- two –

Through the driving need to save Rosalyn and find a way out of captivity one thought keeps cutting through her chaotic mind – she's worried about Nathan.

Usually her partner has a cool head in a crisis, but she remembers his rage when she'd told him about Duke's legacy and she knows he won't take her abduction well. He'd tear Haven apart to find her – she knows he's coming. She's just afraid for whoever might get in his way.

So when the lamp tips over she knows she needs to find a way to stop the fire not just because Rosalyn in counting on her but because she doesn't think Nathan will recover if he finds her burned corpse. She cuts through the rope heedless of how the glass slices her wrists because she will not be the victim of some faceless psychopath and leave Nathan forever saddled with guilt. She isn't a damsel in distress, but the danger in Haven is very real and Nathan's got a white knight streak a mile wide. She knows he'll blame himself even though none of this is his fault.

After she escapes to the lobby and hears Nathan calling to her from the doorway she allows herself one moment of weakness and sinks into his arms, desperately glad she didn't have to make it all the way home on her own. He presses his forehead to the side of her neck and his hands to her bare shoulders and she's afraid he can't feel her arms wrapped around him through his heavy jacket. She's been meaning to experiment, to discover exactly how much her touch affects him with clothing in the way, but that always leads to ditching the clothes entirely and all she's 100% sure of is that skin to skin contact shoots straight to his nerves. But she presses herself closer and breathes him in and allows herself a few precious seconds of relief. He is here and seemingly whole and whatever damage he caused trying to get to her, they'll deal with it.

"I was so worried," he whispers into her skin.

It reminds her that as safe as she feels in this moment, they are not. She pulls away and launches into an explanation about her kidnapper and Rosalyn. She meets Rosalyn's son and they all take off looking for her.

But after Duke and Wesley leave the room instead of immediately following Nathan pulls her back to him and slants his mouth over hers. Even though there's a case to solve and danger lurking she gives in, because just half an hour ago she'd watched a fire start and been terrified she'd never get to do this again.

"Are you okay?" he asks afterwards. He raises a hand as if he wants to touch her cheek, but doesn't. As hard as her abductor hit her, she figures it's probably bruised.

"He wanted information on the Colorado Kid." She wants to be strong, but her voice wavers at the thought of the phantom in the bright light who seemed to know more about her life than she did. "Wasn't too happy that I didn't have any. He got so angry when I wouldn't give him what he wanted, and all I could think was I couldn't die without telling you I loved you."

He crushes her to him with a strangled sound that might have been a sob, except Nathan doesn't cry. "I love you too," he swears. She already knows this, but it floods her cold, battered body with warmth anyway.

"You've already established that. It's my emotionally stunted self that took so long to get there."

"We're going to celebrate," he says as he pulls away. "Soon as we save the town from aliens." His sardonic tone promises everything is going to be okay even more than his words do.

But after finding Rosalyn's charred remains and watching Wesley disappear into his own delusion, neither Nathan or Audrey feel much like celebrating.

He drives in silence, and she doesn't fight him when he pulls up to his house instead of her apartment. She's not ready to face whatever she'll find there. The Gull was her sanctuary, and it had been breached.

Thankfully Nathan is more stalwart. He opens the door for her and she goes straight to his couch, pulling her knees to her chest and dropping her forehead against them. Rosalyn's terrified voice swirls through her mind and tears build behind her eyes. But Nathan is suddenly there beside her, his large, warm hand running soothingly up and down her back and she leans into him, letting his chest muffle her sobs.

"I promised I'd get her out of there," she cries, the injustice of it all consuming her. She'd watched people die since coming to Haven – even sometimes been the cause. But she'd never felt so responsible.

Nathan doesn't feed her empty reassurances. He just keeps rubbing her back until her tears dry.

"You should get cleaned up," he says eventually, running his fingers softly across her face to free her hair from where it had matted in her tears. "I'll make us something to eat."

"I'm not hungry." She can still smell Rosalyn's burning flesh, but she'd not sure whether it's a memory or the stench has sunk into their clothing. Either way, the thought of food turns her stomach. She'd already wretched once today.

"I know. But we need to eat."

She figures she'll argue with him about that after her shower. As much as she does not want to leave his side, she wants to be rid of all traces of this awful day. She throws her black and red stained blouse into the bathroom trash. She cannot believe that a little over a day ago she was flitting around her apartment, making a special dinner for Nathan, for once not thinking about work or the Troubles. Things have been tense in Haven ever since she shot the Rev, but the longer she was with Nathan the easier it was to forget. She'd gotten careless and complacent, and now Rosalyn was dead.

She turns the water as hot as she can stand it and uses Nathan's soap to scrub away the grime, even though she's filled his shower with all sorts of girly concoctions. The water scalds her slashed wrists through the bandages the EMTs had hastily applied, and she swallows the pain as she swims in the guilt of wishing she had Nathan's Trouble, even for a minute. If she'd died in that inn, there was a chance he'd never have felt anything again.

So when she pads into the kitchen wearing some of his old clothes she sneaks up behind him. He's staring out the window as something on the stove boils. While one of her hands grasps his, the other wraps around him and snakes under his shirt to spread against his stomach.

He twitches back into her with a gasp, but she holds on. "Hi," she whispers. He'd taken off the jacket, so her breath ghosts over his neck.

"Hey." His voice is low and breathy as she moves her fingers in tiny circles.

She hears his breathing deepen, and he lets her touch him for awhile before he slowly turns in her grasp.

Finally she lets herself study him. The bags under his eyes are pronounced, but not as much as the bruise blooming across his face. In the dim light of the inn she hadn't noticed. His lip is split too. She reaches up to touch his wounds and then catches herself.

"What happened?"

When he looks to the ground, ashamed, she knows.

"I guess I should be grateful Duke's still alive, huh?" She's too tired to give that the bite it warrants, but she raises her eyebrows and tries to glare.

He rubs uselessly at the back of his neck. "I found his whistle in your apartment! Your place was a mess, you were gone and all clues pointed to Duke. I couldn't think straight, I was so terrified."

She's not shocked by this, and she finds that she can't really blame him. She brings her hands to his shoulders and tries to sooth the tension from them. She watches him swallow as his eyes drift shut automatically, and she knows it's working. "How long did you two spend beating on each other before you realized he had nothing to do with this?"

"Awhile."

"Oh Nathan." She knows now is not the time to remind him that she's certain Duke is on their side. He's still alive, so there's time to rectify this, and right now that's all that matters. They'll worry about the fact her abductor knew them well enough to turn the men against each other in the morning.

"I knew you'd be livid if I killed him."

"Damn right." She doesn't even want to imagine that. She drops her head to his shoulder and lets herself absorb his closeness, his body solid against hers and his breathing steady in her ear.

He smoothes a hand over her hair and pulls reluctantly away. "Let's eat so we can get you to bed."

She doesn't have the energy to argue that she's not a child. The soup is warm and salty and she doesn't bother indentifying a single ingredient. The hot chocolate he'd made her is lukewarm and she tastes the alcohol he'd laced it with. She finishes that even though she can only manage half a bowl of soup. As miserable as she still feels she's overwhelmingly glad that he's here, taking care of her. She can't imagine how she'd cope with this alone in her trashed apartment.

She waits up while he takes a shower, and when he slides into bed beside her she rolls toward him and kisses him deeply, her hands seeking his bare skin.

When she needs to breathe she pulls away and rests her forehead against his. He smells like her body wash.

"I'm so tired," she mumbles. It's more than just the heaviness in her battered limbs. Her soul is weary.

"Then sleep, Audrey. I've got you."

She shakes her head, her nose brushing against his. Sleep isn't what she needs most right now. "I want to feel you. I want you to feel me."

He's so gentle with her it makes her ache, and she cries, "I love you," on her release. He echoes her devotion and keeps her gathered in his arms. "No one will take you again," he swears.

He's there every time she wakes, sobbing or shaking, and as time passes and her abductor remains at large she never forgets his determination to protect her, even when she's no longer sure he has the authority to keep that promise.

When the world breaks your heart
I can put it back together
Write your name across the sky
So I'm always with you
Now it's you and me
Like the stars we burn forever
So listen when I say to you
I'll be there, you're not alone

When the World Breaks Your Heart, Goo Goo Dolls