One Man's Heaven
Fandoms: Fringe, Haven
Characters: Alternate Lincoln Lee, Duke Crocker
Rating: G
Summary: The wonder isn't the bar itself, per se, but the fact that it exists at all.
Notes: I signed up for the Into a Bar challenge, listing alt-Linc as my character and Haven as one of the fandoms. Killa said: "I vote that even if you don't get assigned Duke, you need to write him and Lincoln meeting in a bar."
I was not assigned Duke. As usual, I have no resistance to her insidious mindworms.
This world's version of Maine was nearly the same as his own, at least from what he remembered from family vacations they'd taken before his mother died. Lincoln's memories involved beaches, sailing, and as much lobster as an eight-year-old boy could eat (a lot).
Of course in Lincoln's world these days most of the southern Maine coastline was either quarantined under Amber or had otherwise experienced devastating Fringe events, so he was literally sitting in a place that no longer existed on his side. Fringe Division chose this area for the crossover experiment for precisely that reason; if something went wrong, the ecological damage would hardly make an impact on the already-ravaged coastline. The potential damage to this side-and to Lincoln's person, frankly-hadn't really factored into the equations.
But Lincoln came through to this world hale and whole, not as much as a tremor announcing his presence. He was grateful for more than one reason: Haven was a pretty town. He arrived on the outskirts of the beach and walked into town, setting his watch for the countdown for the return trip. His mission to test the viability of the portal technology was already a success, so the rest of his time here would be pure observation.
The Grey Gull wasn't much of a bar but it was trying, he had to give it that. Lincoln took another sip of the peculiar beer, still struggling to appreciate the unusual taste. Differences between the worlds' ecologies affected even the nature of the hops.
The owner-slash-bartender had been welcoming enough, in his casually genial way. But Lincoln got the distinct impression that "Duke"-whether that was given name or nickname, Lincoln couldn't tell-started watching him from the moment he stepped through the door, assessing the stranger for potential trouble. Lincoln approved of the general caution, though he wouldn't be here long enough to discern its cause.
Duke swiped at the top of the bar with a towel, a reasonable enough pretext to bring him in Lincoln's direction again. "Getcha something to eat? Best burger in town. And the fish came off the boat this morning."
Lincoln smiled, thinking that he was already trying his luck with the beer; no telling what any minute biochemical differences in protein structures would do to his insides. Better to avoid the chance of Tijuana two-step for this brief assignment. "I'm good, thanks."
"Hey, you don't happen to have family in town, do you?" The question was innocuous enough, but Duke's eyes were wary.
Lincoln snorted. "No. I'm not from anywhere around here."
"Oh, good." And then as if realizing how peculiar the comment was, Duke added hastily, "Just wanted to know if we should welcome back a native son. Haven's a close-knit community."
And probably not keen on visitors. "Just passing through."
"Hey, you want to sit at my bar and drink all night, you're welcome to stay." An odd look passed over Duke's face, and then he shook his head. "As long as you've got the cash, that is."
"Didn't think you were running a charity," Lincoln said, amused. The comment struck closer to the mark than it should, though Duke would never know it. All Lincoln's cash had been carefully manufactured to match this world's currency. Maybe while he was here he'd be able to find out about the "Jackson" on their twenty-dollar notes.
He saw Duke's face light up when a petite blonde woman entered the bar. The expression repeated, though more guarded, when the dour brown-haired man wearing a police jacket followed her. Duke headed over and the three of them shared a quick conversation, the woman standing between them and all too close, and Lincoln smiled into his beer.
The conversations around him rose and fell in the usual patterns of small-town life: births, marriages, deaths. Who was dating whom and the scandals thereof. Two older men were arguing like a long-time married couple down at the other end of the bar, a couple of women having a girls' night were giggling at a table covered with empty shot glasses, and a hulk of a guy with long scraggly blond hair sat in the corner and glowered at the rest of the patrons.
No one was talking about vortexes or bad air or so-and-so who'd lost a brother/cousin/friend to an Amber quarantine. It'd been years since Lincoln sat in a public place without overhearing those kind of conversations. Those omissions-and that fact that these people had no idea such things even existed-made all of their discussions sound like he'd landed in some kind of fantasyland. Lincoln Lee was definitely not in Midland anymore.
After awhile Duke wandered back over and Lincoln couldn't help teasing. "So what's up with Mr. GrimFace McCrankyPants?"
Duke stared at him for a second, then smirked broadly like all his deeply held beliefs had just been validated. "Town sheriff. The stick up his ass is a permanent feature."
"And the lady's his partner?" Lincoln asked, half guessing, though they had that vibe.
"Yeah, Audrey. She's a peach." Duke tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "You're a cop, too. Or U.S. marshal. Something like that."
"Something like," Lincoln allowed, thinking that this side's tiny Fringe Division was down in Boston and with any luck, this town never would have reason to hear of it. "How'd you know?"
Duke smirked. "Got a nose for cops," he said, laying one finger against the considerable side of his own.
Deflection was probably in order. Lincoln nodded toward the sheriff and his partner. "And an eye for them too, if I don't miss my guess."
Duke sputtered for a moment, then sighed. "That obvious? You're disinvited from the after-hours poker game. Okay, my turn: how'd you guess?"
"Takes one to know one." Lincoln shrugged a little. "I'm in a similar situation back home, with my partners."
"Huh." Duke fished around under the bar and came up with a bottle. He untwisted the cap and held the bottle out to tap Lincoln's glass. "To impossible fantasies."
"To keeping possibilities alive," Lincoln corrected, because what else was he here for, if not that? The higher-ups at Fringe Division were rightfully concerned about this world, but the more Lincoln saw of it, the more he hoped they could reach some kind of accord. His universe could use a little bit of...haven, in the truest sense of the word.
Lincoln would remember this town when he returned home, as a symbol of everything his world was trying to save.
According to the Redverse map, Maine's quarantine areas in Red'verse roughly overlap where Haven is supposed to be, in either Waldo or Knox county.
Kansas and Oklahoma are combined into one state as "Midland" Over There.