Haven: The Bitterness That Tortures Us (Nathan/Duke) PG-13
Title: The Bitterness That Tortures Us
Author: Shealynn88
Characters: Nathan/Duke
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2000 words
Spoilers: Takes place pre-series, general characterization only.
Summary: Why Nathan hates Duke so very much, and why it's mutual.
This stands alone, but in my head, also fits into these:
occurs about two and a half years after The Sun Tastes Like This and a good chunk of years before Mortality and Forgiveness.
“Howdy, stranger,” Duke calls down to the dock. It's his second day in town.
It's been two years, and Nathan's smile is that much more fragile when it does finally appear...and it still makes Duke's heart jump in his chest. “I heard a rumor,” Nathan calls up.
Duke grins. “Just one? Beatrice must be sleeping on the job!”
He vaults into the temporary stairway and makes his way to the dock, forcing himself not to hurry.
“It's good to see you,” he finally says, holding out his hand.
Nathan takes it after a moment, and his smile is worth two years and four continents.
* * *
Three nights and two hours at the bar later, Duke has Nathan back where he's wanted him since he left-back on his boat, back in his bed. He'd told himself he wouldn't push it, that Nathan had gone the way of his old man, that Duke himself had gone to sea. He'd told himself that they're different men, now, that they can't be what they've been.
He's told himself over and over, but, of all the improvised truths that roll so easily off his tongue these days, that is the hardest for him to believe.
“I wish you could have seen Singapore, Nathan. You'd have thought you were in another world...”
“I'm always here,” Nathan says, and the sadness he can't quite hide makes Duke's smile falter. “I'm always in this world.”
Duke swallows. “Let me take you away for a while, then,” he says softly, and leans in, hoping Nathan can taste the things he can't say, can hear the pain he can't talk about, can sense, somehow, how much he wanted to be right here, and how much he'd needed not to be.
It feels just the way he remembers it. The rhythmic rocking of the boat, the way Nathan fits perfectly against him, how Nathan watches him at the most intimate moments with an intensity that makes him lose control.
* * *
“I take it Detectives don't sleep?” Duke asks, finding Nathan up on the deck.
Nathan turns and smiles weakly. “Just Detectives with open cases.” He shakes his head as Duke moves to stand next to him, looking out at the water and wondering what it is that Nathan sees there.
“What is it today, Detective Wuornos? Cat in a tree?”
Nathan chuckles. “No, no, that was last week.” He waits, and it seems like he's weighing something.
“Nathan, talk to me. Tell me what's going on.” He moves closer, lowers his voice. “Then come to bed.”
Nathan smiles, and puts his hand over Duke's on the rail.
Duke waits, and Nathan sighs. “Smugglers. There's a new guy in town, looking to take over. He's dangerous and territorial, and we have nothing on him. Two dead but no way to prove it was him. We need to find someone he'll trust to move merchandise, and there's no one here that'll talk to us.”
“No one but me.”
Nathan turns toward him and shakes his head slowly. “No, Duke. If anything went wrong...he's killed two people already.”
Duke can't help smiling. Nathan really has turned into a lawman, through and through. “Nathan, come on, let me just make a few calls and let you know what I find. I'm not a 'guns blazing' kind of guy, you know that.”
Nathan still looks unsure, so Duke reaches out to brush his cheek, enjoying the way Nathan's eyes follow his fingers, so very seriously, then search his face as if the answer to the universe is there. “I'll be sure to let you and dear old dad do the heavy lifting, okay?”
Nathan reaches up to take his hand, squeezing slowly until it's uncomfortable. He looks...tortured. Finally he nods and releases Duke's hand. “Okay. But just a few calls, okay?”
“Absolutely, Detective.”
And Duke leads him back to bed.
* * *
Apparently, two years abroad with some quick trading between continents can get you pretty far with certain smugglers. By noon the following day, Duke has a date and time to meet, and decides to surprise Nathan at the station.
He catches a ride with Beatrice and starts looking for Nathan's office. The building has never held particularly good memories for him, not since those three times he was held for disturbing the peace. And that one time for graffiti. And, you know, those three other times the Chief had given him a ride home because it was late and he looked 'bored'...but who was counting, really?
So when the Chief strolls around the corner, it's reflex that makes Duke duck behind a pillar.
And then he feels foolish. He has every right to be here. He has information that will break a case the Chief couldn't break. He squares his shoulders and starts toward the office...just in time to hear Nathan's voice, clipped and angry.
“Hey, you told me to have Duke make the call, and I did. I'll find out what he's got tonight.”
“Well,” the Chief drawls, “Now you gotta keep an eye on him. You know I don't trust that boy as far as I can throw him. He's trouble, Nathan, you know it as well as I do.”
Duke can just see the angry set of Nathan's jaw through the open door, and for a second, just one second, he thinks Nathan will turn on his father and defend him.
But Nathan just nods and walks out of the office, and Duke steps back around the corner, closes his eyes and tries not to feel like he's just been gutted.
* * *
“Mr. Hirimoto, it's good doing business with you,” Duke says, taking the briefcase. “Rest assured that your package will reach it's destination without incident.”
“Oh, I count on it,” and Duke can't miss the sharp threat in the wide smile.
He offers his own toothy grin. “With good reason. It's been getting a little messy around here, I think you might be pushing it a bit with the local cops. Try to keep the deaths to a minimum, okay, and next time, we meet down the coast.”
“You tell me how to do my job?” Mr. Hirimoto's voice is lower and sharper, and Duke shoves down the fear. This he knows. This is when that smooth tongue of his does it's best work.
“I'm telling you I want to do business with you again, and this is not the place for it. I'm worth it, Mr. Hirimoto, and it's because I'm always careful, and I'm always under the radar.”
The shorter man tips his head, then laughs. His entourage follows suit. “I like you, Duke Crocker. If my package arrives safely, I will send you coordinates-down the coast as you request. Otherwise...I am not as concerned about death rates as you are, Mr. Crocker.”
“Oh, I'm not concerned, Sir. It's just bad for business.”
* * *
It's two months later, and it feels like four years, or six, when Duke makes it back to Haven. He's not sure he's ready to be back, but he'll be damned if anyone can keep him out of any town. Even the one he's been running from since he was a kid.
Somehow, he still can't believe what he knows is true-that it will never be the same. That Nathan was never who he thought. That Haven is anything but, that he'll always be on the wrong side, and Nathan will always be on the right, and there's nothing he can do about it.
Somehow, he still needs proof.
* * *
He had drinks here with Nathan a few months ago. Just before he brought him home and pulled him into bed and told him how much he missed him and how much he wanted...
And all of that's gone. It's worth a glass of Jack.
And another.
Fucking Chief Wuornos and his little puppet of a son.
Keep 'em coming, Jennie.
Bastard who stole everything Duke had of worth, and left him with a new career, a locker full of cash, and a constant ache he's tried everything to get rid of.
Just one more, just until I'm as numb as he is.
* * *
A left hook puts him on the ground as soon as he walks out of the bar. He looks up blearily and laughs. “Nathan, what a coincidence. I was just thinking of you.”
Nathan's jaw is doing that thing it does when he's too angry to speak.
“Damn, Wuornos, you really have anger management issues,” Duke says, rubbing his jaw and trying to get to his feet.
“You bastard,” Nathan whispers, and Duke just sees the fist coming this time, enough to spin and pull, but not quite enough to bring Nathan down.
“Easy there, my friendly neighborhood Detective. If I weren't such a gentleman, I might have to break that pretty face of yours.”
“Try it,” Nathan snarls, catching him in the kidney.
The agony starts to bleed though the haze of alcohol. “Damn it, Nathan,” he wheezes, curling up as best he can. “You can't kill a man for having a couple of drinks, can you? Or does that rank up there with using a former flame to catch bad guys in the Haven Guide to Law Enforcement?”
Nathan is quiet and no blows come. Duke takes the chance to look up, and wishes he hadn't. Nathan stands over him radiating darkness, and Duke is reminded of a rabid dog that quietly foams at the mouth before it attacks.
Nathan kneels very slowly, and Duke chokes back a whimper because you don't show fear. They eat you alive if you show fear.
Nathan's voice is low, practically conversational. Duke's blood runs cold. “You don't get to talk about using people, Duke, because if you pretend that you didn't use me from the moment you came back to Haven, I might forget that I'm a man of the law and beat you to death right here. Do you understand?”
Under any other circumstance, Duke would make a wisecrack. It's what he does. But this isn't Nathan he's talking to right now. This...thing...is something darker and more dangerous than the Nathan he's known. And loved. He just nods very, very slowly. Good doggie.
“Good. There was a time that it actually hurt me to think about you being injured or killed or so much as bruised. A time when I thought it was a bad idea to let you make some calls because I didn't want to put you in harm's way. I mean...I actually told the Chief that, that I didn't want you to get hurt. Oh, you can imagine he hasn't let me live that one down, yet.” Nathan laughs, and it's horrifying. “Right now, Duke, there is nothing that would make me happier than to sit here and watch you bleed. For as long as it takes. And that is why I'm telling you to get on your boat and sail.”
He stands slowly. “Go where the wind takes you, Duke. It's what you've always been good at.” Nathan turns to walk away and Duke watches his silhouette fade slowly into the blackness of the street. “Nathan,” he whispers, and then bites his lip. There aren't words in any language he knows that can explain what he did or how he feels, and Nathan can't hear him anyway.
Duke rolls over, digs his knees into the dirt, and stumbles toward the harbor.
At least now he has proof-
That Haven is anything but, that Nathan will always be on the right side and he'll always be on the wrong, and that love conquers significantly less than all.
They aren't lessons he'll ever need to learn again.
Author: Shealynn88
Characters: Nathan/Duke
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2000 words
Spoilers: Takes place pre-series, general characterization only.
Summary: Why Nathan hates Duke so very much, and why it's mutual.
This stands alone, but in my head, also fits into these:
occurs about two and a half years after The Sun Tastes Like This and a good chunk of years before Mortality and Forgiveness.
“Howdy, stranger,” Duke calls down to the dock. It's his second day in town.
It's been two years, and Nathan's smile is that much more fragile when it does finally appear...and it still makes Duke's heart jump in his chest. “I heard a rumor,” Nathan calls up.
Duke grins. “Just one? Beatrice must be sleeping on the job!”
He vaults into the temporary stairway and makes his way to the dock, forcing himself not to hurry.
“It's good to see you,” he finally says, holding out his hand.
Nathan takes it after a moment, and his smile is worth two years and four continents.
* * *
Three nights and two hours at the bar later, Duke has Nathan back where he's wanted him since he left-back on his boat, back in his bed. He'd told himself he wouldn't push it, that Nathan had gone the way of his old man, that Duke himself had gone to sea. He'd told himself that they're different men, now, that they can't be what they've been.
He's told himself over and over, but, of all the improvised truths that roll so easily off his tongue these days, that is the hardest for him to believe.
“I wish you could have seen Singapore, Nathan. You'd have thought you were in another world...”
“I'm always here,” Nathan says, and the sadness he can't quite hide makes Duke's smile falter. “I'm always in this world.”
Duke swallows. “Let me take you away for a while, then,” he says softly, and leans in, hoping Nathan can taste the things he can't say, can hear the pain he can't talk about, can sense, somehow, how much he wanted to be right here, and how much he'd needed not to be.
It feels just the way he remembers it. The rhythmic rocking of the boat, the way Nathan fits perfectly against him, how Nathan watches him at the most intimate moments with an intensity that makes him lose control.
* * *
“I take it Detectives don't sleep?” Duke asks, finding Nathan up on the deck.
Nathan turns and smiles weakly. “Just Detectives with open cases.” He shakes his head as Duke moves to stand next to him, looking out at the water and wondering what it is that Nathan sees there.
“What is it today, Detective Wuornos? Cat in a tree?”
Nathan chuckles. “No, no, that was last week.” He waits, and it seems like he's weighing something.
“Nathan, talk to me. Tell me what's going on.” He moves closer, lowers his voice. “Then come to bed.”
Nathan smiles, and puts his hand over Duke's on the rail.
Duke waits, and Nathan sighs. “Smugglers. There's a new guy in town, looking to take over. He's dangerous and territorial, and we have nothing on him. Two dead but no way to prove it was him. We need to find someone he'll trust to move merchandise, and there's no one here that'll talk to us.”
“No one but me.”
Nathan turns toward him and shakes his head slowly. “No, Duke. If anything went wrong...he's killed two people already.”
Duke can't help smiling. Nathan really has turned into a lawman, through and through. “Nathan, come on, let me just make a few calls and let you know what I find. I'm not a 'guns blazing' kind of guy, you know that.”
Nathan still looks unsure, so Duke reaches out to brush his cheek, enjoying the way Nathan's eyes follow his fingers, so very seriously, then search his face as if the answer to the universe is there. “I'll be sure to let you and dear old dad do the heavy lifting, okay?”
Nathan reaches up to take his hand, squeezing slowly until it's uncomfortable. He looks...tortured. Finally he nods and releases Duke's hand. “Okay. But just a few calls, okay?”
“Absolutely, Detective.”
And Duke leads him back to bed.
* * *
Apparently, two years abroad with some quick trading between continents can get you pretty far with certain smugglers. By noon the following day, Duke has a date and time to meet, and decides to surprise Nathan at the station.
He catches a ride with Beatrice and starts looking for Nathan's office. The building has never held particularly good memories for him, not since those three times he was held for disturbing the peace. And that one time for graffiti. And, you know, those three other times the Chief had given him a ride home because it was late and he looked 'bored'...but who was counting, really?
So when the Chief strolls around the corner, it's reflex that makes Duke duck behind a pillar.
And then he feels foolish. He has every right to be here. He has information that will break a case the Chief couldn't break. He squares his shoulders and starts toward the office...just in time to hear Nathan's voice, clipped and angry.
“Hey, you told me to have Duke make the call, and I did. I'll find out what he's got tonight.”
“Well,” the Chief drawls, “Now you gotta keep an eye on him. You know I don't trust that boy as far as I can throw him. He's trouble, Nathan, you know it as well as I do.”
Duke can just see the angry set of Nathan's jaw through the open door, and for a second, just one second, he thinks Nathan will turn on his father and defend him.
But Nathan just nods and walks out of the office, and Duke steps back around the corner, closes his eyes and tries not to feel like he's just been gutted.
* * *
“Mr. Hirimoto, it's good doing business with you,” Duke says, taking the briefcase. “Rest assured that your package will reach it's destination without incident.”
“Oh, I count on it,” and Duke can't miss the sharp threat in the wide smile.
He offers his own toothy grin. “With good reason. It's been getting a little messy around here, I think you might be pushing it a bit with the local cops. Try to keep the deaths to a minimum, okay, and next time, we meet down the coast.”
“You tell me how to do my job?” Mr. Hirimoto's voice is lower and sharper, and Duke shoves down the fear. This he knows. This is when that smooth tongue of his does it's best work.
“I'm telling you I want to do business with you again, and this is not the place for it. I'm worth it, Mr. Hirimoto, and it's because I'm always careful, and I'm always under the radar.”
The shorter man tips his head, then laughs. His entourage follows suit. “I like you, Duke Crocker. If my package arrives safely, I will send you coordinates-down the coast as you request. Otherwise...I am not as concerned about death rates as you are, Mr. Crocker.”
“Oh, I'm not concerned, Sir. It's just bad for business.”
* * *
It's two months later, and it feels like four years, or six, when Duke makes it back to Haven. He's not sure he's ready to be back, but he'll be damned if anyone can keep him out of any town. Even the one he's been running from since he was a kid.
Somehow, he still can't believe what he knows is true-that it will never be the same. That Nathan was never who he thought. That Haven is anything but, that he'll always be on the wrong side, and Nathan will always be on the right, and there's nothing he can do about it.
Somehow, he still needs proof.
* * *
He had drinks here with Nathan a few months ago. Just before he brought him home and pulled him into bed and told him how much he missed him and how much he wanted...
And all of that's gone. It's worth a glass of Jack.
And another.
Fucking Chief Wuornos and his little puppet of a son.
Keep 'em coming, Jennie.
Bastard who stole everything Duke had of worth, and left him with a new career, a locker full of cash, and a constant ache he's tried everything to get rid of.
Just one more, just until I'm as numb as he is.
* * *
A left hook puts him on the ground as soon as he walks out of the bar. He looks up blearily and laughs. “Nathan, what a coincidence. I was just thinking of you.”
Nathan's jaw is doing that thing it does when he's too angry to speak.
“Damn, Wuornos, you really have anger management issues,” Duke says, rubbing his jaw and trying to get to his feet.
“You bastard,” Nathan whispers, and Duke just sees the fist coming this time, enough to spin and pull, but not quite enough to bring Nathan down.
“Easy there, my friendly neighborhood Detective. If I weren't such a gentleman, I might have to break that pretty face of yours.”
“Try it,” Nathan snarls, catching him in the kidney.
The agony starts to bleed though the haze of alcohol. “Damn it, Nathan,” he wheezes, curling up as best he can. “You can't kill a man for having a couple of drinks, can you? Or does that rank up there with using a former flame to catch bad guys in the Haven Guide to Law Enforcement?”
Nathan is quiet and no blows come. Duke takes the chance to look up, and wishes he hadn't. Nathan stands over him radiating darkness, and Duke is reminded of a rabid dog that quietly foams at the mouth before it attacks.
Nathan kneels very slowly, and Duke chokes back a whimper because you don't show fear. They eat you alive if you show fear.
Nathan's voice is low, practically conversational. Duke's blood runs cold. “You don't get to talk about using people, Duke, because if you pretend that you didn't use me from the moment you came back to Haven, I might forget that I'm a man of the law and beat you to death right here. Do you understand?”
Under any other circumstance, Duke would make a wisecrack. It's what he does. But this isn't Nathan he's talking to right now. This...thing...is something darker and more dangerous than the Nathan he's known. And loved. He just nods very, very slowly. Good doggie.
“Good. There was a time that it actually hurt me to think about you being injured or killed or so much as bruised. A time when I thought it was a bad idea to let you make some calls because I didn't want to put you in harm's way. I mean...I actually told the Chief that, that I didn't want you to get hurt. Oh, you can imagine he hasn't let me live that one down, yet.” Nathan laughs, and it's horrifying. “Right now, Duke, there is nothing that would make me happier than to sit here and watch you bleed. For as long as it takes. And that is why I'm telling you to get on your boat and sail.”
He stands slowly. “Go where the wind takes you, Duke. It's what you've always been good at.” Nathan turns to walk away and Duke watches his silhouette fade slowly into the blackness of the street. “Nathan,” he whispers, and then bites his lip. There aren't words in any language he knows that can explain what he did or how he feels, and Nathan can't hear him anyway.
Duke rolls over, digs his knees into the dirt, and stumbles toward the harbor.
At least now he has proof-
That Haven is anything but, that Nathan will always be on the right side and he'll always be on the wrong, and that love conquers significantly less than all.
They aren't lessons he'll ever need to learn again.