HAVEN
"That means you don't go downtown."
"No way." How could she ask him to do that? Sit on the sidelines, while she dealt with the troubles. This is what they did, together. "We're already changing things by talking about it."
"I've already seen you die once." Her hand slid over his. "If that happens again and we don't get a repeat…"
How was he supposed to deny her anything when he could feel her skin on his, the warmth seeping into him. She so rarely touched him, knowing the effect it had.
"…please."
He looked at her and a part of him hollowed out. He couldn't answer her. The best he could give was to not argue. To not deny her. He could give her that.
How would he feel if the situation were reversed, if he had watched her die. He wasn't sure he would be handling it quite as well. Before Audrey he'd never thought he needed a partner, he got along just fine on his own. But now, losing the only partner he'd ever had, he had the suspicion he might go a little mad. Not that anyone would notice.
As he watched her focus shift back to the map on the board, he wondered what it had been like, dying. She'd explained the course of events, but had he felt it? Had he felt the wood inside his body as life left him? Perhaps it was an odd thing to think about, but he found himself curious. He found himself again rubbing the spot where she'd said the wood had pierced him. He felt nothing.
Now wasn't the right time, but maybe later, after they saved the day, he could ask her. She wouldn't want to talk about it but some part of him needed to know… had he felt anything before he died.
He left Chris and Duke at the bar and ventured up the weather-beaten stairs. They wouldn't miss him. Duke had made the untimely mistake of looking Chris in the face as he claimed the winnings from the last round of cards, and well, Chris was currently preoccupied attempting to extricate himself from Duke's demand that he taste and rank every maple syrup in the Gull.
He had played a few hands, but he'd been distracted. He was worried about Audrey. He'd given her space, wanted to give them space. Her and her boyfriend. She'd looked so lost though and had disappeared when he'd looked back for her.
He couldn't hear any noise from inside her apartment, but the lights were on. He knocked on the door. "Parker?" No response.
"Parker, I know you're in there." Still nothing.
He peered through the window, she was curled up on the couch, legs tucked up under her, starring at the mug in her hands. He tried the doorhandle and when he found it unlocked proceeded to let himself in. If she wanted him gone, she would have to say it.
Hands tucked safely in his pockets, he made his way to the couch, moving slowly to not startle her, and well, if he were honest, a bit sheepish at the fact that he was even here. He had no claim on her but damn it, he was her partner and that had to mean something.
She looked up at him as he came to stand in front of her. She sighed, "Nathan. If Duke cheated you out of your pocket money… you really should have known better. Gin Rummy's not your game. We can always arrest him, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm tired."
His eyebrows shot up. How did she know they were playing Gin? Though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She had a knack for knowing things.
"Sound travels through the floorboards," she explained, nodding her head slightly to indicate the floor.
He tilted his head to listen. Sure enough the faint sounds of Duke accosting Chris drifted up from below. He'd have to remember that little detail when he was at the Gull in future. Not that he was ever usually there without her. He didn't seem to go many places without her these days. Not that he minded.
He folded himself onto the couch next to her, not bothering to inform her that he had in fact won his fair share of rounds, even if he was a bit rusty.
"Surprised you haven't murdered Duke yet, having to listen to him all day… and night." He paused, not sure he liked the idea of Duke and Audrey at night in the same sentence, for any reason.
She just shrugged. "Oddly I find it comforting".
He could understand that I guess.
She filled the silence between them. "Not that I don't love your taciturn company Nathan, but to what do I owe the pleasure?"
He wasn't sure how to answer that. He also wasn't sure how to ask her if she's okay, when he knows she isn't, and in the same breath ask her to relive watching her friends die. Or more specifically one friend die, him.
"I meant what I said Parker. You could never fail me. I know you think you failed, but you saved Chris, Duke, the little girl… you saved me."
"I should have done more."
Before he could think too much about it, he reached out and placed his hand over hers on the mug. He immediately felt the warmth of that touch, her soft skin under his. He had to concentrate hard not to get distracted by it. At the touch she lifted her eyes to him.
"You did enough."
And he meant it. He held her gaze, imploring her to believe it. Even former FBI Agent Audrey Parker couldn't be a superhero all the time.
He watched her take a deep breath, close her eyes for a moment and when she looked at him again she seemed steadier. He realised his hand was still covering hers. She must have realised at the same time because she quirked her lips and looked pointedly, first at their hands and then at him. He snatched his hand back like he'd been caught with it in the cookie jar. He could feel the lingering sensation of her, a phantom tingling in his palm. He subtly clenched his first at his side for a moment, as if to keep hold of the feeling.
"I wanted to ask… that is… I…" he was botching this. He took a steadying breath. Best to just dive right in. "What was it like when I died? Did I feel it?"
She froze at the question. Her eyes shuttered for a moment. "What does it matter, Nathan? You died, you're back, and that's the way you're going to stay."
She said it with such a note of finality in her tone, but he saw the brush off for what it was. His chest felt tight knowing she cared. It felt like a lifetime since he had truly mattered to someone. He felt guilty asking her to relive this, but he needed to know.
She took a sip from her mug, the first he'd seen since he arrived. Her fingers played with the rug on the couch. She was looking anywhere but at him. A blind man could tell she wanted to avoid this conversation.
"I need to know, Parker. Please."
She looked at him then. He masked it well, tough guy Nathan Wuornos, but she saw the plea in his eyes. The scared little boy who needed to know if he would even feel his own death. She could give him that.
Just when he was beginning to think she wouldn't answer…
"You said it didn't hurt. That the only thing you felt was me." Her words were soft and sincere.
He took a minute to process what she had said. He hadn't felt his own death. It didn't hurt… guess there was a silver lining to his affliction.
The only thing he felt was her.
Realisation hit him. She had held him while he died. He might be numb, but in that moment his heart ached for her. No pain, and the only thing he felt was Audrey. He could think of worse ways to go.
"Thankyou." He wasn't sure if he was thanking her for telling him or for holding him. Both maybe.
He could feel the weight of the silence between them. Something had shifted. Something more.
"Any large squirrels give you a weather report for tomorrow?" A horrible attempt to lighten the mood. To put things back in place. To find stable ground.
She quirked an eyebrow at him in judgement. But then she followed it up with "so tell me… what is Nathan Wuornos' first favourite Bill Murray movie?"