Searching for Monsters Beneath the Surface
Fandom: Haven
Pairing: gen, Duke-centric
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000 exactly
Spoilers: Audrey Parker
Warnings: n/a
A/N: For picfor1000. Story based on this picture.
Disclaimer: Haven belongs to Syfy and Stephen King
Summary: Duke is seventeen when he realizes that, no, he’s not being stalked, he’s being haunted.
Duke is seventeen when he realizes that, no, he’s not being stalked, he’s being fucking haunted. The woman is dressed like she’s some Victorian maiden with the vapors. All ostentatious petty coats or something. Duke isn’t up on current fashion never mind the fashion over a hundred years ago. She’s dressed from head to toe in white and gold and the palest pink. She wears expensive jewelry that has long since been pawned, and her dark curls are pinned to her head with gold. Duke doesn’t know how old she is, maybe in her late thirties. She isn’t beautiful; Duke had always assumed that ghosts were all supposed to be beautiful. She’s not ugly, either.
She’s rough around the edges, even in her expensive (Duke assumes) dress. She’s Haven, though; there’s no doubt about that. Her face shows signs of Haven winters - just small cracks and crevices.
She doesn’t say when she’s from, and Duke doesn’t ask. She follows him around wordlessly. He calls her Marge. He isn’t sure where the name came from, but she looks kind of like a Marjorie.
Duke is twenty-one when his father gives him his boat, and Duke doesn’t spend any time on shore anymore. Marge waits for him on the dock.
Duke travels the world. She stares melancholically into the distance when he leaves, and she stares emptily into the distance when he returns. No matter which shore he sets foot on, when he returns, Marge is waiting for him.
As far as Duke can tell, he’s the only one who can see her.
The Troubles have come and gone and come again. Marge is always there, and then he saves Audrey from drowning.
---
Audrey’s pulling her pants onto her skinny hips - not that Duke’s looking - and she pauses mind rant to ask, “Who’s that?”
She has a pitch-perfect deadpan.
Duke lowers the paper he hadn’t been peering over and follows Audrey’s gaze. She’s looking directly at Marge. She must be, because there is not another soul on the docks. It’s too late in the morning for the fishermen, and it’s too early for the joyriders.
“And why does it look like she’s going to be late for the ball?” Duke can hear the scoff.
“Uh,” Duke says, weighing how much he can hedge before Audrey realizes that Marge is not really there. Duke knows how a cop would respond, but he isn’t sure how an FBI agent would. It would probably end up badly for him.
Marge looks at Audrey as she would a unique shell she found on the beach: pretty enough but might not be as beautiful out of the surf. She then turns to look at Duke, who frowns at her.
Marge raises a questioning eyebrow, but she still doesn’t say anything. It’s almost like she’s trying to convey some sort of message, like she approves of Duke starting a collection of pretty things or Duke should have let Audrey drown or Duke shouldn’t have been peeking at Audrey dressing. Duke’s not sure.
“Welcome back,” Marge says, and Duke nearly falls overboard in surprise. Marge’s voice is a light alto with a bit of Maine stuck to every syllable. Duke was right: she’s Haven through and through. He’s not sure why she’s talking to Audrey, though. Marge had spent most of Duke’s life following him and she hadn’t said a word.
“Thanks,” Audrey says warily, “but I’ve never been here before.”
Marge smiles. “You’ll be back.” She then wanders down the pier to watch the gulls squabble over a starfish.
“Is everyone in this town crazy?” Audrey mutters.
Duke’s pretty sure Audrey will shoot him if he answers, even if her gun is caked with salt. She’s the type who’d find a way.
“Who was that?” Audrey asks again.
“Uh,” Duke answers again. “Don’t worry about it.”
Audrey glares at him, but she lets it slide.
---
Marge still follows Duke around. Most mornings when he arrives at the Grey Gull, she’ll be sitting in one of the patio chairs, watching the waves. Duke’s pretty sure she approves of him putting down roots in Haven. Duke’s not sure when he started wanting the approval of a dead lady.
This morning is no different, except she’s standing at the edge, looking down into the water as if she were searching for monsters directly below the surface. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if there were monsters.
She turns to him with a sad smile on her face. It’s the same type of smile she used when he left for other parts of the world. Duke hasn’t been anywhere but Haven since the Troubles returned. He’s thought about it, though. He’s thought about the open ocean. He’s thought about that adrenaline rush of having one up on the law enforcement. He’s thought about going back to a time before filing taxes. He’s not too keen on filing taxes.
The sad smile reaches her eyes. Duke’d never noticed that before.
“Finally,” she says. It’s the first thing she’s ever said to Duke, and it makes no sense.
She approaches him cautiously, and Duke keeps a wary eye on her. He doubts after all these years she’d go all evil on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind are the Troubles and how they might apply to her.
“You’re here to stay,” she says. She’s directly in front of Duke, staring up at him, assessing.
Duke holds his ground. He thinks about making a smartass remark… but Marge is finally talking to him.
“You don’t need me to watch after you,” she says. “Not anymore. You have other people looking after you now.”
“Um,” Duke says. His eyes cut up to the apartment above the Gull. He’s not sure he likes what Marge is implying.
“And my name is Elizabeth,” she says.
“Oh,” Duke says.
Between blinks, she’s gone, and Audrey is thumping down the stairs from her apartment.
“Morning, Duke,” she says, inclining her head.
“Good morning,” Duke says, and it is.
Pairing: gen, Duke-centric
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000 exactly
Spoilers: Audrey Parker
Warnings: n/a
A/N: For picfor1000. Story based on this picture.
Disclaimer: Haven belongs to Syfy and Stephen King
Summary: Duke is seventeen when he realizes that, no, he’s not being stalked, he’s being haunted.
Duke is seventeen when he realizes that, no, he’s not being stalked, he’s being fucking haunted. The woman is dressed like she’s some Victorian maiden with the vapors. All ostentatious petty coats or something. Duke isn’t up on current fashion never mind the fashion over a hundred years ago. She’s dressed from head to toe in white and gold and the palest pink. She wears expensive jewelry that has long since been pawned, and her dark curls are pinned to her head with gold. Duke doesn’t know how old she is, maybe in her late thirties. She isn’t beautiful; Duke had always assumed that ghosts were all supposed to be beautiful. She’s not ugly, either.
She’s rough around the edges, even in her expensive (Duke assumes) dress. She’s Haven, though; there’s no doubt about that. Her face shows signs of Haven winters - just small cracks and crevices.
She doesn’t say when she’s from, and Duke doesn’t ask. She follows him around wordlessly. He calls her Marge. He isn’t sure where the name came from, but she looks kind of like a Marjorie.
Duke is twenty-one when his father gives him his boat, and Duke doesn’t spend any time on shore anymore. Marge waits for him on the dock.
Duke travels the world. She stares melancholically into the distance when he leaves, and she stares emptily into the distance when he returns. No matter which shore he sets foot on, when he returns, Marge is waiting for him.
As far as Duke can tell, he’s the only one who can see her.
The Troubles have come and gone and come again. Marge is always there, and then he saves Audrey from drowning.
---
Audrey’s pulling her pants onto her skinny hips - not that Duke’s looking - and she pauses mind rant to ask, “Who’s that?”
She has a pitch-perfect deadpan.
Duke lowers the paper he hadn’t been peering over and follows Audrey’s gaze. She’s looking directly at Marge. She must be, because there is not another soul on the docks. It’s too late in the morning for the fishermen, and it’s too early for the joyriders.
“And why does it look like she’s going to be late for the ball?” Duke can hear the scoff.
“Uh,” Duke says, weighing how much he can hedge before Audrey realizes that Marge is not really there. Duke knows how a cop would respond, but he isn’t sure how an FBI agent would. It would probably end up badly for him.
Marge looks at Audrey as she would a unique shell she found on the beach: pretty enough but might not be as beautiful out of the surf. She then turns to look at Duke, who frowns at her.
Marge raises a questioning eyebrow, but she still doesn’t say anything. It’s almost like she’s trying to convey some sort of message, like she approves of Duke starting a collection of pretty things or Duke should have let Audrey drown or Duke shouldn’t have been peeking at Audrey dressing. Duke’s not sure.
“Welcome back,” Marge says, and Duke nearly falls overboard in surprise. Marge’s voice is a light alto with a bit of Maine stuck to every syllable. Duke was right: she’s Haven through and through. He’s not sure why she’s talking to Audrey, though. Marge had spent most of Duke’s life following him and she hadn’t said a word.
“Thanks,” Audrey says warily, “but I’ve never been here before.”
Marge smiles. “You’ll be back.” She then wanders down the pier to watch the gulls squabble over a starfish.
“Is everyone in this town crazy?” Audrey mutters.
Duke’s pretty sure Audrey will shoot him if he answers, even if her gun is caked with salt. She’s the type who’d find a way.
“Who was that?” Audrey asks again.
“Uh,” Duke answers again. “Don’t worry about it.”
Audrey glares at him, but she lets it slide.
---
Marge still follows Duke around. Most mornings when he arrives at the Grey Gull, she’ll be sitting in one of the patio chairs, watching the waves. Duke’s pretty sure she approves of him putting down roots in Haven. Duke’s not sure when he started wanting the approval of a dead lady.
This morning is no different, except she’s standing at the edge, looking down into the water as if she were searching for monsters directly below the surface. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if there were monsters.
She turns to him with a sad smile on her face. It’s the same type of smile she used when he left for other parts of the world. Duke hasn’t been anywhere but Haven since the Troubles returned. He’s thought about it, though. He’s thought about the open ocean. He’s thought about that adrenaline rush of having one up on the law enforcement. He’s thought about going back to a time before filing taxes. He’s not too keen on filing taxes.
The sad smile reaches her eyes. Duke’d never noticed that before.
“Finally,” she says. It’s the first thing she’s ever said to Duke, and it makes no sense.
She approaches him cautiously, and Duke keeps a wary eye on her. He doubts after all these years she’d go all evil on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind are the Troubles and how they might apply to her.
“You’re here to stay,” she says. She’s directly in front of Duke, staring up at him, assessing.
Duke holds his ground. He thinks about making a smartass remark… but Marge is finally talking to him.
“You don’t need me to watch after you,” she says. “Not anymore. You have other people looking after you now.”
“Um,” Duke says. His eyes cut up to the apartment above the Gull. He’s not sure he likes what Marge is implying.
“And my name is Elizabeth,” she says.
“Oh,” Duke says.
Between blinks, she’s gone, and Audrey is thumping down the stairs from her apartment.
“Morning, Duke,” she says, inclining her head.
“Good morning,” Duke says, and it is.