AN: Okay, so, go listen to "Sleep Well, My Angel" from We Are The Fallen. It's a beautiful song, and it fits extremely well in this chapter.
AN2: This is my first lengthy Haven fan fiction, so I don't know whether I've gotten the characters down or not. If there's anything you think I need to fix, please tell me. Or, if you like the story, tell me that, too! I can't keep doing something right or fix what I'm doing wrong if people don't tell me. Anyway, read on.
Luminance peeked in through the closed shades from the parking lot. Everything was still, near silence, except for the rise and fall of Audrey's chest and the sound of her breath. Somehow, she'd been able to fall asleep. Her back was to Nathan, but that didn't stop him from watching her – thought bubbles grazing the inside of his forehead, but too abstract to form coherency. Instead, he lay there, too fond of sensations he beheld when playing with her straw-colored hair. If only she'd roll over, look at him with those big blue eyes, tell him everything would be alright, okay, fine.
And when a lucid notion swept through, he couldn't help but hear The Chief in his brain, saying, "Nathan, she's too important to be falling in love with you like this. She's too important. Now, you do the right thing, 'cause Haven needs her more than you do."
Nathan felt the child in him – or what was left of it – figuratively grapple onto Audrey harder. "Dad, what d'you know?" Even his voice had changed, weakened, shrunken into a wavering, scared thing. "What d'you know, Dad?"
"I know you don't think I know much of anything, but I've handled Haven's troubles twice in my life, and we needed her the first time, and it's not up to you to change the course of history."
Nathan stopped playing with Audrey's hair, instead turning onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "She's my shadow. She's supposed to be wherever I am."
He got out of bed, beginning to pace the room. He couldn't remember the last time he had this much energy – like he was jumping out of a skin he couldn't feel. How could he feel energy when he couldn't even feel the sun? How could he ever know when the sun was too bright or his coffee was too hot without Audrey telling him? He'd lived in danger for so long, not caring for himself the way she could – the way nobody else had ever tried – and then he was getting out of bed; then he was getting dressed, pulling on a short-sleeved flannel, jeans, and buckling a belt; then he was grabbing his gun from the bedside table.
"What about what she needs?" There was the child in him again – a voice Nathan felt needed to be choked down. He took one look at Audrey, safe in her dreams where she hopefully dreamt about kitten whiskers and puppy-dog tails rather than Haven's travesties, and he hastily snatched a notebook from an end table, and a pen from a cup on the half-wall. "Dad, what should I say?"
Nathan looked up while stooping over the table, as if he'd see The Chief gazing at him expectantly. All that was there were a pair of closed blinds, cord dangling to the floor, light shining through the near-broken things after the burglar breaking in and trashing the place. But, all Nathan could say was 'I'm sorry,' so he scribbled that down in big letters.
The stove's LED display read 4 A.M. He needed to get out of there before she woke up to begin making her morning coffee. Neither of them had been sleeping lately, and that moment was proof. Nathan grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began to shove clothes into it. He grabbed his toothbrush from the bathroom – other things he could get on the road.
Finally, he pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser – his drawer – and retrieved the plastic container of cupcakes he'd bought when she was out the night before. He placed it carefully and quietly beside his note on the table, and then left with his suitcase, not even bothering to tie his shoes.
