Pairing: None
Rating: G (K)
Disclaimer: There'd be plenty of things that would be different if I owned Haven, despite its near perfection.
Spoilers: Yes, if you haven't finished the whole season.
Summary: He didn't really have any regrets. Drabble. Part of a nine-part series of one-shots for a scifiland challenge. They're unrelated drabbles, but written and published as a group. Prompt: DEATH.
If he'd been in a position to take a good look at himself, he'd know that having his own house was rather ridiculous. Both he and the Chief were single men, living alone. And really, both of their houses were large enough for a small family unit. But it was hard enough to make a name for yourself in law enforcement when you were the son of the police chief, much less while living under the same roof. Nathan could honestly advise anyone that working for your father was a bad idea on so many levels. No one, however, would dare accuse Garland Wournos of nepotism – their tensions were well-known (and well-heard) up and down the Haven coastline. Quite the opposite: Laverne had been known to implore each to be more understanding of the other, at one time or another. She claimed it aggravated her gout to see the men she loved fighting, but Nathan knew it was more for his benefit than hers.
Looking back now, it was difficult to see what he could have done differently. He saw Laverne (and others, in the department or otherwise) regard him with something akin to pity, but not quite. More like compassion with a healthy dose of regret. Regret for fences left unmended. Nathan understood intellectually the need to make peace, and in another life he could see himself wishing that he'd had a better relationship with the man who had (selflessly, he'd grant) raised him. But he was also a realist. Sometimes people just didn't get along. They'd had professional, personal, and ethical differences; in the end, that was a lot of difference. The hurdles of trying to live together had never seemed worth it.
But part of him, the part that was now sorting through his father's effects, wished that it could have at least been less hostile. It had been mulish and stubborn of him not to recognize that, like Nathan, all Garland did was for the safety of Haven. But unlike the residents of Haven who were just so sorry, he wasn't. Despite what he may have muttered under his breath for the last twenty years, Garland Wournos had been a good man who had given him as normal a childhood as possible in this seaport. There was a laundry list of things for which Nathan would always be grateful, even if he never said them out loud, and he was okay with that. Because one thing they both had in common was an inability to express positive emotion with each other. And even if no one else understood, he was certain his dad knew. Nathan had known. Regardless of the yelling, there was a certain amount of inalienable respect built on some sort of love. As he sifted through bits of his childhood, he felt closer to his father than he had in years. Part of it was that the man wasn't there to defend himself, but Nathan found himself sort of almost glad they'd lived apart. It gave him this chance to see the man unfiltered, and without the paternal bluster, he was shaping up to be a decent sort of guy.
