[identity profile] mollivanders.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] prefer_my_life
Title: your fate buried itself with mine
Fandom: Haven
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Duke/Audrey
Author's Note: Audrey and Duke, set post S3 but references events through 3x04. Written because I have no self-control. Word Count - 1,165
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

This entire fic was inspired by this passage from 3x03 'The Farmer'

DUKE: Audrey, I'm just saying if I knew I was going to vanish in 46 days, I probably wouldn't be heading off to the grind. Okay. I will take you to my secret oyster field. You ever have blue point oysters, drizzled in absinthe?
AUDREY: Not today, thanks.
DUKE: Audrey come on, don't you just look around this madhouse sometimes and think, "I gotta grab the first flight out of here. Go to some secret island where nobody does anything, wears anything. Nobody turns into anything unnatural.
AUDREY: Sometimes.


They cross the equator three days before Orion rises in Haven, are already passing the southern tip of Brazil when Tommy calls them.

The Hunter is visible in Haven’s bright, cloudless sky, and Audrey is still standing on the deck of the Cape Rouge, clutching the railing for all she’s worth. Duke leans back against the railing next to her, staring up at the unfamiliar constellations. He doesn’t have long to wait.

“So, T plus 1 day,” she says and Duke chuckles. “It’s not a permanent fix,” she adds and he shrugs. “What, you and me, chasing the sun around the earth?” he asks. “It could work.”

The smile she gives him is all too familiar.


The natural tension that followed them out of Haven had faded after the first few days. The Rouge was only so big a boat and Duke had only so many hiding places that eventually, Audrey cracked on him.

“Going to give me the real tour?” she’d said and his eyes widened. “You know, now that I’m not long for this world,” she joked.

(The black humor of the last few weeks had followed them too.)

As days drifted into weeks, when they put into port Duke started picking up jobs that aligned with the calendar. Stay ahead of the Hunter while Audrey worked with Tommy, Vince and Dave to find the Colorado Kid, keep the Rouge afloat at the same time. She didn’t ask questions, and neither did he.

She told him most everything anyhow.

(Too small a boat for secrets.)

“What’ll you do if you find him?” Duke asks one night, refilling both their drinks while Audrey shuffles the card deck. He grinned darkly. “Sweep him off his feet with a kiss?”

Audrey snorted. “He’d be like, way older than me, Duke.” He shrugs. “You’re supposed to be in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Let’s not worry about supposed to,” Audrey says evenly and Duke – well, he could kick himself. Of course not.

“You’re right,” he says and raps his knuckles against the empty crate that is their dining table. “You’re making sweet love to that deck, Audrey, hurry up.”


They stop off the coast of Chile in time for Audrey’s birthday, which she tells him after four drinks is not her real birthday after all, so he didn’t have to bring her here.

“Has to be better than your last one,” he says, tipping his glass against hers while the local band for tourists marches past them. She reaches out one hand to play at his collar and his pulse spikes, her hand wandering up to cup his chin before she meets his eyes.

“This isn't so bad,” she and the four drinks tell him, and when she brushes her lips against his jaw, he’s made of stone for a long second before he shifts his mouth across to hers. She’s chapped against his skin but it hardly matters, the last drop of liquor sweet on his tongue. He’s barely kissing her – he needs to be kissing her – his hand firm at the back of her waist.

Loud music floods back into his ears when Audrey steps back, her eyes unfocused but very, very aware.

“I’ll see you back at the ship,” she says, her voice steady as ever and Duke swallows. “Happy birthday, Audrey,” he says.

She’s already gone.


Nearly a month later they’re making their way back across the equator, a careful eye on the date, just in time for Christmas. He’d asked if she’d wanted to go up by Haven, for old time's sake, but he’d taken her silence as a no.

From what they knew, Haven still held too many horrors. The Guard. Agent Howard.


There was so much to see, after all. Japan and Russia and Alaska and the whole of the West Coast of America. They’d be stuck here a while, but they’d been worse places.

A year and a day after they left, she walks into his cabin after dinner and catches Duke brushing his teeth.

“I'd rather not go back,” she tells him, leaning against the sink while he hurriedly spits. “Not for a while. Are you okay with that?”

He rinses and spits, watching her in the mirror.

“Finally taking my advice?” he says, joking, until she closes the distance and kisses him, throws him off balance until he catches himself against the wall. “Yeah,” she says, her hands falling to the loose buttons of his shirt, toying with them in distraction. “I think I'd rather take my chances here,” she adds.

“Lots of sea monsters,” he tells her, pulling at her hands to cross the distance to his bunk. When he sits she climbs atop him, hands on his shoulders weighing him down. “Big scary monsters.”

“I think I can handle it,” she says, and he's overcome with a powerful memory - that first morning, her cautiously exploring the deck in a t-shirt, judging him for his taste in replacement phones.

(They're off the map now anyway.)

When he leans up to kiss Audrey, she rolls them over, lets his mouth fall lower and lower until finally, the last of the tension from Haven rolls off her in sharp waves, back to where they came from.


She keeps her own room but stays in his, flips through boat manuals and navigation charts when he takes too long to get ready for bed. He thought she was bossy before.

“Never took you for a beauty queen,” she teases.

“Need all the help I can get, with the way you talk in your sleep,” he retorts.

“I do not talk in my sleep,” she says and casually flips through the manual. “Audrey would have told me.”

He makes her dinner, and she cuts the cards. He pours the drinks, and she emails Haven, and slowly, the last of their ties slip further and further away. When she kisses him, she tastes more like the sea and less like Haven, every day.


The roll of the sea is as familiar to her now as the chatter of foreign languages, foreign smells and foreign foods is to him. Vince and Dave and Tommy have stopped emailing and Audrey starts solving local crimes in exchange for trinkets, for meals and for fuel.

(They run from Orion, just them and the sun around the earth.)

One morning, Duke sneaks out early and charts a course without telling Audrey, to an island he knows has Blue Point oysters, drizzled in absinthe. He'll bring the drinks. When Audrey comes out on deck, he spots her from the bridge, staring into the glinting sun. When he goes down to meet her, she smells of rough soap and sea salt.

(The whole ocean belongs to them now.)

“How about some breakfast?” he asks and Audrey leans back, pulling at the railing.

“Coffee,” she answers. “Two shots.”


Half a world away, The Hunter loses interest.

The Colorado Kid dies.

Nobody notices.


Date: 2012-10-14 08:32 pm (UTC)
ext_317107: (Haven; Audrey/Duke; do I have to like it)
From: [identity profile] stainofmylove.livejournal.com
I'm not caught up enough to appreciate all of this, I'm sure, but I love what I do :D

“Let’s not worry about supposed to,” Audrey says evenly and Duke – well, he could kick himself. Of course not.

ACK, WONDERFUL! I really love how succinctly and sharply you always manage to touch upon Audrey's issues.

When he leans up to kiss Audrey, she rolls them over, lets his mouth fall lower and lower until finally, the last of the tension from Haven rolls off her in sharp waves, back to where they came from.

Lord, this is so sexy. And tender. So how I imagine these two might be if given half the chance.

Date: 2012-10-15 06:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fifth-bitten.livejournal.com
Gah! this is sweet and sexy and so utterly them.

It's brilliant thanks so much for posting! :)

Date: 2012-10-20 08:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] crickets.livejournal.com
GOD. THIS LINE: "When she kisses him, she tastes more like the sea and less like Haven, every day."

You kill me with words.

I can't even express how fucking perfect this is. There are no words.

Date: 2012-10-20 08:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] crickets.livejournal.com
I need to change my default icon, first of all. And second of all, you are appreciated. NEVER LEAVE ME.

Date: 2012-11-02 06:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shadow243ali.livejournal.com
Well, that was adorable. And sweet. And lovely. And pretty much amazing in every possible way. :)


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