Haven Fic: Sing to Me of the End of the World - Chapter 4/4 [Nathan/Audrey]
Author: siricerasi
Fandom: Haven
Characters/pairings: Nathan/Audrey
Rating: T
Spoilers: Through 3.01
Story Summary: The rest they can deal with later. Tonight it's enough that they're both here.
Chapter: 4/4
Word count: 1853
Warnings: None
Chapter Summary: He doesn't know how he'll ever let her go again, let alone out of his sight. How he'll sleep at night, knowing she's alone in her apartment, probably huddled awake in the dark. How he'll breathe, knowing the man who took her is still out there. Knowing he wasn't enough to protect her.
Author's Notes: Um, so the holidays got crazy. I fail. Sorry for the ridiculous wait, but here's the last part! And thanks so much for all the reviews etc, they totally make my day <3
crawling on the ash, she's pitiful
she's lost her sense of light
she has to hold my hand
It’s midmorning by the time they get to the cemetery. Nathan hears her voice from inside the grave, speaking almost angrily on the phone. He knows something’s really up when she actually gets Frank’s name right.
He should probably be surprised the coffin is empty, but somehow after everything that’s happened he can’t find it in him to be anything other than tired. And angry, angry that there’s one more mystery he has to solve, that there’s one more thing to fuck with Audrey’s head.
And then they find the writing - her writing - and he finds he is still capable of shock.
The hits just never stop coming, apparently.
Audrey had looked better this morning after she’d showered and he’d stuffed her full of pancakes, but as he kneels beside her and she presses her arm against his he can feel her starting to tremble again. She’d never lost her pallor, but now she’s ghostly white, bruises standing out sickeningly. He has a sudden intense desire to just get her out, away from this town and all its horrors.
She stands slowly, dazedly, and he’s quick to follow. “Can you guys take care of this?” he asks Dwight and the Teagues tightly, gesturing at the massive dirt pile. Dwight nods, and Vince says, “Of course,” with a long look at Audrey. Her back is still to all of them, staring down into the empty coffin.
“Parker,” Nathan murmurs. “Let’s go.” He touches her shoulder and she jumps and he needs to kill something.
She gasps in a breath, mutters, “Yeah.” Stares a moment longer before letting him guide her back to his car, not pulling away from his hand at the small of her back. It’s simultaneously reassuring and concerning. She doesn’t say a thing after that, but her silence is almost like a plea. He’s not sure she could ever ask him for anything, not emotionally, but just the fact that she doesn’t push him away speaks volumes about her state of mind. About how much she needs human connection right now.
They end up on their bench, overlooking the ocean. It’s a safe place for both of them, quiet. Where she’d told him she’d taken the job with Haven PD, where he’d told her about the Troubles. Where they’d agreed on pancakes for the first time.
Now she sips coffee, staring out at the ocean with glazed eyes, and that seems like a million years ago. Back when she’d laughed and joked with him. Back when her eyes weren’t haunted, when getting a smile from her wasn’t the brightest part of his day. When he didn’t feel like she was holding herself together by a thread, and the entire fucking town wasn’t trying to snap the ground right out from under her.
“Duke’s cleaning up your place,” he tells her after a few minutes, when he can’t stand his thoughts any longer. When he can tell she’s also too lost in her head. “Changing the locks, just in case. Says if you don’t mind staying out for a few days he’ll do some renovating too.” She nods absently. He wonders if she’d heard a word he said.
He touches her wrist, murmurs, “Parker,” and she finally looks at him.
“It never ends,” she states. “It just… every time I find one answer I get a thousand more questions, and everyone seems determined to keep me in the dark or they expect me to know things I don’t, to remember things and feel things…” Her voice breaks and she’s not breathing and he has to do something so he laces his fingers through hers, squeezing gently.
“Audrey, breathe,” he pleads. She actually laughs, a harsh choked sound that grates on his ears. But she obeys, pulls her hand from his to rest her head in her palm and drags air into her lungs in a vague mimicry of breathing. And she looks so small, so broken, so… not-Audrey. Not his Audrey.
He hesitantly places a hand on her back, runs his fingers gently along her spine. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. “I know it’s a lot, but we can do this, Audrey. Together.” She doesn’t respond, just gasps a few more breaths, until he finally brushes back the hair she’d let fall in her face, shocking her into looking at him. “Understand?” he asks softly.
Her face falls again and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently to his side. She curls into him, almost spilling her coffee all over his lap, so he pries it from her fingers and sets it beside them on the bench. “It’s okay,” he breathes, pressing his lips to her hair. Feeling it. She’s trembling again, and it makes him want to beat something bloody. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’m here,” he murmurs instead. “You’re safe, you’ll be okay.”
They just sit there for the rest of the morning, until her shaking eases and her breath evens out, her hands stop clutching so tightly in his shirt. But he still keeps an arm around her, still holds her tight against him, because he needs this as much as she does.
“I promised Rosalyn I’d keep her safe,” she says eventually, voice a few notes too high.
Nathan finds he has a hard time speaking around the lump in his throat. “You did everything you could.”
“And that wasn’t enough.”
Nathan feels a cold dread seep into his stomach, a helplessness he can’t stand. Because he doesn’t know how to convince her otherwise, he never has. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” he insists. “You can’t save everyone, Audrey.”
She lets out a harsh breath, pressing closer. Whispers, “She was so scared.” And so was I. He hears her unspoken words like she’d screamed them and it makes his chest ache, his throat close over, his eyes burn. All he can do is raise his other arm to encircle her protectively, give her someplace secure, someplace where she’s safe.
(He doesn’t know how he’ll ever let her go again, let alone out of his sight. How he’ll sleep at night, knowing she’s alone in her apartment, probably huddled awake in the dark. How he’ll breathe, knowing the man who took her is still out there. Knowing he wasn’t enough to protect her.)
So all he can choke is, “We do what we can,” because he was so scared and when it comes to Audrey he’ll always be scared, terrified. Of losing her. Of keeping her.
She tucks her head under his chin, her hair tickling his skin as she nuzzles closer. “You saved me,” she murmurs, and he can’t help snorting softly.
“You did a pretty good job of that yourself. I hear you almost skewered Duke with a scythe.” He feels her smile into his chest, feels the slight changes in pressure of her mouth against his skin.
“Not that,” she explains, voice trailing off. He nudges her gently with his chin, rubs a hand along her arm in reassurance. She huffs, shifts to look up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes that are no longer quite so haunted, not so lonely and scared. “Last night,” she states. He feels a tremor run through her. “If I’d had to… to go home alone…” She drops her gaze and he tightens his arms instinctively, unwilling to even think about that possibility. As though he’d ever leave her alone like that.
“You’re my partner,” he tells her gently, firmly. “My friend. That wasn’t even an option, Audrey.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her body relaxing a little against him as she nods. “Yeah. Okay.” He rubs her back absently, feels her calm a little more and it hits him just like that, square in the chest. This, this, it’s all she needs. Touch, human contact, it’s not only important to him. He’s kept himself so reserved, doing his best not to touch her unless absolutely necessary because he hadn’t wanted her to feel used or obligated. But he’d been so focused on staying removed that he’d entirely missed the fact that she needs this as much as he does. That human contact is as rare and important for her as it is for him, that she needs this connection to ground her, to make her feel safe.
So he holds her closer, runs his fingers through her hair and feels his chest constrict at the little whimper she makes. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll always be here for you.”
She smiles softly, nuzzles closer. “I know.” He hates it, how every time she says that it sounds like a revelation. How quickly she forgets that she’s not alone in this, how often he has to remind her that he’s here. Not that he’s much better - okay, not that he’s any better. But it still aches, realizing all over again how lonely she is. How much alike they are in that aspect, both yearning for human connection, for human touch, but neither of them open enough to ask for it.
So as hard as it might be, as uncomfortable as initiating this kind of conversation is for him, he knows she needs him to do it. Because after everything she’s been through in the past few months, he doesn’t think she can afford to do this on her own anymore. To shut out the world. She’d been on edge before her abduction - understandable, given that’d she’d lost her identity and found herself in the middle of a war - but Nathan has never seen her this shaken, this scared. Jumping at shadows, doubting herself. Audrey Parker is nothing if not confident, but she feels so fragile in his arms, so vulnerable, like a wrong word could shatter her.
Nathan is not going to let her break.
(Because he doesn’t know how he’d keep himself together if she did…)
Still, he doesn’t feel like enough. Not to stand against all of this, against the insanity of this place. He’s only one person, and his own words to Audrey echo in his head. You can’t save everyone.
He doesn’t want to save everyone, though. Only Audrey. It’s always Audrey.
“You trust me?” he asks her quietly.
She slips her fingers through his, murmurs, “You know I do.”
“Then trust me.” He taps the gun on her hip. “You’re still the same cop, Audrey. I don’t care who this guy is, what he thinks he knows. Maybe he knew Lucy Ripley and the Colorado Kid, maybe he’s even read up on the other Audrey Parker, but he doesn’t know you. I know exactly who you are, and that’s my partner.” He squeezes her hand gently. “I still trust you, Audrey. The woman I’ve known for the past six months, who has never failed me. Who always has my back. Never doubt that.”
She takes a shaky breath, nods tightly. “Okay,” she whispers. Closes her eyes, shivering in the cold breeze, and lets him shift closer. “I trust you.”
It’s the most he can ask for.
get up, get up, get up
(i need you)
arise and be
all that you dreamed
Fandom: Haven
Characters/pairings: Nathan/Audrey
Rating: T
Spoilers: Through 3.01
Story Summary: The rest they can deal with later. Tonight it's enough that they're both here.
Chapter: 4/4
Word count: 1853
Warnings: None
Chapter Summary: He doesn't know how he'll ever let her go again, let alone out of his sight. How he'll sleep at night, knowing she's alone in her apartment, probably huddled awake in the dark. How he'll breathe, knowing the man who took her is still out there. Knowing he wasn't enough to protect her.
Author's Notes: Um, so the holidays got crazy. I fail. Sorry for the ridiculous wait, but here's the last part! And thanks so much for all the reviews etc, they totally make my day <3
crawling on the ash, she's pitiful
she's lost her sense of light
she has to hold my hand
It’s midmorning by the time they get to the cemetery. Nathan hears her voice from inside the grave, speaking almost angrily on the phone. He knows something’s really up when she actually gets Frank’s name right.
He should probably be surprised the coffin is empty, but somehow after everything that’s happened he can’t find it in him to be anything other than tired. And angry, angry that there’s one more mystery he has to solve, that there’s one more thing to fuck with Audrey’s head.
And then they find the writing - her writing - and he finds he is still capable of shock.
The hits just never stop coming, apparently.
Audrey had looked better this morning after she’d showered and he’d stuffed her full of pancakes, but as he kneels beside her and she presses her arm against his he can feel her starting to tremble again. She’d never lost her pallor, but now she’s ghostly white, bruises standing out sickeningly. He has a sudden intense desire to just get her out, away from this town and all its horrors.
She stands slowly, dazedly, and he’s quick to follow. “Can you guys take care of this?” he asks Dwight and the Teagues tightly, gesturing at the massive dirt pile. Dwight nods, and Vince says, “Of course,” with a long look at Audrey. Her back is still to all of them, staring down into the empty coffin.
“Parker,” Nathan murmurs. “Let’s go.” He touches her shoulder and she jumps and he needs to kill something.
She gasps in a breath, mutters, “Yeah.” Stares a moment longer before letting him guide her back to his car, not pulling away from his hand at the small of her back. It’s simultaneously reassuring and concerning. She doesn’t say a thing after that, but her silence is almost like a plea. He’s not sure she could ever ask him for anything, not emotionally, but just the fact that she doesn’t push him away speaks volumes about her state of mind. About how much she needs human connection right now.
They end up on their bench, overlooking the ocean. It’s a safe place for both of them, quiet. Where she’d told him she’d taken the job with Haven PD, where he’d told her about the Troubles. Where they’d agreed on pancakes for the first time.
Now she sips coffee, staring out at the ocean with glazed eyes, and that seems like a million years ago. Back when she’d laughed and joked with him. Back when her eyes weren’t haunted, when getting a smile from her wasn’t the brightest part of his day. When he didn’t feel like she was holding herself together by a thread, and the entire fucking town wasn’t trying to snap the ground right out from under her.
“Duke’s cleaning up your place,” he tells her after a few minutes, when he can’t stand his thoughts any longer. When he can tell she’s also too lost in her head. “Changing the locks, just in case. Says if you don’t mind staying out for a few days he’ll do some renovating too.” She nods absently. He wonders if she’d heard a word he said.
He touches her wrist, murmurs, “Parker,” and she finally looks at him.
“It never ends,” she states. “It just… every time I find one answer I get a thousand more questions, and everyone seems determined to keep me in the dark or they expect me to know things I don’t, to remember things and feel things…” Her voice breaks and she’s not breathing and he has to do something so he laces his fingers through hers, squeezing gently.
“Audrey, breathe,” he pleads. She actually laughs, a harsh choked sound that grates on his ears. But she obeys, pulls her hand from his to rest her head in her palm and drags air into her lungs in a vague mimicry of breathing. And she looks so small, so broken, so… not-Audrey. Not his Audrey.
He hesitantly places a hand on her back, runs his fingers gently along her spine. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises. “I know it’s a lot, but we can do this, Audrey. Together.” She doesn’t respond, just gasps a few more breaths, until he finally brushes back the hair she’d let fall in her face, shocking her into looking at him. “Understand?” he asks softly.
Her face falls again and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently to his side. She curls into him, almost spilling her coffee all over his lap, so he pries it from her fingers and sets it beside them on the bench. “It’s okay,” he breathes, pressing his lips to her hair. Feeling it. She’s trembling again, and it makes him want to beat something bloody. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’m here,” he murmurs instead. “You’re safe, you’ll be okay.”
They just sit there for the rest of the morning, until her shaking eases and her breath evens out, her hands stop clutching so tightly in his shirt. But he still keeps an arm around her, still holds her tight against him, because he needs this as much as she does.
“I promised Rosalyn I’d keep her safe,” she says eventually, voice a few notes too high.
Nathan finds he has a hard time speaking around the lump in his throat. “You did everything you could.”
“And that wasn’t enough.”
Nathan feels a cold dread seep into his stomach, a helplessness he can’t stand. Because he doesn’t know how to convince her otherwise, he never has. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” he insists. “You can’t save everyone, Audrey.”
She lets out a harsh breath, pressing closer. Whispers, “She was so scared.” And so was I. He hears her unspoken words like she’d screamed them and it makes his chest ache, his throat close over, his eyes burn. All he can do is raise his other arm to encircle her protectively, give her someplace secure, someplace where she’s safe.
(He doesn’t know how he’ll ever let her go again, let alone out of his sight. How he’ll sleep at night, knowing she’s alone in her apartment, probably huddled awake in the dark. How he’ll breathe, knowing the man who took her is still out there. Knowing he wasn’t enough to protect her.)
So all he can choke is, “We do what we can,” because he was so scared and when it comes to Audrey he’ll always be scared, terrified. Of losing her. Of keeping her.
She tucks her head under his chin, her hair tickling his skin as she nuzzles closer. “You saved me,” she murmurs, and he can’t help snorting softly.
“You did a pretty good job of that yourself. I hear you almost skewered Duke with a scythe.” He feels her smile into his chest, feels the slight changes in pressure of her mouth against his skin.
“Not that,” she explains, voice trailing off. He nudges her gently with his chin, rubs a hand along her arm in reassurance. She huffs, shifts to look up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes that are no longer quite so haunted, not so lonely and scared. “Last night,” she states. He feels a tremor run through her. “If I’d had to… to go home alone…” She drops her gaze and he tightens his arms instinctively, unwilling to even think about that possibility. As though he’d ever leave her alone like that.
“You’re my partner,” he tells her gently, firmly. “My friend. That wasn’t even an option, Audrey.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her body relaxing a little against him as she nods. “Yeah. Okay.” He rubs her back absently, feels her calm a little more and it hits him just like that, square in the chest. This, this, it’s all she needs. Touch, human contact, it’s not only important to him. He’s kept himself so reserved, doing his best not to touch her unless absolutely necessary because he hadn’t wanted her to feel used or obligated. But he’d been so focused on staying removed that he’d entirely missed the fact that she needs this as much as he does. That human contact is as rare and important for her as it is for him, that she needs this connection to ground her, to make her feel safe.
So he holds her closer, runs his fingers through her hair and feels his chest constrict at the little whimper she makes. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll always be here for you.”
She smiles softly, nuzzles closer. “I know.” He hates it, how every time she says that it sounds like a revelation. How quickly she forgets that she’s not alone in this, how often he has to remind her that he’s here. Not that he’s much better - okay, not that he’s any better. But it still aches, realizing all over again how lonely she is. How much alike they are in that aspect, both yearning for human connection, for human touch, but neither of them open enough to ask for it.
So as hard as it might be, as uncomfortable as initiating this kind of conversation is for him, he knows she needs him to do it. Because after everything she’s been through in the past few months, he doesn’t think she can afford to do this on her own anymore. To shut out the world. She’d been on edge before her abduction - understandable, given that’d she’d lost her identity and found herself in the middle of a war - but Nathan has never seen her this shaken, this scared. Jumping at shadows, doubting herself. Audrey Parker is nothing if not confident, but she feels so fragile in his arms, so vulnerable, like a wrong word could shatter her.
Nathan is not going to let her break.
(Because he doesn’t know how he’d keep himself together if she did…)
Still, he doesn’t feel like enough. Not to stand against all of this, against the insanity of this place. He’s only one person, and his own words to Audrey echo in his head. You can’t save everyone.
He doesn’t want to save everyone, though. Only Audrey. It’s always Audrey.
“You trust me?” he asks her quietly.
She slips her fingers through his, murmurs, “You know I do.”
“Then trust me.” He taps the gun on her hip. “You’re still the same cop, Audrey. I don’t care who this guy is, what he thinks he knows. Maybe he knew Lucy Ripley and the Colorado Kid, maybe he’s even read up on the other Audrey Parker, but he doesn’t know you. I know exactly who you are, and that’s my partner.” He squeezes her hand gently. “I still trust you, Audrey. The woman I’ve known for the past six months, who has never failed me. Who always has my back. Never doubt that.”
She takes a shaky breath, nods tightly. “Okay,” she whispers. Closes her eyes, shivering in the cold breeze, and lets him shift closer. “I trust you.”
It’s the most he can ask for.
get up, get up, get up
(i need you)
arise and be
all that you dreamed