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 any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Additionally, I reserve the right to be long-winded and detailed as I borrow characters and return them (mostly) unscathed. Except for those nasty gashes on Nathan. Yep, those are going to leave a mark. Or three.
Author's Note: It was one year ago today that I began posting Phoenix Rising and began my foray into the Haven universe. What an amazing group of writers and readers make up this fandom! I am all the time just blown away by the creativity of other writers on this board and how they can transport me from my living room into the Gull or police station or that familiar blue Bronco. And of course, I couldn't ask for a more supportive and encouraging group of readers. Reviews are like gold nuggets to me. Seriously, you guys are the best!
Chapter Fourteen: "Your Fellow"
When Audrey reached the waiting area, the first thing she did was plant her fist hard against Duke's arm.
"Ow! What was that for?" Duke asked rubbing his bicep and musing that whoever coined the phrase 'hits like a girl' intending it as an insult had never been on the receiving end of a punch from Audrey Parker.
"For scaring me half to death!" In those few seconds before Duke had told her what had him so alarmed, her imagination had delved into some truly dark places. Her first thought was of Nathan, that his injuries were more severe than originally thought. The lump that had formed in her throat had only just begun to subside, and she was quite convinced it would not entirely erode until she saw him again with her own eyes.
"How about a little empathy for me? I mean, it's not every day that you run across the man who's going to kill you."
Audrey folded her arms across her chest. "Are you sure you saw the tattoo, Duke?"
"I know the tattoo," he affirmed. "Oh, it was there all right."
Audrey looked over Duke's shoulder toward Nathan's room, trying to peer through the rectangular window. She could see the chief was still there with his son. "I told you. He's fine," Duke reiterated as he realized he didn't have her full attention. "Look, you're the one who put me up to talking to Charlie Thornhill. If I die because of that stupid conversation, I am going to haunt you."
"Alright. So fill me in."
"Charlie Thornhill wasn't very conversational at first. He doesn't like me very much."
"Which we already knew," Audrey replied, trying to expedite Duke's story.
"I asked him what he's been up to since high school. Pretty dull stuff. He kept giving me one and two word answers and looking at the man you were talking to."
"Ephraim Brand," Audrey supplied. "Yeah, I noticed that, too."
"So that's Ephraim Brand. I was supposed to meet with him yesterday. He's younger than I imagined he would be."
"He gets that a lot."
"You two sound friendly."
"Oh, he is very friendly," Audrey replied, remembering his less-than-subtle flirtation.
"Then where is he?"
"Making a phone call to his manservant."
"Manservant?" Duke repeated incredulously.
"Did Charlie seem scared to you?" Audrey asked, trying to get Duke back on track, which she was convinced was about as easy as herding cats.
Duke shook his head to focus himself, seeming to realize he hadn't finished his story. "More nervous than scared. Even when you distracted Ephraim Brand for a few minutes, Charlie kept eyeballing this apple, of all things."
The apple again. Another layer of weird, as far as Audrey was concerned.
"Did he say anything about the mountain lion attack?"
"Just that the animal seemed to come out of nowhere but that it must've dropped from a tree. Oh, and that it disappeared without a trace."
"Similar to what he told me. Anything else?"
"Yeah. He asked me how long the Troubles have been back. He was fidgety and sweating. He took off his jacket. That was when I saw the tat."
"But he said nothing threatening to you?"
"Not overtly, but you know what Vanessa said." Duke's voice softened at the mention of Vanessa Stanley, which Audrey noticed immediately. She had once teased him about being "hot for babysitter," but Duke's interest ran deeper than a physical attraction, and her death had been a blow to him.
"Did you ask him about it?"
"What was I supposed to say? Hey, are you the guy who's going to kill me?"
"You are hopeless. You know that, right?" Audrey couldn't help but shake her head and smile. "All you had to do was admire the artistry of it or something. Schmooze a little. I thought you of all people could pull that off."
"Audrey Parker giving me tips on small talk? What's the world coming to?" Duke wasn't in the mood to be teased. "If you were talking to the man who was going to kill you, you'd be a little tongue tied, too."
"Do you really think Charlie Thornhill…?" With the expression on Duke's face, she added, "No, just hear me out. We've seen the tattoo on more than one person. Who's to say that Charlie Thornhill is the one?"
"Are you trying to make me feel better? 'Cause it isn't working."
"So you're bothered by the thought that Charlie Thornhill might be the man who kills you, and you're bothered by the thought that Charlie Thornill might not be the man who kills you. Makes perfect sense."
"I see how it is. 'Duke, do me a favor. Come through for me.' And when I come to you with a problem, you laugh it off. And you hit me. Not in that order and not cool, Audrey."
She raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I get it. I do. I will find out what I can. In the meantime, you stay away from him."
"You're telling me that?"
"I mean it, Duke. I haven't forgotten that you once said you were going to kill the tattooed man before he killed you. You can't go after Charlie Thornhill in cold blood. Besides, who's to say that in doing so, you wouldn't be causing your own death?"
Duke clenched his fists and groaned in frustration. "Self-fulfilling prophesy bullshit notwithstanding, I'm not going to sit on this for long, Audrey."
"You won't have to. Trust me, okay?"
"You able to break yourself away from Nate long enough to deal with this?"
"We're not joined at the hip."
"Could've fooled me."
"I'm not in there with him right now, am I?" she reminded him.
"And it's killing you."
Audrey opened her mouth to dispute his claim, but decided against it. Ignoring the comment would discourage Duke more than any vocalized protestation. "Look, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're my friend."
"I'm not just—"
"Duke, seriously, you need to let this go. Let me dig around."
The door to Nathan's hospital room opened, and the Chief emerged from it. Audrey started toward the older man, leaving Duke stewing.
Garland nodded toward Nathan's room. "He's going home in a few minutes. You think you can get 'im settled?"
"Absolutely," she replied.
"Nathan said he has some spare clothes in the truck. Might want to get them for him."
"You heading out?"
"Here in a minute. Find anything else out from Charlie Thornhill?"
"Same thing he's been saying. Duke's even talked with him."
Garland's dour expression turned even grimmer. "Something's not right here. You need to be careful, Parker."
"Okay. And you're saying this because I might otherwise throw myself at danger?"
"Something like that." Garland looked over her shoulder and saw a tall, well-dressed man leaning against the opposite wall, his eyes fixed on the two of them.
Audrey turned to see what garnered the Chief's attention. "Do you know him?"
The Chief shook his head. "No. Do you?"
"I met him today."
"And?"
She shrugged. "And what? He's charming, well-spoken, and in general seems too good to be true."
"You remember that last part. People are rarely what they seem."
"Tell me about it," she replied pointedly. Despite their temporary truce, Audrey couldn't dismiss the fact that the chief knew far more about her past than he was willing to share.
"I need a cigarette," Garland grumbled.
"I thought you were trying to quit."
"Old habits. The best thing you can do today is let go of the past. Get Nathan home, give him drugs to keep him knocked out so he doesn't open up his wounds again, and make sure he doesn't do something stupid."
A quick trip to the Bronco and five minutes later, Audrey returned to the waiting room to find Duke, the chief, and Ephraim Brand gone. In a way, she was relieved. Fewer complications.
She knocked on Nathan's hospital room door.
"Come in," she heard him call from within.
"So what kind of guy carries his own personal sling around in his truck?" Audrey asked holding up a sling in one hand and carrying folded clothes in the other as she entered.
"Comes in handy," Nathan replied from where he sat on the bed. "I get to go home."
"About time." She eyeballed the light blue printed hospital gown he wore, a change from the last time she saw him when he was in his regular, albeit bloody, clothes. It was hard to keep a straight face, particularly when she noticed that the design on the gown featured small yellow ducks. "I don't think I can take you seriously in that."
He looked down at the gown. "The duck print is growing on me."
"Did you hit your head when the mountain lion attacked you? Really, Nathan. It has to go." She set the clean jeans and flannel shirt she'd retrieved from the Bronco on the edge of the bed and patted them for effect.
"Lucky for me, I'm always prepared." He swung his long legs off the bed and stood, picking up the jeans with his uninjured arm.
Audrey turned her back to give him some privacy. "My own personal Boy Scout."
A hint of amusement came through in his next words. "I was never a Boy Scout."
"Too bad. And here I was picturing you in your Boy Scout uniform with merit badges, selling cookies…"
"That's the Girl Scouts," Nathan corrected her. "My dad wanted me to be a Boy Scout. Thought it would help to teach me character, make me fit in."
"And what did you want?"
"Whatever was the opposite of what he wanted."
Audrey had to bite back laughter at Nathan's harsh assessment. "So I was glad to see you two didn't kill, maim, or otherwise injure each other."
"If we were going to, the hospital'd be the place," Nathan replied offhandedly. From the sound of his voice, she could tell his was struggling with his clothing, unaccustomed to dressing himself using only one hand. "Dammit."
"Need some help?" Audrey asked.
"I'll get it eventually."
She shook her head and turned to face him. Nathan still had on the ridiculous duck-print hospital gown, only now it was bunched up around his waist. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, unfastened, revealing the answer to the age-old question: boxers or briefs. "Yeah, I'd like to leave this week." Closing the distance between them, she lightly swatted his hand away from the button of his jeans and took both sides of the heavy material between her fingers, her knuckles lightly grazing his abdomen. Nathan flinched at her touch. "Sorry," she muttered, fastening the metal button.
"Don't be sorry. I, uh, can manage the zipper."
"Right," she replied taking a step back, suddenly finding the floor very fascinating as she heard the sound of his zipper. She finally looked back up at him, stunned to see how positively miserable he looked. It couldn't have been pain from the wounds. So what was it? She opened her mouth to ask, but instead found herself saying, "The gown ties are in the back. And I think you're going to need help with the shirt."
Nathan's frown deepened.
"There's no shame in needing a friend."
He nodded, a quick, brief movement, before turning around so she could untie the hospital gown. As she gently tugged at the ties of the cotton material, she found herself studying him. His back was well-muscled and dotted with scars and the occasional freckle. Her hand lingered on the last knot before pulling it open. "You're good to go."
Audrey reached for the flannel shirt as Nathan pulled the untied hospital gown off himself.
When Audrey had seen him bare-chested earlier, he had been covered in blood. Not exactly enticing. In her vision, she'd seen him shirtless and then some, but there was no sense discovery, only the anticipation of their bodies joining.
But this—this felt different. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time, and she couldn't help the audible breath that she drew.
It was official: Nathan Wuornos was hot, and she was in lust.
Her eyes drank him in. Long, lean muscles. Broad shoulders. Defined pecs. Washboard abs. She knew he had a good body, if from nothing else than from the way he looked in a t-shirt. But now she was convinced it was a shame he wore clothes so frequently.
Pull it together, Audrey. Pull it together. It's not like you haven't seen good-looking men before. This is Nathan. Your friend. Emphasis on friend.
This is your partner.
This is your partner.
This is your partner.
If he noticed her reaction, he didn't say anything. She held the shirt, sliding the sleeve up his injured arm. "Hold still," she mildly scolded him when he tried to assist her. "You know what the doctor said about straining yourself too much and pulling those butterfly closures apart." Careful not to touch the area near his wound and cause him discomfort, she brought the shirt up on his left shoulder and around to his other shoulder so he could put his uninjured arm through the opening of the garment.
Without waiting for his one-handed fumbling attempts at buttoning his shirt, Audrey began to secure the soft flannel. And truly, it was the only choice she had because it was highly likely she was going to do something to make a complete fool of herself if she didn't get him covered up.
One button.
Then two.
She heard his slight gasp, feared she had inadvertently hurt him. Yet when she looked at his face, she saw that was not the case. His eyes fluttered, and it occurred to her that her fingers were splayed across his abdomen and he was reacting to the sudden and unexpected stimuli. A strange feeling swathed her. Her touch did this to him. It was heady and heartbreaking and bewildering all at once.
Nathan didn't look at her, staring ahead at some fixed point on the wall. "It's strange. Being able to feel you, I mean."
She had told him it didn't freak her out that she was the only one he could feel, but she would be lying if she had said it didn't matter one way or the other. She was glad he could feel her, wished that there were other things he could feel, too, and found her mind swarming with questions. What were their boundaries? They were friends, yes. But some friends hugged or slapped each other on the back. Some friends never touched at all. What did Nathan want? If she was to believe Julia, he wanted far more than he ever let on. Yet he had been so respectful of her, never pushing his need for contact on her, rarely initiating touches and never inappropriately.
"The Troubles will be over again," she replied returning her attention to the shirt, working her way up the line of buttons. "Then you'll be able to feel everyone, everything."
"Right." He paused. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. I just…." His words trailed off.
Uncomfortable was not the word, as far as she was concerned. Hot and bothered, maybe.
"Please," she scoffed. "You think that's going to make me uncomfortable? Pfft."
She could still see a glimpse of the bandage sticking out of the open collar of the shirt. Three parallel gashes were concealed by the dressing. The three scars from her vision. It all seemed to be falling into place, which was weirdly comforting and fantastically disconcerting. Would Nathan truly become her lover? In some ways, it made sense.
He was a man. He had needs.
She was a woman. She had needs.
It had been a long time since she'd taken a lover. And lately, the tension that coiled within her was becoming nearly palpable. If just the sight of him with his shirt off could drive her mind into the gutter…
No. There were too many complications. Too many things that could go wrong. Too much depended on them keeping their act together.
"You should put this on," Audrey continued, reaching for the sling. "Keep that arm immobile."
A knock on the door, followed by its subsequent opening, found the two partners in the company of the matronly nurse that Audrey had seen in the room earlier, the one who had cut off his bloodied shirt. "I have your discharge papers, Nathan."
The nurse went through a series of instructions about his care that he should follow over the next few days, along with a prescription from Dr. Pennycuff to ward off any infections that might set in. Audrey listened intently, storing up the information for the inevitable moment when Nathan would try pushing himself too hard.
After Nathan signed the papers, the nurse handed Audrey a plastic bag. "His dirty clothes," she said. "Take good care of your fellow."
"I will," Audrey nodded.
"Your fellow?" Nathan echoed once the nurse left the room.
"It was easier to agree with her than correct her," Audrey defended.
But the look on satisfaction on Nathan's face said it all. Audrey wasn't one to take the easy way out on anything. "Where are my keys?" he asked.
She tapped her pocket. "If you really think you're driving, you're crazy."
"I've seen you drive."
She shot him an exasperated look.
"Drive a car halfway off a cliff, never live it down," he explained.
"You got attacked by a mountain lion today, the first attack in Maine—forget Haven—in Maine, for years. You think I'm trusting your luck? Besides, no straining."
"Driving isn't strenuous."
"Stop arguing with me. I'm going to take you home, get you settled in, run a few errands, and then I'll be back to fix dinner. Oh, and the dinner's going to be good."
"Sounds positively domestic."
She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. "Anything for my 'fellow,' right?"
She was teasing. Mostly. But when she saw an all-too-rare smile spread across his features and felt the butterflies in her stomach, she knew she was in trouble.
"Do you have a light?" The deep, accented voice broke through Garland Wuornos's haze of smoke and anxiety.
Garland Wuornos took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, blowing the smoke in the newcomer's direction. "I'm all out."
"'To serve and protect,'" the taller man read the emblem on the side of the chief's squad car. "Interesting. I trust the protect part is observed more faithfully than the serve portion of your motto."
"I'm not here to serve you. None of us are."
The new-arrival blinked with an affectation of surprise. "Strange. All I wanted was a light for my pipe." He withdrew it from the inner pocket of the expensively cut jacket he wore. "Pipes are so quaint, don't you think?"
Garland grew tired of the charade. "She's not the one you're looking for," he replied, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, no longer finding any enjoyment in the vice.
"I beg your pardon?"
Garland shook his head, but his gaze never left the other man's face. "All these years, and you're still playing games. I know why you're here, Brand."
"Yes, to check on the well-being of a man who was injured on my property today. Other than that, you must have me confused with someone else."
Garland pointed his finger at Brand. "You need to leave and take your poison with you."
Ephraim chuckled heartily. "Where is that small-town, friendly atmosphere? I have no intention of leaving, particularly when the sights have become so much more alluring as of late."
"She's not the one you're looking for," the chief repeated.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Officer…." He leaned forward to look at the nametag on Garland's uniform. "…Wuornos."
"Chief Wuornos."
"My father mentioned you, Garland. The two of you shared a tragedy."
"You bringing it back with you?"
Ephraim smiled broadly, though his eyes remained cold. "It appears to me that it never left."
To be continued…