Haven: Tears That Don't Fall


Prompt fill for RazielOmega for the Haven fic meme on LiveJournal. She requested: Nathan/Jordan, "This is dangerous cause I want you so much, but I hate your guts." Song lyrics come from Landfill by Daughter. Super dark and angsty, but that's exactly what I like.

Enjoy!


"Mommy! Mommy, pick me up!"

Her back is turned, though the innocent timbre of the little girl's voice forces her to inhale sharply.

Slowly, Jordan McKee turns around, facing the little girl in front of her.

A replica.

A mini me.

The perfect combination of a little bit of her and a little bit of him. Jet black hair in perfectly combed strands cascade past her shoulders nearly down to her waist. Little eyes match the color of hers.

She sees so much of him in her, an echoing reflection when two halves come together to make a whole.

The man she hates (loves).

How can a dangerous attraction between two people create something so beautiful?

So innocent.

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

Pressing a gloved hand against her cheek, she pulls her hand away and notices a small, damp spot on the leather.

The tears that fall now feel so real, so palpable. Wet stains against her makeup covered cheeks, her black eyeliner beginning to smear.

Smiling sadly, she crouches down in front of the little girl, gloved hands poised in an open embrace.


Cacophonous voices echo in various tones of reverberation around her, though she dare not open her eyes.

"Don't touch her."

"Be careful."

She wishes she could make the voices go away. Wishes people would stop talking about her in hushed, worried tones like she was a sacred piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.

Wishes she could find peace of mind against the chaos looming around her.

But darkness consumes her all too quickly, leaving no time to figure out anything.

Back down into the sweet abyss of oblivion.


Eyes fluttering open hours later, she awakens to darkness.

Waves of nausea and unbearable amounts of stomach pain course through her.

What happened?

She squints through the darkness, vaguely aware of the incessant beeping of a heart monitor next to her bed and a nasal cannula inserted into her nose.

Fuck.

If there's one thing she hates more than causing others pain, it's hospitals. They've never done anything right. Never served her any purpose.

Mental hospitals are her nightmare and she's been admitted to more than she can count, particularly during her young adult years.

As a teenager, she was rebellious. At one time, she even had colorful streaks of blue and purple in her hair, picking fights with men twice her size.

Trust is an indistinct notion she longs to cling to, though her fear of others constantly after her, constantly degrading her and making her feel useless has taught her to build up brick walls around the irrevocable memories of pain she's endured.

Trusting anyone would cost her dearly.

But she had trusted Nathan.

She still trusts (wants) Nathan.

He'd become a member of the Guard, a vital part of her inner circle.

She should have known better.

Sitting only a few feet away from her bed is none other than Nathan himself. She can barely make out the shape of him, slumped down in the seat and snoring softly, but she knows he's there.

His presence brings an uncomfortable, eerie sense of calm and she allows it to wash over her.

Exhaustion overtakes her suddenly and she drifts back into unconsciousness before she can entertain the thought of waking him.


Familiar blue orbs stare at her worriedly the next time she awakens.

"Jordan…" Nathan whispers breathlessly. "You're awake. You're okay."

He squeezes her hand reassuringly as their eyes meet.

Her voice is soft, parched and wavering when she finally speaks.

"What the hell happened, Nathan?"

"You don't remember?"

She shakes her head.

"You called because you said you wanted to talk about something, but when I came over, you were… you were…"

"Nathan."

"I found you unconscious in your bathroom and I saw blood. At first I… I thought you were dead."

Tears prick Jordan's eyes as she maintains eye contact with Nathan, fingers still laced in his.

"I don't understand," she whispers. "I thought I had cramps or something. I thought they would just go away by the time you came over and-…"

"You had a miscarriage, Jordan," Nathan replies quietly. "That's what the doctors said."

"I…" she stammers. "But…"

"We made a mistake."

They stare at each other for a long time, eyes locked in companionable silence.

They know what they did. They'd given in to a moment of lust, a moment of passion without the thought for consequence.

Now, this is the price they have to pay.

Warm tears roll down Jordan's cheeks. Nathan doesn't wipe them away.

Instead, he releases her hand.

"I really wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you that."

I'm glad you did, she thinks. I love you.

"I hate you," she rasps in a deadly tone, enunciating each word carefully.

"I know."

Standing up, he walks to the door and lingers there for a moment.

When he finally leaves, he doesn't turn around.

He never looks back.

Somehow she manages to hold back her tears and the tears that don't fall morph into an entirely different emotion.

Eyes narrowing and fingers gripping the cold metal bed frame, another sensation courses through her. A familiar one like the warm welcome of an old friend.

A sudden, palpable desire.

Anger.


"Mommy's okay, sweetheart," she whispers to the little girl reassuringly. "And I've got you now. You're safe."

Seconds after Jordan whispers words of reassurance to her daughter, the little girl vanishes from her arms.

"No," she whispers in horror.

Raising her voice a few octaves, she screams "NO!" once more.

Wordlessly, as though every bit of oxygen and energy have been drained from her, she sinks to the ground in despair.


Fin