Summary: Bent or broken is the family tree. Each branch a part of a part of me. This is my tree, and it's a big ol' tree. -Rain Perry. Follow Killian and Sam James (Cogan) as they meet their grandparents, Audrey Parker and Nathan Wuornos. Post Season 3 Pre Season 4
Need to Knows:
-My cousin originally started this fic but decided to drop it and I really loved the storyline. Let's make him wish he kept it, shall we?
-When Lucy took James into the barn and left Arla behind, Arla was pregnant.
-The twins found out about their mother's sorted past (aka the way she took people's skin) and left home.
-The Cogan Twins haven't seen eachother in years.
-Killian is a bounty-hunter and Elena is a Police Officer
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Xbballbolin
presents
A Family Affair
A Haven Fan-Fiction
{_.."… … … … … … …""(_}
Prelude
Audrey Parker.
It's just a name to Killian: four syllables, a couple of vowels, a few letters but to the man that owns the rough hand forcing his head underwater- the man that'd spent the past few days running through torture method after torture method- the name is worth killing over. The pressure on his neck makes it impossible to hold his breath. Agony pounds through his being causing him to cry out and the moment his lips part, it's like opening the floodgates. Immediately, water fills his mouth and the panic within takes hold. He thrashes about madly in an attempt to break free, bubbles of the air he has left escape with his screams. And just when Killian feels darkness pulling at the edge of his consciousness… that the end is near, the hand lifts him from the cool waters of hell.
"How was the swim?" the man questions in a monotone nature that doesn't match the maliciousness of his misdeeds.
But Killian is too busy choking to respond, body convulsing in violent spasms as he tries to cough up the water that ills his insides. Once his raw throat is clear, Killian begins taking in as much air as his shriveled lungs can take… greedily… hungrily. It doesn't matter he is making himself dizzy. In this moment, air is the only thing that matters. Internally, he promises himself that he'll never take the usually mechanical act of breathing in oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide for granted ever again until he realizes he's yet to respond to his captor.
"Refreshing," he breathes, the word sticking to his throat and coming out gravely. After a pause and an attempt to clear his throat, he continues, "I just wish I was a better swimmer."
A dry laugh laced in bitterness dances through the air and the instant it stops, he drives Killian's head back into the murky water for a moment reenacting a process that's been stuck on repeat so long Killian has lost count. But this time, he isn't held under until he's skirting the point of suffocation, just long enough to make the point he's losing patience. After giving Killian a moment to catch his breath, the man continues his bombardment of questions.
"Alright, smartass, let's try this again. Where is Audrey Parker?"
Again with the same question he'd been suffocated beneath a plastic bag, electrocuted by a car battery, and sliced and diced constantly. To say he'd grown tired of the question was an understatement. The gravel in his voice is cleared by the aggression barreling through his being, "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know! How many times do I have to tell you before it fucking sinks in?!"
It's the truth, plain and simple, but the man believes it a lie and Killian knows he'll suffer for it. Again, the grip on the back of his neck tightens and Killian knows it won't be long until his head is thrust back into the murky depths. Closing his eyes, he takes the necessary steps to get some air into his chest and prepares himself- as much as one can prepare themselves- to dive in. The grip on his neck moves him to hover over the pit and just when he's sure he's going under, the hand stops pulling him back.
"How about your mother? Do you know where she is?"
A sickly constriction tighten within him, the pains of fear, dread and disgust culminating in a hollowing bile at the mere mention of his mother, devouring his insides in a single gulp. His mind reeled, scouring his memory for the last words he told his mother:
"There's nothing human left in you. No good. No kindness. No love. Only a monster that needs to be stopped… and if I ever see you again, I swear to God I'll stop you."
He turned his head to look up at his captor with an impending doom, terrified to ask but driven on all the same. Biting the bullet he asks, "What does Audrey Parker have to do with my mother?"
The captor didn't answer, just stared down at Killian, daring him to guess. Killian knew the more he asked, the more it would hurt- like picking at a wound that would've healed if he knew to leave well enough alone but he couldn't control himself. "Tell me what Audrey Parker has to do with Arla!"
"Everything."
[xXx]
The steel guitar twang of an old country song hummed from the jukebox which seemed to have the old-timey feel of the dimly lit dive bar where the pungent odor of stale cigarette smoke, beer, and something vaguely reminiscent of piss was overwhelming. In such a hell-hole, the downtrodden detective believed he might be able to lay low for the next twenty-seven years or so…
And he'd been doing pretty well so far. The concept of time had turned from seconds, minutes, hours into sips, drinks, and bottles. But as he stirred the amber liquid in the culvert of his glass, the gentle touch of feminine laughter dancing through the air hit his ears causing him to look up from his drunken oblivion.
Leaning against the table lining up her shot was a woman in her early-twenties with hair the color of dying embers and a guy laced around her guiding her shot in the midst of a date cliché. Leaning in he whispered something into her ear that made her look up from her cue, a smile dancing across her lips. Then she turned back over her shoulder to him and mouthed the words, 'I love you more.'
Under his breath he cursed and downed the contents of his glass quickly motioning for another. The scene before him was love, simple and sweet, but too sweet for the observer's blood. It pained him to look at displays of affection, of love in any variation. She was to blame.
Audrey Parker.
It'd been a month since he came up with the brilliant idea to shoot Agent Howard thus losing Audrey and intensifying the troubles. He'd failed. He'd failed Haven. He'd failed her and now he lived the life of a failure… drunken, downtrodden, and devastated.
[xXx]
She never expected to see the great Nathan Wuornos in a bar like this, never thought he'd fall this far from grace but here they were. She marched through the sea of peanut shells and cigarette butts that littered the floor, moto-boots clapping across the old wood plank flooring as she made her way through the sea of nobodies for her somebody.
"Nathan Wuornos. Oh how the mighty have fallen."
Bloodshot eyes shot up and settled upon the angel that took the seat next to him. Her beauty was almost alien… foreign didn't begin to describe the out-of-this-world beauty she possessed. Sun-lightened luscious chocolate tresses, flawless sun-kissed skin, and sky blue eyes laced with liquid silver and a list that went on for days all indicators but his first impression is instantly called into question when she takes the glass before him and takes a long hard swig.
"I was drinking that," he deadpanned, the words humming lazily over drunken lips.
"Was being the operative word," she teases, the edge of her lip curling into a smirk. "In fact, I hope you enjoyed your last drink because it is your last."
"Well, unless you're here to kill me," he starts, pausing when he realizes it may be a possibility. "You aren't here to kill me are you?"
All defense and objection died in her throat, mouth groping for words, her hatred for her realization stronger than defending herself at this point. "You want me to be?"
He hesitates, contemplation burning in his eyes, "Of course not."
She saw it though. He was a shell of the man- no country, no honor, no love, no hope… just irrevocably empty- walking down the path of a broken heart. We've all found ourselves barreling down this path a time or two for whatever length. And once you've started down this path, you must choose: take the nearest exit for the road to recovery or ride it off the cliff into the vast darkness of nothingness. And sometimes we get lost along the way not realizing they've past their exit. But then there are times when there's a hand reaching out to guide us pull us back or push us towards an exit. She'd been where Nathan teeters- precariously perched on that ledge without an exit in sight.
And Killian was there to pull her back so she'd pull Nathan back in the hopes of repaying that debt.
"You did, but I've already got enough blood on my hands… which is why I'm here," she admits noticing the way his brow raises slightly, interest peaked. "I need your help saving my brother."
Nathan laughed. He couldn't even save himself. How was he supposed to help this stranger? "I can't help you."
"You can and you will," she demands, not leaving any room for questioning. "Because Killian is your grandson and we're all you have left."
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