Fanfic - Haven - Full of Grace (3/9)
Title: Full of Grace
Fandom: Haven
Pairing: Nathan/Audrey
Rating: R (T)
Disclaimer: There'd be plenty of things that would be different if I owned Haven, despite its near perfection.
Spoilers: Yes, specifically for "Ain't No Sunshine" and after, especially "As You Were".
Summary: 'Friend' was such a paltry word. Drabble. Part of a nine-part series of one-shots for a scifiland challenge. They're unrelated drabbles, but written and published as a group. Prompt: FEAR. (494 words)
“Are you okay?” she, it, had asked, concerned. Or perhaps it was more nervously.
“No,” he replied, very nearly ready to sob, “I’m not,”
He’d most definitely thrown caution to the wind when he’d cupped her lovely face and brought them together in a kiss. The kiss he would deny he’d thought about more and more lately. He just had to make sure, even though the nothingness in between his hands had been enough. He thought he was doing an admirable job of keeping his voice level, despite the sheer panic flooding his veins with adrenaline. This was one of the times he was just a little bit grateful for his condition. There were plenty of signs that betrayed distress through body language, but they were contingent upon things like feeling your heart clench, feeling cold sweat along your spine, feeling short of breath. In short, feeling. But muscle memory was enough to pull the trigger when fear turned to wrath.
He was sure his eyes were a little wild, but he could only devote so much of his attention to appearances when his world was spinning. Traces of memory threaded through his muscles, and he could almost (but not quite; never quite) feel the alternately cool and warm wash of chemicals sending conflicting messages to his brain. He’d shot her. Audrey. But it wasn’t her. The anger subsided, sated for a moment, and the terror clawed its way to the top. He felt lightheaded as he fell to his knees beside the imposter whose eyes were rolling like a frightened horse. “You killed my friend,” he barely ground out. ‘Friend’ felt like such a paltry word to describe the one person who made him feel anything approaching human again. How could he do this… living, without her?
“How-- how did you know it was me?” it asked weakly, heaving shallowly.
He hated that this thing would be the first he would tell, but a surge of rage pushed him to the edge. In that instant, Nathan almost understood those super-villains who revealed their plans in time to be foiled. But there would be no foiling today - he was a good shot any day, but especially with fury as a crosshairs. “Audrey,” his whisper worshipped. “I can feel her touch. I can’t feel yours”. He felt a harsh despair settle over his chest, making it difficult to breathe. It writhed on the ground in its death throes like a moth pinned to a board; a deceptive moth that wore the beautiful countenance of a butterfly it could never hope to be.
The next few seconds saw his heart change rhythms several times - anger, disgust, frustration; then joy and again unadulterated fear. “She’s alive…?” he queried, almost unseeing, unbelieving. “Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”. Powerful dread, as he ran down the corridor, that he’d be too late. Fright that all this rain had drowned the butterfly. But under it, closest to his heart, hope.
Fandom: Haven
Pairing: Nathan/Audrey
Rating: R (T)
Disclaimer: There'd be plenty of things that would be different if I owned Haven, despite its near perfection.
Spoilers: Yes, specifically for "Ain't No Sunshine" and after, especially "As You Were".
Summary: 'Friend' was such a paltry word. Drabble. Part of a nine-part series of one-shots for a scifiland challenge. They're unrelated drabbles, but written and published as a group. Prompt: FEAR. (494 words)
“Are you okay?” she, it, had asked, concerned. Or perhaps it was more nervously.
“No,” he replied, very nearly ready to sob, “I’m not,”
He’d most definitely thrown caution to the wind when he’d cupped her lovely face and brought them together in a kiss. The kiss he would deny he’d thought about more and more lately. He just had to make sure, even though the nothingness in between his hands had been enough. He thought he was doing an admirable job of keeping his voice level, despite the sheer panic flooding his veins with adrenaline. This was one of the times he was just a little bit grateful for his condition. There were plenty of signs that betrayed distress through body language, but they were contingent upon things like feeling your heart clench, feeling cold sweat along your spine, feeling short of breath. In short, feeling. But muscle memory was enough to pull the trigger when fear turned to wrath.
He was sure his eyes were a little wild, but he could only devote so much of his attention to appearances when his world was spinning. Traces of memory threaded through his muscles, and he could almost (but not quite; never quite) feel the alternately cool and warm wash of chemicals sending conflicting messages to his brain. He’d shot her. Audrey. But it wasn’t her. The anger subsided, sated for a moment, and the terror clawed its way to the top. He felt lightheaded as he fell to his knees beside the imposter whose eyes were rolling like a frightened horse. “You killed my friend,” he barely ground out. ‘Friend’ felt like such a paltry word to describe the one person who made him feel anything approaching human again. How could he do this… living, without her?
“How-- how did you know it was me?” it asked weakly, heaving shallowly.
He hated that this thing would be the first he would tell, but a surge of rage pushed him to the edge. In that instant, Nathan almost understood those super-villains who revealed their plans in time to be foiled. But there would be no foiling today - he was a good shot any day, but especially with fury as a crosshairs. “Audrey,” his whisper worshipped. “I can feel her touch. I can’t feel yours”. He felt a harsh despair settle over his chest, making it difficult to breathe. It writhed on the ground in its death throes like a moth pinned to a board; a deceptive moth that wore the beautiful countenance of a butterfly it could never hope to be.
The next few seconds saw his heart change rhythms several times - anger, disgust, frustration; then joy and again unadulterated fear. “She’s alive…?” he queried, almost unseeing, unbelieving. “Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”. Powerful dread, as he ran down the corridor, that he’d be too late. Fright that all this rain had drowned the butterfly. But under it, closest to his heart, hope.