Audrey hears a beeping noise. It cuts through her dreamless sleep and brings her back to the world. Now she has to remember her problems, and she dislikes that, even though she can use the time to try to solve them.
The beeping is steady. That's good. It means that her heart rate isn't jumping around. When she pays attention, she notices that she has an IV sticking out of her. She knows that it must be the drugs she's been given that are making her feel so slow, but she doesn't mind the change of pace.
She slowly opens her eyes. They feel like syrup, but once she gets them to droop open, they don't cause her too much trouble. The hospital she's in looks very clean. It's almost too much, but she knows cleanliness is a virtue, especially when you're in a medical facility.
Almost everything is in the same shade of sparkling white, from the walls to the doctors' jackets to the curtains and the doors. The floors are tiled with faded shades of blue and the white that colored almost everything else. The tables, hospital gowns, and most of the machines were the faded blue color. The entire place feels very unimaginative to Audrey, especially the hospital gowns, which she hates with a fiery passion. She can't wait to be back in her own clothes.
She calls out for a nurse, then finds the button she's supposed to press to get a nurse and is a little embarrassed. She hits the button and waits for the nurse to come. Not a minute later, a woman - clearly a nurse - walks in and introduces herself as Naomi.
"What can I help you with?"
"When do you think I'll be able to get out of here?" Though she feels comfortable enough in the hospital, she knows Nathan and Duke will be worried, so she should get going. For some strange reason, she also feels like she's on the wrong side of this exchange.
"What's your hurry? I'm afraid we might not be able to let you go for a while yet. The painkillers might help disguise some of it, but you're still feeling the effects of what happened," Naomi states matter-of-factly.
"Alright. How about visitors?"
"That should be fine. Do you want to call your family or something?"
She doesn't have a family. That's why she thinks it should be easy to push him away. She knows that things aren't going to work like they should be now.
It should be easy because she never had anyone before him. It shouldn't be too hard to go back, right? Wrong.
She misses the cups of coffee in the morning. The small jokes. The comfortable silence while they ride to a crime scene together in his Bronco. All the little nods of courtesy that show that he cares. She misses the simple camaraderie they had. Everything is replaced by a cold, awkward partnership that can't even be called a friendship, much less something more.
But it's all for him. She suffers through that hell so he won't hurt so much when she has to leave. She just wants to protect him. Yeah, look how protected he is now!
She looks at him lying on the ground and gets angry. That was the deal, right? I followed through with my part! She looks again and her eyes well up with tears. No, she thinks. Then she realizes she said it out loud.
"No," she repeats louder and stronger. She keeps saying it and chokes out a sob. "Nathan," she moans like it will somehow bring him back. She touches his face because this can't be real. It isn't. She will never believe that he's dead.
It's easier for Audrey to hear this time, but the pain is more intense. Before she blacks out, she hears Naomi say something to the doctor.
"She needs immediate help! Her vitals are failing!"
.:.
Before she even opens her eyes, she can tell Nathan is with her. Audrey sluggishly opens her eyes and acknowledges him by placing her hand against his. Everything hurts.
It takes her 10 minutes to find her voice, and when she does it's scratchy and faint. "You died."
"Look who's talking." He meets her eyes, and she can see so much worry and pain on his beautiful face. She hates that she put him through so much.
"Not today. I don't know when. You were shot."
"Sure you weren't just dreaming?"
"Do I usually look like this after a dream? I don't think they usually hospitalize people."
"In Haven, maybe. The memories can't be what's causing...this. Maybe it's a trouble." She can hear what he's not saying. The memories can't be what's causing this because they're making you more like you were.
"What's a trouble? Nathan, the memories have been affecting me since I got here, and they're only getting worse!"
"I know, but the memories were headaches and nosebleeds. This isn't them."
She looks him in the eye. "You died. Duke and Tommy were there. I-it was awful."
Realization dawns on his face. "Oh. You had Moira bring me back. She and her sister had a resurrection trouble." He looks at her. "So it was a memory, yeah. So it did this to you. What should we do?"
"I don't know. I've tried to stop them, but I don't think I have any control over that. It's getting worse. I don't know what else I can do."
"This is my fault."
"What? No it's not." She knows he would never do something like this to her, not that he would even know how.
"Yes it is. I shot Howard. He's the one who gets you where you're going. With him gone, the whole thing must have gotten messed up. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You didn't know." Her reaction is immediate, and she thinks she agrees with it. "We need to think of what to do now and not think about what we can't change." She won't be much help in her current state and she knows it. Something needs to be done, though. She's scared and doesn't know how much longer she can hold out. They sit in silence and try to come up with something - anything - that could help. Audrey is unsuccessful, and her mind skips around some of the few memories she's built for herself and, of course, the ones that have come into her head while she tries to keep them out.
Nathan's so nonchalant about his death. She can still feel the pain, and all she has is an out of context memory. Audrey wonders if she ever told him how much seeing his body affected her. She hopes she did.
"How long have I been out?" she asks suddenly. Time seems of the essence, like there's not enough of it.
"The first time it was only a couple hours. Duke got you to the hospital pretty fast, but they wouldn't let us in to see you. The second time was a day and a half. They didn't know if you were going to make it. They had a hard time stabilizing your vitals. You were in the emergency room until just a couple hours ago."
She tightens her grip on his hand. "I'll be fine. I won't be here much longer, then I'll see what I can do to stopper these memories." They both know it's a lie, but it's a comforting one. Both pretend they believe it so the other won't get scared.
"I know," he says and loosens his grip on her hand. "You need to get some rest. I think they're a step away from calling security on me, so I'd better get going, too." He stands up and puts on his jacket.
"You get some sleep, too, Officer Wuornos," she teases.
"That's Chief Wuornos," he corrects. She laughs.
"Well then, Chief Wuornos, thanks for stopping by."
"Any time." He smiles and walks off.
She lets down her façade. Talking really did wear her out. She's sure that it's at least partly because of the drugs, but she falls asleep almost immediately.
.:.
Audrey wakes up slowly and lets the memories of what happened slowly filter in. She feels better and knows she's been doing better, but another memory could knock that fragile balance down. She might be gone for more than a day and a half if that happens.
The thought scares her even though she has no real memories taking place before a few days ago. She wonders where she could've been before - or maybe the correct word is between. Between her Audrey Parker life and this one, because obviously she was gone a while. If she hadn't, Nathan wouldn't have looked so surprised to see her in the police office.
Duke was gone, too. He was with me when I showed up, and Nathan looked surprised to see him, she thinks. That must be worth something. There has to be a reason we showed up here and now.
She's alone in the hospital room. Her friends in Haven seem to like to be around her whenever they can, and she's sure it was a nurse that got them out. They wouldn't have left her side willingly. She finds herself missing the company, no matter how exhausting they can be.
Audrey's thirsty, so she calls on a nurse - Naomi again - to go get her some water. Her eyes keep sagging closed no matter how much she tries to keep them open. She decides to just close them for a second.
She's in a void. That's impossible; nothing can be in a void. But she knows she is. It's not black, and it's not white, and it's not somewhere in between. It scares her, but she can't back away from it. She's alone in this void, of course.
But then she's not. Then there are people and things and colors in this void, and she runs for them like a light at the end of the tunnel. A scene is playing out before her. There's a brown-haired, brown-eyed version of her, but then suddenly she is her, and it's all very confusing.
Then she's Lucy and she's devastated. Her son, her friend, is dead. His body just sits there, cold, on the beach, and she wishes she could remember what happened today. She's usually immune to these things. Why would that fail her when she needs it the most?
This tragedy opens her eyes. She has to go into the barn, if not for herself or the town and people of Haven, then for him. Because she's bringing him back.
She falls out of the scene, which is now nowhere to be found, and she's nobody again. She realizes that she may belong in a void. She's nothing, nobody, and isn't that what a void is made up of?
But then there's a scene again, and she jumps into it quickly because she can't stand being nobody. Now she has a name again, Sarah Vernon, and a color, bright red. She's in a place now, too, called The Haven Herald. Then she remembers why she's here, and it's suddenly so embarrassing, but she has to tell them before she loses her nerve.
"I'm pregnant," she blurts out. Vince and Dave's eyes flew to her at her bold announcement, which is issued instead of a hello. She doesn't know how they could have missed it; she's been showing for a while now, and a jacket can only hide so much. Sometimes these men are as clueless as schoolboys; Sarah has to keep reminding herself that. Now their mouths form O's, and they're trying not to stare. Sarah's cheeks burn.
"Who's the father?" Dave finally questions after much ogling. She knows she has to keep from telling them. She doesn't know why, but it feels like an important secret to keep.
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, boys. I can't tell you." Vince and Dave exchange glances, and she blushes again.
"When's the child due?" Vince asks.
"In about five months," Sarah answers. Her eyes shyly come up to meet theirs.
"Alright," Dave says. They all know that's all that needs to be said. They understand, and they'll help her however they can.
Then she's nothing again. Back into the void.
She doesn't even need to see the world come this time. The transitions are becoming more natural.
Erica stares at a painting of a woman who looks just like her. Perhaps the woman is her mother? She likes that idea. She's never had a family before.
"Who is she?" asks a curious Erica.
"Rebecca Durin, if I'm correct," responds Alan Simley, an old and lonesome fisherman who seems to find her charming; he's already made multiple excuses to see her. Rebecca Durin is by far the most interesting thing he's come up with. "She looks like you." Erica nods. The woman does look just like her, but Erica's curly brown hair is replaced by straight black hair, and Rebecca's eyes are brown, unlike Erica's green. The face is just the same, though, and Erica truly hopes it's a good likeness.
"Who painted this?" she asks, setting in motion what's sure to be a long hunt for information.
It feels like there's no transition this time; she just suddenly goes from being Erica Sanset to being Rebecca Durin.
.:.
Naomi Renair can feel a headache coming on as she walks down the sterile halls of Haven's one and only hospital. The walkways aren't silent - she can't remember a time when they were - but they're quiet enough that she can hear an audible click-clack noise coming from her heels, and it doesn't help her headache. She fills the pitcher for Audrey and makes her way back down the hallway.
Naomi has only recently been transferred to Haven, but she's already seen enough odd things to make her not startle very easily. There's nothing about a hospital patient sleeping that should make her suspect anything more. She's had a rough day; she deserves the rest, Naomi thinks, but as she lightly steps in, she notices what's been setting her off. Her heartbeat's uneven, and she doesn't look like she's breathing too well, she notices. She disregards her headache and annoying shoes completely as she nearly jogs to find a doctor.
When a doctor gets in, he can't tell her much except that Audrey will need to be put in higher care, so Naomi doesn't have to look after her anymore and that she lapsed into a coma. He asks her to tell family. She nods absentmindedly.
As far as she knows, the only family this girl has are the two men who haven't left the waiting room all day. Naomi hates to be the bearer of bad news and hopes that these fellows aren't the type to shoot the messenger.
After exchanging hello's, they look at her expectantly, knowing that she didn't come over for a chat.
"I'm afraid Audrey slipped into a coma."
The man with the longer hair looks down at the ground. "Dammit," he mutters just loud enough for them to hear.
The other man, however, looks right at her. "There's nothing the doctors can do?"
She shakes her head. "They can get her on life support, but they can't wake her up. It's likely that if we wait long enough, she'll wake up on her own."
He thanks her for telling them, trying to make it clear that she can go. She heads off. The day is coming to a close, and it's time for her to head home. She checks out and heads toward her car.
In her time in Haven, Naomi's watched the supernatural become routine. She's gotten used to wounds without visible causes and people who can do the strangest things. Her job is to ignore it as long as they won't hurt anyone. She bandages people up whether there's a cause or not. A mysterious coma is not the strangest thing she's seen during her time in Haven, so she does what she always does: disregard it. It's out of her jurisdiction now anyway.
.:.
She's beginning to sense a pattern. Each of these girls looks the same as her and is her in a way, but in another way, they're not.
She gets it now. She's going backwards through all her past lives. But there isn't an end in sight, and that scares her because she really just wants to get back to Nathan and Duke. She still feels more like an Audrey than any of these other girls, and she desperately clings to that identity. She doesn't know when or if she will ever be able to get out of here.
.:.
Maybe it's been forever. Maybe it's been 2 minutes. She doesn't know; she can't tell. She just knows that someone, something is calling her name. She can't even hear what that name is; she just somehow knows it's hers. She wishes she could answer, but she can already feel herself drifting further, further away from the person who remembers her name even when she can't, who she can tell keeps her grounded. Not even he can help her this time. She wants to tell him that it's okay; it's not his fault. But she can't, and that's her only regret.