Author's Note: Because my brother and I have a theory that no season is complete without an appearance from Garland Wuornos …
Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that's enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar
"Happiness," The Fray
It was a funny thing, coming back from the dead. But living in Haven as long as he had, nothing much surprised Garland Wuornos anymore. Besides, he'd already done it once.
So when he woke up a second time with a body he was fairly certain wasn't fully functional and a hazy impression of the afterlife, all he wanted to do was find Nathan.
He hadn't left things well with the boy, and that was a shame. There'd been no time to worry about feelings when Haven was literally crumbling around them, but he remembered the fear in the boy's eye when he was clutching that gun on the beach, the loss when he'd told him he couldn't be in love with Audrey. He hadn't been much of a father, but he'd kept the kid alive, and that was something. More than he'd been able to manage with Marilyn.
But if he was back, then the Troubles were still here. Maybe he could help.
The town was still standing, but even a rooky could tell something was wrong. People didn't meet each other's eyes in the streets, and their fear and mistrust was almost tangible. Something had hit the infrastructure, too. Half the town was shoddily rebuilt.
Nothing hurt as much as seeing the police station, once such a proud fortress of justice, reduced to little more than a shack. That building had been sturdy, and it would have taken quite the attack to level it. He hoped Nathan hadn't been there then.
Hoped Nathan was there now.
He found Joan at the front desk. God bless that woman, who'd greeted him almost every day for forty years and once typed all his unofficial reports when a pyro scorched both his hands and nearly roasted him alive. She didn't shriek or faint or any of the other unhelpful things womenfolk typically did when they saw someone who was undoubtedly dead. Just peered at him from over her thick-rimmed glasses. "Been a long time, sir."
"How long, Joan?"
"Three years. Thereabouts."
"Troubles should have moved on."
One didn't typically speak openly of such things – but Joan knew. State of the town, seemed like everyone did. "Haven't yet."
"Nathan here?" He tried to make it seem inconsequential, but his voice betrayed him. He was rusty. Wouldn't make sense for him to be here if Nathan wasn't – but Haven wasn't exactly known for sense.
Would be a mighty fine punishment, sending him back if Nathan was gone.
There was something unreadable in Joan's smile. "Third room down the hall. Chief's office."
"Much obliged." He'd tip his hat but he hadn't come back with one. Settling for a nod, he started down the hall.
The third door was open, and the sound of carrying voices drifted toward him.
"Six people missing since this morning, and we have livestock running amok in town. What is this? Two Troubles for the price of one?" Something about that voice that reminded him of the first time he'd heard it, from a pain in the ass photographer who'd never take no for an answer. He'd known she was trouble then – the kind of trouble you grew accustomed to and missed when it was gone because it threw all the good things in your life into such sharp relief.
The trouble had hit closer to home the second time she'd appeared, when she'd only been in town a few minutes before cleaving onto Nathan, threatening the only good thing he had left.
And now here she still was, when she should have been gone.
"Animal farm." The second voice wasn't Nathan's, but it was familiar.
"You think the livestock are the missing people?" Audrey asked.
"A couple of pigs and a horse? All prominent businessmen missing. Would be quite a coincidence otherwise."
"Bernie." There was Nathan's voice, sharp with anger. Garland hadn't expected his relief to be so fierce, not when Joan had already confirmed he was alive.
Three years Nathan had held the town together. Nearly as long as Garland had managed this time around. Perhaps he had made the boy tough enough.
"Why would he do that, though?" Audrey pondered.
"He's a murdering psychopath. Doesn't need a reason," Nathan argued.
"There's always a reason. And we had a deal."
"I thought your deal was he didn't murder the four of us in the next six months." He'd heard the fourth voice before as well, but couldn't place it. He edged closer to the doorway.
"Yeah. He was also supposed to behave."
"Well, he didn't kill anyone this time. Just turned them into animals. Which, if you think about it, is kinda funny."
Garland was too old to lurk in doorways, but decades as a cop had taught him the importance of observation. People never acted the same when they knew they were being watched as when they thought they were alone. With him and Nathan, everything was always a show. He wanted to see how the boy really was before making his appearance known, so he crept closer until he could see through the open door.
Nathan sat in his old chair, slightly reclined, with Parker perched unprofessionally on the edge of his desk. The other two men had their backs toward Garland, one of them on a chair and the other on the couch, so he couldn't make out their identities.
"He was a twelfth grade English teacher, right? Probably would have taught that book every year. Maybe he just got nostalgic." The familiarity of that man was unnerving but Garland couldn't place it without looking at his face.
"How many characters are there? Is this going to keep happening?"
It was the ponytail that gave it away – not many men in Haven so lacked self respect. But Garland couldn't figure what Simon Crocker's son was doing in the police station outside of an interrogation room.
"Our luck? Probably," Nathan drawled.
"We ought to gather all the animals and keep them somewhere safe. Then we'll have to pay Bernie a visit. Hopefully he'll be able to change them back." It was strange how some things never changed. She was still taking charge, even though she had no authority of her own.
"What are we gonna do, ask nicely?" Duke asked.
"Sure. And if that doesn't work, ask not so nicely."
Parker turned and nudged Nathan's leg with her foot. "Why are you smirking? I'm waiting for the lecture on how dangerous Bernie is and how we shouldn't antagonize him."
Nathan's expression didn't change much, but there was a hint of mischief in it Garland hadn't seen for a very long time. "I'm saving my breath. And thinking about how good you were at chasing cats."
"That was a long time ago!" Audrey protested. "And you could have told me the whole class was watching."
"Coulda." From the state of the town Garland had expected Nathan to be cracking under the pressure, but he seemed uncharacteristically relaxed. As much as he wanted to be happy for his son, the town needed his attention and this was hardly the time for goofing around.
"So, at least six animals to round up, scattered around town, with the possibility of more? I'd say we have a little wager."
"This isn't the time, Duke," Nathan argued.
"Challenge could be fun," the mystery man stated. "What do you have in mind?"
"We split up. Me and James versus Haven's finest. Whichever pair takes the longest to round up their animals owes the other pair dinner. And drinks. And not at the Gull, because then I'll just end up comping it anyway."
No one ever played games with policework when he was Chief – specially not a pair of civilians who had no business being involved. Garland bristled. But Lucy had always been up for a challenge, and Audrey hopped down from the desk. "Better pull out your wallet, Crocker."
"I don't think I'll need to."
"What makes you so sure?" the second civilian asked.
Duke leaned toward him conspiratorially, but he threw his whisper. "Because as soon as we leave here, they're gonna make out. We've got this in the bag."
Garland nearly fell through the doorway, but the officers barely reacted to the accusation. The stranger did stand and turn, giving Garland a clear view of his face, which sent him reeling again.
It was the Colorado Kid.
"I can't believe my son is friends with Duke."
If he had a functioning heart, Garland thought it might have stopped at Nathan's droll statement.
"You should probably be more concerned that our son was born before you were." Audrey teased, and the pieces all started to click together into some strange, impossible whole.
"I've come to terms with that. But being friends with Duke..."
"I haven't come to terms with that, by the way," Duke quipped. "You should have heard the way he lectured me. 'Don't step on any butterflies. You're gonna have to kill your grandfather because that's what's supposed to happen.' And then he goes off and gets Sarah pregnant."
Garland couldn't take it anymore. "He did what?" he bellowed, storming into the room.
In another situation the way everyone froze might have been comical. Nathan's eyes were as wide as saucers and Audrey looked like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Lucy's kid recovered first. "You?" he asked, staring at the Chief in obvious recognition.
"You knew him?" Audrey asked quietly.
"Course," Nathan muttered. "Wait, you can see him this time?"
Audrey narrowed her eyes as she worked it out. "Yeah. Couldn't see ghosts or fears. But I could see alternate timelines. The plagues. And the animals in the streets."
"Bernie again?" Nathan concluded.
Audrey turned to James. "If this was our friend Prospero's doing, what book would he be reading?"
"Because there's only one book about dead people," Duke interjected.
But James's answer was almost immediate. "Hamlet. His dead father roamed the castle walls."
"Well there's definitely something rotten in Haven," Nathan said darkly.
"Animal Farm. Hamlet. He's going down his class reading list," said James.
"Then what comes next?" asked Audrey.
"Lord of the Flies," he suggested.
"Perfect," said Nathan. "Cause all this day needs is some kids trying to kill each other."
"You know," Duke said, "when Audrey does that it's weird enough. But you too? It's like Trouble solving in surround sound. That's just freaky."
Their rapport was effortless, and Garland was impressed at how quickly they'd reached a conclusion. But his mind was still spinning and he didn't appreciate being ignored. "I'm right here. And I want to know what the hell is going on."
Duke inched toward the doorway. "All right, kid. I think that's our cue to skedaddle. Unless you want to stick around for the family meeting. But I wouldn't recommend it."
James surveyed the group before nodding. "Yeah."
Duke turned back before he was out of sight. "We'll round up the pigs. You take care of this and keep our wizard from reading any more books. But you owe us dinner." With a wink and a smirk he bowed out of the room.
Then there were three.
He could practically see the tension rolling off Nathan. Audrey had a hand on his arm, as if her presence could steady him. But he wasn't calm and Garland wasn't standing for it.
"See you didn't listen to my advice."
"No, Dad," he spat. "I didn't. It was too late then, and even if it wasn't, why would I listen to you when you'd just come back from the dead and all you could say was 'don't fall in love with Audrey.'"
"Shoulda listened. Now she's still here, and the Troubles are too. When's the sacrifice planned?"
"What?"
It was obvious Nathan had no idea what he was referring to, but Parker lost all color mighty quick.
"She didn't tell you then?"
"Tell me what?" Nathan turned to her, but her eyes were wide and her arms had come around herself.
"Nathan…"
Garland didn't wait for her to explain. "There's a way to end the Troubles for good that keeps her out of the Barn. She just has to kill someone she loves."
He took no joy from the way something inside her seemed to just crumble, but if it saved his son he'd have no remorse. All these years, and he had no idea of the danger he'd been in.
"James knew," Nathan whispered. "That's why he thought Lucy killed him."
"Yes," she admitted.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"I asked him not to."
"Damn it Audrey! How could you keep something like that a secret?"
"Howard told me when you took Arla out of the Barn. It was never an option, not even for a second. I couldn't bear to hear you tell me I should do it, and I didn't want you to try anything stupid. I figured if I was gone you'd never have to know. You were so worried when I came back I knew you'd say I should think about it. But I couldn't. I won't."
Garland wanted to be sympathetic, but he couldn't quite believe her.
"We need to talk, son. Alone."
"I'm not going anywhere," Audrey claimed. Garland knew he wouldn't be able to shake her, so he tried another tactic.
"You need a girl to stick up for you now?" he taunted Nathan.
He saw Nathan's jaw clench. Watched the veins in his neck pop. Knew it was necessary. "Go," he ordered. "I'll be fine."
"I'm sorry." But instead of making an immediate exit she pushed up on her toes, grabbed Nathan's face and kissed him in a display that certainly would not have been tolerated if Garland was still Chief.
He looked away with a growl of disproval, both disgusted by the inappropriateness and feeling like she was somehow taking advantage of him. He knew how much Nathan didn't like to be touched because of his affliction, and he had no idea how a physical relationship would work for him. Didn't want to know, frankly.
But she didn't leave, so he looked back and was shocked to find that Nathan wasn't kissing her like a man who couldn't feel anything. Sure looked (and sounded, God help him) like he enjoyed it. As his arms roamed across her back, Garland realized there was no way that would be happening if he didn't feel something.
Once she pulled away she whispered something in his ear. After lingering a few seconds she left the room without acknowledging Garland's existence.
"Guess that explains that," Garland said. It was cruel and callous but he needed to know; he didn't trust Nathan to be straight with him when he was already so defensive. "Had to find someone immune to your Trouble, so there's your girl."
He expected Nathan to get angry. He didn't expect the fist that collided with his face.
He stumbled back from the momentum, but it didn't hurt – not as sharply as it should have, anyway. It was a phantom pain for a phantom soul – he wasn't alive, after all. It was only some magic or curse that had brought him here. Nathan didn't rub his hand to relieve the sting. The punch hadn't hurt him either. Garland knew for sure then that his Trouble wasn't gone. The only thing he could feel was Audrey.
"How dare you!" Nathan was shaking with rage, and Garland had never seen him so angry. He'd been hard on the kid through the years, with good reason, but he'd rarely talked back. Even after he'd gotten older and decided sometimes that he didn't need to take it, he'd never lost control. But for the first time Garland looked at him and saw a glimmer of Max Hansen.
"I know you don't think much of me, but I can't believe you think I'd use Audrey like that. I love her."
"Figured you did, way you used to look at her. Just had to be sure."
"You couldn't have just asked instead of saying – what, I'm just fucking around with her so I can feel something?"
He turned to leave and Garland reached out to stop him. "Wait, son, I'm sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. This was just a shock, is all. Seeing the town like this. Finding out I'm a grandpa." There'd been so much banter between the four of them, he thought humor might work. But he was mistaken.
Nathan shook off the hand on his arm like it was something disgusting. "You're dead, and I don't have to listen to this. Go back to hell." He slammed the door behind him, leaving the Chief alone in an office that was no longer his own.
He went back to his house because he had nowhere else to go. He'd miscalculated badly, expecting Nathan to bend, not snap. Seemed he'd developed a backbone and a temper. And Garland had been too thrown by all the revelations about Audrey to change his approach.
The house was dusty and largely untouched, with the spare key still under the stone in the garden. It should have been cleaned out and sold, but he supposed he didn't blame Nathan for not getting around to it. There was no time for pleasantries with the Troubles afoot.
Time for time travel and illegitimate children and falling for the one person who could utterly destroy you. But no time to go through your dead father's things.
He could have gone to see Vince and Dave. They would have given him the answers he wanted. But he hadn't come back to talk to them, and he had no desire to make the effort. He'd come back to see Nathan, he could feel it in his not-real bones, and maybe it was because of the damn play but that didn't make it any less important to him.
But the boy obviously didn't want to talk to him and he wasn't sure what he could do about that. So he retrieved the bottle of whiskey from under the kitchen sink, pulled the plastic sheet off the couch and waited.
It was after midnight when he heard a pounding on his door. He hoped it was Nathan. Instead he found a bristling Audrey Parker, wearing a scowl and a ragged, oversized UMaine sweatshirt.
"So you're sleeping together, then?" The snark was automatic. It'd been a hell of a day, and this rift with Nathan was undoubtedly her fault.
She planted her hands on her hips, as if she was trying to puff herself up like an angry bird. "Is that really what you want to open with? 'So, you're sleeping together?' We have a child. I think that's kind of implied. And excuse me, but what the hell is wrong with you? I know you care about Nathan. I've seen it. When everything changed and he died first you were upset. And civil to me. What I can't figure is why you're always such an ass in this timeline."
"I don't know what you're going on about," he grumped.
She snorted. "Course you don't. I thought it was frustrating watching the two of you circle around each other when you were alive. But this is ridiculous. He watched you explode into pieces of rock and now you've come back twice and each time you've only made things harder on him."
"I'm trying to protect him."
"Nathan's compassion isn't weakness." She'd gotten quieter, but there was a fierceness in her tone that booked no argument. "He's a good man, the best man I've ever known. He gave up the chance to feel again to save a girl from a terrible life. He throws himself into danger all the time to help others without caring about his own safety. And he never asks for anything in return. The town whispers behind his back and he still tries his best to save it. I get that you wanted to make him tough, but he's held this town together for years, all the while thinking that the man who raised him had never really loved him because of who he came from. And despite all that, he still followed in your footsteps, trying to hold together the piss-poor legacy you left for him. Do you have any idea how hard he's tried to live up to your impossible standards, even after you were gone? If you care about him at all, then you owe it to him to tell him that before it's too late."
He was an old man, and dead to boot, but he wanted to squirm like a schoolboy under her glare and the two truths he could no longer escape.
He didn't want to think about how his tough love may have done more harm than good. So he focused on the second realization. "You really love him."
"Yes." She didn't hesitate. Lucy had always been squirrelly about taking a stand on anything personal, as if she didn't want to nail herself down.
He stared her in the eye so he could watch for a tell. "Are you going to kill him?"
"Of course not!" She was immediately scandalized, and he could find no falsehood in her reaction. But Lucy had been so desperate he wasn't sure he could trust her.
"Have you really thought this through?"
"Don't tell me you think that I should!"
"Course I don't want you to kill Nathan! Why do you think I've been trying so hard to keep him away from you? But if it was any other man's son - one life for all those that would be saved if the Troubles were gone forever. Seems like a more than fair exchange."
"There's nothing fair about any of this! I won't use his life as collateral."
"Then you damn a lot of people."
"Don't you get self-righteous at me. You looked me in the face every day, told me you didn't know anything about the Colorado Kid, even gave me a job, but you knew I was Lucy the whole time. We found pictures, talked to people. You worked with her!"
When she'd first come to town he'd struggled to keep them separate when their attitude was clearly the same – but the blond hair helped and he'd tried to keep his distance. Let Nathan deal with her. That had been his first mistake. But he'd known he'd had to keep her there. It was more than Howard's orders. It was Vince and Dave's stories, the truth of the cycle. She'd come, and she'd help the Troubled, and then she'd go, and they'd stop, and maybe she'd go soon enough that he could keep everything held together in the meanwhile, because it was so much harder this time without Marilyn to come home to.
He'd known that the two of them together was a recipe for disaster. But he needed her to stay in town and Nathan was the only one she seemed to take to. He'd been too distracted by the way the town was fracturing. It wasn't until he was dead that he realized how much he needed to run damage control.
"You want to know about Lucy?"
"Yes." The desperation in that single word was familiar at least.
"Then come inside. This isn't a story to shout to the neighbors."
He offered her a drink but she didn't take it. He poured himself another shot of whiskey. He'd gone through half the bottle today, but he didn't feel it. He wondered if this was what it was like to be Nathan – to live in the world and yet be somehow disconnected from reality.
"She was a photographer." If he closed his eyes he could still see her, with her stick-straight brown hair and impeccable posture, that monster of a machine hanging from a strap around her neck. "Used to work for a paper down in Baltimore. Came to Haven to get away from the city, or so she thought. Went to see Vince and Dave, and they sent her over to the station. Said she could take photos of crime scenes, evidence. The Troubles were spreading like wildfire and the last thing I needed was some outsider sticking her nose where it didn't belong, but I couldn't shake her. Lord knows I tried. Turned out she had a knack for the weird stuff though. Couldn't use two thirds of her photographs for anything, but she had a cool head and a quick mind and she didn't spook easy. Knew how to cool the Troubled folk down, figure out what made 'em tick."
He thought it would be hard to talk about her, but once he started the words just flowed. He'd been dealing with the Troubles for a couple of years by the time she came along, and he'd thought his life couldn't get any stranger. But she'd proved him wrong just by coming to town. "About a month after I met her this kid started hanging around. She stuttered out some excuse, but the girl was a terrible liar. One night after a nasty case I took her out for drinks and she spilled the whole thing. All the madness we saw every day, and the girl couldn't keep a secret worth a damn. She said the kid was her son, and he brought her some journal that said she was actually a woman named Sarah who lived in Haven twenty-seven years ago. Tallest tale I'd ever heard, but she was all shook up, so I went to talk to Vince and Dave and I'll be damned if they didn't tell me that it's true. They knew Sarah, and they sent Lucy to me because they couldn't bear to see her every day but they needed someone to look after her and they knew she'd be able to help me with the Troubles."
She was staring at him the way Lucy used to hang on his every word when he was outlining the facts of a case, and it was unnerving, to say the least.
"So she started coming to work late and running off with this boy, and she said there was a storm coming that she was supposed to disappear into but there was a way she could stay—"
"What is it?" Parker demanded, but he hadn't reached that part of the story yet.
"She didn't know yet, I don't think. But she ran herself ragged looking for answers, and she never smiled and she didn't sleep and the storm kept getting closer and closer. I was trying to hold the town together but I could feel the cracks spreading, and Marilyn was gone but Lucy said the Troubles would go when she did so I knew I just needed to hold on a little bit longer. But a week before the storm she tells me she doesn't wanna go – she's gonna run. I had a cousin in Portland so I sent her up there till she could get a flight to someplace far away. The next day I get a call her son's dead on the beach.
"I dunno why he didn't leave. He was supposed to go when she did. But there he was, shot in the back, and my first thought was, 'Just let her run, Garland. No sense calling her back to see this. It's not something she can fix.' But maybe I was selfish. Maybe I needed the Troubles to end. So I called and told her what happened, and she said she was coming back.
"I saw her picture in the paper so I knew she was back in town. A few days later she shows up at my house in the middle of the night. Says Simon Crocker is dead and the meteor storm's in a few hours and she needs me to dig up James because if she takes him into the Barn with her he'll be alright. So I dig him up, and she tells me she figured out how she could stay. All she had to do was kill someone she loved, and the Troubles would end forever. She looked at me and she swore she hadn't done it. And the last thing she ever said to me was she wished she'd had a chance to be Lucy before she had to be everyone that came before or after."
He'd never spoken to anyone else about Lucy; there had never been anyone to tell. For a lot of years he'd tried to forget, and it seemed like the town forgot with him. But in that instant he could see her so clearly, the woman who was tough as nails with tears streaming from her eyes, her misery so palpable he'd wanted to flee. He had, as soon as she'd stepped into that Barn. He hadn't stuck around to watch it disappear.
"I couldn't help her. Not really. I could dig up her son and tell her goodbye but it wasn't enough in the end. But I knew what she needed from me. I couldn't help Lucy, but I could help whoever came next by keeping my trap shut and letting her figure it out in good time. So that's what I did. And I don't regret it."
She'd kept interruptions to a minimum, which was a small miracle, considering. He'd rarely seen her so quiet and still. When she finally commented, there was something trembling in her voice that made her seem strange and uncertain. How had she gotten younger than him, when technically she was probably as old as the town? "If you were trying to help Lucy, why do you hate me so much?"
Lord knows he'd tried a time or two, but the woman had gotten under his skin and he could never manage it. "I don't hate you. But you're a danger to my son, and I'd choose him every time."
The answer seemed to placate her. "Do you have any idea how much it would mean to him to hear you say that?"
He didn't need another lecture on his parenting skills, so he turned the tables on her. "Why are you still around? Dave said Sarah was only here a year. Lucy was in Haven four months. The Hunter was due to come six months after I died. But it's been years."
She froze, gnawing on her bottom lip. Her hesitation set off all sorts of warning signs.
"What happened, Luce?" In his desperation he didn't even realize he'd said the wrong name until he watched her startle.
"I went into the Barn like I was supposed to," she said slowly, haltingly. "But Nathan couldn't let me go."
He swore, violently, thinking of the devastation he'd seen which was surely only the tip of the iceberg. "Last time I saw him I was afraid something like that might happen. He was already too attached."
"Don't you dare bring this up! He already blames himself. If you make him feel any worse I don't care that you're dead – I will shoot you."
There was ferocity radiating from her every pore. He knew enough about Nathan to realize the truth in her statement – he'd be hard enough on himself for the both of them. "Scouts honor."
She scowled at him as if she could peer into his soul to judge his intentions. She must have found something placating there, because the edge of her mouth twitched up slightly. "Never saw you as much of a boy scout."
"I was an Eagle Scout," he said with a touch of indignance. "And a troop leader. Where do you think Nathan learned all his manly outdoor skills?"
"Moose Hunter Magazine."
She said it was such a straight face that he barked out a laugh. In those first few weeks, before James came, Lucy'd been good at getting him to loosen up.
"I did think maybe you'd have more sense than to let him get wrapped up in this."
"I tried to keep him out of it!" she hissed. "As soon as I found out I had to leave I started pushing him away. Thought it would make it easier to let me go. But all I did was hurt the both of us."
She looked down and picked at the cuff of his sweatshirt. "Sometimes I think neither one of us can help it," she whispered. "We were searching for James before he was even conceived. Sometimes it feels like I was always looking for Nathan, every time I came to Haven. That this was inevitable, somehow, that we would meet and fall in love. Because he's the only thing in this whole mess that I can absolutely trust."
A shiver went down Garland's spine, much like it had the night twenty-seven years ago, when he'd looked at this woman and thought the very same thing.
"The Guard's not happy that we messed up the cycle. If I don't find a way to end the Troubles in the next four months, they're gonna kill me and everyone I care about. Maybe I deserve that, especially if this is all my fault. But I'm afraid they'll keep Nathan alive to make him suffer. I can't let that happen. So I have to figure out some other way to stop this."
When she looked up at him her eyes were blazing. "If you know anything that could help me," she implored, "something about Lucy or Sarah or what made the Troubles start – then I need you to tell me. We can't hide from the truth anymore. I don't care if it hurts me – not if it saves him. So if you do love him, then please, tell me."
He lived his life by secrets, and there were quite a few that might be relevant. "'Spect I do know a thing or two. But you're not the one I need to tell."
"Then tell Nathan. But don't wait. We talked to Bernie. He said his illusions fade in a day or two. You've got a day left at most. And you'll probably never get another chance."
"He doesn't want to talk to me."
"You're right about that. You certainly know how to push his buttons. Took hours to calm him down."
She smirked, and Garland knew she was pushing his buttons now, just like she'd been doing back at the station. Making out with Nathan in front of him to stake her claim. Show him that Nathan wasn't so different from any other man – not when he was with her.
He supposed he was glad for that, though by God he didn't need to see it.
"We'll be at the station tomorrow. If you can't corner him there, I'll bring him to the Gull afterwards. But please, don't wait any longer."
"Never heard Lucy beg." She'd lived life on her own terms. Which might have been why she'd broken when she discovered she'd never had any choice at all.
"I'd do anything for him."
"Even go away?"
Her smile was sad, but determined. "Tried that once. Wouldn't be for him."
"You oughta stay away from Crocker," he growled.
She laughed. "First time you ever sounded like Nathan."
"You should listen. I knew Simon Crocker. He was a lowlife and a killer."
"Duke's not his father. Neither of them are."
She wasn't just talking about him, he knew. But he'd realized Nathan was nothing like Max Hansen a long time ago.
"Doesn't mean he's not dangerous."
"He isn't. Not to me, anyway. He's all tied up in this too, somehow. We need him."
It was the last time he'd ever talk to her like this. He could feel it, just like he'd been able to feel the mood of the town transforming his insides. His work was almost done. Time to let go.
He'd fought it for so long, but maybe she was right. (A part of him had always known she was right.) A man never got anywhere by denying the inevitable. "You'll look after Nathan, won't you Luce?"
This time he called her that on purpose. She'd always be Lucy to him, just as he supposed she'd always be Sarah to the Teagues. Perhaps Nathan would be strong enough to make Audrey the last name she ever carried.
"I promise."
Without a goodbye she slipped off into the night.
He dozed off sometime after she left, and he went to the police station as soon as he woke. But Joan fixed him a strange look of pity. "He doesn't want to see you," she said before Garland could even ask.
"Suppose he doesn't, but this is important."
"He told me to have you escorted out if you wouldn't go on your own." She sounded sorry, but not as if she could be swayed. "He's the boss."
She'd never been one to stand insubordination. That was half the reason they'd gotten along so well.
"Can you at least tell him I was here?"
"That I can do."
"Tell Parker too," he added before turning away.
He hoped she'd make it an early dinner. He could already feel his molecules start to drift. He understood better than most what it felt like to come apart at the seams, and he wasn't long for this world.
Good thing he also knew quite a bit about holding himself together.
He couldn't spend another day sitting in that house, surrounded by the memories of his failings. Failings as a husband. Failings as a father. Parker had been a bit too insistent that Nathan's pain was his doing. He'd always been a firm believer in ends justifying means, with no time or patience for coddling, when that only gave someone a weakened character and an unrealistic expectation that life was going to be kind. The greatest gift he could give his son was the ability to survive in a harsh environment, and it didn't get much harsher than Haven in Trouble-time. But it seems Nathan had taken it all a bit more personal than he'd intended.
The graveyard was thankfully deserted, so he could sit at Marilyn's grave without anyone realizing he should have been in his own. He tried apologizing. Tried to remember how life had been brighter, those few years they'd had together. Tried to figure out what to say to Nathan – the answers he needed to save Audrey and those he needed to let go of the past.
Tried to imagine that maybe there could be a happy ending in there somewhere. Or at least one a little less tragic.
It was nearly seven by the time he went to the Gull. The hostess led him to a back room without being asked – surely Parker's doing – and he could hear the buzz of warm conversation even before he saw the four of them around a table, with beers and burgers and a sense of camaraderie that had been so foreign to Nathan all his life.
She was already looking after him.
Audrey smiled at Garland when he entered the room, a small consolation when Nathan erupted out of his seat.
"We have to talk."
"I'm not listening to anything you have to say," Nathan snarled.
"Even if it could help save Audrey?"
"We're just gonna … go," Duke stammered with a vague hand motion, and James scrambled out after him.
Audrey stood as well. "Don't," Nathan pleaded with wide eyes, reaching out to clasp her elbow. She smiled back at him, trailing her free hand down his arm. "You two should talk. Alone." She rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "It'll be okay," she promised before retreating.
Garland waited for Nathan to compose himself. He expected him to sink into a chair, moody but defeated, but he crossed his arms and held his ground.
"Thought you wanted me to stay away from her." His voice was tight but level.
"Too late for that now, isn't it?" Nathan bristled, but he hadn't meant for that to be a barb. "Look, I told you that for your own benefit. No good could come from loving her."
"No good? You have no idea all she's done for me."
He pressed on anyway. "You didn't have all the information. Look at this from a father's perspective. Best case scenario, the girl walks off into a Barn and leaves you with a broken heart for twenty-seven years. Worst case scenario she loves you back and decides to off you to save her own skin. Excuse me for wanting to save you from that."
But he wasn't sure Nathan was even listening. "She's the only one who's made me feel like I'm worth anything since Mom died. She doesn't care about my Trouble, that I'm less than everybody else. Doesn't let me use it as an excuse. For the first time since I was a kid I feel normal again. Sometimes even happy. She gives me the strength to get up every morning and face all the god-awful things we see every day. She makes me feel like the man you always wanted me to be."
"I know you may not believe me, considering, but I'm happy for you, son. Really am." It wasn't just lip service, either. Now that he'd accepted there was no way he could steer his son away from Lucy, he was glad she was looking after him. He knew firsthand how all this was far easier to handle when there was someone waiting at home with a soft touch and a listening ear. Or in this case by your side with a gun and some attitude. At least he wasn't risking his life for a casual dalliance.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "You're right, I don't believe you. The reason I didn't have all the information is because you spent my entire life keeping secrets from me."
Everyone in Haven kept secrets. It was one of those truths he wanted Nathan to stop being so blind about. "I'll let you ask all the questions you want in a minute. But we can't bank on the fact that I'm going to keep coming back from the dead, and there are things I need to say."
"Like what?" he barked.
"I owe you an apology. I probably owe you thirty years of apologies."
The retort Nathan had been preparing died in his throat, and Garland watched him flounder like an undersized fish that had just been tossed back in the sea.
"For what?" he finally asked.
He heaved a deep breath, unsettled when he didn't feel it in his chest. The sand was really slipping through the hourglass now. "According to your lady friend, I wouldn't have enough time left to go through the list."
"Huh?"
All those hours today in the graveyard and he still wasn't sure where to start. There was no more time to say whatever sprang to mind and rely on Nathan's good nature to forgive him eventually. For once he had to get this right.
"Your mother was the kindest person I ever met. Never had a mean word for anyone, not even that monster of a first husband of hers."
"Shame she died and left you with a piece of that monster." Garland was shocked by the self loathing in Nathan's voice. Good Lord. Surely the boy didn't think this was true? He'd been grateful that Nathan hadn't known about Hansen so they could avoid this very issue. After he found out there hadn't been time to set the record straight.
And apparently the kid had spent years building up a narrative where Garland secretly despised him for being another man's son.
"Now you listen here. We had our share of problems, you and I, but that was never one of 'em. I was nervous at first, I'll admit. Even if it wasn't genetic, that sort of behavior usually goes through homes. Kids don't know any better than what they learn. So I used to watch you closely. But I never found any meanness. You were your mother's son, through and through. And you had the biggest protective streak I ever saw, even as a five year old. For months I felt like you were sizing me up, making sure I wasn't a threat to your mama. Knew you'd make a great officer, right then."
Nathan eyes were wide and there was something raw in his expression that made Garland too uncomfortable to look at him for more than a few seconds.
"Your mother was too good for this place," he continued. But it didn't really help, thinking about her, the single bright spot in his drab life. "Too soft, and the town ate her alive for it. Once she was gone I was terrified of losing you the same way. Max Hansen was a tough sonovabitch, I'll give him that, and I hoped that you'd get just enough coldness from him to keep you alive. But all you got from him was his curse. So I thought I needed to toughen you up to survive. Because I knew what was coming, and what I wanted most was for you to still be standing on the other side. Maybe I got so caught up in the future that I lost sight of what you needed in the present, and I'm sorry for that. Didn't mean to make you think I didn't care."
Nathan's breathing was loud in the silence that followed. If he was six years old Garland would have wrapped his arms around him, patted his head and told him a few placating lies about how everything would be okay. But he was grown man now who certainly knew better, and Garland didn't know what to do.
"I don't remember how Mom died," Nathan eventually said, his voice a ragged whisper. "I remember her funeral, and I remember her being alive – but everything in between is a blank."
There was no shirking responsibility for that now. "I know."
"I don't remember Max, either, and I lived with him for years. I didn't know I wasn't your son until the day you both died."
"You are my son. In every way that mattered," Garland swore.
He'd never been one to dwell on feelings, but it still hurt to see how shocked Nathan was by his admission. Things hadn't ended well between them, but he hadn't realized they'd gone quite so wrong.
"What happened to Mom?" Nathan asked again.
"She got in the middle of a fight up at the school. Tried to help, like she always did. I told her she needed to be careful, that things were bad, but she wouldn't listen. Thought the world of her students. One of the kids was Troubled. He turned every water molecule in her body to ice. Killed her instantly." He could still remember the blue underneath her translucent skin. He hadn't used ice for over a decade, and he hated winter with a passion.
But it didn't hurt quite as much as it used to. It was all pretty fuzzy, but he knew she'd been right as rain the last time he saw her. He'd be seeing her again soon.
"You were in that class," he revealed.
Nathan went taunt as a bowstring, and all the doubts Garland ever had about keeping the truth from him disappeared, because that was pain no child should have to live with and it was too much, even now. "By the time I got there she was lying on the floor and you were clutching on to her, frostbit from your fingers to your cheek. No one else could touch her without gloves, but you didn't feel it. You didn't feel anything."
Nathan shook his head as if he was trying to come out of a daze. "My Trouble started during a sledding accident."
"You know better than that. It takes more than physical trauma to set a Trouble off. There needs to be an emotional outburst."
"How could I forget something like that?"
"You were inconsolable. Wouldn't let anyone touch you. You just cried, and at night you woke up screaming. I was at my wits end. Then Lucy came, said she wanted to see you. The moment she walked into your room you just stopped. She sat down on your bed and put a hand on your shoulder, and then suddenly you were hugging her and she was rocking you and I was standing there wondering what the hell was going on."
"I could feel her," Nathan whispered, something like reverence in the realization.
"Suppose so, though I didn't know it then. You finally fell asleep, and she was all shook up. The next morning Vince Teagues came by. He said he'd heard you'd been having a rough time, and you'd probably cope better if you didn't remember seeing it happen. He offered to take the memory."
"It's the Teagues that are wiping memories?"
"Yeah. Lucy'd already told me that – I guess Sarah knew. Then he offered to take more than just what happened at the school. He said he could make you forget about Hansen."
"You let him rewrite my childhood?" He could understand Nathan's disgust. He wouldn't want anyone messing around in his head either.
"Your mother wouldn't have approved. But you still had nightmares about that bastard, and Marilyn was the only one who could calm you down. Your mother and I had been married three years, but you were still so timid around me. I thought it would be easier to be your father if you forgot that I wasn't. And I didn't want you to remember that man or what he did to you. I couldn't fix your Trouble or bring your mother back, but I could free you from him at least. And I don't regret that. I just wish I'd had time to explain before I died."
Nathan sunk into a chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Thought you hated me," he whispered. "Cause of Max."
"Couldn't hate you if I tried." He knew Nathan couldn't feel it, but the boy looked so forlorn that Garland pressed a steadying hand to his shoulder. Nathan looked up and seemed startled to find him so close, but he pitched forward to lean against him. "I know I was tough on you. That's the way I was raised, and there wasn't much softness in my life once your mother was gone. I didn't know how to be a father, and I got distracted – by the town, the job, my Trouble. But I've always been proud of you. Proud of the man you became despite all you've been through. Proud you came back to Haven to become a detective instead of getting the hell out of this place. Proud that you're still here, holding it all together when I couldn't."
It was uncomfortable, but Nathan needed this, so he tightened his grip on Nathan's shoulder and pulled him tighter against his side. Nathan's chest heaved with silent sobs.
"I messed up, Dad. I couldn't let Audrey go. She went into the Barn – and I shot Howard. She came back two years later, and she was still Audrey. But the Troubles never left."
He knew how doggedly Nathan protected his own, and that's why he'd feared something like this was coming. "You're not the first man to do something stupid for love."
"Now the whole town's paying for it. Every death is my fault. And if we can't find a way to stop the Troubles for good in the next four months, the Guard's gonna kill her. She won't ever come back, not as anybody."
"Then you better find a way to stop them."
Nathan pulled away at the steel in his voice.
"I mean it. There's your problem – now find a solution. She's always been good at that, no matter what name she goes by. And someone in this town must have faith in you, because you're still the Chief, aren't you?"
"Got demoted once. My replacement didn't last a day before he was dead from someone else's Trouble. No one's exactly lining up for the job."
"Then you just keep doing it the best you can."
The air was too charged, so he settled into the nearest chair to give himself a reprieve. "Howard was a cagey bastard anyway," he growled, trying to steer the conversation toward something less sentimental.
Nathan cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. "You knew him?" he asked, his voice almost back to normal.
"He was waiting outside the Barn the day Lucy went away. Asked if she was sure about bringing James, and when she said she was he carried him in. Then the day Parker came to Haven I got a call that Lucy was coming back to town, and I needed to convince her to stay. I went to the Teagues to make sure they kept quiet, and they said a man posing as her boss came to them the day Lucy arrived and said the same thing."
"Who is he? What does he want?"
"I think he wants the cycle to continue, just like it's always done. He told me she'd heal Haven. Make it a real Haven again."
"But why?"
"I asked him that. He said it wasn't any of my business. And it really wasn't. Her coming back meant there was an end date for the Troubles, and I was having a hard time holding everything together. I thought at first I could outlast 'em, but then the Rev started nosing around and tempers flared. After Max came back it was all too much. All I could hope was I'd prepared you enough to survive what was coming."
"I don't understand any of this. I don't care. I just want Audrey safe." That kind of stubbornness had driven Garland crazy on many occasions. But it struck a different chord now.
"Maybe that's the answer."
"What?"
"All the flack I gave you for not noticing what was in front of you, and I was pretty oblivious to you and Lucy."
"Whadaya mean?"
"I knew something was up the night she visited. The way she looked at you – but you were eight, for Christ's sake. I was broken up and exhausted, so I pretended I imagined it. But she'd ask about you, every once in a while. And every time she mentioned the man Sarah loved it made me uncomfortable, though I couldn't put my finger on why.
"Right before she left she told me Howard said she could stop the Troubles by killing someone she loved. I believed her when she swore she hadn't killed James. But it was like she was sayin' she hadn't this time, not that she wouldn't ever. I was still trying to process that when she pulled a ring from her pocket and told me to give it to you when you were older. Felt like she was handing me your death warrant. Spooked me, but I didn't like to think about why. I kept the ring, but I couldn't give it to you, not even when I knew I didn't have much time left."
Nathan reached under his collar and pulled out a gold chain with something sparkly on it. "This ring?"
Even from this distance he recognized it. He'd spent a long time staring at it, but it never gave up its mysteries. "How'd you get that?"
"Picked it up on the beach. After … Felt like I was meant to have it."
Maybe he had been a fool for fighting the inevitable for so long. "Guess you were."
"What am I supposed to do with it?"
"She didn't say. But there's only one thing a man does with a ring like that."
He wished he'd be there to see it. Nathan deserved to have someone standing beside him that wasn't that Crocker kid.
"I was so terrified she'd picked you as her sacrificial lamb I was blind to everything else. I should have realized you were James's father."
"Bout that." Nathan rubbed at the back of his neck. "Wasn't as tawdry as Duke made it seem."
"I don't want to know. Parker seems okay with it, and that's all that matters."
"If you were so concerned we'd end up together why did you give her a job here?"
"Because she made you happy. Been a long time since I saw either one of you smile. I figured if she didn't remember you weren't in too much danger. You were both so awkward I didn't think you'd get around to doing anything about your attraction before the Barn came. She'd go when it was time, and maybe she'd teach you a few things in the meanwhile."
He wasn't a boy any longer, Garland realized. He was a man now, with shadows under his eyes and a badge at his hip to prove it. "Guess I miscalculated a bit."
"Lucy used to talk about how Sarah was sure that once she found James's father she'd be able to stay. I thought that was because she had to kill you – but maybe there's another way. And if there were ever two people stubborn enough to find it it's the pair of you."
"Did Max really kill the Colorado Kid?"
It was easy enough to read the subtext. Did my father really kill my son? Fucking town. "I dunno. He didn't have an alibi, and that was good enough for me. Claimed he couldn't remember where he'd been that day—"
"Then the Teagues were involved—"
"You'll have to take that up with them. There were no other suspects, and he was guilty of enough evil all I needed was an excuse to let him rot. Way he treated you and your mother – he deserved everything he got. I didn't mean to kill him, but I'm not sorry about that either."
"You framed him."
"Maybe I did. No doubt I wasn't the best father, and maybe I wasn't the best cop either, but it's too late to do much about that now. But everything I did for all those years was to look out for you. Maybe it backfired. Maybe it didn't. But you're still here, and that's something. I hope you and Audrey can figure this out, because the two of you deserve a life beyond all this. That's all I ever wanted for you."
There was something running through Nathan's head, but he didn't seem capable of saying it. But that was all right. He didn't owe his father anything – and Garland should have accepted that a long time ago.
"Now that I talked your ear off, I should probably go. Your beer's warm."
"You could stay," Nathan suggested, quick but tentative. "We were going to play some cards."
Garland almost declined out of habit. But he recognized an olive branch when he saw one, and he knew he'd never make it to morning. How could he turn down one last chance to spend time with his son?
He'd been the one to teach Nathan how to play poker, decades ago, when his cop buddies used to come over once a week to play cards. Nathan had been thrilled to be included, and he'd concentrated with such diligence you could read the strength of his hand on his face every time. After a few weeks his buddies got tired of his insistence that they didn't swear in front of the kid, and they moved the games to Joe Smoker's place.
It was the first time he'd had to tell Nathan that disappointment was a part of life.
He wouldn't tell him again tonight.
"Been a long time since I've had a good round of poker."
Nathan's slow smile unclenched something in his chest.
"Duke cheats," he warned. But there wasn't much malice in it.
"Wouldn't expect anything less from a Crocker."
Nathan stepped out to recall the others. Their dubious host returned with a fresh round of beers. Audrey swung a bag of poker chips from an outstretched finger.
"You boys play nice?" she asked, but her teasing tone implied she already knew the answer. She shot Nathan and Garland significant looks, in turn. Nathan stared back before his lips twitched up ever so slightly.
"Ayuh."
"Oh, Nathan's going full Mainer tonight," Duke teased as he cleared off the table. "Means yes," he told a confused James, who grabbed a deck of cards from the bag of chips and started shuffling.
Garland tried not to stare, but he couldn't help but watch as Audrey sidled up to Nathan, resting a hand on his arm as she leaned close to whisper something. He huffed out a breath and brushed some hair from her face. She smiled and dragged him toward the table, and after they were situated one of her hands covered his until they had to pick up their cards. Much as he'd tried to avoid this, Garland found himself grateful toward the woman. Nathan looked at her like she was the only port in a storm, and for the first time since he was a kid he wasn't drowning.
"I still think something's up with Sasquatch," Crocker remarked after the first hand. It was obviously a recycled conversation, because Nathan rolled his eyes.
"Because Dwight couldn't possibly have anything better to do on a Wednesday night than play cards with us," Nathan said dryly.
"He's busy every timewe ask? Unlikely."
"Maybe he has friends," James said, and something about his tone sent Parker into hysterics.
"Those are hard to come by in this town, kid," she said once she'd calmed down. But the way she looked around the table, her eyes falling on each man in turn with a fondness Lucy had never possessed, made Garland realize she was stretching the truth a bit.
They played for hours. Garland was mostly an outsider to their banter, but he didn't mind. Nathan was in the thick of it, and that was all that mattered. This was more than a gathering of friends. They were brother-in-arms, bound by duty and danger, and that's what he'd started to see back at the station. Garland wondered how Crocker had earned a place in their army. Lucy had killed Simon, but instead of revenging his father Duke smiled at Audrey as she teased him about his hair and his cooking. Something was surely different this time around. Whatever was coming, Nathan wouldn't face it alone, and that soothed Garland in a way little else had.
As the night wore on he found his mind drifting, and eventually his hands weren't solid enough to grasp the cards. In an uncharacteristic moment of tact Duke dealt him out and pretended nothing had changed.
When the end came, he kept his eyes on Nathan to the last. "Love you son," he said. Then he faded from existence without waiting for a reply.
Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you'll never find it all
Let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she'll be home
Home, home, home
Whew! That was longer than I intended. But all the best cowboys have daddy issues, and Nathan's got quite a few. I'd love to hear what you think, especially since this was my first time writing Garland.