Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Haven. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I am sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. Real life has provided some interesting bumps in the road in the last week and a half. Hopefully the chapter isn't too much of a drag. There is some fluff involved, but I think there is also some subtle (and not so subtle) movement, as well.

But seriously, thank you for reading the story. As always, feedback/theorizing/critiquing are cherished. You guys really do keep me going with the reviews. Reviews fuel the plot bunnies.

Part Four: "Domestic Partners"

Nathan Wuornos had been the one constant in Audrey Parker's life since the moment she arrived in Haven. First impressions notwithstanding—after all, she had thought he was just a small town hick when he knocked on the window of her rental car as it was precariously balanced on the edge of a cliff—he had become the one person she looked forward to seeing each day. His opinion was the one that mattered to her. His judgment was the one she trusted. And yet for all the hours she and Nathan had spent together as partners and friends, Audrey had never been inside his house. So when he pulled the Bronco into the driveway of his modest, craftsman-style home, she was intrigued.

"When you said I could come as I was, I was thinking fast food in the truck."

After putting the vehicle in park, Nathan looked across the bench at Audrey, her profile illuminated by the lights coming from the instrument panel. "Would you rather have fast food?"

"And miss seeing the inside of your lair? I don't think so," she laughed.

"My lair?" Nathan repeated incredulously as he shut off the engine. "And maybe after dinner I can show you my secret laboratory."

"Make fun all you want, but this is a big, freaking deal."

"Why?" he asked, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Are you kidding? We spend a lot of time together, probably more than most married couples, and I have never seen the inside of your house."

"It's just a house."

"But it's your house with your things." She grinned. "I learn something new about you every day, but this … this is going to be the jackpot." Audrey opened the door and slid out of the Bronco, greeted by the cool night air. She could feel the goose bumps form on the back of her neck, but she wasn't entirely convinced that they were solely due to the temperature. Anticipation had to be playing its part because the eagerness she felt was nearly palpable.

Nathan seemed unaffected by both the coolness of the fall air and her excitement as he made his way around the truck and to the sidewalk, taking his time and being a bit too nonchalant, in her opinion.

Motion-activated floodlights broke up the darkness. Following Nathan down the sidewalk, Audrey stepped up and then stopped on the large, covered front porch while he unlocked the door. As she waited, her eyes fell upon the rocking chairs that moved ever-so-gently in the wind. Did he sit out there often, she wondered? There were two chairs. Why two when he lived alone? Unless Nathan wasn't quite the loner she had pegged him for.

Nathan's eyes fell on Audrey who was, by his estimation, uncharacteristically quiet. With the lights, it was easy for him to spot the fierce curiosity that played upon her features. It was that same interest he saw her demonstrate when they worked on cases, as her mind ran through scenarios, possibilities, and probabilities. And it was all focused on his life. Some men would have been flattered. Others offended. Nathan was neither, but how exactly he felt about her scrutiny was tough to nail down.

Nathan was used to the fishbowl, the peril of living in a town where pretty much everyone knew, or at least knew of, everyone else. Growing up, there were those who shied away from him because of his affliction and those—like Duke Crocker—who sought him out to make him the punch lines of their jokes. Even after he had regained his sense of touch and kept it for two-plus decades, there were whispers. And now that he was 'troubled' again, he was the subject of more speculation. The hushed tones had died down—mostly—but he had heard enough. He was cursed. It was payback for something. He was unnatural. And it just became easier to not deal with people, to not put himself out there for public consumption.

But Audrey—Audrey wasn't like the others. Her curiosity was more than a fascination with the weird, he realized. It was a genuine interest in him, in his life. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she was so curious. Other than the obvious, Nathan did not consider himself unusual or even particularly interesting. He was just a semi-ordinary guy living in his bizarre hometown. No big secrets. No secrets, really, but one.

He really needed to tell her.

But once again, it came back to consequences.

How was she supposed to react to knowing that when their skin touched, her warmth made him feel like he was going to catch fire from the thrill? That the slight friction of skin-on-skin contact made him feel like he was going to come unglued? That those moments when they accidentally touched or carelessly brushed against one another had been some of the best moments he'd had in over three years?

It was too much to put on someone. How was she supposed to take it when he didn't even know what to make of it?

Yet it all came back to this. He still really needed to tell her.

"You act like I'm some mystery to solve," he commented, flipping on the lights inside as he entered the house before her.

"You are, in a way," she admitted, following after him. She shut the door behind her and scanned the room.

This was it. Nathan's home. Masculine colors. Dark blue walls. Oak trim and floors. Streamlined furniture. Beige sofa and rust colored chair. Stone-work fireplace. Built-in shelves. Books. Photos. Understated. It was so him, she decided.

Audrey liked it immediately.

He scoffed. "There's nothing remotely mysterious about me."

"Please," she countered, rolling her eyes. "You've got this whole quiet brooding thing going on. You get that intense look on your face."

His brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"That's it right there," she replied pointing. "Makes all the women crazy," she teased.

"Can't speak about 'all the women', but you are definitely a little…"

"Hey, watch it if you know what's good for you." Without thinking, she poked his arm in protest.

Pressure. Sensation branching out in a ripple effect. Was his heart beating faster? Had to be, even if he couldn't feel it. But he tried to remain calm, collected. This was his problem, not hers. "Maybe I'd be more threatened if you weren't wearing bunny slippers," he replied dryly as he looked down at her footwear.

"That's your fault, you know. You wouldn't let me change."

"But the fact that you even have bunny slippers..."

"I have one word for you, Wuornos. Decoupage."

He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and shook his head, half in amusement, half in admiration. "Damn."

Feeling pleased with herself, Audrey slipped off her jacket and passed it to Nathan.

Their hands brushed.

Purely accidental. Purely platonic. She was already walking further into the living room, completely oblivious to the effect she had on him as he tried to push it all aside and just hang up the garment in the entryway closet. Moments like that had happened off and on for weeks. They were nothing to her. They were everything to him. He would've thought that by now he would have become immune to the effect her touch had on him. But no, that would have been too easy, and the one thing Nathan had learned in his life was that nothing was ever easy.

"You going to give me the tour or what?"

"Not that much to see. We're in the living room." He pointed to the left. "Down that hallway, my bedroom, guest bedroom, bathroom, secret laboratory that doubles as a small office."

"See, I knew this place was a lair."

He pointed straight ahead. "Through there, kitchen and breakfast nook. Half-bath. Laundry room and workshop in the basement. Storage in the attic where I keep all my skeletons."

"And to think I was expecting your skeletons to be located in the closet."

"Common mistake. Skeletons don't fit with the coats in there. You hungry?"

"Always. Let me guess. You're thinking…pancakes?"

"Would be predictable, but surprisingly, no," he replied.

"Oh, branching out."

"Don't get to cook as often as I'd like, but I do enjoy it. Grilled chicken okay?"

"Love it. So what can I do to help?"

A few minutes later, Nathan walked outside to the back deck adjacent to the kitchen and fired up the grill. Audrey remained inside, washing potatoes over the deep, stainless steel sink, though she silently vowed that before the night was through, she would get a better look at the photographs Nathan had displayed in the living room.

The back door opened, letting in a burst of cool air, eliciting a shiver from her. Nathan was unmindful of the temperature himself, though he did notice Audrey's reaction as he entered the kitchen from the outside. He could have kicked himself. He had been so wrapped up in everything else, he had not given any thought to her comfort level. It was something he took for granted, but in her tank top and yoga pants, she wasn't exactly layered up for fall weather. "Too cold in here?"

She shrugged. "Just when you open the door."

"Kind of presents a logistics problem," he replied as he walked to the fridge, removed a covered glass pan, and set it on the counter.

"What you got?" she asked moving closer and peering around him.

"The chicken. Been marinating it all day."

"Oh, a planner. So you were expecting company…?"

"Was expecting leftovers. Hold that thought…" Nathan disappeared down the hall and returned a moment later with a University of Maine sweatshirt. "Should help with the cold air."

"Thanks," Audrey smiled and took it from him. As she pulled it over her head, she noticed the combination of scents—fabric softener, sandalwood, and the unique smell of Nathan himself. The sweatshirt swallowed her smaller frame, so she pushed up the sleeves. She found it comfortable.

The two settled into a kitchen routine, Audrey peeling potatoes, while Nathan mixed together ingredients for biscuits, which she was impressed to see were from scratch—not from a refrigerated metal can. His movements were self-assured. If the cooking apron he put on hadn't given it away, then the skills she observed in him did. Nathan Wuornos might have no game with the women, but he did have game in the kitchen.

Audrey wasn't entirely a slouch in the kitchen herself, though it was a room she associated with punishment more than with pleasure. She'd certainly peeled her fair share of potatoes at St. Mary's on kitchen duty. Maybe that was why she generally spent as little time as possible in the kitchen. That, and she didn't see much point in fixing a nice dinner for one when there were so many leads to chase, mysteries to solve, and bad guys to catch.

She made short work of the potatoes, slicing them into chunks after she finished peeling them, and dropped them into a pot of water, which Nathan placed on a stove burner.

"Looks like you've done this before," Nathan indicated Audrey's work with the potatoes.

"Sister Agatha thought redemption could be found in peeling potatoes, scrubbing pots and pans, you name it."

"And she figured you needed redemption." Nathan went back to his dough, rolling it onto the counter.

"Yeah. And a lot of it."

"Was she right?"

Audrey shrugged. "Maybe. I got pretty good at making mashed potatoes. What about you? Did your dad teach you how to cook?"

"God no. Trial and error. Urged on by a girl I used to date who was a foodie."

"Should've known. I definitely don't see the chief in one of these," Audrey commented as she ran her fingers under the bib of his apron and tugged on it gently. "Suits you though." She released the apron and patted his shoulder where she had tugged on the material.

He sucked in a breath.

She looked at him questioningly, as though on the verge of realizing. Then she seemed to push the thought aside.

Nathan was mentally kicking himself. Audrey was the smartest person he knew. Keen. Knowledgeable. Yet she had dismissed the possibility because she trusted him. And wasn't a lie of omission a lie just the same?

He should just tell her.

Audrey, I can feel you.

And then what?

If she thought seeing the inside of his house was a big deal, what would Audrey think about the fact that she was the only person, the only thing, he'd been able to feel in years? Would it freak her out? Make her feel pressured to be his scratching post? Would she be angry that he kept quiet? Would it ruin the solid partnership they'd forged? Their friendship?

When Audrey came to Haven, Nathan hadn't been looking for a partner or a friend, but he'd found both. And the thought of having neither when she was the one person he looked forward to seeing each day, the one who drew him from his self-imposed exile, the one who challenged him, absolutely terrified him.

"So have you cooked for a lot of women?"

Audrey's question pulled Nathan from his quiet torment. His teeth grazed his bottom lip. "A few."

"How many is a few?"

"A few," he repeated.

"Vague much? I know I joke around about you not having game, but I wasn't joking about the women out there. There are plenty who are interested…" Her voice trailed off.

"Not much point to it. As long as I'm like this…" Nathan cleared his throat. "So what's your excuse? I've actually been on a date this year, unlike you."

"I'll have you know…"

"Duke doesn't count," Nathan interrupted.

"Try telling that to Duke." She shuffled her feet, the plastic bottoms of her fuzzy slippers making a swoosh sound against the tile of the kitchen floor. "Nathan, I know it's been tough for you not being able to feel, but there's more to a good relationship than the physical. There's common interests, humor, friendship. I just—you're a good guy. I don't want you to be alone."

"Could just get a dog."

Audrey frowned. "I'm being serious."

"So am I."

An hour later, the two partners were clearing the dishes from the breakfast nook, carrying them to the sink. Audrey leaned back against the counter after she set down her load. "I think you may have to roll me out of here. I ate too much."

"Truck looks beaten up, but the payload's great. Should be able to handle you."

Audrey wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or just really nail Nathan in the arm. Violence wouldn't do any good, she finally decided, though maybe it would have made her feel better. And laughing—well, she finally decided that one should not laugh at those who can't help themselves. Poor guy. "No game at all," Audrey muttered.

But Nathan, with his acute hearing, caught her comment. "If I tried, I would. Said so yourself."

"Yeah, I don't think that's quite what I said. But I've got to tell you. I never want to eat out again. Not when I can come here and eat like this."

"Will even throw in the insults for free," Nathan replied reaching across her for a dishtowel.

"Would be worth it."

While his sense of touch might have been nearly non-existent, his taste buds certainly worked, and Nathan had to admit that dinner was pretty damn good. The chicken was marinated and grilled to perfection, the steamed broccoli had just the right amount of crispness, the biscuits emerged from the oven as melt-in-your-mouth buttery goodness, and Audrey's mashed potatoes capped off the meal.

"Usually too much going on to cook," Nathan commented.

Audrey nodded. "It has been pretty quiet tonight. Nice for a change."

Nathan couldn't agree more. After the day Audrey had, it was well deserved. The afternoon had been uneventful for a while, good even, but the episode with Lady Cassandra had definitely snuffed out the calm. The woman's words were eerie, more so because they held the ring of truth. He had certainly been skeptical—had to be in his line of work—but for her to know Audrey's name without being told, for her to have known Lucy… No, there was something to it.

"Yeah. It's been nice."

Nice.

They'd both used it, but the word hung in the air. Somehow it all felt more than nice to Audrey. It felt natural. And all those things that had been eating at her earlier seemed less important somehow.

Strange.

Then again, that was Nathan's effect on her. His steadiness calmed her, especially lately. He had once said that maybe she could fix him—and she'd had no idea of how she should take that, so she'd laughed it off at the time. But now she wondered if maybe Nathan wasn't a fix for what ailed her.

She silently chided herself. It wasn't exactly fair to expect him to—what?—hold her hand while she tried to figure out who the hell she was.

Nathan sensed Audrey's shift in mood and attempted to lighten it. "You trying to slack on the dishes?"

"If I load the dishwasher, are you going to tell me I'm doing it wrong?"

"Maybe."

Audrey tugged at the neckline of the sweatshirt that had slipped down her shoulder. "Or maybe I can teach you a thing or two."

"Does that superior FBI training cover dish loading techniques?" His tone was wry.

"Okay, so maybe the dishwasher should stay under local jurisdiction," she conceded.

Five minutes and one loaded dishwasher later, the two moved to the living room. Audrey found herself gravitating to the photographs she saw on the mantle above the fireplace. One featured an older couple. His grandparents? she wondered. Another was of a woman and a little boy. She recognized the boy as Nathan immediately—the bright blue eyes and cleft chin were telltale indicators. But what really struck Audrey was just how adorable little Nathan was. One of his front teeth was missing, the other front tooth only partially grown in. He was actually smiling broadly, no reservation.

Audrey had never particularly gravitated toward children, but looking at the photo, she couldn't help but find this little guy endearing. "I always kind of thought all kids looked alike, but you were a cute kid."

Nathan appeared at her side. "I was a mess."

"Guess not much has changed," she said looking at him sideways with her lips quirked upward. "Is this your mom?"

"Yep."

Audrey studied the woman. She was smiling as she held her young son, and her smile reached her eyes. Audrey was struck by how open she seemed, how joyful. Her light-brown hair was pulled back making the structure of her cheekbones all the more exquisite. Nathan had his mother's cheekbones. Her eyes, too. "She's really pretty. The two of you look so happy."

Nathan's expression softened. "It was impossible not to be happy around her."

His words struck her, and Audrey fought back the lump that formed in her throat. She tried to pull herself together. This was his loss, not hers, but she ached for him, for that little boy, and perhaps even for herself, that she never knew a mother's love. "She must have been very special."

"Yep."

Audrey wondered if she was intruding. "You don't like to talk about her?"

He shook his head. "It's not that. I just—I don't really know what I should say and what I shouldn't about her."

Audrey caught his meaning. He was worried about talking about his heritage, about his family, when she still had so many questions about her own. "You don't have to tiptoe around me, Nathan. About anything," she assured him. "I want to hear."

Nathan nodded, but he remained contemplative. "She was the heart of our family. She sang a lot. Made up silly songs, would put our names into them. I think she must've been fiery. She was never afraid to tell my dad when he was being a jackass." That elicited a smile from Audrey who knew all too well what the chief was like. "She took me everywhere. I never felt lonely when she was around. And then one day she was gone."

Audrey's mouth suddenly felt dry. "What happened?"

His brows furrowed. "She drowned."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry, Nathan. That must've been awful for you."

His eyes focused on the photo. "It was a long time ago." He paused, trying to push away the emptiness that threatened to invade him if he dwelled on the loss. "This was the last picture of us. Was taken at the fall fun fest."

Audrey looked closer. "Oh, I see the clown in the background now."

"Must've been that same carnival where Lady Cassandra met Lucy." The new realization had Nathan's internal detective monitor going off. Not that he figured it pertained directly, but it did give them a frame of reference.

And his mind started running in overdrive. There were so many questions. Who was the little boy Lucy saved? It was strange to think that it was probably someone he knew, someone around his own age. Was he still in Haven? Could he shed some light on the mystery surrounding Lucy Ripley? And how in the hell does a woman breathe life back into the dead?

And there were other things, too, that had Nathan's mind racing. What about the masks that melded to the wearers' faces? There had to be some record of the event. Or the man who pulled Lucy away after the incident with the trapeze artist? Who was he? What was he to Lucy?

For all the effort Nathan had put into trying to keep Audrey's mind off the strange events of the day, he found it ironic that now he was the one who brought them right back around to it.

Audrey swallowed hard. What a long, weird-even-for-Haven kind of day it had been. Lady Cassandra had been the only one to tell her much of anything about Lucy, but all she had to show for it were more questions.

"…you are of Lucy, but I do not think you are her daughter."

What did Lady Cassandra mean by 'of Lucy'? Was she Lucy? It made no sense. She remembered her childhood, her teen years, college…how could she be someone else?

"Hey, we're going to find out about Lucy."

Nathan voice was reassuring, calming, and Audrey wanted to believe him. But what was it the chief said about her? Her value lay in the fact that she saw things for what they were, not as she wanted them to be.

Or else, she used to.

Since when had she become such a coward? Yet she could not drive away that nagging feeling that she was twisted in the wreckage of a calamity that hadn't quite happened yet.

"I'm just scared of what we're going to find out," Audrey admitted. Her thoughts turned to the large scar hidden underneath the fuzzy bunny sippers she wore. She walked to the couch and sat, tucking her foot beneath her, hiding that ragged scar under another layer. If she hid it, would it go away?

"Look, no matter what we find out about Lucy, you're still you."

"Am I?" Audrey choked out. "Nathan, do you remember the things Lady Cassandra said when she grabbed hold of me?"

Did he ever.

On the other hand, just because they were in Haven didn't mean that all rationality flew out the window. When the fortune teller began speaking cryptically, she was in the midst of a medical episode. Could they really give those words the same credence that they did her others?

Nathan voiced his doubt. "At that point, she was talking crazy."

"That's just it. I don't think she was. 'Your past is fragmented.' That was the first thing Lady Cassandra said, and she's right. I can fit my whole life into one box, Nathan. Literally. All my school records, pictures, mementos. They fit in a freaking shoebox because there are so many gaping holes in my background. I have no idea where I was born, who my parents were, or even if my birthday really is September 10." Tears welled in her eyes, and she carelessly brushed them away, groaning, before crossing her arms and hugging herself.

Her groan said it all to Nathan. She was trying to hold it together, hated to show what she perceived as a weakness. But for as much as she fought against the tears, he couldn't help but wonder if she would be better off if she didn't just have a good cry and get it out of her system.

He sat next to her on the couch, disregarding the usual professional distance they maintained. They weren't touchy-feely friends, a fact he had rued since he discovered he could feel her, though distance certainly kept their situation less complicated. But as he reached out and ran his hands along her forearms, tugging at them ever so slightly to pull her toward him, to open her up, touching Audrey seemed like the most authentic, the most real, thing he had ever done.

Warmth. Softness. Vulnerability. Strength. His breath hitched as she allowed herself to be drawn to him. Audrey grasped on to the fabric of his shirt, and Nathan could faintly feel her small fingers dig in.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured in her ear.

"Oh crap, it must be bad," she half-sniffled and half-laughed into his chest after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"We're hugging. We don't hug." She pulled back, meeting his eyes.

"There are lots of things people don't do that maybe they should."

She nodded. "You're right. I've been keeping something from you, Nathan."

"Does it have anything to do with your sudden devotion to cupcakes?"

"And why I've been such a basket case."

"Well, I wasn't going to say it but..." He dropped the nonchalance. "Tell me."

"For years, I hoped that I would be adopted. I just—I wanted to belong somewhere with someone. I found out when I was eighteen that I was never available for adoption. Why? I'll never know because the records are sealed. But at the time, I thought it didn't matter. I talked myself into not caring. Look ahead, not back. But now…"

"It matters," Nathan supplied.

"Yeah. Being here—being tied here and not understanding how—I think it's important. Lady Cassandra said that that I would be who I once was, and then I would be no more."

"She was dying, Parker. In pain. Delusional."

"No, I think she was lucid. She knew what she was saying, and it fits into something that I've known for days. I've just not been strong enough—brave enough—to face it."

"Come on…"

"No, seriously. I'm not as badass as I thought. All it took was one scar, Nathan. One lousy scar." Her lips pursed, forming a tight line. He slid his fingers along hers, and enveloped her small hand with his larger one.

"What are you talking about?"

"James Garrick." Audrey took a deep breath, willing herself to continue. "You know what was happening with him. He told me—he told me that years ago Lucy helped him when he was phasing. James broke a glass, and it cut her on the bottom of her foot, but she never let go of him. She—she kept him together."

Audrey hesitantly slid her left foot from the slipper.

to be continued...