A/N: Yes, I used to live in Green Bay. The depiction is accurate. Sorry, Krolls, the ambiance is good, but if you ever find yourself in "Titletown, USA", go eat at the Aurora Baycare Hospital's cafe instead - an excellent place to get top quality food for dirt cheap prices.

Chapter 33 - The Space Between Us

"A man is not what he thinks he is. He is what he hides." - Andre Malroux

December 23, 1988

Daisy couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "Camping? In winter?"

Enos shrugged. "You've never been camping until you've slept in an ice fishing shanty on a lake with a wind chill of 40 below."

"Sounds like a Yooper thing."

"I'm starting to think I was born in the wrong state," he admitted. "We'll see what we can find. Indianapolis is 10 hours from here, but that's pushing my limit for driving seeing as how it's already after 2:00.

The next few hours passed slowly, as hours often do on the road. Daisy fiddled with the radio, listening to Christmas carols parsed with occasional chatter from the police scanner. When she tired of the radio, she coaxed him into playing 20 questions, but neither were very good at it. Enos was a solid 'NO' on Truth or Dare.

Somewhere between Escanaba, Michigan and Marinette, Wisconsin, they gained an hour, which put put them traveling through the heart of Green Bay, Wisconsin, just shy of 4:00pm CST. Daisy had expected an NFL city to be bigger and flashier, but Green Bay was more a conglomeration of small towns stuck together. It was so anti-climactic that she didn't notice the huge green and gold stadium on the corner of Lombardi Avenue and Oneida Street until they drove right past it.

They ate supper at a small hamburger joint across from Lambeau Field named Kroll's, which hinted they had invented the butterburger (a claim which Daisy thought spurious). The food was good but overpriced, and she suspected they were paying for all the signed Packer memorabilia on the walls.

The route south from Green Bay to Chicago was sparsely populated, consisting of rolling hills and farms with red barns and stone silos that might have been standing at the turn of the last century. In areas where the snow had blown away, remnants of summers' crops stood broken and still beneath the purple-pink hues of waning daylight.

On the outskirts of Milwaukee, Highway 57 merged onto I-43 and the traffic bottlenecked to a 30 mph stop-and-go crawl which seemed unbearable after their previous 70mph. Enos must have been thinking the same, and after getting cut off by an idiot in a white Geo Sport, he flipped on his light bar. Cars quickly shifted, and a path miraculously appeared in front of them like Moses parting the Red Sea. Enos drove to the breakdown lane, passing the sea of stopped traffic.

"That's cheating!" she gasped as he flipped the truck's emergency lights back to their 'off' position. "You can't just turn your lights on anywhere you want!"

"Technically, there ain't no law against it." He glanced over and laughed at her shocked expression. "You really think a Milwaukee County deputy would pull me over? That'd sure be a mess of paperwork. They've got better things to do, Daisy."

By 6:00pm, the last rays of twilight had disappeared. The city sprawl of Chicago had given way to long, dark stretches of two-lane highway broken once in a while by a small, dimly lit town or the pole light of a farmhouse. This far from cities, the stars were brilliant, and Daisy rested her head against the glass of the passenger window. The hum of the tires against pavement sent her into a dreamless sleep.

She awoke to find two hours had slipped past. The scenery hadn't changed and she wondered how Enos could stay awake on such a boring stretch of highway. She glanced over at him, but couldn't see his face.

"Sorry," she muttered, pulling wayward hairs out of her mouth. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He yawned. "Oh, that's alright, but I'm gonna need you to talk now and keep me awake."

"You think the snow's stopped in Tamarack, yet?" She hoped she didn't sound too giddy about it. Highway 123 being closed meant that Enos would be stuck with her in Hazzard - a prospect almost too good to be true.

"Probably. You know it's supposed to be almost 60 degrees in Hazzard? You'll be thinking it's June after getting used to Michigan."

Hazzard... "I can't believe by this time tomorrow, we'll be there."

She wondered what Bo and Luke's reaction would be when they saw Enos. How was she going to explain ending up with him? She'd already taken a page from Enos in 'lying by omission' (as Joy put it) and let them believe she was in Detroit for three months.

Not that it was their business, she reminded herself. She was 34, not 10, and if she wanted to visit an old friend, she didn't have to announce her plans to the world. In the back of her mind was the dismal realization that Uncle Jesse, had he still be alive, would have tracked her down long ago. He always did have a way of knowing what mischief she was up to.

That was another reason she'd wanted Enos with her. Enduring a Christmas without Uncle Jesse was bad enough, but she would be subjected to the endless scrutiny of her cousins who treated her like a porcelain doll which might crack without direct supervision. Enos understood her better than her cousins had - maybe better than she did. Instead of trying to mold her back into whoever she used to be, he'd encouraged her to be herself and try new things. It had been weeks since she had thought about the accident. The doctors in Atlanta would be astounded - healed by snowball fights, hockey, and green, fiery skies.

But mostly, it had been him.

Shifting her body back to face the road, she slid her elbow onto the armrest so it touched his slightly, imagining a current of electricity connecting them, and through it she sent all the love she kept from him. He moved his arm, and she frowned into the darkness.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere south of Chicago and north of Indianapolis, I reckon," he said through another yawn, and rubbed his face. "I'm gettin tired."

The truck's clock glowed 11:43pm and she realized the poor guy had been awake since 5:00am that morning and hadn't planned on an impromptu drive to Georgia. "You think there'll be anywhere to stay?" she wondered. "Doesn't seem like much out here other than raccoons, deer, and possums."

"We'll be on the outskirts of Lafayette, soon," he said. "There might be a speed trap just inside the city limits. If there is, I'll pull over and ask if they know any place to stay."

Miles clicked by and eventually a glow of city lights bloomed on the horizon. Billboards and signs advertising stores in Lafayette, Indiana, littered the sides of the highway. Ten minutes later, Enos pulled into a Exxon station where two black and white Tippecanoe County patrol cars were parked.

"I'll see if these fellas have any ideas on where to stay."

She sighed and unbuckled her seat belt, stretching her stiff back. "I'm gonna use the bathroom and walk around for a minute," she said. "You want anything?"

"No, I'm alright, thanks though."

The Indiana night wasn't as cold as the day they'd left in Michigan, but the wind was brisk and the frozen ground was laced with crusty patches of old snow amidst the trash and leaves. She had put her heavy coat into the Bronco's trunk, but she needed something more than the short sleeves she was wearing.

"Hey, can you unlock the truck? I'm gonna put on a sweatshirt." He turned and tossed her his keys. She hit the 'unlock' button twice and opened the rear door.

Being a police interceptor, the backseat was a hard plastic bench with locking seat belts. The black duffel bag had slid off and fallen behind Enos' seat, and she had to pull herself up into the truck to reach it. As she yanked it up, the zipper caught on the bottom of the metal grate, opening the bag and spilling its contents across the floorboard.

"Oh, for goodness sakes!"

She grabbed her sweatshirt and pulled it on, then scooped up the rest of her clothes and stuffed them back in along with an assortment of pens, fishing bobbers, and a wadded up piece of notebook paper that Enos had forgotten to clean out before loaning it to her. With a growl of annoyance, she slid back out of the truck and slammed the door.

The cashier looked up with a blank stare as she entered, obviously not thrilled with his current employment. The smell of stale cigarettes and coffee hung thickly in the air and she navigated around stacks of boxes towards the bathroom. When she came out, Enos was laughing with two deputies by the coffee pot. Not wanting to bother him, she hung back until one of the them saw her and smiled.

"I was just telling your Sheriff how my brother and I used to go down to Savannah and hunt crawdads in the summers," he said. "Sure wouldn't mind some of that Georgia heat right now."

'"I hear it's real pretty down there," she said, moving to stand beside Enos, "but don't think I've ever been."

"It's worth the trip, especially if you guys like history. Those old houses are almost too fancy to live in." He turned back to Enos. "Just stop by the station, and I'll radio dispatch to let them know you're coming. Oh, and don't get freaked out by the cameras. They're all off. They just connect to the screens in the next room."

Enos nodded and shook the deputy's hand. "Listen, fellas, I sure appreciate it. I told Daisy we might have to camp in the snow if we couldn't find anything."

"I'm glad you stopped, Sheriff," said the second deputy. "We're always happy to help out one of our own if we can. You guys have a safe trip and a Merry Christmas."

Daisy followed Enos out the door and back to the truck, handing him the keys and wondering what in the world he'd gotten them into. "So...what's the plan?" she asked, as soon as his door shut.

He started the truck and put it in gear. "First, we have to find the Sheriff's Department."

"I gathered that, but why?"

He laughed. "Lafayette has a hotel room they use to set up drug dealers and harlots."

Daisy was glad of the dark that covered her blush. Occasionally, she ran across terms whose meanings she had forgotten, and while she could usually pick Enos' brain on them, he had outsourced 'harlot' to Joy.

"And we're gonna sleep there!? Gross!"

"Don't worry, Daisy, the cops just bring 'em in and record them exchanging money," he promised. "Ain't nothing unchristian that happens there. In fact, it's probably the cleanest hotel room in the city."

Thinking it over, she supposed he had a point. Enos made a left off of US-52 into a residential part of town. Another left and a right turn later, she asked him if he knew where he was going.

"I think so," he said. "One of the deputies gave me directions. We're almost there. Another right turn and there should be a stop light where we'll turn right onto Duncan Road."

She should have known better than to worry. As he pulled into the parking lot of the Sheriff's Department, she tried to remember if she'd ever seen him look at a map. Definitely not during their trip, even though it wasn't the route he normally took. If the Mackinac Bridge hadn't been snowed in, they would have driven straight south through lower Michigan to Cincinnati. Yet, he'd known every exit to take, and every small town they would pass along the way. He even pointed out an obscure road that led to a state park he wanted to fish at someday. His recall was the polar opposite of her own swiss-cheesed memory.

It made her wonder...

He went inside and a moment later was back, smiling and holding up a key. "It's on the other side of town, by Purdue's campus. Traffic shouldn't be bad this late though...or this early," he amended, looking at the clock.

"Enos?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a weird question?"

"Maybe. What about?"

"Did you see the license plate numbers of the two cop cars at the gas station?"

"Sure, why?"

"Do you still remember them?"

"6817 and 5412. How come?"

"Let's play a game."

He shifted the transmission back into 'park' and turned on the interior light. "You're acting awful squirrely."

"I'm trying to prove a point," she told him. "When's the last time you had to look at a map to get somewhere?"

"Well, let's see..." He crossed his arms and thought for a minute while the truck idled. "I bought an atlas when I moved from California to Michigan. I looked through it a couple of times." He paused, then added cheerfully, "Did you know that no matter what direction you drive from Stamford, Connecticut, you end up in New York?"

"Yeah, see, that's what I mean," she mused. "Have you ever been here before? To Lafayette?"

"No, can't say that I have."

"What town would you get to next if you drive east?"

"It depends on which road you take."

"Whatever's closest." She pointed down the road to their left. "Down this road."

"That's north," he told her, and moved her hand to point straight at the house across the street. "That's east."

"Whatever."

"Well, I suppose that'd be Pyrmont by the crow flies and then Owasco, but you'd have to backtrack and get on 421 to get there. What're all the map and license plate questions about?"

She studied him in the harsh glare of the dome light. His hazel eyes were tired and bloodshot with dark smudges beneath them. "Enos, do you have a photographic memory?"

His eyes widened, and she knew she'd caught him by surprise. "I..." he started, then paused to gather his thoughts, "You know, for all the time we spent together growing up, you've never asked me that before."

"Really? I can't imagine I didn't notice. So, is it true? Can you remember every detail about things that happened a long time ago?"

He shrugged, which she took as a 'yes'. "It's not as amazing as you're making it sound, Daisy," he demurred. "And it's not perfect. Sometimes I don't pay enough attention to things I should. I just don't get lost or forget a face, is all."

"Don't be so dismissive about it. It's a gift."

"Trust me, Daisy, it ain't a gift."

He turned off the dome light and pulled out onto the road, obviously done with that conversation even though she had more questions.

The traffic was worse than Enos had expected. The bars were just closing and the downtown streets were clogged with cars full of semi-drunken party goers. The driver in front of them slowed his Monte Carlo to a crawl.

"He's afraid I'm gonna pull him over and find out he's drunk," he explained, "so he's going way below the speed limit. Nothing's more suspicious than someone driving 15 in a 35."

"But, what if he is drunk? Shouldn't you do something?"

"There's a cop up at the next light. Watch."

As they rolled through the green light, the car in front of them hit their brakes before moving sluggishly through the intersection. Enos flashed his lights at the patrol car in the opposite lane who immediately swung around behind him. Enos moved out of the way and the cop followed the Monte Carlo who got about 500 feet further before getting pulled over.

"What if there hadn't been another cop around?" she asked. "That fella might've killed someone."

"Shucks Daisy, if I see someone committing a crime, I'll stop them even if I'm outside my jurisdiction. I'd just have to radio the local police department to come and take over. I'm glad there was already someone close, though, I don't want to deal with drunks tonight."

"Too bad," she sighed, wistfully. "I'd like to see you cuff and stuff somebody someday."

"You're starting to sound like Rosco," he told her. "I don't do much cuffing or stuffing unless I have to. I think this is it." He pulled in at the Best Western whose lighted sign was missing the 'W'.

"It's a 'Best Estern'," she chuckled. "What room?"

"117," he said. "Probably around back. If it's a room the police stage to catch crooks, they'd want it to be more private."

Room 117 was, in fact, on the opposite side of the hotel. Daisy grabbed her backpack as Enos pulled his duffel bag out of the trunk and followed her to the door. It swung open at the turn of the key, and Enos felt around the wall and flipped on the light switch. The room was small and smelled of bleach, decorated in ugly brown and orange from the walls to the shag carpet. She was relieved to see two double beds, unsure how they would have worked out only having one. Enos probably would've volunteered to sleep on something uncomfortable.

"It gets one star for the hideous decor," she quipped, "but it smells clean."

Enos took his gun from its holster and laid it next to the lamp before falling face first on a bed, "I don't care what color it is just so I can get some shut-eye." He lay still for a moment before turning his head to face her. "Sorry, Daisy, I ain't being much of a gentleman. Which bed do you want."

"Seeing as how you've already drooled on that one, I'll take this one. I'm gonna change."

Enos grunted an acknowledgment and spent the next couple minutes fighting falling asleep. With a sigh, he scraped himself off the bed and knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey Daisy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna change out here, so give me a couple minutes."

"Okay."

He put on the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd brought, realizing he was going to have to borrow some of Bo or Luke's shirts since he'd only grabbed one.

His eyes rested on the gun beside the lamp. Usually, he kept it loaded beside his bed when he was in a hotel. You never knew what might happen, and working Central in LA had taught him to keep his head on a swivel and his gun loaded and nearby.

He picked it up, the weight of the cool metal familiar in his hand, and with a sigh released the magazine and cleared the chamber. The empty weapon he lay beside the bed, but put the ammunition in the drawer below it. He wasn't used to sleeping with someone else in his room, and if Daisy woke him by moving around during the night or going to the bathroom, he didn't want to chance not remembering who it was.

Pulling back the covers, he did a cursory check for creepy crawlies and, finding none, climbed into bed. His last thought was that he had forgotten to set the alarm. It didn't matter; his internal clock never gave him more than a few hours. He drifted off into strange dreams of driving through snow in Los Angeles that led into the familiar nightmare his waking self fought to keep at bay.

He hadn't heard the shot that day. In those seconds which stretched on forever in a timeless loop, there had been only a 'click' and then a horrible ringing in his ear followed by the taste of grit and blood that was not his own before the darkness swallowed him alive.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe...

The sing-song began just as the stars were fading in the sky, and then the click - but before the sound of death came a different sound, overlaid across the dream. A counterpane as melody to the clang of beaten iron; a gentle voice calling his name out of the darkness. He dreamed Daisy sat beside him, as she had the day his father had died, and fought his demons while he slept.

In the morning, he opened his eyes to find her already awake and dressed, reading Jane Eyre in the morning sunlight beside the window. When she raised her eyes and met his with a tired smile on her lips, he knew not everything had been a dream.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

She shook her head. "I'm glad you got some sleep," she said, with a look in her eyes so close to love that it made him shut his own and remember why he was taking her home. She had looked at him that way before, and he'd lost her all the same.

Never again, he thought. She was family - nothing more, nothing less - and that was the end of it.

"Are you okay? It's almost 8:30," she said, "we should probably get moving."

"Yeah, I know," he murmured. "Give me a minute."

He threw back the covers and sat up, rubbing his neck that was stiff from the unfamiliar bed.

Daisy put her book away and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "They've got coffee in the lobby," she told him. "I'll meet you down there after you get dressed."

She was gone before he realized she'd stolen the LAPD sweatshirt out of his bag. Not that he cared, but it was going to be awkward enough when they got to the farm without her looking like she lived in his closet. He grabbed a flannel shirt from his bag instead.

"You're explaining all this to your cousins, by the way," he told her when he found her in the lobby. "This whole plan to find me was your idea, so don't rope me in like I had a hand in it."

She elbowed him playfully. "Oh, I'm sure they'll think it's funny."

Enos wasn't so convinced.