Fic: Haven - Out of his depth - General
Sep. 21st, 2013 12:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanaquificTitle: Out of his depth
Fandom: Haven
Rating: General
Contains: Nothing beyond canon
Words: 1490 words
Summary: Duke doesn't talk to cops and isn't interested in helping them out. So how on earth does an FBI agent end up in his bed? Missing scene from 1.01 Welcome to Haven.
Disclaimer: This story is a transformative work based on the Syfy/Entertainment One/Universal Networks International series Haven. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it.
Author's Note: Written for![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
geckoholic for Troublesfest. Thanks to Scribbler (scribblesinink) for the speedy beta.
oOo
Duke, lurking in the shadows below the bridge of the Cape Rouge as lightning crackled across the sky, could hear the woman still talking on her phone as she paced along the dock. He wished she'd go away; she made him nervous, with her blonde hair in its uptight bun and her pantsuit that screamed federal agent. One of the other boat owners had told him Nathan Wuornos had been by earlier, looking for him, with a woman in tow that fit her description. A visit from Nathan was never good news—and he reckoned he didn't want to know why a Fed was hanging round his boat in the middle of the night, either.
There was another flash of lightning and hailstones began to bounce off the deck. That should surely drive her away. He pulled himself straighter so he could squint over the railing. Yes, there she went, hand over her head as she ran toward shelter.
Another lightning bolt grounded itself unpleasantly close to the Cape Rouge—followed a heartbeat later by an even brighter flash of sparks as something blew out in the circuits powering the harbor lights. In the afterglow, Duke thought he saw a body being flung sideways. There was no doubt about the heavy splash that followed.
Crap!
He found himself on the far side of the dock, tearing off his outer clothes and kicking off his boots, without remembering how he'd gotten there. He scanned the water. Where—?
There!
Curling his bare toes, he dived in. The harbor felt icy, making his heart pound as he surfaced, treading water while he looked around for the figure he'd seen floating face down. She was a few feet to his right. He reached her in a couple of powerful strokes and, getting an arm under her, turned her over on to her back and pulled her against him. Wrapping his arm around her neck to keep her head above water, he began to swim one-armed back toward the dock. He could feel she was still breathing, but she seemed to be unconscious.
He was panting hard by the time he hauled her out. Thankfully, the sudden hailstorm seemed to have blown over as quickly as it had arrived, although thunder was still rumbling inland and the wind plastered his wet clothes to his body, making him shiver as he bent over her and confirmed she was breathing. He turned her onto her side and she coughed out a mouthful of water. He saw her eyelids flutter briefly, and thought she was coming round, but then her eyes closed again. Brushing strands of hair back from her face, he glanced around. Trust there to be no one in sight when you needed them.
He spotted his cardigan, abandoned in the middle of the pier. Crossing to it, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911. "Yeah, I need an ambulance. Just fished a woman out of the harbor." He gave the pier number as he walked back toward the limp figure, shrugging back into his cardigan one-handed as he talked. "It's by the Cape Rouge." He gave a wry grin at the response from the emergency operator. "Yeah, Laverne, it's me. Tell 'em she's breathing but unconscious. And she may have gotten an electric shock right before she went in."
He hung up and knelt back down beside the woman, checking she was still breathing. Just his luck to rescue a damn federal agent. But it was the single most important rule of the sea: you never ignored someone in distress. That one overruled even his own personal code to never talk to cops. Including ones—now he could look at her properly—as cute as this one.
He patted her down carefully, making a neat pile of gun, ID—Special Agent Audrey Parker; the usual terrible photo—wallet and cellphone. It'd speed things up when the EMTs arrived if they didn't have to do it, he told himself, but he knew it was mostly because he wanted to find out if she was investigating him or not. Coming across the cellphone, he wondered if she had Nathan's number in there and if he should call. The point was moot: when he opened the phone, he saw it was dead. Probably the result of being dunked in cold water for five minutes.
By the time he'd gotten that far, he could see the lights of the ambulance coming along the shore. He stood up and waved his arms to catch their attention.
The rig stopped with its headlamps on him and Special Agent Parker. A moment later, the EMTs were kneeling down by her, asking him questions. He rescued the rest of his clothes and pulled his boots back on while they worked. After a couple of minutes, he could hear Parker's voice, sounding weak and confused.
"Looks like there was no real harm done—thanks to you." That was the male EMT, turning to peer up at Duke, who'd ended up hovering a few feet away. "But she could do with someone keeping an eye on her for the next few hours. You know anyone we should call?"
Duke shook his head. "She's from out of town." He gestured at the pile of belongings he'd made. "Probably staying at a B&B."
"We could take her to the hospital, I guess." The technician exchanged a look with his partner. "If her insurance..."
"She's an FBI agent," Duke put in. The government usually had that stuff covered, didn't it? God knows, there had to be a reason for all the taxes he didn't pay. "But you could—" He'd been about to suggest they could call Nathan or Chief Wuornos. She was really their responsibility. Instead, he heard himself saying, "—bring her on board the Cape Rouge and I can take care of her."
The EMT looked almost as startled as Duke felt. Duke guessed that, though he only knew the technician by sight—the way everyone in Haven knew pretty much everyone else—the technician knew who he was well enough—and knew his reputation. But the guy seemed too relieved to have the thing settled to object. He turned back to his partner. "Noelle, can you fetch the gurney?" He looked back up at Duke. "And you should get out of those wet clothes soon as you can, too. Don't want you catching pneumonia."
Duke nodded, still bemused at himself. Why the hell had he offered to take her in, take responsibility for her? He'd done his part when he'd stopped her from drowning.
His gaze fell on her belongings. Perhaps because it was a chance to find out more about what she was up to? Maybe even befriend her enough to get her to overlook any minor infractions she might discover? And it would sure as hell piss Nathan off. That alone was worth the trouble.
Besides, there was something familiar about her, some connection he'd felt when he'd brushed her hair back from her face....
Shaking away the feeling, he scooped up her things while the EMTs loaded her onto the gurney, and then led them toward the boat.
Ten minutes later, he was in dry clothes and feeling a lot warmer with a shot of whiskey inside him. He looked up from contemplating Special Agent Parker's belongings lying on the table in front of him as the EMTs emerged from the stateroom. The woman—Noelle—held out a bundle of clothes. "We got her out of these. If you could dry them...."
"Sure." Duke took them from her. "Anything else I need to do?"
The male technician shook his head. "She's sleeping now. Looks like she didn't hit her head, so there's probably not much risk of a concussion. Just check on her every couple of hours and call us if she shows any signs of getting worse. But she should be fine in the morning."
Duke nodded, letting them see themselves off the boat. When he could hear they were gone, he stood up. Picking up the gun and badge, he went into the stateroom.
Parker was on her back, the covers pulled up to her chin, her hair spread in wet tangles across the pillow. She looked very young and vulnerable, though Duke knew from the badge that she was only a couple of years younger than he was. He dug a clean shirt out of a locker and put it on the night table so she had something to put on if she woke up. He put the gun and badge on top. He reckoned she'd feel even more naked without those than without the shirt.
He stood looking down at her for a moment longer. "Buddha says: all good things come to those who wait," he murmured. He couldn't have explained why, but he felt like he'd been waiting for this woman all his life. "Sleep well, Audrey," he added quietly, before he turned and headed soft-footed back into the galley.
Fandom: Haven
Rating: General
Contains: Nothing beyond canon
Words: 1490 words
Summary: Duke doesn't talk to cops and isn't interested in helping them out. So how on earth does an FBI agent end up in his bed? Missing scene from 1.01 Welcome to Haven.
Disclaimer: This story is a transformative work based on the Syfy/Entertainment One/Universal Networks International series Haven. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it.
Author's Note: Written for
scribblesinink) for the speedy beta.Duke, lurking in the shadows below the bridge of the Cape Rouge as lightning crackled across the sky, could hear the woman still talking on her phone as she paced along the dock. He wished she'd go away; she made him nervous, with her blonde hair in its uptight bun and her pantsuit that screamed federal agent. One of the other boat owners had told him Nathan Wuornos had been by earlier, looking for him, with a woman in tow that fit her description. A visit from Nathan was never good news—and he reckoned he didn't want to know why a Fed was hanging round his boat in the middle of the night, either.
There was another flash of lightning and hailstones began to bounce off the deck. That should surely drive her away. He pulled himself straighter so he could squint over the railing. Yes, there she went, hand over her head as she ran toward shelter.
Another lightning bolt grounded itself unpleasantly close to the Cape Rouge—followed a heartbeat later by an even brighter flash of sparks as something blew out in the circuits powering the harbor lights. In the afterglow, Duke thought he saw a body being flung sideways. There was no doubt about the heavy splash that followed.
Crap!
He found himself on the far side of the dock, tearing off his outer clothes and kicking off his boots, without remembering how he'd gotten there. He scanned the water. Where—?
There!
Curling his bare toes, he dived in. The harbor felt icy, making his heart pound as he surfaced, treading water while he looked around for the figure he'd seen floating face down. She was a few feet to his right. He reached her in a couple of powerful strokes and, getting an arm under her, turned her over on to her back and pulled her against him. Wrapping his arm around her neck to keep her head above water, he began to swim one-armed back toward the dock. He could feel she was still breathing, but she seemed to be unconscious.
He was panting hard by the time he hauled her out. Thankfully, the sudden hailstorm seemed to have blown over as quickly as it had arrived, although thunder was still rumbling inland and the wind plastered his wet clothes to his body, making him shiver as he bent over her and confirmed she was breathing. He turned her onto her side and she coughed out a mouthful of water. He saw her eyelids flutter briefly, and thought she was coming round, but then her eyes closed again. Brushing strands of hair back from her face, he glanced around. Trust there to be no one in sight when you needed them.
He spotted his cardigan, abandoned in the middle of the pier. Crossing to it, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911. "Yeah, I need an ambulance. Just fished a woman out of the harbor." He gave the pier number as he walked back toward the limp figure, shrugging back into his cardigan one-handed as he talked. "It's by the Cape Rouge." He gave a wry grin at the response from the emergency operator. "Yeah, Laverne, it's me. Tell 'em she's breathing but unconscious. And she may have gotten an electric shock right before she went in."
He hung up and knelt back down beside the woman, checking she was still breathing. Just his luck to rescue a damn federal agent. But it was the single most important rule of the sea: you never ignored someone in distress. That one overruled even his own personal code to never talk to cops. Including ones—now he could look at her properly—as cute as this one.
He patted her down carefully, making a neat pile of gun, ID—Special Agent Audrey Parker; the usual terrible photo—wallet and cellphone. It'd speed things up when the EMTs arrived if they didn't have to do it, he told himself, but he knew it was mostly because he wanted to find out if she was investigating him or not. Coming across the cellphone, he wondered if she had Nathan's number in there and if he should call. The point was moot: when he opened the phone, he saw it was dead. Probably the result of being dunked in cold water for five minutes.
By the time he'd gotten that far, he could see the lights of the ambulance coming along the shore. He stood up and waved his arms to catch their attention.
The rig stopped with its headlamps on him and Special Agent Parker. A moment later, the EMTs were kneeling down by her, asking him questions. He rescued the rest of his clothes and pulled his boots back on while they worked. After a couple of minutes, he could hear Parker's voice, sounding weak and confused.
"Looks like there was no real harm done—thanks to you." That was the male EMT, turning to peer up at Duke, who'd ended up hovering a few feet away. "But she could do with someone keeping an eye on her for the next few hours. You know anyone we should call?"
Duke shook his head. "She's from out of town." He gestured at the pile of belongings he'd made. "Probably staying at a B&B."
"We could take her to the hospital, I guess." The technician exchanged a look with his partner. "If her insurance..."
"She's an FBI agent," Duke put in. The government usually had that stuff covered, didn't it? God knows, there had to be a reason for all the taxes he didn't pay. "But you could—" He'd been about to suggest they could call Nathan or Chief Wuornos. She was really their responsibility. Instead, he heard himself saying, "—bring her on board the Cape Rouge and I can take care of her."
The EMT looked almost as startled as Duke felt. Duke guessed that, though he only knew the technician by sight—the way everyone in Haven knew pretty much everyone else—the technician knew who he was well enough—and knew his reputation. But the guy seemed too relieved to have the thing settled to object. He turned back to his partner. "Noelle, can you fetch the gurney?" He looked back up at Duke. "And you should get out of those wet clothes soon as you can, too. Don't want you catching pneumonia."
Duke nodded, still bemused at himself. Why the hell had he offered to take her in, take responsibility for her? He'd done his part when he'd stopped her from drowning.
His gaze fell on her belongings. Perhaps because it was a chance to find out more about what she was up to? Maybe even befriend her enough to get her to overlook any minor infractions she might discover? And it would sure as hell piss Nathan off. That alone was worth the trouble.
Besides, there was something familiar about her, some connection he'd felt when he'd brushed her hair back from her face....
Shaking away the feeling, he scooped up her things while the EMTs loaded her onto the gurney, and then led them toward the boat.
Ten minutes later, he was in dry clothes and feeling a lot warmer with a shot of whiskey inside him. He looked up from contemplating Special Agent Parker's belongings lying on the table in front of him as the EMTs emerged from the stateroom. The woman—Noelle—held out a bundle of clothes. "We got her out of these. If you could dry them...."
"Sure." Duke took them from her. "Anything else I need to do?"
The male technician shook his head. "She's sleeping now. Looks like she didn't hit her head, so there's probably not much risk of a concussion. Just check on her every couple of hours and call us if she shows any signs of getting worse. But she should be fine in the morning."
Duke nodded, letting them see themselves off the boat. When he could hear they were gone, he stood up. Picking up the gun and badge, he went into the stateroom.
Parker was on her back, the covers pulled up to her chin, her hair spread in wet tangles across the pillow. She looked very young and vulnerable, though Duke knew from the badge that she was only a couple of years younger than he was. He dug a clean shirt out of a locker and put it on the night table so she had something to put on if she woke up. He put the gun and badge on top. He reckoned she'd feel even more naked without those than without the shirt.
He stood looking down at her for a moment longer. "Buddha says: all good things come to those who wait," he murmured. He couldn't have explained why, but he felt like he'd been waiting for this woman all his life. "Sleep well, Audrey," he added quietly, before he turned and headed soft-footed back into the galley.