?So it's just the oil change??

?Yep,? Gregory Finder confirmed to his customer after a hesitant moment of entering his fee into the computer. Oil changes were cheap, and they were much pricier at his garage, and he didn't like the almost counter-productiveness of such a small order, nearly wishing he had added a few superfluous charges to the man's bill to make his visit somewhat worthwhile before his honesty would draw him back to waiting for the man's modest payment.

?Right. Here you go then,? he said, offering him the paper bills before taking a business card on his way out and waving a soft farewell with it. Gregory waved back with a business smile. The man's car was parked outside the door in-front of the garage it had been worked in ? next to Gregory's truck, and Gregory watched him go while the nagging thought of how low his profits were at his newly-opened body shop.

The overhead family movie turned down to the second volume bar was just loud enough to remind him of the everyday grind for just a little bit of money, and this reminder always came just that way ? every day.

He had always wanted to open up a garage whenever he got close to retirement, but after the mass and unexpected layoff from the TKYC Corruption Unit, he saw himself hanging up the open for business sign a tad sooner than he planned, and not even the first week of 'Finder's Auto' bore many fruits. The customers were few, albeit they usually became repeat customers, but it wasn't enough ? not to keep him in business next year: a regrettable thought, and one he constantly found himself coming back to with the excess of downtime he so regularly had.

After a small contribution to the front desk's cash register, he wandered into his cluttered office and sat down in his roller chair as per the routine.

?Another day,? Gregory quietly mumbled, his fingers failing to soothe the trouble centered at his forehead; thoughts of how to provide for his family in the somewhat distant future plaguing his mind. After removing his hands from his face, he took a look around his office, particularly to the accolades he had hung on his wall from his police work in TKYC and political work in Rhy'Din: better times.

Nostalgia always hit him hard from that wall, and mild depression soon after. He was glad there weren't many reflective surfaces in his shop whenever those spells of despondency struck. He didn't like his current appearance ? especially not in relation to his former glory: an unshaven face, untidy hair, poor clothes and a departure of his once-recognizable musculature. He was a wreck and a shadow of his former self, but a fine mechanic as life and his father had prepared him for. But he knew he was less than what he could be right now, and his wife knew it as well.

The thought that he didn't need his reflection singing the same old song to him nearly got him out of the office, but he stayed, continuing to look at that wall of accomplishments he'd hung up to remind him of the good things he'd done; of the good things he was capable of, or else he risk forgetting.

His eyes narrowed at his framed certificates awarded to him from Rhy'Din: his anchor that helped him still see in himself the decent human being that used to reside there. They were not prestigious certificates of distinction by any means, but that was kind-of a mute argument. Their value lied in the recipient's eyes, and Gregory had always been very proud of his work trying to better whatever community he found himself aiding at the time, and always stopping the bad guys that tried to take advantage of them. A contemplative look overtook him then as he remained on those modestly framed Rhy'Din certificates: humanitarian honors for efforts and deeds during the 2011 Rhy'Din gubernational election. He comforted himself briefly with those memories. The 'Home for Everyone' project that never took off but bridged very like-minded philanthropic investors and ultimately provided the shelter to all the shelterless they had been concerned about through the Welcome Center ? except for a single?and memorable?complicated lot.

?I wonder whatever happened to...? Gregory didn't finish talking about the refugees that had spearheaded his platform when running for Lieutenant Governor. It was all coming back to him now: Vanderhorst and Sons LLC., extortion, the Dwarven Mountain Lords, and friends made along the way. But above all these, he finally realized the puzzle piece he had been subconsciously searching for on his wall of accolades: he never found out what became of the refugees they worked so hard to relocate.

There was a story on his shelf without an ending.

After a moment, deep in thought, Gregory removed his hand from his rugged jaw and rose abruptly, grabbing his coat on the way out of the office and out the door, but not before flipping the open sign to its less-inviting side.

The afternoon was the most unusual one Gregory had endured in a long while. He was outside of his comfort zone and yet in a familiar place because of it. His police work helped make the uncomfortable commonplace with him, and a weight lifted from his chest during his bus ride he had now moved on to. It was like being at work again, performing tasks with old tools that felt like they made a difference. All along the ride he brushed up on the history of Vanderhorst and St. Aldwin, beginning to recall what he suspected in the first place: that Vanderhorst ultimately met justice.

That was good and all, but what of the refugees? He recalled hearing they were relocated, but nothing further from the hearsay. He never saw them receive their happy ending that they had been long overdue, and that clawed at his mind more nights in bed with his wife than he would have liked, staring out their window into their empty acreage out in the country ? always wondering ? thinking how he would offer it to them in a heartbeat if he could.

He looked around the bus at his silent and not-so silent riding company, all of them with a story and a destination to go along with it. For him, he needed closure, and his documents all said the same thing that put him on his particular path: Teodin. Apparently, his documents strongly inferred, the people were relocated to the peaceable province of Iiaia, and had settled without complication. But that was all the detail the papers chose to go into apart from giving him sketchy census statistics and clear directions to the region (which he was very grateful for).

His commute was long and not without stops and changing to a second, much bouncier bus, but he eventually came to the isle of Teodin and exited his stop at the town he was intended: Iiaia.

An exceptional brightness prompted Gregory to shield his eyes upon disembarking the bus at the entrance to the town. Once his eyes had adjusted and his hand removed, he first noticed the storybook quality to the town. It looked peaceful, populated, and above all, it looked new.

The town of Iiaia was new, only completing the majority of its construction the past year. But now it was being lived in and providing for townsfolk how a flourishing town might with expansion always in the works and people constantly improving upon the initial foundation. Gregory was spellbound for a moment, walking down the street with a colorful array of persons ranging from men to dwarves and elves to rarer-seen fae spirits. It was a diverse gathering, but also hushed, and one he hadn't been around for a very long time. It was also one of the first things Gregory noticed about the town of Iiaia: a fluttering butterfly would not have been out of place in the warm sun and setting of this town.

?Good day, stranger. Can I help you find anything? The inn perhaps?? Already, the magnificently-bearded dwarf was pointing the inn's location out for him. Gregory shook his head rather quickly?almost reactionary?and squinted his eyes before the sun's brightness.

?No, no. Just ? taking in the sights. Thanks,? Gregory said, and the dwarf nodded politely to him that he was not needed and continued on his way the same direction as him before diverging underneath the shelter of a small outdoor eatery and taking a seat with an apparent friend.

?I hope you enjoy your time here in Iiaia,? he had said, but all Gregory could focus on was his garb and accent, looking for non-existent clues that might tie him to Rhy'Din's Dwarven Mountain Lords. Could he have been one of them that moved here? Too late to ask now. That window of opportunity had already closed.

Gregory came to the end of the street and continued surveying parts of the town he had not yet seen, inspecting them for quality and appropriateness not unlike how a parent might his child's living arrangements?making sure they were up to par?and finding himself stupefied to be underestimating the richness of the town. He consulted his paper again from a still position while people moved past him.

?Iiaia,? he repeated from both the document and the dwarf before looking back up.

Indeed, this was the place. Ergo, these people must have been the same refugees that struggled with threats of intimidation, extortion, and insurmountable debt from the Vanderhorst and Sons LLC case. None of them looked to have a scar upon them, physically or otherwise. Such horrendous things these people went through that threatened to prematurely gray even the sunniest of persons, and yet here they all were, and in the sunniest of sunlight no less, Gregory noted.

Was this the closure he sought? No, not quite, because he was still walking around.

He was still pursuing something... somewhere, and he wouldn't leave until he found it.

?Oh,? she said, surprised to learn the agenda to his visit but quick to return to her natural friendliness. The deadbolt flipped and the door opened, removing the barricade that filtered their conversation. ?Of course, Mr. Finder. My name's Elizabeth Fraser. Please, come in. Can I... get you something to drink? A Zeppa Cola? Tea? I was about to put some on.?

She stepped aside to open a path for him. Gregory took a moment to analyze her features further: a sometimes unwelcome habit honed to commonality by his past profession. Surprise delayed his entrance at his discovery: she was young?not young enough to be one of his daughters, but much younger than he was?frail in frame and yet calloused to a working woman's complexion with pale lines marking her dark shoulders. She looked a sunny spirit to go with her tan, and far too ?undamaged,? Gregory thought, to have been a victimized refugee from the Vanderhorst scandal, but in the foreground of these lesser liner notes, he noticed that she was also blind. Without waiting a noticeable length he would tuck his lips in and silently squeeze past her and the doorway.

?Thank you, Ma'am.?

?I'm sorry things aren't tidier. I've been meaning to clean,? she admitted with embarrassment.

?Don't be. My place is worse, I promise,? Gregory said on the cusp of a forced laugh as he moved some from the door now taking the place in that she regarded as so untidy.

It was a very dark house in contrast to the brightness outside. A lacquered wood color spanned the expanse of her hardwood floor and her furniture matched it, as did the amber gold pattern on her dining room rug. He found a place to stand and look around at the foyer until she invited him in further.

?Vanderhorst, huh. It's been a while since I've heard that name brought up,? she said, though she was smiling as she shook her head?disappointed that it was not later that she had to be reminded of the name?and moved effortlessly to her kitchen. She waved him to roam freely throughout her house before passing into it.

?Make yourself at home, Detective.?

?Thank you,? he automatically replied, moving from the door to the outside of her spacious living room, keeping his coat hung on his arm for the time being. He already had his eye on a recliner draped with a folded blanket. ?And it's not Detective anymore, Ma'am. I've been gone from the precinct almost three years now.?

There was no response for a moment which worried Gregory until she finally spoke and highlighted his nervousness to him.

?Sorry.? She laughed the word, riding on a pleasant memory of hers. ?My father was a cop all his life, long after he retired. I thought all lawmen held onto that identity ? like the badge you never turn in I guess... if that makes any sense.?

Gregory realized rather suddenly the poor terms he'd left his unit on had clouded his original and pure love for the job ? the good it brought. Elizabeth was right, and he took a step back from where his bitter feelings for the TKYC Corruption Unit were leading him.

?It does, Ma'am. You can call me Detective if you want. Gregory's also fine.?

He peered on her in the kitchen, curious as to her awareness of her surroundings. He didn't know any blind people save from being in the same building with them on occasion. Elizabeth was like a newly discovered species to him, and he watched her with keen interest, eager to debunk any of the rumors he'd heard of the blind such as their heightened other senses in the absence of their vision. When people lost their sight, he'd heard, they found other ways to get by.

In her kitchen she effortlessly tuned her stove and centered her kettle on the front burner. Next to her stove was her toaster and a quaint little tile space that held an assortment of Kaldi brand coffee blends. Next to that was an eye-catching plaque that expressed in stylish font how welcome all who entered this house were.

?Gregory it is then. I want to call you what you want to be called after all.? Elizabeth came out of the kitchen then, smiling and making an unnoticeable effort of walking to her breakfast table and finding a chair, inviting Gregory to the one next to her. ?Please, have a seat and tell me what's brought you to my doorstep. Is this your first time in Iiaia?? She put her chin down in her open palm up on the table and aimed what would have been her gaze mostly on point after Gregory took the seat next to her, draping his coat on its shoulder opposite her.

?It is, and it's nothing urgent, Ma'am. You see, I worked on the Vanderhorst case some years ago with some leave from my own job to work the case with the authorities in Rhy'Din. Unfortunately, I never got to be there when the case was officially closed, and to be honest, it has kept me up plenty of nights wondering what happened to all those people caught up in that legal storm,? Gregory explained, clasping his hands slowly on the table, uncomfortable again.

?Sounds a whole lot like you're looking for closure, and please, call me Elizabeth. 'Ma'am' makes me feel old!? Her seemingly always-present smile returned, but this time at Gregory's expense. For her, hangups like his made very little sense. There were too many things to enjoy in life to be dwelling on the past like he was. But similarly, Gregory couldn't fathom her moving past Vanderhorst's treatment of her and so many others. It warranted so much of the rage he held for him, but with the case closed and justice served, just how much longer was he going to stay haunted by it? He looked away from her vase of flowers on the table to her face and barely fogging green eyes, void of any answers to his quandary while catching a look of such realization on Elizabeth's face.

?What did you say your name was again??

?Gregory Finder.?

?Excuse me one moment. I think... I have something.? She was up and walking to her desk where a surprising assortment of books were shelved given the space there. Even more impressive was how expeditiously she sifted through individual books and then the pages of the one she pulled. She was still flipping pages even as she came back to him at the table, hinting at an urgency in the back of the volume's contents.

?This is the one,? she said, joining him again, this time with his assistance back to her chair since she had been multitasking. Noticing it was braille she was searching across, he retreated back to his own chair some, calming his curiosity since he was unable to gather any clues from an inspection of her book.

?It was a very famous day when Guy Vanderhorst's legal firm was brought down,? she began, still going over lines on her pages at the back of the book. ?The best we could manage was a number of radios at our camps outside the Dwarven Mountain Lords' home, but we all heard the report one way or another: how Rhy'Din officials and Saint Aldwin knights?led by none other than the Baron of Saint Aldwin himself?marched ahead of news and media outlets with their film crews and flashing cameras into a business conference Vanderhorst was holding and arrested him on his own table in-front everyone.?

Gregory listened to her paint the picture of the ending he'd sought ever since having to walk off the case. Men and women's names he'd forgotten because he hadn't had enough time to work with them?decent lawmen and passionate detectives?and refugees as well. Forgetting their names and some of their faces was the ache that accompanied his itch to find out what happened to Vanderhorst. Since he knew what became of him, he had to find out about the people he'd tormented and make sure they were okay. Elizabeth Fraser was a great starting point, he realized.

?I noticed this town isn't that old...? He set her up, waiting for her to fill him in on the aftermath of Vanderhorst's storm that reportedly brought so many refugees to Saint Aldwin.

?Iiaia is a very new town, yes. I can still smell the new store smell in some of the shops. The last building to get completed was a restaurant on the street corner ? that was in January I believe... when they had their grand opening. But I know we have dozens of projects in construction. We're supposed to be getting a theater this fall! And you saw Rar's brewery on the way here, I'm sure. I know he's building a distillery off the coast of Sainte-Ouen as well. But as far as expanding land development, I believe we're leaving the beautiful countryside alone for the time being. I think the last of us that decided to officially make the move here got settled a few months ago.?

?Rar Deephand? Dwarf??

?Yes, do you know him??

?I do,? Gregory hushed with surprise, trying to imagine the face of the dwarf he barely knew. ?He lives here, too??

Elizabeth laughed. ?He lives across the street from me. His house is the one right next to the Iiaia Beer Co. He's a delightful fellow! And he enjoys his drink, of course, but let's make no mistake. He's a very musical drunk when the night falls. You can hear his banjo-playing from the road some evenings if you catch him at the right time.?

?No kidding.?

?Go speak with him anytime if you don't believe me. I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing an old friend again.?

While Gregory mulled over the status of the town given this information in unison with Rar's apparent citizenship, Elizabeth rose to a whistling teapot.

?Ooh, tea's done.?

He stayed and chatted the remainder of the hour before respectfully announcing his need to get back to Rhy'Din, and despite her urging that he rent a room in town and catch up with his dwarven friend, she had elevated his spirit well enough that he felt he could return home free of anymore guilt. Moving to the front porch, she would wave him off outside.

?Come back and visit anytime, Mr. Finder,? she said, and Gregory turned back to her with a shoe up on her first brick step of her porch.

?I think I will, Miss Fraser. And if you didn't object too strongly, I happen to know my way around the construction of a fence.? He looked out to her incomplete one which would then need painting afterward. ?It'd be no trouble at all to come up on the weekends and work on it.?

?You don't have to do that,? she said very procedurally, seeing quite clearly what his reasoning was for asking. It wasn't any sympathy for the blind, she didn't think. She had been able to tell early on that her blindness hadn't bothered him, only entertained a curiosity of his that was very common to her outside of her circle of friends. But what was perhaps worse was why he was actually asking: he seemed to still feel the need to help the refugees in place of not helping them when he would have liked to. She thought she'd convinced him he was as much a part of the team of humanitarians that brought about their happy ending, but she couldn't blame him, and she could understand his need to do work he could see if it gave him that peace of mind. It was all very innocent in the end as well, and it wasn't as though she would have disliked the completion of her fence.

?It'd be no trouble at all,? he repeated at meeting her mild defense, ?unless you have someone else working on it for you.?

Elizabeth took hold of the pillar that stood at the top of her stairs while thinking back briefly on the beginning of the fence's construction. She remembered well who it was that began building it. He liked to build things with his hands when he could, he had told her once, and even though he hadn't gotten very far, it seemed to have left a very pleasant and impressionable memory with her. Nevertheless, he hadn't been able to come back and resume his work as evidence by the waiting lumber just off the road, and the job still needed doing.

Finally, she relented.

?If you're so determined to work on my fence...?

?I am, Ma'am.?

Ma'am again. A nice sort of sigh came. She thought she'd swayed him from that archaic and slightly offensive mannerism. ?I work during the week at the general goods store. I could pay you??

?No pay, Ma'am. But a glass of that tea would sure go over nicely after a few hours working under this sun, I'd imagine.?

?I could manage that.? Elizabeth smiled.

?I will see you this weekend! Say, eight o'clock? I'll get an early start, and for lunch in town, we'll see what kind of review I leave that restaurant you mentioned.?

Gregory waved to her once more before heading back down her gravel road, past her Fraser-marked letterbox, and giving a last look in passing to the pile of lumber awaiting assembling next to the just-begun fence.

Out on the main road, he set his eyes on the country home next to the Iiaia Beer Co. plant.

A smoke was shared briefly by the fireplace before Gregory again insisted he had to go, returning the borrowed pipe to Rar's mantle. Rar was a talented host to persuade him for another tour of his collectibles and keepsakes, but when he ran out of those, Gregory began to find himself better equipped to inch himself closer to the door.

?Really, I must be going now, Rar. But thank you for the whisky and cakes. I'll enjoy the whisky, and Sharon will love the cakes, I'm sure, so thank you.? Gregory gestured with them in each hand.

?Don't bogart the whisky!? Rar laughed, placing his fully cleaned pipe on the mantle before wiping his hands off on his chest and walking back out to the deck with him as the sun began to sink down behind the town of Iiaia.

?It was good to see ye again, Findar. Yer a guut man. Tell yer wiefe I said hallo.? Rar shook Gregory's hand firmly after he moved both his items to the same arm for carrying temporarily.

?It was good to see you too, Rar. I'm happy everyone seemed to make it out from that hellhole we couldn't for whatever legal reason get them out of. I'm happy to see you're doing so well,? Gregory said.

?Come by again this winter. Me and some of Saint Aldwin and Rhy'Din's top blenders are embarking on a polar expedition over a few days to pay tribute to our brewing forefathers of yesteryear... and leave several cases of a new blended malt we all had a hand in producing?and will be available early next year?behind for the world to discover decades from nowe ? much in the way we discover old spirits that have made us fall in love with traditional whisky-blending in the furst place.?

?Wow, I'll sure consider that also, Rar. Have a good night now.? Gregory never sounded so automated, but he was eager to get out of there. Judging by the way Rar hadn't even suspected he was uninterested threw up the flag that he'd be there all night if he didn't put his best foot forward and head for the bus.

Things quietened once again at the edge of Rar's property and a coolness comforted him in the shade now with dusk upon him. He looked back at Rar's deck, the dwarf inside now and illuminating his windows with a freshly lit kerosene lantern. It was a beautiful scene. All of it was beautiful. And on his way back down the gravel-crunching road it hit him.

?Yeah... I'll definitely come back.?