Chapter contains Eleanor Carr, Laverne, Dave Teagues, and Simon Crocker (still creepy).

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Chapter 4: Eleanor Carr

It takes Eleanor Carr awhile to find a working phone, and by the time she manages to call Haven PD dispatch, Laverne doesn't sound terribly surprised to hear from her.

"Laverne, am I dead?" Eleanor asks. Laverne knows just about everything there is to know about the town- the only people who know more are Vince and Eleanor herself- but she's no gossip and she's no fool. The only way to get something out of her is to ask bluntly and hope for the best.

"Not at the moment," Laverne replies.

"Laverne Gaye Gibson." Sometimes that helps too.

"Keep your pants on, sugar," Laverne says, amused. "I'm sorry, hun, but yes. You were, before. We're having a round of resurrections."

"Huh. Well, this is definitely better than the last zombie outbreak," Eleanor says cheerily.

Laverne laughs, a low throaty laugh that never fails to make Eleanor feel better. "I dunno, hun. You were pretty good with that machete."

"Not as good as you were with your service weapon and the stiletto heels of destruction," Eleanor says, laughing. It's a little bittersweet- the zombie outbreak was a few weeks before Laverne was impaled in the line of duty and confined to a wheelchair and dispatch duty- but she knows Laverne likes to be reminded of her action hero days. "Can you send Julia or someone here to pick me up? No boat."

"Julia's back in Africa, hun, but Dave Teagues is on his way."

"Africa?" Eleanor asks, surprised. "How is she running the Guard from Africa?"

Laverne sighs. "My advice? Don't go there. You know how she hates destiny."

"Yes, but Vince should not be given dictatorial power over a militia. She knows that too," Eleanor says. "You know I'd love for her to be able to choose, but…"

"Vince has very little power these days, dictatorial or otherwise. And tell it to her, sugar. I have to go. Lots of dead people are back, and we don't want them all back. See you soon."

"I look forward to it," Eleanor promises, hanging up. She shakes her head, tiredly. Julia had never wanted to run the Guard, had always resented that she didn't have a choice, that she was born with the mark and never chose this. But she had come back, done some jobs. Vince had partnered her up with some big fellow who apparently had a lot of medical emergencies. Julia described him as being so competent that being near him was damaging to the self-esteem, but seemed they seemed to get along. It had been going okay. Eleanor wonders what went wrong.

Eleanor usually wonders what went wrong. Julia's bright and good-hearted and sharp as a whip and with a moral compass that bends to none. Julia's the kind of daughter anyone would be proud of, and Eleanor is. Whatever Julia thinks, she is. Pride just never seems to be enough in Haven.

Oh, yeah, it's definitely time to find Garland Wuornos and buy him coffee so they can make frustrated single-parent expressions at each other. They are way overdue- even more so now, presumably, although Eleanor has no idea how long she's been dead.

She looks out over the ocean and spots the motorboat. Dave Teagues. About damn time.

Dave picks her up, gives her a very tentative hug (he clearly hasn't forgotten that time she tried to kill him, even though it was a Trouble, goddammit) and, quite typically, refuses to tell her anything about the current goings-on of the town or the Guard except that resurrections are happening.

He walks her to the police station, which is apparently the center of operations right now.

Nathan Wuornos is clearly in charge. "Eleanor. Hi, nice to see you. Simon Crocker's in the back with a gunshot wound. Can you patch him up?"

"Sure, but I'm not being gentle about it," Eleanor says. She surveys him critically. "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

He ignores her, so she sighs and trots obediently off toward the back, where Simon Crocker is moaning, shaking, and handcuffed to the radiator.

"So, I see a gunshot wound to the abdomen, a severely broken nose, and what appears to be acute alcohol withdrawal," Eleanor says cheerily. "You are having a very bad day."

"Dr. Carr," Simon grunts in her direction. "I hate you, but can you patch me up anyway?"

"It's mutual, but yes," Eleanor replies, pulling some isopropyl and gauze from the shelf. This station comes well prepared. "Your nose is set pretty sloppily. The Rev?" Gloria had done Simon's autopsy, but Eleanor had read the notes and knew that this was done pre-death.

"Duke."

"You had your ten-year-old set your broken nose? I suddenly feel like an excellent parent," Eleanor says cheerily, jamming the gauze into the wound and eliciting a loud yelp.

"Please," Simon spits. "You tried as hard to lead your child into your life of sin and depravity as I did to lead mine to the path of righteousness."

Eleanor frowns and pokes the wound again, mostly just out of spite. "The Guard is a defense group. You're a murderer."

"The Guard is a den of sinners reveling in their punishments and persecuting the righteous. We are the ones who lead the Cursed to salvation," Simon says. Eleanor does not remember when he became a more violent version of the Rev. She remembers when he was their friend.

"You're patched up. Rot in Hell, you sick bastard." She says this as kindly as she says anything, allowing another officer to uncuff him and lead him to the cells.

Eleanor doesn't know how to handle Simon's claim that they were both manipulating their children, just in different ways. Because she did try to train Julia into the Guard, she did try to push Julia toward the destiny marked on her shoulder. Even as Julia protested that her Trouble was absorption of air pollution, not Guard leadership- that in this, at least, she should have a choice- Eleanor did not allow her to. Eleanor pushed her toward the same destiny that she had, and her mother, grandmother, and every Carr firstborn woman since Founder Annalise Carr.

Other than the difference in sides, is this really any different than Simon's relentless pushing of Duke into Rev's tainted church? Is the push to embrace the Guard significantly different than the push to embrace a violent Trouble?

Eleanor turns around and sees Duke Crocker with his hand on Nathan's shoulder. They're about four inches apart, murmuring to each other, and clearly the closest they've been since the first grade.

Well, if both Eleanor and Simon tried failed to indoctrinate their children, Eleanor tells herself, at least the sum total came out on her side- even if it did cost her a daughter.