Haven Fic: Time (Has Numbered My Days) - Chapter 10/?? [Duke & Claire & Audrey]
Author: siricerasi
Fandom: Haven
Characters/pairings: Nathan/Audrey, Claire Callahan, Duke Crocker, Jordan McKee (Nathan/Jordan?)
Rating: M
Warnings: Very brief mention of past abuse
Spoilers: Through 3.06 (Real Estate)
Story Summary: It’s all so fucked up, so far from where they’d started, so far from where they should be. And she’d take all of it back, she’d forgive everything, if he could just be here right now.
Chapter: 10/?
Word count: 1725
Chapter Summary: All too soon statements like that will be obsolete. Audrey won't be saying anything. Audrey will just be gone. The apartment upstairs will be empty; he'll have no one to make him spill coffee, no one to complain about the late night karaoke downstairs, no one to threaten him with parking tickets if he doesn't fix her drain. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to rent the apartment out again. It will never be anyone's but Audrey's.
Author's Notes: Written for my hc-bingo prompt "disappearing".
Chapter features Duke, Claire, and Audrey. Song is "Timshel".
death is at your doorstep
and it will steal your innocence
but it will not steal your substance
you are not alone in this
as brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Audrey calling for a favor always leaves Duke simultaneously excited and terrified. Because as much as he wants to help her, any way he can, her favors generally involve babysitting crazy Troubled people or, more recently, killing them.
Still, it’s Audrey, so he gets in his truck and drives to the address she gives.
The doc hadn’t looked her best this morning - granted, none of them had after that house. But she looks like a corpse now, so pale she makes Audrey look tan, huddled under a blanket on a bench by the parking lot. Audrey sits beside her, watching the therapist with worry clearly etched on her face (like Audrey needed something else to worry about), and suddenly Duke wishes he was just babysitting a crazy Troubled person.
When he pulls up Audrey stands, relief on her face.
“Duke, hi,” she greets him tightly. He nods at Claire questioningly, and Audrey sighs. “It’s…” She glances at Claire, who nods. “It’s Jordan,” she tells Duke, looking back. “She, uh…”
There’s a beat, and then realization. “Touched her?” Duke feels a strange anger rush through him; he doesn’t even really know Claire, but she obviously cares about Audrey and that’s enough for him. Even if she did steal his ghost mug.
Audrey rubs her forehead, mutters, “Yeah, something like that.” Duke can practically feel the nervous tension vibrating off her. “Could you take her back to the Gull? She needs to rest, but I can’t risk leaving her alone-”
“Of course,” he cuts her off. “Your bed is best in Haven-” Audrey’s eyebrows raise a few inches, Claire chokes into the blanket, and he holds up his hands. “-which I know because I bought it, remember?” Audrey shakes her head with a little smile and it’s all worth it, just for that. “Plus, I happen to be a very good cook. And I have a large selection of drinks, when you feel like forgetting today.”
“And here I was just starting to remember everything,” Audrey states wryly.
Duke winces. “Right, uh…” Audrey just shakes her head again, looking down at Claire. The brunette looks even worse up close, her eyes covered in shadows, her whole body trembling the slightest bit. From the way Audrey keeps gravitating toward her, he can tell his friend is worried. Very worried. He hates seeing her worried.
Whatever Jordan had done, he hopes it’s enough to make Nathan see things straight again.
“One condition,” Duke deadpans. The two women fix him with glares that nearly send him back a step; he’s not so sure he likes them teaming up like this. “No therapizing me,” he threatens. Audrey bites back a grin and Claire’s lips twitch, just the smallest bit.
“Not on my agenda,” she answers hoarsely. “Although… I do have to ask about your choice of shirt.”
Audrey bursts out laughing (mission accomplished) and Duke throws his hands up. “Ask your friend,” he grumbles. “She’s the one who spilled coffee all over me, and this is the only spare I had at the Gull.”
“And you own it… why?” Audrey asks innocently.
Duke opens and closes his mouth. “Okay, because you have a gun, I’m going to let that go.” Audrey’s still smiling widely, and from the shadows around her eyes he can tell she really, really needed that. “Okay, go,” he orders, waving his hands at her. “I’ll take care of your therapist friend, you go do important cop things.” Audrey’s smirk fades a little. She presses a hand to Claire’s shoulder, murmurs something to the doctor that Duke can’t hear. Claire nods, then stands unsteadily, stumbles toward Duke’s truck.
Duke climbs into the driver’s side, can’t help noticing the way Claire’s fingers shake as she tries to buckle the seatbelt, the way she’s not breathing quite right. Audrey leans against the door, concern strewn all across her face. “I’m gonna go deal with… her,” the cop bites. “And Nathan.” The venom in her voice is a little scary.
“It’s not his fault, Audrey,” Claire sighs. Audrey just shakes her head, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Audrey,” Claire says again, almost warningly. “Talk to him. If you start assuming things again this will only get worse.” Audrey glares at the therapist, looking almost like a petulant child, and Duke suddenly wants to laugh. It’s a little refreshing to see someone who can talk her down.
“Fine,” the cop mutters, waving a hand and looking at Duke. “Just… take care of her.” Duke sketches a salute as she walks away.
***
Claire is silent for the ride, shivering quietly even under her blanket. Duke honestly has no idea what the hell he could possibly say; she’s a shrink, she knows how to talk her way out of things even better than he does. And this kind of talking has never exactly been his strong suit.
Still, she looks so small and scared curled on the seat, turned away from him to stare out the window. He wonders absently if he should take her to the hospital, decides that between Claire and Audrey he’d probably never walk again. No, best to stick with what Audrey had told him. Besides, taking care of Claire can’t possibly be any more difficult or frustrating than trying to do it for Audrey.
And he also knows that the best way to keep Audrey relatively sane is to distract her, give her something else to focus on. Someone else to worry about or try to fix. And Claire and Audrey are almost disturbingly alike in that way, from what he’s seen.
“Can I ask you something?” he states into the silence, half-expecting her to just ignore him or not even hear him. But she blinks, makes an assenting noise. “Did you like my waffles?”
Claire starts laughing, strangled sounds that are half-sobs, but Duke figures it’s better than nothing. “Yeah, Duke, they were great,” she chokes.
He smiles a little. “You know I don’t make waffles for just anyone.”
She waves a hand in his general direction. “Yeah, Audrey said something about that.”
That sobers him up, because all too soon statements like that will be obsolete. Audrey won’t be saying anything. Audrey will just be gone. The apartment upstairs will be empty; he’ll have no one to make him spill coffee, no one to complain about the late night karaoke downstairs, no one to threaten him with parking tickets if he doesn’t fix her drain. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to rent the apartment out again. It will never be anyone’s but Audrey’s.
“Is Audrey okay?” The words come from his mouth before he thinks.
Claire turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You know I can’t answer that. And wouldn’t, even if I could.”
Duke smiles tightly. “Okay, I just meant… this morning she said something about her brain bleeding, and how that’s why she’s been passing out, and I just want to make sure she’s not… dying or something.” Claire looks away, and Duke feels a little kernel of anxiety explode in his chest.
“She’s not dying,” Claire states unconvincingly. Duke decides she sounds too weary to push it any more.
He hesitates, then asks because even if there’s nothing he can do and even if he’s the last person she’d want to talk to, he’d feel too guilty if he didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?”
Claire glances at him in surprise. “I will be,” she answers quietly. She’s not trembling so badly anymore, Duke notices with satisfaction.
He stares straight ahead, hands a little white on the wheel. “You know, I kind of hope Jordan comes to the Gull,” he states steadily. “I don’t usually enjoy my Trouble, but I’d really love to kick her ass.”
He sees Claire smile out of the corner of his eye, closing her eyes to lean against the window as the tension in the car drops a level. That must’ve been what Audrey had told her, Duke realizes - to trust him. (Truth be told, he’s getting really sick of everyone always assuming the worst about him.) Claire must really trust Audrey, that she’d take the cop’s word about a murdering smuggler right after being tortured.
He thinks he should probably be offended, but looking at her huddled against the door, eyes closed and deathly pale, he finds he’s only grateful.
(How are they ever going to manage without Audrey?)
Claire’s half-asleep by the time they get to the Gull. He touches her arm gently without thinking and she jumps, suddenly wide awake, eyes wild and terrified. Idiot.
“Just me,” he apologizes softly, raising his hands. He remembers the way Tommy had reacted just from one brief hand on Jordan’s arm, wonders just how long Jordan had kept her hands on Claire. He really wants to ask, but figures it’s probably the last thing the doctor will want to talk about.
“We’re here,” he says instead, listening to her rapid breathing and feeling an annoying surge of guilt in his stomach. She doesn’t answer, just sits stock-still with her hands clenched tightly in the blanket, staring straight ahead like she’s trying to tune out the rest of the world. (He recognizes that look, remembers it on his mother’s face when she’d been trying to pull herself together after one of his father’s drunken rampages. When she hadn’t thought Duke was watching.)
So he gives Claire a moment, waits until her fingers ease their hold and her breathing evens to murmur her name. “I’m sorry,” he states.
She glances at him, a vague mockery of a smile twisting her lips. “Didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary,” she mumbles.
“I make exceptions when I know Audrey will shoot me otherwise.” He tries for lightness, but the words stick in his throat because it always comes back to Audrey. “Speaking of, if I don’t feed you I’m a dead man.”
Claire makes a noise of protest, and eventually he settles for getting her upstairs with a tray of food and the promise she’ll eat it after she’s slept. Audrey still doesn’t have a TV (“When would I ever have time to watch anything?”), so Duke raids her stash of vampire novels she still thinks are cleverly hidden by the fireplace (really, did she forget he’d furnished the place?) and settles onto the couch to wait.
and you have your choices
and these are what make man great
his ladder to the stars
(but i can't move the mountains for you)
Fandom: Haven
Characters/pairings: Nathan/Audrey, Claire Callahan, Duke Crocker, Jordan McKee (Nathan/Jordan?)
Rating: M
Warnings: Very brief mention of past abuse
Spoilers: Through 3.06 (Real Estate)
Story Summary: It’s all so fucked up, so far from where they’d started, so far from where they should be. And she’d take all of it back, she’d forgive everything, if he could just be here right now.
Chapter: 10/?
Word count: 1725
Chapter Summary: All too soon statements like that will be obsolete. Audrey won't be saying anything. Audrey will just be gone. The apartment upstairs will be empty; he'll have no one to make him spill coffee, no one to complain about the late night karaoke downstairs, no one to threaten him with parking tickets if he doesn't fix her drain. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to rent the apartment out again. It will never be anyone's but Audrey's.
Author's Notes: Written for my hc-bingo prompt "disappearing".
Chapter features Duke, Claire, and Audrey. Song is "Timshel".
death is at your doorstep
and it will steal your innocence
but it will not steal your substance
you are not alone in this
as brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Audrey calling for a favor always leaves Duke simultaneously excited and terrified. Because as much as he wants to help her, any way he can, her favors generally involve babysitting crazy Troubled people or, more recently, killing them.
Still, it’s Audrey, so he gets in his truck and drives to the address she gives.
The doc hadn’t looked her best this morning - granted, none of them had after that house. But she looks like a corpse now, so pale she makes Audrey look tan, huddled under a blanket on a bench by the parking lot. Audrey sits beside her, watching the therapist with worry clearly etched on her face (like Audrey needed something else to worry about), and suddenly Duke wishes he was just babysitting a crazy Troubled person.
When he pulls up Audrey stands, relief on her face.
“Duke, hi,” she greets him tightly. He nods at Claire questioningly, and Audrey sighs. “It’s…” She glances at Claire, who nods. “It’s Jordan,” she tells Duke, looking back. “She, uh…”
There’s a beat, and then realization. “Touched her?” Duke feels a strange anger rush through him; he doesn’t even really know Claire, but she obviously cares about Audrey and that’s enough for him. Even if she did steal his ghost mug.
Audrey rubs her forehead, mutters, “Yeah, something like that.” Duke can practically feel the nervous tension vibrating off her. “Could you take her back to the Gull? She needs to rest, but I can’t risk leaving her alone-”
“Of course,” he cuts her off. “Your bed is best in Haven-” Audrey’s eyebrows raise a few inches, Claire chokes into the blanket, and he holds up his hands. “-which I know because I bought it, remember?” Audrey shakes her head with a little smile and it’s all worth it, just for that. “Plus, I happen to be a very good cook. And I have a large selection of drinks, when you feel like forgetting today.”
“And here I was just starting to remember everything,” Audrey states wryly.
Duke winces. “Right, uh…” Audrey just shakes her head again, looking down at Claire. The brunette looks even worse up close, her eyes covered in shadows, her whole body trembling the slightest bit. From the way Audrey keeps gravitating toward her, he can tell his friend is worried. Very worried. He hates seeing her worried.
Whatever Jordan had done, he hopes it’s enough to make Nathan see things straight again.
“One condition,” Duke deadpans. The two women fix him with glares that nearly send him back a step; he’s not so sure he likes them teaming up like this. “No therapizing me,” he threatens. Audrey bites back a grin and Claire’s lips twitch, just the smallest bit.
“Not on my agenda,” she answers hoarsely. “Although… I do have to ask about your choice of shirt.”
Audrey bursts out laughing (mission accomplished) and Duke throws his hands up. “Ask your friend,” he grumbles. “She’s the one who spilled coffee all over me, and this is the only spare I had at the Gull.”
“And you own it… why?” Audrey asks innocently.
Duke opens and closes his mouth. “Okay, because you have a gun, I’m going to let that go.” Audrey’s still smiling widely, and from the shadows around her eyes he can tell she really, really needed that. “Okay, go,” he orders, waving his hands at her. “I’ll take care of your therapist friend, you go do important cop things.” Audrey’s smirk fades a little. She presses a hand to Claire’s shoulder, murmurs something to the doctor that Duke can’t hear. Claire nods, then stands unsteadily, stumbles toward Duke’s truck.
Duke climbs into the driver’s side, can’t help noticing the way Claire’s fingers shake as she tries to buckle the seatbelt, the way she’s not breathing quite right. Audrey leans against the door, concern strewn all across her face. “I’m gonna go deal with… her,” the cop bites. “And Nathan.” The venom in her voice is a little scary.
“It’s not his fault, Audrey,” Claire sighs. Audrey just shakes her head, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Audrey,” Claire says again, almost warningly. “Talk to him. If you start assuming things again this will only get worse.” Audrey glares at the therapist, looking almost like a petulant child, and Duke suddenly wants to laugh. It’s a little refreshing to see someone who can talk her down.
“Fine,” the cop mutters, waving a hand and looking at Duke. “Just… take care of her.” Duke sketches a salute as she walks away.
***
Claire is silent for the ride, shivering quietly even under her blanket. Duke honestly has no idea what the hell he could possibly say; she’s a shrink, she knows how to talk her way out of things even better than he does. And this kind of talking has never exactly been his strong suit.
Still, she looks so small and scared curled on the seat, turned away from him to stare out the window. He wonders absently if he should take her to the hospital, decides that between Claire and Audrey he’d probably never walk again. No, best to stick with what Audrey had told him. Besides, taking care of Claire can’t possibly be any more difficult or frustrating than trying to do it for Audrey.
And he also knows that the best way to keep Audrey relatively sane is to distract her, give her something else to focus on. Someone else to worry about or try to fix. And Claire and Audrey are almost disturbingly alike in that way, from what he’s seen.
“Can I ask you something?” he states into the silence, half-expecting her to just ignore him or not even hear him. But she blinks, makes an assenting noise. “Did you like my waffles?”
Claire starts laughing, strangled sounds that are half-sobs, but Duke figures it’s better than nothing. “Yeah, Duke, they were great,” she chokes.
He smiles a little. “You know I don’t make waffles for just anyone.”
She waves a hand in his general direction. “Yeah, Audrey said something about that.”
That sobers him up, because all too soon statements like that will be obsolete. Audrey won’t be saying anything. Audrey will just be gone. The apartment upstairs will be empty; he’ll have no one to make him spill coffee, no one to complain about the late night karaoke downstairs, no one to threaten him with parking tickets if he doesn’t fix her drain. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to rent the apartment out again. It will never be anyone’s but Audrey’s.
“Is Audrey okay?” The words come from his mouth before he thinks.
Claire turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You know I can’t answer that. And wouldn’t, even if I could.”
Duke smiles tightly. “Okay, I just meant… this morning she said something about her brain bleeding, and how that’s why she’s been passing out, and I just want to make sure she’s not… dying or something.” Claire looks away, and Duke feels a little kernel of anxiety explode in his chest.
“She’s not dying,” Claire states unconvincingly. Duke decides she sounds too weary to push it any more.
He hesitates, then asks because even if there’s nothing he can do and even if he’s the last person she’d want to talk to, he’d feel too guilty if he didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?”
Claire glances at him in surprise. “I will be,” she answers quietly. She’s not trembling so badly anymore, Duke notices with satisfaction.
He stares straight ahead, hands a little white on the wheel. “You know, I kind of hope Jordan comes to the Gull,” he states steadily. “I don’t usually enjoy my Trouble, but I’d really love to kick her ass.”
He sees Claire smile out of the corner of his eye, closing her eyes to lean against the window as the tension in the car drops a level. That must’ve been what Audrey had told her, Duke realizes - to trust him. (Truth be told, he’s getting really sick of everyone always assuming the worst about him.) Claire must really trust Audrey, that she’d take the cop’s word about a murdering smuggler right after being tortured.
He thinks he should probably be offended, but looking at her huddled against the door, eyes closed and deathly pale, he finds he’s only grateful.
(How are they ever going to manage without Audrey?)
Claire’s half-asleep by the time they get to the Gull. He touches her arm gently without thinking and she jumps, suddenly wide awake, eyes wild and terrified. Idiot.
“Just me,” he apologizes softly, raising his hands. He remembers the way Tommy had reacted just from one brief hand on Jordan’s arm, wonders just how long Jordan had kept her hands on Claire. He really wants to ask, but figures it’s probably the last thing the doctor will want to talk about.
“We’re here,” he says instead, listening to her rapid breathing and feeling an annoying surge of guilt in his stomach. She doesn’t answer, just sits stock-still with her hands clenched tightly in the blanket, staring straight ahead like she’s trying to tune out the rest of the world. (He recognizes that look, remembers it on his mother’s face when she’d been trying to pull herself together after one of his father’s drunken rampages. When she hadn’t thought Duke was watching.)
So he gives Claire a moment, waits until her fingers ease their hold and her breathing evens to murmur her name. “I’m sorry,” he states.
She glances at him, a vague mockery of a smile twisting her lips. “Didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary,” she mumbles.
“I make exceptions when I know Audrey will shoot me otherwise.” He tries for lightness, but the words stick in his throat because it always comes back to Audrey. “Speaking of, if I don’t feed you I’m a dead man.”
Claire makes a noise of protest, and eventually he settles for getting her upstairs with a tray of food and the promise she’ll eat it after she’s slept. Audrey still doesn’t have a TV (“When would I ever have time to watch anything?”), so Duke raids her stash of vampire novels she still thinks are cleverly hidden by the fireplace (really, did she forget he’d furnished the place?) and settles onto the couch to wait.
and you have your choices
and these are what make man great
his ladder to the stars
(but i can't move the mountains for you)