This is my first Haven Fanfic. I know it's not all that great, but they'll get better as I go along :D Review please! But don't be harsh, lol :D
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I wish Haven was mine though. Characters aren't mine either… Oh well.
A single white rose. He picked the petals from the small flower, wondering if he'd ever feel that again. It felt like he was playing a game- you know, the child's game. She loves me. She loves me not. Although he didn't know who 'She' was.
So he settled for: Feeling. Un-feeling. He felt helpless when the last petal held the message: Un-feeling. He had placed the petals into two piles, in category for what they were plucked off as.
Unfolding a napkin, he placed the two piles inside and closed it up. He walked out of the crowded restaurant and got into his truck, making his way to the beach. He wanted to go to the place that he knew was deserted, and no one in their right mind would be at the beach this time of night. But he had to silently admit to himself that he was in Haven, so it wouldn't surprise him.
The rough sound of the driver's side door opening echoed loudly in the cove he had come to. He could see the lighthouse in the distance, illuminating the darkness around him when it made its rounds.
He imagined that he could feel the napkin of rose petals in his pocket. Wished that he could feel them. He wished that he could feel the sand that he heard moving under his shoes. He would have loved to have been able to feel the burn of the salty air in his eyes, but he couldn't.
Coming to the water's edge, he pulled the napkin out of his pocket. Staring at the small white sparkling petals inside, his vision became blurry. But if it hadn't been for that then he never would have noticed that a few tears were running down his cheek.
He was grieving. And why not? His father had just died. Both of them. He had to remind himself that Max wasn't a father to him. He was his biological father, but he hadn't done anything for him but that one thing. He was grieving for his real father. Garland. Chief. Dad.
He wished that his dad could've seen him when he was able to feel again. That's really what he wanted more than all of the other things. Just to be able to show his dad that he was real too. Not a Pinocchio.
He flipped the napkin over, letting each petal drop into the water. He wiped his face and walked silently back to the car.
The next morning, when he went to step out the door to get to work, he almost stepped on a small white rose- wrapped in a napkin- that was sitting on his doormat. A note was attached to it, the words written in black ink scrawl. He immediately knew whose handwriting it was, even though the name at the end reassured him.
I'll help you Nathan. -Audrey