Let me carry your story in my heart

He sees her face from the stage-just one woman in a crowd of thousands singing his song-and the world stops. It's not her looks, though he's not oblivious enough to deny that she's stunning, but something else, something that cuts right through him.

While most of the crowd is grinning ear to ear, clapping along to the upbeat music, her eyes shine too bright, like she's barely holding back tears (like she hears past the music, to the lyrics he'd written in a fit of heartbreak, to the pain he's hidden under drum beats and guitar riffs).

There's a moment-just a moment-where she sees him watching her. Her eyes widen, and she stares back, soft and uncertain.

Then she catches herself, straightens, and gives a dry smile, shaking her head. Her walls are up fast, but not fast enough; he's seen her. She's as broken, as lonely as him, and just as guarded.

He has to meet her. He has to.

"Sit down, sit down, I'll make you dinner," he says as soon as she walks through his door. She looks battered and exhausted in that distinctly Haven way, the way that tells him in a heartbeat that she's battled the Troubles and once again survived (always, he worries, but so far, she's always survived).

If he were Nathan, he'd gather her up in his arms, press kisses to her face, and whisper all his assurances (not that Nathan has been brave enough to do that since her return, but Audrey would let him; she'd never let Duke), but he cannot, so he falls back on what he knows: cooking for her, caring for her, and putting the pieces back together.

To his surprise, she doesn't sit down, just looks at him, like she's staring right through him.

"Audrey?"

"There was a Trouble today." Her voice is steady, though she's impossibly pale. "Everything was different. Everyone was different. Except me."

That's the way it always goes, isn't it? "What about me?" He covers his nerves at her answer with a playful grin. "I wasn't too different, was I? Please tell me I wasn't a cop again."

She gives a little laugh (weaker than he'd like, but something, all the same). "No, not a cop." She pauses, just for a second. "My husband."

It's a blade through his chest, and he looks away quickly to hide the worst of his reaction. It's just... After everything they've been through, why is she telling him this? She knows how he feels about her, and-and she chose Nathan, and that's fine, he can accept that even if Nathan isn't ready to accept the new her, but-

Her hand lands on his shoulder, and he flinches, half-wondering when she approached. "Duke..."

"Well, that's great, Aud. Lucky him." He forces a smile, turning to face her. "What can I get you to eat? Fish? Crab? I know it's late, but maybe some waffles wouldn't be a bad-"

"Duke."

Some part of him hates how, even after all these years, she can fix him in place with a single word. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything." She leans forward, brushing her lips against his cheek, and he closes his eyes (she cannot see, he cannot burden her with what he feels, and-)

When her lips first land on his, he thinks it's an accident. It's soft, tentative, completely unlike Audrey. But then she grows more sure, kissing him firmly, and he cannot help but respond, burying a hand in her hair. After Colorado, he never thought he'd have another chance to do this, and though this may well be his last one, he's going to make the most of it.

At last, she pulls away, and he keeps his eyes closed, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Listen," she starts, and his heart pounds in his chest. "Why don't I make you dinner?"

Against his will, his eyes fly open. "What?"

She actually giggles, which, first of all, is unfairly cute, and second of all, definitely isn't the patented Audrey Freak Out he was expecting. "You're always taking care of me," she points out, "And I feel like... I don't thank you enough. So why don't you let me make you dinner?"

Now is not the time to deflect with humor. He knows that. And yet, when he opens his mouth, the only thing that comes out is, "No offense, Audrey, but I've seen your cooking."

She huffs in mock offense, but her smile doesn't fade, and she's still unfairly close. "I can cook."

It's as natural as breathing, falling back into their familiar banter. "Right."

"I can!"

"Maybe-" He forces himself to take a leap, knowing full well she could pull back (like she has so many times before) and let him crash helplessly to the ground. "Maybe we could cook something together?"

Her smile lights up the shop. "Yeah, I'd like that."