little John still had his head on her feet, but his eyes had closed at some point, and he was sleeping peacefully next to his mistress, gently snoring. Jennifer finished brushing out the left side of Brielle's head and moved to work out the right braid. As she gently worked her fingers through the braid there, she glanced up at Duke, apparently feeling his eyes on her, and smiled sheepishly at him.

He smiled back at her as Adelaide continued, crouching in front of the oven with a pair of tongs and opening the door, "We all had our ways of coping, Duke; Dad with his construction, Robbie…basically shut down to everyone—whether it was Dad, Aunt Imogen, Jennifer, me—he and Mom were very close and he just got…despondent without her and never really shook it—and I…I had my anger. It didn't matter what, who, or even why, I was pissed and everyone was going to know it."

Adelaide flipped the steaks over in their pan, glancing briefly over her shoulder at him, "I imagine Jennifer mentioned that I was kind of a scrapper when we were little?"

Duke stood from the counter and looked back at Adelaide, "She mentioned that you'd get into fights with the neighbor kids when you'd visit her and that she would fight with you when you would. She claimed to be the, uh," he held his hands up to mime quotation marks at her, "'Lightweight Champion of Camden Street'."

"Reigning Lightweight Champion of Camden Street." Came the indignant correction from the table.

Adelaide chuckled as she closed the oven, careful not to let it slam this time, "Jen, you're an adult; I think it's time to forfeit the title—you certainly can't go back there and defend it."

"Uh-uh," he heard Jennifer negate, sounding like a child, "Once a champ, always a champ. And who says I couldn't teach those little twerps a thing or two?"

"Wow, I don't think I've actually heard anyone use the word 'twerp' in years," Duke commented, chuckling at her. Jennifer crouched slightly in her seat to look at him and made a face, only earning another chuckle from him.

Adelaide shook her head as she stirred the vegetables again, over her shoulder she asked Duke to hand her the bag of rice on the counter. He did and when he was close enough that she was sure only he would hear her, she mumbled to him, "Don't tell her—'cause she'll never forgive me—but the fight that gave her that title was against me and I threw it because I knew how important it was to her."

Duke mimed zipping his lips closed to her and she smiled appreciatively at him as she continued, "Anyway. Yes. I was angry as a child after we lost Mom. And before the peanut gallery at the table can comment again, I will admit that I was angry into puberty as well."

There were muted snickers from the table, which only seemed to prove Adelaide's point, making her roll her eyes as she continued, "And I was even angrier when Jennifer went on her trip to Europe, where she was having fun and was seeing the world and was making friends and changing more after so many other changes had happened, and left me alone—without the system of support that I guess I'd become dependent on—for a month. So when she got back I was extra frosty towards her—to the point that I think I actually refused to see her a couple of times. But when Uncle Artie died…" she sighed, "it's cruel and unfair, but that was my wake up call. I realized that my anger was selfish and that I was hurting the people around me because of it when we were all hurting enough already. My anger kept me from seeing that Robbie needed help—Jennifer saw it, of course; she always seemed to be able to see what everyone else was missing—but, then again, we were all so blinded we just…"

She trailed off as she shook her head, letting the thought go, "My anger kept me from getting to really know my father, and it created more unnecessary tension in my family—it very nearly destroyed my relationship with Jennifer."

"I never blamed you for anything from that time, Adelaide." Jennifer commented from the table, "We were all pretty off-kilter when Aunt Laetitia died. Even more so after Mom and I lost Dad."

Adelaide measured out a couple of cups of rice into a medium-sized pot and measured out water for it as well, eyeballing it as she placed the pot under the running faucet, and sighed, "That's no excuse, Jen. You were only trying to help—like you always, always do—and trying to move forward with your life after being held down by me and my damage and I was being a petulant, shithead fourteen year old and—,"

"Adelaide." Jennifer sighed, a tired finalization in her tone. Duke got the feeling that this was a conversation they'd had many times and that the end result never changed.

"That's quite a mature wake up call for a fourteen year old," Duke pointed out, hoping to stop the argument before it began.

Adelaide shrugged, "I grew up a lot for a fourteen year old. I had to. We all did."

She paused again, lost in her thoughts. Duke heard Jennifer singing softly to Brielle in the kitchen but he still couldn't determine the song, as Adelaide sighed, "Anyway. Robbie and I stayed at the house with Jennifer and Aunt Imogen for awhile after that—Dad couldn't be too far away from the shop with all the construction, and even though we couldn't do much, we wanted to be there for Jennifer—Well, I did, and I'm sure in his own way Robbie did too, he just wasn't as, uh, determined about it as I was. Holly was there for a while too—dear heart in there," she nodded towards the table and to Holly, "drove two hours to Jennifer's house after she heard about it—she and Jennifer had hardly been friends for six months by then but the second she heard about it she dropped everything and was just…there—once she got there, she helped do whatever she could to keep the house moving and Jennifer balanced."

Her tone softened as she added, "When people would ask who Holly was, Aunt Imogen would just answer, 'She's family'; that was how I knew how important Holly was to them. To us."

She raised her voice slightly to make sure the "peanut gallery" could hear her as she set the pot on the stove to get the water boiling, "I think that was when Holly and I first officially met and bonded—though I'm sure in one of those times I refused to see Jennifer, if I hadn't been such an aforementioned petulant shithead teenager, I would've met her sooner. But I'm glad we did—I don't know if I would've been able to keep Jennifer's and Aunt Imogen's heads above water on my own—hell I was barely keeping my own head above water at the time."

"You would've been fine, Lady, and you know it." Holly called back.

"Not how I was, Hol," Adelaide sighed to herself as she rubbed the buzzed part of her head again and leaned back against the counter. She grabbed the tongs again and crouched in front of the stove to flip the steaks again.

"Time passed, as it often and cruelly does." Adelaide sighed as she flipped the steaks, "I met Desmond Rousseau, Brielle's father, when I was sixteen; total high school sweethearts, sappy love story—,"

"Oh, they were gross!" Jennifer laughed.

"Absolute puppy love that never faltered." Holly conceded.

Duke faintly heard Brielle giggle, and mumble something. He heard Jennifer whisper something back to her. He imagined it was a question or a comment about her father that Jennifer answered or agreed to. Duke imagined that, if she'd been given the chance, Brielle would've been quite the "Daddy's Little Princess" type. She was quite clearly a Momma's Girl, and he could only imagine that that'd be twice the case with her father.

Adelaide stood back up, closing the oven door again, and stirred the vegetables. She turned to her left and, grabbing the soy sauce on the counter, poured some into the pan, keeping the heat low and calling to Jennifer and Holly, "If you're quite finished?"

They only snickered back, letting her continue, "Yes. So. Sixteen, basically met the love of my life—as you can tell from the tattoos—things were looking up: I'd finally convinced Dad to let Robbie go to counseling, Robbie got put on anti-depressants, Jennifer was going off to her dream college to get a degree in her dream field, Desmond and I were apparently being "gross"—For two years, we were all living our dreams and moving forward with our lives." She paused, smiling as she let herself remember. She sighed, her features darkening, and continued, "And then when I was eighteen, my dad died."

"Jesus," Duke mumbled. No wonder Holly had said she'd seen enough mourning to know what it looked like; it didn't seem like there had been a year in their lives that wasn't marred by death.

What the hell were the people who took Jennifer trying to do by putting her here? By giving her these memories? He sighed at himself. But then again, was being alone and thinking she was crazy any better?

Adelaide nodded as she checked the rice, letting out a bitter chuckle, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me about it. It was an accident too, if you can believe that; he tripped and fell and hit the back of his head on the corner of the coffee table. He'd been reading and walking—a habit of his that had usually been fine but not this time, apparently. I'd been out with Desmond—we'd been doing that a lot at the time; he was going away to college, we wanted to spend more time together, yada yada yada—but, uh, but Robbie was home. He…he was asleep—before they got his dosage really figured out for his anti-depressants, the pills would do that to him just—," she snapped her fingers for effect as her voice got a little panicked and she start speaking rapidly; something that reminded Duke of Jennifer, "—knocked him right out. He…Robbie was the one who found him, he—he got up because he was hungry and then he saw Dad there and he called me in a panic and I didn't know what to tell him besides calling nine-one-one but it was too late and he had to wait there all by himself until the paramedics got there and God I couldn't—,"

She let out a slow breath, pulling herself back together. Duke noted that this was easily the third time she'd allowed herself to be seen by him as vulnerable and that it was also the third time she'd taken the time to rebuild herself in front of him. If he were in Adelaide's position, he definitely wouldn't have let that happen to begin with, let alone multiple times. Yet from the moment he stepped into her kitchen, she was willing to show her hand to him, to let him know what Jennifer's new reality looked like and consisted of. She either truly was on his and Jennifer's side, she was manipulating them, or she was just quite possibly the dumbest opponent he'd ever encountered. And in all honestly, he wasn't sure which option he preferred.

She clicked off the burners on the stove, moving the pot and pan to the back set of burners to free up the front, and crouched to check the steaks again as she continued, trying to keep her voice steady, "God I make our lives sound like they were just one funeral after the next. That's not true, of course; there were plenty of bright moments, good moments among all that death, sadness, and just general negativity, I promise. Would you believe that we'd go whole years without a single devastating thing happening to us?"

"Not at the rate you've been going," Duke commented.

She chuckled slightly, still crouched in front of the stove, "I know. But the good points are more fun to bring up in the moment, y'know? Happiness strengthening happiness. Besides, you did ask for the Emotional Baggage Highlight Reel; and this is only the stuff I feel like is even my place to share."

"I don't think 'Emotional Baggage Highlight Reel' was exactly how I phrased it." Duke retorted.

She turned towards him enough to jokingly make a face at him, "So sue me for slander, Businessman."

Duke's jaw twitched at the nickname but he tried not to make it obvious as Adelaide stood. If she noticed the twitch, she didn't make it obvious as she picked up where she'd left off, "So there I was, technically an adult and beneficiary to my dad's will—he had been paranoid enough after Mom's death to have one, which was probably for the best, all things considered—and a choice: I could either sell the shop and use the money to help Robbie and me through college with a potentially cushy nest egg for the both of us. Or I could keep alive the one thing both of my parents struggled for and loved just as much as they loved us, only send Robbie to college, and put whatever I managed to keep making from the shop into a trust fund for a very rainy day for us."

"And when you put it like that…" Duke commented, already knowing what her decision had been; he was standing in it.

She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan from the oven, turning it off as she went. As she placed it on the stove, she chuckled lightly, "Basically. So I canceled the lease we had on the apartment we'd been living in, moved Robbie and me into the loft upstairs—though part of it was really to just get Robbie out of that place; he couldn't walk passed the living room without basically having a panic attack—and I did my best to keep the store running and Robbie in school until he went off to college—he got accepted to University of Massachusetts and, you know, I thought he'd want to go to the campus that was close to the store but he wanted Amherst—claimed he needed a change of scenery and his therapist agreed so, you know, what the hell do I know. Anyway. Time continued to pass. Jennifer finished her undergrad, and started work on her Masters—like the overachiever she is,"

He heard Jennifer chuckle from the table.

Adelaide heard it too and smiled as she continued, "Desmond went to college and when he graduated, we got married."

She turned to grab plates from a cabinet and smirked at Duke's surprised expression, "Oh, don't give me that look; I had enough of it from Desmond's parents—who never approved of me to begin with."

Duke gave her a confused look, "Why didn't they?"

Adelaide sighed, "Oh Jesus, fucking pick a reason: my highest education was a G.E.D., both my parents were dead, I basically worked full time, I was a—," she raised hands and mimed quotation marks at him, "—'bad influence' on their son, I offered Desmond a life different from what they wanted for him—just a lot of bullshit reasons that made me have to fight to keep Brielle from them after Desmond died—which they only did to hurt me and literally everyone knew it—but now that I've won, of course, they won't even fucking acknowledge her."

She let out a slow breath to try to get her anger that had started to bubble up as she spoke back under control, "But I don't regret it; our marriage, Brielle, any of it—Hell, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."

She opened a drawer and started rummaging for silverware. There was a slight smirk on her face, as some sort of private joke occurred to her, but she didn't voice it, whatever it was. Duke hadn't said anything in a long enough time that Adelaide glanced at him. She smiled at something she saw in Duke's expression, "Duke, I'd known death most of my life; Desmond made me feel like—like there was more to life than just watching who you care about suffer. And that I deserved that "more to life." I wasn't going to—and I still will not—let the one thing that made me feel alive go,"

She gave Duke a meaningful look, "I'm sure you can understand that."

Duke returned her look with confusion. Something in how she'd looked at him made his guard and agitation rise back up towards her further, but before he could ask what she meant by that, she pushed on, "We were married for five years before Desmond died of a brain tumor—maybe one day I'll tell you about how his family tried to blame that on me too."

To that, there were barely muted disbelieving and disgusted noises from the table. Apparently the treatment of Adelaide by her in-laws was still a raw nerve with the group at the table.

Adelaide smirked but continued, "But his death was about three years ago—Brielle was only three at the time. Five years ago we lost Aunt Imogen to breast cancer. And then two years before that, Robbie went off of his meds and…and, he, uh,"

Her voice broke as she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to calm herself down, but she couldn't finish the thought. The whole room got tense at the mention of Robbie. Even Little John, who had woken up at the sound of silverware hitting the plates, was back at the same level of attention he'd been at the oven door slamming.

She sighed, her voice breaking, "You know, he really loved college? He was almost done with his undergrad and he wanted to be a psychologist. He was thinking about looking into art therapy and counseling—he was looking into graduate programs, for fuck's…And he kept telling me that he was so happy and I should've seen what was happening, I should've gone to see him more often, I should've done something and he…"

"Lady, there wasn't…" came a quiet voice from the table.

Another, gentler voice saying, "Della, it wasn't…"

Adelaide cleared her throat, quieting the voices at the table. She looked at Duke and tried to smirk at him, even as her voice broke slightly again and her eyes glistened with the beginning of tears, "And that's what you missed on Glee, the Director's Cut."

Duke nodded, smirking at her joke, before carefully commenting, "That's a hell of a lot of death for one lifetime."

Adelaide nodded, smirking slightly as if she'd found something about what he said funny—it was the same look she'd had when she'd grabbed the silverware—and started building a plate for the group in the dining area, "Yes. Yes it is. Which is why I cling to and protect whatever light my life lets me have."

She gave Duke yet another meaningful look, "I imagine you can understand that as well."

Duke furrowed his brow at her, not liking her tone. Twice she'd made that comment, and twice his agitation had flared at her about it. He'd figured that he should assume that she knew more than enough about him to be dangerous if she so chose, but that didn't mean she had to lord it over him like she was.

He caught himself before he did or said something he'd regret and instead just sighed back, "Yeah. Probably more than most people."

They regarded each other momentarily. Duke tried to keep his own body language neutral as he regarded her. He kept trying to get a read on her, on what she was thinking or planning, only to keep coming back to the same conclusion he had when he'd first walked into the shop: he didn't know.

And he didn't like not knowing.

Adelaide was giving him a small, pleased smile that reminded him of Jennifer's. Whatever it was that she was seeing in him, that she kept seeing in him, she was very pleased by it. But what the hell did that mean? And why was she dropping these hints that she knew Duke better than she was letting on? And why be willing to tell him all this? With an audience consisting of the concerned party within earshot, no less? What was she doing?

Jennifer's comment from earlier rang in his head, "Who knows why Adelaide does anything."

"So. Any particular reason why it's only Desmond's name in all your tattoos? Or is it just to piss off your in-laws that much more?" Duke asked, gesturing vaguely towards her torso and the tattoos there, trying to change the subject and to hopefully glean some more information about her based on her answers.

She laughed at that, "That's certainly always been a bonus."

He managed a smirk at her, "I'll bet. It's just that usually when people lose that many people, especially in a family as close as yours apparently was—is—they have more tribute pieces for them; it looks like you only have Desmond."

Amusement lit up Adelaide's green eyes as she placed the full plate on the far end of the counter to be taken to the table. She turned her left wrist over to show the scripted name, "Desmond," written there. She pulled off her wedding ring to reveal a tattoo of two black bands entwined around her finger, "Desmond…Desmond was my…he was my heart, y'know? Like…I didn't know anything about my life or my future when I met him or when we first started dating, but I knew he was going to be there no matter what I did. I guess I…When we first got married, instead of a honeymoon we got our tattoos and we, heh, we made it our thing that in all our pieces, the other's name would be in it. He used to say that we needed some way of making sure that the world knew we were…each other's."

"Sounds like quite a guy." Duke commented, smiling at her.

She let out a small laugh, "You don't know the half of it."

She ran the thumb of her right hand over the tattoo on her wrist, "It's been a long time since I've…when I lost Desmond I just kept getting tattoos—on his birthday, on mine, on Brielle's—and I just hadn't—I just haven't—,"

She let out another slow breath, something she was getting very familiar with as their conversation progressed, "He…he always made me feel strong, y'know? Safe. And I just…I see his name and I feel that again. Like an armor I never take off."

She paused, sliding her ring back on to her finger, "But I do have something for my family. I just chose to keep the rest of them closer; they are my family, after all. No one else's. Besides, most people don't know what to do with a woman who wears her wounds so blatantly."

Duke's eyebrow twitched upward at her phrasing. Three times now she'd done that. More than enough times to throw out the hopeful possibility of coincidence, he knew. And he hadn't even actually verbalized that last thought.

Well, Duke thought, that just complicates things.

She turned to him and carefully pulled down part of her romper to show off a large tattoo of an anatomically correct, gray scale heart over the place on her chest where her heart would lie under her ribs. The heart had names written on it in typewriter font, similar to the business card that had led Duke here the night before.

"Imogen," "Laetitia," "Artie," "Noël," "Robbie," "Jennifer," "Holly," "Joshua," "Desmond," and "Brielle"—they were all there. He noticed, though, that the names didn't take up all the space of the heart, and asked her about it.

Her smile turned fond as she readjusted the upper part of her romper, "That's the point; there's always room for more people in our hearts, Duke, even if—especially if we've been hurt."

Jennifer walked passed them with Brielle asleep against her shoulder as she rubbed her back, and with Little John still staying close to her and trailing behind her.

"Speaking of our hearts," Adelaide commented quietly, her features softening further, cutting off whatever comment Duke could've made to that.

Duke turned to Jennifer and he went to touch her elbow in an effort to make sure she was all right, to reassure himself that she was real and there, but caught himself as Adelaide walked passed him. He tried to play it off as another motion, in case she noticed, but he was unsure what to do to cover it and she didn't seem to really be looking at him anyway.

"There's my baby girl—I knew she wasn't gonna make it to dinner," Adelaide said quietly to Jennifer as she ran her fingers through Brielle's brushed out hair, her other hand on Jennifer's shoulder. Little John looked between them with his tail wagging slightly as he did. Adelaide moved to take Brielle from Jennifer, "I can take her up, Jen,"

Jennifer shook her head, "Oh, don't worry about it, Della; you worked so hard on—,"

"All this talk about the past…" Adelaide interrupted, running her fingers through Brielle's hair again, "I just…I need some time with my baby."

Jennifer studied her for a moment before she nodded, passing Brielle off to her. Once she was in her mother's arms, she nuzzled her face in the crook of Adelaide's neck as she sighed in her sleep and Adelaide placed a kiss on top of Brielle's head. Adelaide whispered something to Brielle who whimpered quietly against her mom's neck in response.

Jennifer rubbed Adelaide's arm, asking quietly, "You okay, Cos?"

Adelaide's features softened further as she looked at Jennifer for a moment. She shifted Brielle to her hip as she reached out and ran her fingers through Jennifer's hair. She pressed her hand against the back of her head, causing her to tilt it forward, and pressed her forehead to Jennifer's, "I'm good, Cos. I'm good."

Adelaide kissed her forehead before pulling back and looking Jennifer in the eye again. Jennifer studied her for a moment more before nodding and kissing Brielle's head.

Adelaide shifted her again and tilted her head back towards the kitchenette, "Go. Eat. Duke and I didn't slave over a hot stove to let that meal go to waste."

Jennifer just grinned back at her, straightening, "Oh yeah, you were really putting Duke through his paces in there—I mean, julienning the vegetables? I'm surprised he didn't sprain something."

"Oh, I'm exhausted, she's easily the most difficult boss I've had to work with," Duke commented, grinning at Jennifer over Adelaide's shoulder.

"Don't—She doesn't need help," Adelaide glared at him over her shoulder.

"Of course she doesn't," Duke agreed, "That was more for me."

"Ah yes," Jennifer grinned, her eyes sparkling in amusement up at him, "The true test of a date: Does he tease my cousin with me?"

Adelaide rolled her eyes at Jennifer, walking passed her and smacking Jennifer on her ass as she went, "Yeah, whatever smart ass."

Jennifer swatted at her hand, laughing at her and taking a step closer to Duke, as Adelaide called over her shoulder, "There's some red wine and beer in the fridge if anyone wants some."

Duke just barely caught her singing the first few words of a song before she was too far away to hear clearly, "There's a handwritten note…"

Little John, apparently figuring out that there was no food to be had immediately from anyone in the kitchen, turned back towards the table and laid back down under it, keeping his body turned toward the kitchen and his eyes on Jennifer as best he could.

Jennifer smiled up at Duke as she took a couple of steps towards him, "Hi."

He grinned back down at her, deciding to risk reaching out and rubbing her upper arm lightly with his knuckles, "Hey."

She kept smiling back up at him, her eyes sliding half closed, as if she wanted to savor his touch, and moved closer to him. He didn't think he could handle feeling anymore of her skin than what his knuckles were brushing just yet; but even what he could feel was more than enough for him right now. Still soft, still smooth, still…perfect. He let his hand trail down her arm until he was holding her hand in his again. She took another step closer to him, getting dangerously close to being flush against him, still smiling up at him.

He brought his free hand to touch her neck, and when his fingers brushed her jaw she molded into him, bringing her body against his and wrapping her free arm around his waist. Duke was spellbound; it'd been so long since he'd seen or had someone respond to him the way Jennifer had—the way Jennifer continued to. He wanted to tell her, right then, how much he missed her, how she was always in the back of his mind throughout everything that happened to him the past year, how she was in everything he did.

It was always her. Her smile, her laugh, her voice, her kindness, her courage—everything that made her…her.

"No one has to tell me twice," Holly said in response to Adelaide's offering of wine and pulling Jennifer out of the moment. Her eyes seemed to suddenly become clearer and she looked from him to their hands and seemed to become instantly aware of just how close they had gotten. She blushed up at him and moved away from him, surprised and confused by her actions as she looked over to Holly, and he let her go even though every part of him wanted to pull her back to him and finish what they'd started. He straightened and sighed internally; at least Holly had missed the quiet exchange between Duke and Jennifer. He was glad; any private moment he was able to get with Jennifer, stolen or otherwise was more than he had come to hope for and more than he thought he deserved.

But, damn it, that was twice now that they'd been interrupted; this was starting to feel like someone was toying with them. Either that, or they really were just that unlucky. And history seemed to be indicating the latter.

At the table, Holly laid what was apparently another winning hand down in front of Joshua. Jennifer walked passed Duke, now suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity and apparently feeling self-conscious about it, and moved towards the fridge. She swung a wide path around him, as Joshua groaned and threw down his cards in defeat. Holly leaned across the table and collected her winnings, chastising him about knowing better than to play cards with his "older and wiser" sister and all but cackling at him, as Jennifer pulled a wine bottle out of the fridge and handed it to Duke. She was still being careful not to let herself touch him. He tried to smile at her as he took the bottle, to be reassuring, but she only blushed harder and turned from him as she opened a drawer. She pulled out a corkscrew held it out to him as well, struggling to look him in the eye, "Would you, um, would you mind pouring the wine? The glasses are just in that cabinet there—top shelf—and I'll start making plates for everyone."

Duke smirked at her as he set the wine bottle on the counter, still trying to put her at ease, "Can't reach that high, Short Stack?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved at him lightly, her earlier embarrassment apparently forgotten for the moment, "Oh shut up, I'm not that short."

"Jennifer, when we went to Cedar Pointe after my wedding, you couldn't go on half the rides," Holly commented from the table, counting her money. Duke half expected her to have a cigar in her mouth as she did; she looked so smug with her small winnings. He was definitely never playing a card game against Holly—he wasn't sure his ego could take it.

Duke laughed as Jennifer crouched and glared at her, "That is an exaggeration and you know it. Also: No one asked you, Holly."

Holly just chuckled as Jennifer turned back to him, giving him a slightly self-deprecating smile and gesturing emphatically, "But I will admit that the shelf is slightly out of my reach. So if you wouldn't mind…"

Duke smirked as he nodded and took the corkscrew from her. They worked briefly in silence, Jennifer staying very focused on the plates in front of her, like she did when she was trying to gather her words or figure out what she wanted to say or do next. Duke waited patiently, knowing that when she was ready, she'd say something. Finally, Jennifer spoke.

"Quite a rundown of my family history you had there; where does that fit on your 'normal first date talk' list?" Jennifer asked, still focusing on her task a little too intently.

Duke uncorked the bottle with an audible pop, and set it on the counter as he reached for the glasses. He smirked at her, "Well, you said it yourself; this isn't exactly a normal first date. Usually we save the 'meet the family' part until further down the line."

"Ah, well, I imagine we also save the 'I know you better than you know yourself'-shtick until around then as well," She replied, a little more drily than he would've completely preferred.

He chuckled, trying to get her to relax, "No time like the present."

He reached for the top shelf, not missing the evaluative and slightly appreciative glance Jennifer gave him as he did so before turning her gaze quickly back to her work, pulled out four glasses, and started pouring as Jennifer commented, glancing at him much more obviously this time and smirking, "Ah-ha, so when do we do your family history rundown?"

Duke shook his head, it was his turn to focus a bit too intently on his task, "If I have any say in the matter: Not until much later and not until I am very drunk."

She chuckled briefly, before sensing something in his tone that told her that, while joking, he was serious. And there was something in his body language. There had been the slightest shift at the mention of his family; it still seemed casual and relaxed but there was something…tense in him. It reminded her of how he had interacted with the man in the park. She glanced at him briefly, unsure of how to read him, but chose to stand the slightest bit closer to him all the same, and began creating a line of plates on the side of the counter closest to the table. She changed the subject, "Well, I'd just figured you'd already know all about mine. I thought I was the one with memory lapse."

Duke smirked at her but at her anticipatory glance, he sighed and said quietly so only Jennifer could hear him, "This is one of those times where it would be really easy to lie to you."

She arched an eyebrow at him, prompting him to quickly add, "I won't, though."

She tilted her head back in half a nod, smirking at him, but waiting for him to continue without saying anything. He just sighed, "I'm not sure what to say just yet, and I can't—I don't deserve to ask you to trust me but—,"

"Duke, my first encounter with you would've sent a more rational thinking woman to the police." He smirked at her. She returned the smile and continued, "And yet, here I am, in my cousin's kitchen, with you, after a date, about to have dinner with you with my family. I think the fact that I trust you in some regard is a completely reasonable assumption."

He turned to her, his surprise clear on his face but he was smiling. She grinned back and reached for his hand, giving it a careful squeeze at his side, and saying quietly, "Tell me what you can for now, and we'll talk about the rest later, yeah?"

He squeezed her fingers and nodded, "Yeah. Okay. For now, let's just say that I…I feel like I need to talk to Adelaide a bit more."

She arched an eyebrow at him, her suspicion clear in her features, but she nodded, "Alright. And at some point you'll tell me what all this is about?"

He nodded back, "As soon as I have more things figured out, I will tell you."

Holly approached the counter and grabbed a plate and a glass from the counter, smirking as Jennifer pulled her hand away from Duke's. Jennifer scrunched her nose at the look Holly was giving her, prompting Holly to laugh at her. Jennifer snuck a peek at Duke, like a child looking at her accomplice in a crime, and he gave her an indulgent smile; Holly could smirk all she wanted at catching them holding hands, she'd missed the moment that mattered.

Holly glanced at the counter briefly, once again missing the exchange between Duke and Jennifer, and, apparently noting the missing fifth glass, asked, "No wine for you, Duke?"

"Not if I'm driving you back to your hotel tonight." Duke answered as she turned and placed the plate and glass in front of Joshua.

Holly turned back and grabbed another plate, "Well, I was actually thinking of staying the night at Josh's."

"Oh, what, so you can get sloppy drunk and rub your winnings in my face some more?" Josh commented from the table, indignantly cutting into his steak, making him look more like a little brother than he had since Duke had first met him.

Holly rolled her eyes as she sat next to him at the table with her own meal, "I do not get sloppy."

Joshua just snickered at her as Jennifer interjected, "And most of those winnings are borrowed money from me, I'll remind you,"

Joshua grumbled something under his breath as Holly continued, "And that's right; you've caught me. You've seen right through my ruse of spending some quality time with my little brother. It's all an elaborate ploy to mock you further over a card game. Well done, Sherlock. We're all very impressed."

Joshua turned and made a face at her as she jokingly pushed his face away, making them both chuckle at each other. Jennifer grabbed a plate and glass to set at the seat to Joshua's right for Adelaide. She turned and grabbed another plate and glass as Duke came around the counter, carrying his own plate and silverware. Jennifer sat opposite Joshua, and Duke sat to her right, leaving the chair at the head of the table open for Adelaide, as Holly addressed Duke, pointing at him with her fork, "My point being: don't go holding back on my account."

"Oh, I'm not; I'm holding back because even without you, I still have to drive home." Duke answered, cutting into his steak.

There was a rustling as the beaded curtain parted and Adelaide came back in, "I was actually thinking about that,"

"Adelaide, your super hearing is astounding," Holly said in disbelief.

Adelaide shrugged, smirking at her, as she took her seat at the head of the table and sipped at her wine, "It's a mother thing; came with the ability to know the exact moment my daughter's done something wrong."

Holly raised her eyebrows as she half nodded, tilting her head back and smiling back at her in response, mouthing an "Ah" at her, before adding, "Well then it's a good thing your daughter's literally an angel. Though I sincerely look forward to that teenage rebellion phase."

Adelaide chuckled at her before she continued, looking back at Duke, an unsettling and mischievous glint in her eyes that seemed to immediately set Jennifer on edge, "You know, Duke, it is getting late, and the couch on the main floor isn't much but it's plenty comfortable—,"

"Adelaide." Jennifer mumbled, a warning in her tone and a blush already in her cheeks.

"—and if you want," Adelaide continued, apparently choosing to ignore Jennifer but the telltale glint in her eyes only got brighter, "you're more than welcome to stay the night. And we could always use the help tomorrow; there won't be much of a crowd since it's Sunday, we usually do more organization work for the shop, and I know Jennifer would really appreciate the help,"

Jennifer covered her eyes with her left hand, her face now bright red, and mumbled to herself, "God, you are the worst wingman."

Duke quirked an eyebrow at Jennifer as she sheepishly peeked at him between her fingers and mouthed to her, "Wingman?"

Her blush deepened and she hid her eyes again, prompting Duke to chuckle at her.

Adelaide leaned on the table towards him, holding her glass out to him and smiling, "So? What do you say?"

Duke glanced at Jennifer again. Of course he wanted to stay. More than anything, so long as it meant that he was close to her, but not if she didn't want him to. This was about her, like it had always been, and if she wanted him to leave, he would. She just had to say the word. He just really, really wanted that word to be "stay."

She finally managed to quell her embarrassment and annoyance at her cousin enough to look at him and seemed to be able to know what he was asking in his gaze. She pulled her lips into her mouth nervously as she tried to smile at him and reached for his hand under the table. His hand met hers before his made it to her knee and she squeezed his fingers. They looked at each other for a moment before she whispered to him, suddenly very conscious of the eyes and ears that were tuned in on them and hoping for at least a modicum of privacy, if not the illusion of it, "I'd—I mean, I'd hate to make you feel like you have to do something—or anything really—but, um, I'd, uh, I'd like for…for you to stay."

As the word left her mouth, she felt as if there was a great deal of importance in it to Duke—to them—and she felt as if she didn't have the right to ask him or to use that word yet.

Duke grinned at her, quelling part of her concerns, and happily reached for Adelaide's offered glass with his free hand, "I say: That couch better be more than just 'plenty' comfortable."

Adelaide grinned at him, "I guess we'll find out."

Jennifer, without thinking, reached out and intercepted the glass from Duke's hand, "Ho-oh no, you don't. Not red wine."

At his confused look, she continued, "We've got a very small, very easily made cranky six year old sleeping upstairs and you snore—very loudly—when you drink red wine,"

She had handed the glass back to Adelaide, who was looking at her in amused confusion, and had walked to get a beer from the fridge for Duke. She was walking back to the table, opening the bottle as she went, when she realized how quiet it'd gotten. Duke was giving her the same look he'd given her in the café after she'd remembered holding his hand, which only furthered her confusion. She turned her gaze to Little John as an indicator for the mood of the room. Little John seemed remarkably unmoved by the events around him, however, as he looked at Jennifer with his head on his paws, his tail thumping gently on the floor. Whatever it was that had captured the tongues of her family, Little John seemed as unaffected by it as she was.

She looked at the surprised faces of the people around the table, not understanding why they were looking at her like that, when she realized what she'd said; more importantly, she realized what she'd remembered.

She'd been sitting in the opened trunk of her car, when he came and sat with her, placing his hand on her legs. She'd covered his hand with hers and he'd asked her something about "this" being her first time fighting a monster with a magical book.

"How do you feel about dating Hermione?"

"Well we all have our stuff."

He'd looked at her gravely then and said, "I snore. When I drink red wine."

And she'd laughed at him, however slightly; she'd still been too afraid, too shaken up by what had happened that day—but what had happened that day?—and agreed, adding that he also snored very loudly when he did. He'd kissed her forehead, and she felt some of her uncertainly and fear ebb, even if it was only slightly.

She sat back down in her seat again next to Duke, letting out an "Oh" as she did.

Duke reached out and took the beer from her so that he could hold her hand in his as Adelaide said carefully, "Jen? You okay?"

She heard Little John shift closer towards her under the table, and felt the gentle weight of his head on her feet. It was different from how he'd done it earlier, after the stove door slammed closed; it was less protective, more comforting. She was confused and a little scared, and he was responding to that. He was a good dog.

She tried to pull more from her most recent memory flash. A magical book? What the hell did that even mean? And fighting a monster with that magical book? It sounded…fictitious; like something out of one of the millions books in the shop just on the other side of the beaded curtain. That couldn't possibly be right.

She tried to get more context for what had happened that day that led to them sitting in the trunk of her car like that, but she was just met with another throb; one of the most painful she'd had since yesterday. She realized that she'd started to take her throb-less memories, that had been coming up more since she'd finally spoken to Duke, for granted. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, not trying to push on it, but just trying to clear her mind enough so that the pain would stop.

Adelaide, apparently sensing the throb or misinterpreting Jennifer's expression, said again, "Jennifer? Talk to us, Cos; what's going on?"

Jennifer came back to herself, to the moment, and gave Duke's hand, who's own grip had started to become a bit desperate, a squeeze as she smiled at Adelaide, "Just, uh, just another memory flash. But, uh, it's gone now."

Adelaide quirked an eyebrow at her, "A memory flash? Without pushing?"

Jennifer just nodded as she took a drink from her wine. She hadn't had a chance yet to tell Adelaide about the ease with which some of her memories had been coming, specifically her memories about Duke, but she didn't really want to get into that in front of everyone. She didn't want to really get into anything involving her memories right now; she just wanted some normalcy, even if it was just for another hour or so.

She turned to Duke, "Is that kind of beer alright? It's been some time since I last raided Adelaide's liquor cabinet but if you want something stronger or—,"

"What? No, just—forget the beer!" Duke interrupted, gesturing emphatically as he spoke before focusing intently on her again, "Jennifer, are—are you okay?"

She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Like I said, I was just, uh, remembering…something. But it's, um, it's not important right now."

He kept studying her and her gaze turned the slightest bit desperate as she tried to communicate to him: Later. Please. Not now. I will tell you. Later.

He studied her for another moment, understanding what she wanted, but also suddenly fighting every impulse he had to either tell the others to go away so they could be alone, or to just grab Jennifer and take her back to the Rouge to do that anyway.

Though, in all honesty, the latter had been the case since he found her again.

He finally just sighed and picked up the beer bottle she'd brought him to look at the brand, "Yeah. This kind's fine."

She smiled her thanks to him, squeezing his fingers again, and looked at Holly as she asked a question about her most recent artistic endeavor. Holly gave her a speculative look before allowing the subject to be changed, giving some details about the recent series of paintings that she was working on. Joshua, for his part, seemed unfazed by Jennifer's flash—concerned, perhaps, but primarily unfazed—as he continued to eat his dinner. He did, however, glance at Adelaide who only smirked at him when their eyes met, earning a responding smirk from Joshua. Duke took note of the exchange but continued to be unsure of how to interpret it. Adelaide turned her gaze back to Duke and Jennifer and kept glancing between them, a calculating look in her eyes, even as a small, knowing smile lightened her features; an expression that seemed to be her default.

Duke was getting really annoyed with that look.

---

For it's rough start, dinner went surprisingly well. The women spoke with the fluidity of old friends long parted and reunited—all old jokes, shared memories, conversations exchanged with a glance, wits so sharp Duke was certain someone had to be bleeding at times, and rapid fire exchanges. Jennifer laughed so hard at one point she almost snorted her red wine out of her nose, which only sent the rest of the table further into hysterics.

He learned about how Joshua had taken to running the art gallery next door to not only encourage local artists, but to showcase many of Holly's new pieces before they were available elsewhere—there had been a shift between Holly and Joshua when the subject came to him and his acquiescence of the gallery that Duke immediately picked up on, though Jennifer hadn't seemed to notice and that only made his suspicion of Joshua grow. He learned about the three years Jennifer had spent living with Holly, Andre, and a couple of his friends during their undergraduate years, he even learned about the first time Jennifer tried pot under the guidance of one of those friends. He wondered if part of the reason they were all so willing to share had anything to do with the not one, but three bottles of wine and three cases of beer that were opened over the course of the meal.

For all her jokes and assumptions about what Duke probably already knew about her, though, he actually learned a great deal more about her over the course of the meal than he had in all their time together. Then again, what time they had had together had been cut unfairly short, so who knows when he would've actually learned these things if things had gone differently.

Regardless, Jennifer had been downright giddy throughout the whole meal, laughing loudly and easily, even bouncing in her seat a few times as she'd spoken; in Haven, he'd seen her adapt to situations and into his life seamlessly and thrive, but here, here she was in her element and he was struggling to keep up with her to return the favor. She had confidence, she spoke plainly and abruptly, and she was happy.

For all their laughter, though, none of them could do anything about how some inconsistencies in Jennifer's memories would show up in some of the stories about Adelaide and Jennifer's shared childhood. Specifically, when Jennifer had been sharing a story from their childhood and had turned to Adelaide to verify a fact about the event only to not only second guess herself and her certainty that Adelaide had even been there, but to also be met with some confusion and negation from Adelaide.

"But I was sure…" Jennifer had started to say, her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at Adelaide.

Adelaide had shaken her head at her cousin, her features etched with sadness, as she said, "Sorry, Jen, I, uh, I don't remember being there for that."

Thankfully, that had only brought the room down briefly, as immediately after that Holly shared some extravagant story about a trip she and her husband had gone on, distracting them. Though Jennifer still seemed slightly distracted throughout the rest of the meal after that.

Duke shifted on the couch on the main floor of the shop, turning his face towards the back of the couch. Dinner had ended a few hours ago, Holly and Joshua walking (well, stumbling in Holly's case) back to his place next door, and Adelaide and Jennifer both leaving Duke shortly after. As Jennifer and Adelaide said their goodbyes to Joshua and Holly, Duke had hazarded a text to Dwight with Adelaide's name in it, asking him to pull up what he could about the bookstore owner. Her actions and what they'd talked about as they'd worked on dinner solidified more suspicion of her in Duke and he was hoping Dwight would be able to give him something to work with. Dwight had replied with a simple "I'll look into it," earning a quiet vote of thanks from Duke to the Universe for Dwight's inherent understanding of when to ask questions and when to not, when Jennifer had rejoined him in the kitchen.

They had sat around and talked just the three of them, Duke sharing a few, carefully selected, stories about his travels and his life in Haven. Jennifer had watched him with wonder as he described some of the sights he'd seen, and Adelaide…well, in all honesty Duke hadn't been paying her any attention—not with Jennifer looking at him the way she was. It only lasted for another hour or two, before they had decided to call it a night.

After Adelaide had headed up to the loft, Jennifer had brought him an extra pillow and blanket before telling him about the bathroom that was in the back far right corner of the store. They had looked at each other for a long moment after she'd finished talking about some of the basic things Duke could need in the night, and he'd thought, or more accurately hoped, that they'd be able to pick up where they'd left off in the kitchen or even outside of the shop—he'd even entertained the idea of telling her that he was certain they would be perfectly capable of continuing their conversation just the two of them. She'd seemed to consider those possibilities as well before blushing at him and mumbling a quick "Good night" to him, leaving him to fall back onto the couch in exasperation. He'd placed his boots on the floor by the end of the couch that was closest to the store entrance, and he'd thrown his over shirt over the arm of the same end of the couch.

The couch was, in fact, rather comfortable, even for how old it looked to be, but Duke knew from the start that he wasn't going to really be sleeping; he hadn't actually been able to sleep for a year, and when he had been able to sleep, it was only with the assistance of a lot more alcohol than what he'd had tonight. He'd hoped that maybe since he was at least in the vicinity of Jennifer, he'd feel at ease enough to finally sleep. So far, however, that was proving to be a fool's hope.

He stood from the couch, giving up on sleep for now, and started browsing the shelves of the store, using the light from the streetlight pouring in through the front windows to read the titles; not really looking for anything specific, but he figured, hey, he was in a bookstore, just as well read if he couldn't sleep.

As he browsed, he let his mind wonder back over the events of the dinner. Duke hadn't been to many family dinners in his life; the ones he had been to certainly hadn't been so involved, nor had they been so warm and welcoming. Holly, Adelaide, and Joshua didn't press Duke for his own stories about his past or travels, but when he did share, they welcomed him. They didn't know him, hardly had any reason to trust him, and yet they had welcomed him into their home, to their table, into their lives; just like Jennifer had from the moment she met him.

He wondered, again, if part of whatever it was that Adelaide was made her so similar in manner and habit to Jennifer was the reason for why she seemed so willing to let him into her home and near her daughter. Holly he could excuse, even understand; while he hadn't actually met the woman until all of this had happened, he at least knew Holly and knew how she was with Jennifer enough to see them interact and mirror each other in interesting ways. Adelaide, however, was still an enigma. An enigma who continued to try to convince him, in part, that she was on his side or at least willing to be, to be sure, but an enigma nonetheless. If Duke were in Adelaide's position, he'd keep Jennifer as far away from him as possible.

Duke sighed to himself; but then again, if he'd had Jennifer at all, this wouldn't be an issue to begin with.

He pulled a book from a shelf to flip through. As he did, another book fell off the shelf and onto the floor, hitting him squarely on the foot. He flinched at the sound it made as it landed, and at the slight pang of pain that ran through him from where the book landed, and looked towards the back of the store where Jennifer had gone at the end of the night. While he wouldn't mind a late night chat, he didn't want the circumstances of it to be because he was out on the main floor of her "cousin's" shop making noise, potentially snooping.

Something about it reminded Duke of one of the first late night chats he and Jennifer had had when she'd first moved onto the Rouge. She'd been rummaging through his cabinets to find a saucepan, and had been mumbling something about how he was going to think she snooping around.

"Oh, you know, just pulling out every single piece of cookware you happen to own at two in the morning just to strike up a conversation. Have you heard about Pluto? That's messed up, right?"

But that had been then, and this was now.

And right now, his foot hurt like a motherfucker.

When nothing happened, Duke let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and leaned down to pick up the runaway book, only to freeze halfway to it as the title became clearer.

"Oh, what the fuck," Duke whispered, grabbing it from the floor, the pain in his foot forgotten.

The Child of Ruin was written in red, scrawling script across the top of the battered paperback. It was a primarily black cover except for the image of a door that'd been cracked open, letting a bright, white light through but the light wasn't strong enough to illuminate anything more than part of the door. Under the image, where one would expect to find the author's name, there was only Anonymous in the same script as the title. The design reminded him of that damn Unstake My Heart book that had led them to the lighthouse and ultimately to the situation he found himself in now, and he debated just tossing the book out into the street or, hell, maybe into an open fire.

Instead, Duke put the other book back on the shelf that he'd originally pulled it from, and took The Child of Ruin with him back to the couch. He climbed back onto the couch over the back of it and fell heavily onto the cushions, still studying the cover. He turned it over, hoping to see a synopsis or something that would give some insight into the contents of the book, but something told him he already knew what the book was about.

There wasn't much of anything on the back for him to review anyway, which for another, more normal book, would be suspect enough, but for this book and for the circumstances that he found it in, he imagined that he should just be grateful he got a title and an author name, even if it was one hell of a cop-out author name. He stretched back out on the couch, holding the book in his hand and studying it. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, having a staring contest with the cover of the book, before he finally just sighed at it, "Fucking fine. You win."

He opened the front cover of the book and immediately fought the urge to throw it across the room or to find some lighter fluid and a match to burn the damn thing.

The dedication page read: Congratulations. You found me. But will she find her way back to you? Good luck.

"What. The fuck." Duke growled at the book.

The book, of course, did not reply.

And even if it had, it probably wouldn't have helped its case.

Duke flipped the pages, probably a bit more aggressively than was necessary, mumbling threats to rip the pages right from their binding and very nearly doing just that as he continued to flip the pages, until he found the first chapter and began reading, Jennifer Mason was brought into this world on June 12th, 1981. She was adopted and raised by Arthur and Imogen Mason…

The first chapter covered the whole first part of her childhood. The highs, the lows, and it ended with Jennifer being in the kitchen of her childhood home, and her mother telling her about how the little things in life were the most important. It was almost verbatim how Jennifer had told him about that same moment when they had been together. There was no mention of Byron Howard or of Haven, no mention of an inter-dimensional space where Jennifer had been pulled from, there was no Adelaide; it was just her life as Duke understood it had been when he first met her. Part of him felt like he was reading a diary; becoming privy to a part of her life that he had no business knowing about yet or ever. She hadn't told him about this, she hadn't shared this with him. He closed the book and shoved it between the back of the couch and the cushions, and began debating what he should do with the damn book, when he heard the quiet sound of a door opening and gently closing from somewhere at the back of the shop.

He heard metal jangling from that same direction, as well as a hushed and anxious, "Sh, Little John."

He smiled at the voice, and rolled slightly to pick up his phone from the floor by his shoes to check the time—a little after three in the morning.

She must've had a nightmare.

That feeling of déjà vu from earlier came back; of the first time he found her making hot chocolate in the kitchenette on the Rouge. Of course, then she'd been fighting with his flatware and talking to herself about how he was going to think she was snooping through his stuff and trying to find something she shouldn't be finding.

She walked around the corner of a bookcase that was only a few feet from the couch and peeked at him, trying to determine if he was awake or not. Part of her hoped that maybe Little John's jangling hadn't woken Duke on the couch, but another part also hoped that he was awake, just to make her walking around a bit less awkward. There wasn't anything exactly appealing about the idea of walking around the sleeping form of the man she'd just been on a date with and whom her cousin had insisted on letting spend the night. It was going to be awkward either way, she knew, but maybe if he was awake, that awkwardness would be lessened. She didn't really know how it could be lessened, but she clung to the hope nonetheless. He was still wearing his jeans and a tank top but he'd shed his over shirt, revealing his toned and tattooed arms. She wondered about the story behind his tattoos; Adelaide usually either had a story behind hers or could make one up on the fly and something told Jennifer he could have some rather interesting stories behind his. Jennifer tried to hide that she was staring at him when he waggled his fingers at her in a wave.

She sighed and stepped out around the bookcase, glad that it was dark enough that he probably couldn't see her blush, with Little John right next to her as she asked, "It was Little John shaking his head that woke you up, wasn't it?"

Duke chuckled at her as he sat up, Little John took that as an invitation to cross from behind Jennifer towards him and put his face in Duke's, tail wagging at a mile a minute. Duke grinned at Little John as he scratched his head and body, mumbling quietly to him about how he was doing and if he was a good boy, to the complete enjoyment of Little John. Duke looked back at Jennifer as she came to stand by the couch, her arms crossed over her chest—she was suddenly very aware that she wasn't wearing a bra—and her usual mug hanging from one of her hands, "Nah, I've been up for a while."

She gave him an apologetic look, uncrossing her arms and tugging slightly on the hem of her purple t-shirt without thinking, "Sorry, I knew this couch probably wasn't the best place to set you up."

Duke shook his head again as Little John sat in front of him, now happily panting as Duke scrunched his face in his hands, trying to focus on Little John and not on what pulling her shirt tight against her front revealed to him, "The couch is fine—I've slept on much worse, believe me."

At her smirk, he continued, "I've been having trouble sleeping for awhile now, anyway."

She shifted nervously, "Oh. I'm sorry."

Duke waved her off, "Don't worry about it. And besides, it would look like I'm not the only one. What're you doing up?"

Jennifer ran her hand through her hair, and he noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she did. With the hair moved further out of her face, he noticed that her eyes were a bit puffy, as if she'd been crying.

Definitely a nightmare.

He fought the urge to stand and close the distance between them, to wrap his arms around her and wait until her shaking stopped, until she was fully back to her usual, feisty, lively self. But it was too soon and he knew it, so he settled for just waiting for her to tell him what happened.

This waiting was going to kill him.

She let out a slow, careful breath as she said, "I had a nightmare. I was just going to—uh. Well, it's just—um, I usually make—,"

"Hot chocolate?" He smiled at her, saving her from having to explain the whole ritual to him again.

She laughed weakly at him, shaking her head, "Why am I even surprised."

He studied her for a moment before asking, "Do you…do you want some company?"

She smiled at him, "Sure. Since you're up anyway."

She headed towards the kitchenette with Duke and Little John following after her. Little John went to sit in front of the fridge and kept his eyes on Jennifer. He wasn't watching her protectively, like Duke would expect, but rather like this was part of their routine.

Duke wondered what Little John was to Jennifer. There was no way that the people who'd taken Jennifer couldn't falsify the love the dog clearly had for Jennifer, but at the same time there was no possible way that Jennifer could've had him for as long as she claimed she did. And then there was the fact that Little John seemed to trust Duke not only in general, but even just with being near Jennifer.

Duke sighed internally; Was anything in this fucking shop normal?

As she carefully started pulling out a saucepan and the milk so they wouldn't make too much noise, Jennifer said over her shoulder to Duke, "So. You know the whole q-e-two deal with my post-nightmare process, I take it?"

"Well enough," Duke commented as he leaned against the wall he'd stood against before dinner as she grabbed a spoon from a drawer, "Just waiting for you to start talking about it."

She let out a breath of a laugh as she poured the milk into the pan and began to warm the milk on the stove, "Nightmares probably don't fit on that 'normal first date talk' list of yours, either, huh?"

Duke smirked, "Sweetheart, I think we've blown anything 'normal' about this straight outta the water by now."

"Oh, I don't know; something tells me this wouldn't be the first time you've spent the night at a girl's house after only one date," She commented, smirking at him again with her eyes sparkling like they did when she was being sassy at him, as she began to stir the milk fairly consistently.

He shook his head at her, "And you'd be right; but usually I'd be sharing a bed with the girl, not benched on her couch."

"I don't doubt it." She conceded, but then she grinned at him, "But I'm worth the wait."

You don't know the half of it, Short Stack, he thought, barely containing his smile. He got close to vocalizing the thought, but instead went with, "So. About that nightmare."

She sighed, knowing that they could probably only flirt for so long before they had to eventually get back to the reason for their three a.m. chat, "Okay. So I had this nightmare, right?"

"Established," Duke conceded, crossing his arms over his chest.

She made a face at him but continued, still stirring the milk, "I was…I was in this room. It was dark green, like a forest green? with white trim for the baseboards and for the closet doors. And I was talking to a therapist who—who, actually now that I'm thinking about it, kind of looked like that weird guy from the park today—I'm sure Freud would be proud of that one—but besides that, it was extra weird, because when I had this same dream last night it was this blonde woman with a nose ring who I thought was supposed to be my friend—but anyway, he was sitting in front of the closet doors, and I just kept trying to tell her about this…this evil, that was with me, and that I needed to stay in the room that we were in, so that whatever it was I had with me couldn't get out."

Duke furrowed his brow at her and continued for her as the milk began to boil slightly, "And the therapist didn't listen to you and he opened the door and the evil got out and that therapist locked you in that room, right?"

She stopped and looked at him, shocked, as he continued, "And the therapist was reading something to you over the intercom that you couldn't understand while you were trapped in that room and suddenly the room was full of doors; some next to each other, and some on the ceiling and floor?"

She was watching him intently now, eyes wide, and he pushed on, "And you started—you started trying all the doors, trying to get out, but all of them were locked. So you, you pounded and screamed while the same three thoughts kept repeating over and over and over in your head—,"

"No one hears me. No one cares. I am never getting out of this room." She'd turned from him as she said it to turn off the stove and so she could pull a packet of hot chocolate mix from the box on the counter. She set the packet next to the mug and gave the milk in the saucepan a few more stirs.

She looked over her shoulder at him, risking a nervous smile, as she carefully poured the milk into the mug, "You gonna tell me my shoe size now? Guess my weight or astrological sign? I'm almost certain I've seen this carnival trick."

Duke rolled his eyes at her, earning a chuckle from her as she mixed her drink and turned to look at him.

Her tone turned serious, "So. I've obviously had this dream before. And it apparently happened while we were together, though I, of course, can't remember it."

It wasn't a question but Duke uncrossed his arms, tapping his knuckles lightly against the wall behind him as he brought his arms down to his sides, and nodded to her, "Yep."

"Hm." She hummed back, taking a drink from her mug and smirking at him, "So, I guess it'd be pointless to tell you the rest of it."

Duke gave her a confused look, "The rest?"

She gave him a self-satisfied smile as she licked some excess hot chocolate from her lips—she didn't miss how his eyes seemed to zero in on the action, and that gave her another boost to her confidence as she said, "Oh, so I finally get to surprise Mr. Know-It-All-Pirate-Guy? Must be my lucky day."

He mirrored the face she'd made at him earlier, earning a giggle out of her. It was short lived, however, as her features darkened and the memory of the dream came back to the forefront of her mind, "You know, it probably wouldn't have been that bad of a dream except for the end. And I don't mean the being trapped thing. And actually, you knowing about it does explain—at least in part—why the last part happened. Happens? Oh Christ that's going to get annoying. And confusing. But, then again, this whole thing is—,"

"Jennifer." Duke interrupted gently. She'd started to ramble and her breathing had started to get rapid, all things that happened when she was anxious about something she was talking about. Duke wanted to close the space between them and hold her, comfort her. He wanted to tell her that she could stop, that she didn't have to tell him anything about it if she was so worried about it, but he knew what she'd say if he offered: "A promise is a promise."

She took a couple of deep, slow breaths, calming herself down. And as if she had read his mind, she mumbled, "I know. It's okay. I want to tell you. I just…"

He nodded and offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "Take as long as you need, Short Stack. I've got all the time in the world for you."

She let another breath of a laugh, "I'm starting to see that."

He watched her, waiting for her to tell him the rest of her dream. She took another steadying breath and continued, "Right. So I'm locked in the room just…just pounding on those doors and those same three thoughts are running through my head and that's, you know, it's own special brand of bullshit, when it changes—I don't mean the dream itself changes but that my…my…aw hell, what's a good word for it, um, my consciousness of the dream changes? Does that make sense?"

Duke just shrugged, "It's your head, Jennifer. If that's what you say happened, then that's what happened."

Jennifer sighed and took a drink of her hot chocolate. She continued, "Sure. Whatever. Okay. So my consciousness of the dream changed—like, I became aware that after I'd realized I'd been trapped, that was when I'm supposed to wake up—but I don't. So I go from thinking 'let me out' to 'let me wake up.' Except that it isn't just, y'know, 'let me wake up'—which would be it's own kind of panic inducing mantra—it's: 'Let me wake up! Please! Let me wake up, he needs me! Let me wake up!'"

Jennifer sighed again, shifting nervously under Duke's gaze that had gone from confused and anticipatory to a mixture of confusion, calculation, anticipation, and hope that had sprung up when she'd said "he." She took another drink to try to buy herself some time before she told him the rest of the dream, and about the voice that she was certain, now, that was his. "And then, while I'm still trying to get myself to wake up, I, uh, I hear another voice."

She took a steadying breath and looked at him, "Your voice."

"The day I first started hearing voices—your voice—it was the most frightened I'd ever been in my life. I felt like a fish who'd just been yanked out of the water—crazy, nuts, and powerless. I don't want to feel that way again."

He pushed the memory away and raised his eyebrows briefly in surprise and stood from the wall, taking a few careful steps towards her until he could lean against the counter. He was careful to stop before he crowded her out, but he still wanted to be close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out to him. The situation was so eerily similar to the first time Jennifer had had a nightmare on the Rouge that he half expected her to start rambling about Pluto not being a planet again.

"What…what was I saying?" he asked, watching her carefully.

She bit her lip nervously and shifted again in front of the stove. Little John stood and walked over to her. When he was beside her, he nudged her free hand with his face so that it rested on his head as he sat. His head came just to the middle of her torso like this, and there was something comforting in the amount of space that Little John took up next to her. She looked to Little John, smiling weakly at him, and scratched his head as she said, "You…you were calling my name. You kept saying my name, over and over again, and you sounded—you sounded desperate and scared and—and lost and you said I wasn't breathing and you kept asking me to wake up and just before I finally managed to wake up—just before I opened my eyes, you—you sound like you're in pain, like something was forcing you to stop talking."

Little John whimpered gently under her hand and leaned against her. She knew he wasn't worried about her; talking about the nightmare wasn't what made her feel anxious or was what had gotten her speaking so rapidly. Her nerves had more to do with how she'd woken up both times after hearing Duke's voice like that in her dreams. She moved her hand so that she was scratching the side of his neck, and he tilted his head up towards her, still watching her.

She nervously glanced at Duke, "And both times—when I've woken up—I…I've felt all that too. I've woken up scared, and feeling desperate and lost, but mostly like I'm trapped. And…and like something's—someone is missing."

She hadn't missed how Duke stilled, or the tension that sprang up in his shoulders and forehead as his gaze fell just to her left, but she didn't know what to do or say to lessen it in him. She set her mug down on the counter and took a step towards him. When he didn't move away or seem to really notice, she risked reaching up to touch his face to get him to look at her, indulging in the impulse she'd had earlier that night. When her fingers brushed his cheek, he all but melted into her touch, his eyes sliding closed as his right hand rose and pressed her hand more firmly against his cheek. Feeling confident, she brought her other hand up to hold his face in her hands and to tilt his head down towards her so that when she spoke to him, he'd look at her. He let her move him how she wanted, and she realized how much he must trust her. Something in the realization made her want to cry; as if some part of her understood that trusting someone didn't come easy for Duke and as if he was gifting his trust to her when she didn't think she deserved it yet.

Duke felt like he was going to fall apart; a feeling he really wished he wasn't so familiar with. She was the one who'd woken up from what could easily be described as a night terror where she'd heard what had been Duke's last words to her, she was the one who was scared and desperate. Yet rather than ask for something from him, for comfort from him, she saw that he was struggling and wanted to help him. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on her touch, when she whispered his name.

He opened his eyes to look at her and felt what was left of the tension in him fade away. She smiled up at him gently, and all he felt was her warmth. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, "Are you okay?"

He slid his right hand down her arm, rubbing her forearm and trying to find the right words when he just said, "I watched you die."

Her eyes widened in surprise and he instinctively tightened his grip on her arm, if only slightly, but she didn't pull away from him as he continued, his voice gruff, "What…what you heard—in your dream—that was—that was what I said before I lost you—or what I said when I thought I lost you."

She didn't say anything for a long time, and she didn't pull away from him, she just let out a quiet, "Oh."

He nodded, leaning down towards her, closer to her. She moved to trail her hands down his arms until she was holding his hands in hers. She smirked weakly up at him, "Well. That just complicates things, doesn't it?"

He let out a weak laugh, the fact that he'd had the same thought earlier that night only vaguely occurring to him as he looked down at their hands, "Yeah."

She looked at him, eyes bright in confusion, barely hidden fear and shining with tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. Her voice cracked as she asked, "What, um, what do you think it means?"

Duke shook his head as he let go of one of her hands and carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail along her jawline gently, "I don't know."

She coughed, trying to make her sob sound like a laugh, blinking and causing the tears that had gathered to spill from her eyes. It was his turn to hold her face in his hands as he brushed the stray tears away with his thumbs, whispering, "Hey, sh, it's okay."

Something in how he was holding her face reminded him of when they had argued about him getting re-Troubled back in what was now starting to feel like a completely different lifetime.

"We were supposed to have our flavored-coffee commercial tomorrow."

Before she could stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his chest. His scent surrounded her and it was so familiar and safe that she didn't bother trying to keep herself from pressing completely against him, or to stop the harder sob that rocked through her. Little John whined gently, taking a step towards them and keeping his eyes on Jennifer but not getting any closer than he had to. Duke froze briefly, unsure of what to do with his arms, before wrapping them around her and holding her closer still as another sob tremored through her and rocked them both on their feet.

This was unfair.

This was completely, emphatically, un-fucking-fair.

This was not how he wanted the first time she was back in his arms to go. He ran his fingers through her hair and placed a gentle kiss on top of her head (while he was at it, this wasn't how he'd envisioned the first time he kissed her—any part of her—would go either), "I don't know, but we'll figure it out, okay? We will. I promise."

She nodded into his chest and took a breath so deep her shoulders lifted and sagged with it. They stayed that way a moment longer, as he rubbed her back gently. Every action he took towards her, even his tone, was so gentle and so careful that she was afraid if she stayed like that any longer, she was going to start crying all over again and much harder. The small part of her that had first recognized Duke, that had only grown stronger since the day before, only made that feeling worse. She pulled away from him, even as the small part of her protested the separation, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, letting out another breath before she turned and looked at the contents of her mug. If Duke didn't know any better, he'd think she was trying to avoid looking at him. She stared into her mug for a moment before remembering that she still had some milk left so she turned and started making herself another hot chocolate.

"You okay?" Duke asked quietly, after her.

"'Okay' is kind of a…loaded word." She said weakly. She was many things right now but "okay" was decidedly not one of them. She was tired and angry and wanted her mind to be on her side for once.

She paused at her own phrasing.

For once.

When had her mind ever been against her? Her newly unearthed memories would suggest that this wasn't the first time her mind had been her enemy, but could she even trust that?

Could she even trust herself?

Jesus, Jennifer, not tonight, she thought to herself as she stirred her mug and sighed again, no more tonight.

She turned back to him, sighing, and asked, "Would…would you mind if I sat up with you? You said yourself you've been having trouble sleeping, and I could use any distraction right now to—,"

"No." He interrupted eagerly, "No, I wouldn't mind."

She ran a hand through her hair again, and smiled at him. As she headed back towards the couch, Little John trailing close behind her, she said, "Think we can actually keep our conversation of the normal variety? I think we've been failing on it most of today."

"Well, third time's a charm." Duke tried to joke as he turned to follow her.

Jennifer let out a chuckle as she sat on the floor in front of the couch, with Little John stretching out on the floor next to Duke's boots.

Duke gestured to the couch itself, "You don't have to—,"

She shook her head as she took a drink from her mug, pulling her legs close to her chest and curling her toes into the plush, shag rug that the couch sat on, on top of the short, coarse, industrial-style carpeting that covered the floor of the shop, "Grab a book; I'll read you something."

He arched an eyebrow at her, "I thought we were going to talk?"

"I changed my mind. I think that if we're gonna keep talking about things that—until recently—only seemed to happen to people in story books, I'd rather read about how they dealt with it." She smiled at him, "And I have it on very good, six year old authority that my reading voice is both entertaining and soothing; maybe I can help you get some sleep."

Duke shook his head at her as he walked towards her. He glanced briefly at the bookcase to his left. As he browsed, she added, "But if my reading doesn't do it, I've been told my singing voice isn't that bad either."

"Yeah I heard you singing something to Brielle earlier tonight," Duke commented, refraining from telling her that he knew she used to sing, and that he knew about her voice; he wanted to try to give her this chance to be normal. She deserved that more than anyone.

She nodded, "Oh, that was her song."

To his confused look, Jennifer continued, "On the day Desmond found out Adelaide was pregnant, he heard this song called "Brielle" and immediately took to calling the baby that. He would sing it to her when she'd act up in Adelaide, and that was always something he sang to her at night once she was born. They never officially agreed that that's what the name would be named but once she was delivered and the nurse asked Adelaide what to write down on the birth certificate, Adelaide immediately answered, "Brielle." Now it's the only way Brielle can get to sleep—or even if it isn't, it's one of the strongest links that she has to her father and Adelaide has no interest in taking that away from her."

She smiled fondly at the memory and, though she was sure he already knew, explained anyway, "But anyway; I've been singing since I was six; through school and a little through my parents' church. I even kept it up slightly in college. And having a niece keeps me in pretty good practice."

Duke chuckled lightly, "Why am I not surprised that you were a choir girl."

"Show choir girl." She corrected, smirking at him, "A lot more dancing. But I draw the line at singing for tonight."

He glanced at her, giving her a sly smile, "Oh? And what would I have to do to get that demonstration?"

She caught on to his meaning and returned his smile, "Wine and dine me, Sailor. Then we'll talk about a dance."

He mockingly scowled at her, "Such work."

She beamed at him, "Oh, but I'm worth it."

Duke chuckled as he pulled out a battered copy of The Collected Works of Rumi from the shelf. He held it out for her to examine and she grinned at him, taking the book from him and setting the mug down to her left, "You didn't strike me as the Rumi-kind,"

He got comfortable on the couch behind her; she was sitting by the middle of the couch so he could still see her face, and made a face at her, "I'm just full of surprises, Short Stack,"

"I don't doubt it," she giggled as she briefly skimmed the pages of the book before finding a poem and beginning to read to him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her voice, losing himself to it just enough that he almost thought he could've fallen asleep a couple of times. She read for quite some time, pausing every once in a while to look back at him to see if he was still awake. Almost as soon as he realized that she'd stopped, his eyes would open again and he'd be looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Eventually, the warm milk from her hot chocolates starting to make her drowsy, she laid down, resting her head on Little John's stomach. Little John lifted his head briefly to look at her, only to lie back down, sighing heavily. Duke shifted so that he was lying on his side and was facing towards her, his right arm hanging over the edge of the couch towards her, not touching her, but staying close to her.

She yawned up at him, letting the book fall to rest on her chest, and smiled tiredly at him, "So has this helped at all? You look as awake as you were before."

Duke smiled down at her and ran his finger over the spine of the book, "I'm plenty relaxed, if that makes you feel better?"

She smirked at him, struggling to keep her eyes open, "A little. You think you're going to be able to sleep?"

He studied her for a moment, absently tapping the book on its spine now, and before he could say anything, she added, "And I recognize that this would be another moment where it would be really easy to lie to me; so don't."

He smiled back down at her, "Okay. I won't."

She reached up and threaded her fingers loosely through his, moving his hand from the book back to her side, "Good."

He looked at her for a moment before answering her original question, "I think I'll be able to sleep. Thanks to you."

She smiled back at him tiredly, "I do what I can."

He shook his head slightly at her, "No. That's the thing. That's the thing about you; you're always doing more than what you can or what you have to do for people—for me."

She ran her thumb over his knuckles, "Was that why you wanted me? I mean—was that why you wanted to…to be with me?"

"Part of it." He said back quietly. That only scratched the surface, but they were both too close to sleep to get into it now. Her eyes slid closed and they didn't open again, her breath evening out. He watched the book rise and fall on her chest for a moment, convincing himself that it would continue to rise and fall like that for the rest of the night, and not suddenly stop like it had under the lighthouse.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was real.

He carefully grabbed the book from her chest with his left hand (which took some rather creative maneuvering on his part so that he didn't pull his hand from her) and set it to the side. Once it was removed, he reached for his shirt and gently placed it over her as a makeshift blanket. She shifted under it so that it was more around her and so that she was the slightest bit closer to him.

He shifted on the couch, readjusting himself on the couch, when he thought he felt her fingers tighten slightly around his. He looked down at her, barely whispering, "Jen?"

"You cut your hair." She mumbled, her eyes still closed, as if she were talking in her sleep.

"Yeah." He whispered back to her. For the first time in a long time, he felt his own exhaustion catch up to him, enough so that he let her mention of his hair barely faze him.

"Why?" she sighed, barely hiding it as a yawn, "I loved your hair."

"I missed you." He said. He didn't know how else to answer or how else to make her understand, so he said it again as he started to fall asleep, "I missed you so much."

She gently ran her thumb over his knuckles again, "Mm."

There was a pause, one that was long enough for Duke to think that she'd fallen asleep again, when she quietly mumbled, "You're growing it back out."

He chuckled, waking up slightly, and tightened his fingers around hers, "You're the boss."

A smile twitched across her face at him as she turned closer towards him, and sighed back, "You're damn right."

They both fell asleep, still loosely connected by their hands.