Haven, Maine, Thursday
Jul. 9th, 2020 10:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
betterthanaplanShe was still asleep when Duke woke up. He went above-decks to make sure her clothes hadn't blown away or gotten drenched in any random rainstorms over night (or vanished, not that he knew about that particular Fandom quirk), then headed down to the store on the corner to grab some provisions. Coffee, mostly. A copy of the Herald, to see what Vince and Dave had to say about Lester, quickly shifting weather, or his half-drowned houseguest. A copy of a Mandarin paper just because he thought it was hilarious that a tiny little Maine town that was about 97% white had a shop that bothered to order in foreign language papers. And a spare phone, since the agent's wasn't likely to ever function again.
All they had were sparkly pink Motorolas, which Duke was sure Audrey Parker, she of the monochrome clothes and no-nonsense hair, was going to just love.
He looked in on her once when he got back, saw she was still out cold, and grabbed a seat on his favorite bench to read his papers and wait for her to wake up. Vince and Dave's reporting style turned out to be even more impenetrable than most of Fandom's radio broadcasters', which just figured, really. Duke switched to the Mandarin paper to catch up on the latest China news of 2010.
"You took my clothes."
Duke lowered his paper and took a moment to process that as a greeting. (And to process the sight of not!Lucy wearing his shirt.) The gun being out seemed a bit rude, but hey, at least she wasn't pointing at him yet. "Good morning."
"You took," she said again, clearly unimpressed by his smile. "My clothes."
"Well, now. I laundered your clothes." Duke folded his paper and pointed to the items hanging on his line behind her. "And I saved your life. That's an odd combination, when you think about it. If you think about it."
"You must be Duke."
Ah, his reputation had preceded him. He wondered if he had a whole FBI file. Probably chock full of Evi's exploits and Nathan's complaints.
He bent over to pour her a coffee, flashing her more looks as he did. She was extremely hot. He didn't remember Lucy being that hot, but then, he'd been eight when he'd known her. He felt a flash of guilt over looking at another woman when Octavia was back in Fandom recovering from what he'd done to her, but she'd never said he couldn't look at other women.
And it wasn't like he was going to jump into bed with an FBI agent. Not without some kind of Fandom — or Haven, he supposed — fuckery.
He stood and brought the mug over to her. "Milk, one sugar, right?"
She looked faintly appalled. "No. No, and why would you know how I take my coffee?"
Shit. Right. That'd been Lucy's order. And this Audrey Parker was clearly not her. You didn't just not age for 27 years and then come back with a new name and new hair, not outside of Fandom, anyway.
Or . . . possibly Haven. The troubles were quite possibly even weirder than Fandom's whims.
"Nah, I wouldn't." Duke tilted his head, covering with an ease borne of a lot of improvised cons. "But it would have been cool if I did."
She laughed. Duke smiled. She tried to play it off with a snort as she took the mug, and headed for her clothes. "You know Jonas Lester?"
Down to business already. Oh goody.
"Uh. I know he's dead." Duke counted that off on his finger, raised a second, then shook his head. "That's it. Just — dead."
"You might want to rethink your answer." Parker shook out her pants, then gestured for him to turn around.
"Really." He turned, looking out over the water, hands sunk deep in his sweater's pockets.
"Yeah. Your, uh. Gun was found where he died."
"Now that doesn't sound like me."
"Well, you know." She paused and he glanced back, catching a glimpse of her buttoning her pants. "Everyone makes mistakes."
He sat back on his bench, picking up his mug and his paper again, careful not to ogle. "I didn't make that one. My gun was stolen."
"Okay, so. Of all the guns in the world, he stole yours." He heard the snap of her pulling more clothes off the line. "That's convenient. And then, you didn't report it, which is also convenient and, uh. Illegal?"
"Well, now, actually I did report it." Duke glanced up again, saw her shirt was on, and set his paper aside so they could talk face to face again. "Nathan didn't mention that part, did he."
It didn't take a genius — or the fanboy-esque reporting from Vince and Dave — to work out that was who she'd gotten her information on him from. Her total lack of denial told him everything he needed from there.
"I thought as much." He nodded with a little sigh, then gestured to his coffee and paper set up. "So are we good?"
"Well, if you're telling the truth, we might be," Parker said. Which was a fairer shake than Duke had expected. "Nathan really doesn't like you."
"Oh, and let me guess what he said." He started counting off on his fingers again. "'He's unreliable, dishonest, and uh.'" He put on a passable imitation of Nathan's grumpy cadence. "'A general pain in the butt.'"
"Ass," Parker corrected quickly. Duke raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, he said ass."
"Wow." Duke huffed. He was enjoying this FBI agent far too much. He blamed the memory of Lucy. "And strangely, I was going to say that. I was."
Parker sipped her coffee. "Was he right?"
Duke tilted his head and wobbled his hand back and forth. Parker smirked, looking out over the docks.
"Is the weather ever . . . normal around here?"
Duke followed her glance. Some of the smaller boats along the shoreline had been fairly well wrecked in the hailstorm overnight. "It's . . . normal for Maine."
Well. Normal for Haven, Maine, maybe. He was still enjoying the fact that the air wasn't a 100 degree wet blanket, like it was down in Maryland when he left.
"'Cause this damage," she was saying. "This is odd. And I need to get a bird's eye view picture of this." She patted her pockets. "Oh. Oh no. My cellphone. Oh crap, it's —"
"Oh yeah, it's toast." Duke set his paper aside and dug into his pocket for the one he'd picked up for her. "But I got you another one."
"A princess phone?" Yep, that was the tone he thought he'd get. "Seriously?"
Duke pretended to be offended, looking from the phone to her. "You really need to work on your thank yous."
With his gun officially connected to Lester's death, Duke knew it was just a matter of time before Nathan graced his boat again. Agent Parker, at least, seemed willing enough to believe that Duke hadn't been involved in that mess, but Nathan had no idea how to leave well enough alone.
He never had, but since The Fight last fall — two falls ago, for Nathan — he was on an especially short fuse.
"Duke!"
Ah. Right on time. Duke stepped out onto the deck, watching Nathan come leaping over the gunwale. "Nathan," he greeted with a nod. "Nice to see you again. How've you been?"
Nathan pulled his cuffs out, glaring all the while. "Duke Crocker. You're under arrest for the murder of Jonas Lester."
Duke sighed. "Yeah." He nodded. "Right, of course I am. You know, I cleared this all up with that lovely FBI agent this morning. Didn't she tell you?"
"She said you reported your gun stolen." Nathan gestured for Duke to turn around. Parker had done it better. And for a much better reason. "Convenient."
"Yeah, not so much for me," Duke said. He apparently didn't turn fast enough, as Nathan just grabbed his wrists and cuffed them in front instead. Danny had been much gentler about this, too.
Maybe Nathan was just really bad at being a cop.
"This is the part where you tell me I have a right to remain silent, right?"
"Shut up."
"Well, now, that's not how it goes." Duke laughed around a wince as Nathan closed the cuffs tight and started manhandling him onto the dock. "God, I wish Octavia was here," he muttered. He missed her fiercely just now, even more than he'd been missing her since he ran off the Rouge last week. "You remember her, right? She fucking decked you last time you came to harass me. Kicked your ass."
Nathan grunted faintly. "Didn't feel it."
They were in the parking lot now, and aimed at Nathan's ridiculous giant tank of a car. Duke started dragging his feet, his stomach sinking at he realized that he really was getting arrested again.
For murder this time.
And in Haven, he wouldn't be getting a slew of visitors coming to yell at the arresting officer that he was innocent.
His breathing started to kick up. No one in this town would give him a fair shake. If they didn't find anyone else to pin this on, he would quite possibly end up in Shawshank. Gloria said the troubles weren't just in Haven. How many inmates were troubled? It was extra easy to get bled on in prison. He started seeing stars, drifting white pinpricks across his vision. . . .
One of them hit him in the face. "Is it snowing?"
There wasn't much of it, but the white stuff drifting on the breeze was definitely snow. Duke frowned up at the sky, thinking about what Parker had said about the weather. It hadn't been nearly cold enough for snow a minute ago. He was wearing shorts, for chrissake. Someone must have a weather trouble. He wondered if it was always as dangerous as it had turned out to be last night, when the sudden hail storm knocked Parker into the harbor.
If someone was going to want him to kill to get rid of it.
Nathan shoved him into the back of the Bronco. Despite the discomfort of the situation, Duke couldn't help but smile slightly when he took a good look at the interior. "You kept it," he said, gesturing with his chin to the pirate sticker he'd plastered onto the dash when Nathan first got the car in high school.
Nathan followed his gaze and scowled. "Won't come off."
Duke sighed and leaned forwards, his cuffed hands tucked between his knees. "Nathan, listen —"
"You have the right to remain silent, remember?" Nathan said. He started the engine. The ancient machine's roar drowned out anything Duke might have to say in response to that, so he sat back again to watch the town go by.
Nearly two years later, and Nathan was still pissed. Well. At least no one could accuse him of not being consistent.
Nathan shoved Duke into a seat at the interview table in the bullpen with enough force that he nearly knocked him over, chair and all. Duke just barely managed to catch himself, the cuffs chaffing roughly against his wrists.
"Pretty sure this is police brutality," he said.
"Sorry," Nathan bit out. "Guess I can't feel my own strength."
Duke winced and fell silent.
"What in the goddamn hell?" the Chief said, stepping out of his office. "Thought Parker said he wasn't involved."
"Could've reported the gun to cover his tracks," Nathan said. Duke tilted his head with a slight nod. Technically, that was exactly what he'd done. He'd just also been innocent. "Doesn't have an alibi."
"Well no, actually," Duke said. "You never asked."
"He's a CI, Nathan," the Chief said. Duke quickly covered his surprise. "Now I gotta contact that ass Williams. Swear to god, if we get a federal task force up our ass along with the FBI. . . ."
Goddammit, Danny. Duke raised a hand. "Does that mean I can go home now?"
"No," Nathan barked. He turned back to his father. "He shows back up in town the day before Lester gets killed. His gun shows up at the crime scene, along with a piece of paper torn off his tide calendar." Duke glared at him. When the fuck had Nathan gone looking at his tide calendar? "And he doesn't have an alibi."
"You didn't ask," Duke said.
"Well then, I'm asking." The Chief leaned against the table across from Duke. "Where were you night before last?"
"Sleeping," Duke said. "On my boat. Docks have security cameras if you want to check them."
"Security cameras can be tampered with," Nathan growled.
"Check 'em anyway. Williams is going to want to know we've done our 'due diligence'." The Chief straightened up. "And for chrissake, boy, I find out this has anything to do with yours and Crocker's past. . . ."
Nathan rolled his eyes like he was fifteen again, and the Chief was telling him off for sneaking around with 'that Crocker kid'. Duke used to be really fond of that expression. "I'm doing my job, Chief."
The Chief stared him down, then nodded once. "Good. Get this cleared up quick, you hear me? And get someone on the horn to this Detective Williams character before you book him." He looked up towards something behind Duke and snorted, then disappeared back into his office.
"What's he doing here?" Parker asked. Duke twisted to watch her walk up, leading someone faintly familiar. Her hair and suit were mussed. Like she'd just lost a fight with a box fan. Duke waved, having to raise both hands thanks to the cuffs, and she rolled her eyes. "Never mind. I can guess."
"What happened to you?" Nathan asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Audrey steered the man she was with into a chair across from Duke. "Just — let Duke go. Conrad's our guy."
Something unknotted in Duke's chest. He was starting to really like this Agent Parker.
"Don't think so," Nathan scoffed.
"Did your guy confess?" Parker asked. Duke raised a hand.
"Uh, no. No, he did not!"
Nathan ignored him. "Conrad? You saying you did this?"
"Yeah, Nathan," Conrad said sharply. "That's what I'm saying."
Duke threw his hands in the air and leaned towards Conrad. "Thank you, sir." He stood, shoving his cuffed hands at Nathan. "Can I go now?"
Nathan shoved him back. "Sit down."
Duke fell back into his chair with a sigh, looking over at Parker to see how she responded. She looked back, a serious expression on her face. Duke missed the teasing from the boat that morning.
"Conrad," Nathan said. "Come with me."
They headed off. Parker watched them go, then turned to Duke again. "I know you didn't kill Lester."
"Well, that's fantastic." Duke set his cuffed hands on the table. "I'll buy the first round."
"I also know," she said, sitting down. Duke swallowed a groan. "That Nathan's right. You saw Lester."
Duke sat up to face her properly. "Okay, here's the thing. I have a rule —" He broke off, remembering that Haven PD officially thought he was a goddamn CI. "— It's more of a guideline, but." He shook his head. "I don't talk to cops. Even cops that I like."
"I could have a customs agent assigned to you," Parker said. "And only you."
And wouldn't Danny just love that.
She handed him a photocopy of the torn-off page from his tide calendar. "What do these numbers mean?"
"Nice photo." Duke waved it in the air, then set it down. He looked over to where Nathan was sitting with Conrad and smirked. "I think an apology — from Nathan — might help me remember."
Nathan stared stone-faced off into the middle distance. "Fine," he bit out. "I apologize."
Oh, that was precious. "Fooooor?" Duke asked.
"Don't push it," Parker said.
Duke had already gotten plenty. He made a show of giving in. "Lester wanted me to run him up to Canada."
"Yeah?" Nathan asked, clearly chomping at the bit for something he could legitimately arrest Duke for.
"Yeah. But smuggling escaped felons is not on my to-do list."
"The 2-5-7-8," Parker said. "Is that a partial phone number? Social security?"
Duke looked away.
"Lester was looking for a boat," Nathan said, standing. "Maybe it's a registration number."
Duke raised his hands in a shrug and made a non-committal noise.
"Wanna make this easy for me?" Nathan asked.
"No." Duke shook his head, making a show of taking that question seriously. "I mean, not particularly."
"Fine." Nathan turned to walk away. "Harbor master will take care of the rest."
"Do you mind taking care of that yourself?" Parker asked. She and Nathan started talking shop, and Duke turned his attention to the cuffs, tugging at them and looking around for something he could pick the lock with. He was only listening with half an ear, but he did hear something about Conrad 'blowing' Parker down the street. Which meant that there was a troubled man sitting not six feet away from where Duke was. One who might just be crazy enough to do something stupid and bleed on Duke.
Well. Another troubled man who might do that. Nathan had never been particularly good at avoiding bleeding at people, either. Especially since he was apparently still deep in denial that the troubles were even happening.
"Excuse me," Duke said, standing. He needed to get out of here. He held up his cuffed hands towards Parker, clearly the more level headed of the two. "I mean. You guys are going to let me go first, right?"
"No," they said simultaneously, and left Duke at the table.
Why did these things always happen to him?
It took far longer than it should have, but Duke finally managed to convince one of the other officers to at least let him have a phone call. The sound of Gloria coming in and reading the desk sergeant on duty the riot act for keeping an innocent man deliberately cuffed at a table almost made up for the whole thing in the first place.
"You're starting to make a habit out of this, kitten," she said when Duke came over to her, rubbing his wrists. "You're going to give me a reputation."
"I wouldn't dare," Duke assured her. "This is an anomaly, I promise."
"It'd better be." She looked up at him as they started down the front steps. "You okay? Last time I saw you, you looked about ready to burn down the world."
"That's one way to put it." Duke shook his head. "I really thought — I thought I could come up here, ask around a little, and get some . . . magic formula that would let me get this thing under control."
"Oh baby." Gloria wrapped her arm around his lower back. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Why the fuck do you think we call them the troubles? If you could control them, they'd just be . . . superpowers. Best you can do is avoid 'em."
"You'd think that wouldn't be that hard." Duke shook his head. "I just need to, what, not get bled on."
"Boy, I've been on this earth for a long damn time. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the only way to completely avoid getting bled on is to completely avoid people." She turned, gripping him and shaking him by the chin. "And don't you dare try to do that, you hear me?"
Duke blinked, wondering why his eyes were burning faintly. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
Gloria nodded. "Then don't. Your daddy and your granddaddy and your great-great-whatever might not have found a way to resist what troubled blood did to them, but that doesn't mean you won't. I remember you from when you were a kid, you know that? Chasing Nathan around all day like a puppy." Duke scoffed and looked away. She pulled him back. "You were a good kid. Rough around the edges, sure, but who could blame you for that? You've grown into a good man, too." Duke tried to shake his head, but she wouldn't let him. "You have."
"You don't know me."
"I know enough." Gloria looked him in the eye. "You love your wildcat, you will find a way. Generations of my husband's family have taught themselves not to cry. I have to believe that at least one Crocker can teach himself not to kill."
Duke blinked, then tugged her impulsively into a hug. "You should have smacked me upside the head when I was a kid. Straightened me out."
Gloria patted his back, then pulled back with an offended noise. "I wouldn't dare! But yeah, I maybe could have kept you from stealing quite so much. . . ."
Duke laughed, swiping at his eyes, and eyed the police station behind them. "Can we get out of here, please?"
"Of course." Gloria tugged him towards her car. "We'll get some food in you, and then you need to get back out on the water. You've found yourself a home, kitten, and it sure as hell ain't here."
Duke frowned. "Maybe I should, uh. Stay. I promised my dad —"
"No," Gloria said. "I won't tell you not to come back. Lord knows we'll probably need you here, yet, if she hasn't arrived." Duke frowned at the extra emphasis on 'she', but Gloria continued on without explaining. "But we don't just yet. So you're going to do what you need to do right now. And that's stay the hell away from Nathan before he finds a reason to lock you up and throw away the key."
"Yes, ma'am," Duke said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She swatted him on the shoulder for it, and he laughed again. "You'll call me? If he gets in over his head?"
"I'd be calling you every ten minutes if I did that. But yeah, I'll keep you updated. Maybe send you copies of the Herald."
"Hey now. That'd just be cruel." Duke looked around. "Once a month," he decided. "I'll come up and check in. I promised Dad, and — maybe I can help. Preferably without getting bled on."
Gloria nodded. "Good a plan as any. And you tell Octavia I'm thinking about her."
"I will." Duke looked at his phone, considering texting that right away. Wondered if it would help or if it would just make everything hurt even more for her, somehow. "Maybe I'll bring her with me, next time."
"Little Timmy would love that." Gloria wrapped her hand around his arm. "Now, lunch. I was thinking Lobster Pup. . . ."
"You wouldn't dare."
Gloria laughed. It was a lovely sound. Made Duke think that maybe, just maybe, everything would eventually come out alright.
The weather kicked up again that evening. A torrential storm, isolated up on the hills over town. Duke watched the dark clouds swirl from the deck of the Rouge as he prepared to ship out again, and wondered at the little pinpricks of debris he could see even from here.
That wasn't a normal storm. He'd seen enough of those over his years on the water to know that. That was a trouble, no question. Conrad's, maybe. A trouble strong enough to blow people down streets and off of docks and cliffs. Volatile enough to kill.
He could end it. Make sure no one else ever ended up like Jonas Lester. Who was a dick, to be sure, but frauding people out of VA benefits and escaping prison weren't capital offenses.
But neither was involuntary manslaughter. If it had been involuntary. Conrad confessed, which made it seem like he regretted it, at least. Had Lester threatened him with Duke's gun? Had it been self-defense?
Duke shook his head and went back to throwing off the dock lines. He was standing here, honestly considering if it was his place to execute someone. He had to get out. Get back home. The answer to controlling his trouble, to not hurting Octavia again, wasn't here.
The only thing for him here was . . . well. Trouble.
[NFB, NFI OOC welcome. Transcribed, adapted, and filled in from ep 1x01, "Welcome to Haven". Eeee, canon!]
All they had were sparkly pink Motorolas, which Duke was sure Audrey Parker, she of the monochrome clothes and no-nonsense hair, was going to just love.
He looked in on her once when he got back, saw she was still out cold, and grabbed a seat on his favorite bench to read his papers and wait for her to wake up. Vince and Dave's reporting style turned out to be even more impenetrable than most of Fandom's radio broadcasters', which just figured, really. Duke switched to the Mandarin paper to catch up on the latest China news of 2010.
"You took my clothes."
Duke lowered his paper and took a moment to process that as a greeting. (And to process the sight of not!Lucy wearing his shirt.) The gun being out seemed a bit rude, but hey, at least she wasn't pointing at him yet. "Good morning."
"You took," she said again, clearly unimpressed by his smile. "My clothes."
"Well, now. I laundered your clothes." Duke folded his paper and pointed to the items hanging on his line behind her. "And I saved your life. That's an odd combination, when you think about it. If you think about it."
"You must be Duke."
Ah, his reputation had preceded him. He wondered if he had a whole FBI file. Probably chock full of Evi's exploits and Nathan's complaints.
He bent over to pour her a coffee, flashing her more looks as he did. She was extremely hot. He didn't remember Lucy being that hot, but then, he'd been eight when he'd known her. He felt a flash of guilt over looking at another woman when Octavia was back in Fandom recovering from what he'd done to her, but she'd never said he couldn't look at other women.
And it wasn't like he was going to jump into bed with an FBI agent. Not without some kind of Fandom — or Haven, he supposed — fuckery.
He stood and brought the mug over to her. "Milk, one sugar, right?"
She looked faintly appalled. "No. No, and why would you know how I take my coffee?"
Shit. Right. That'd been Lucy's order. And this Audrey Parker was clearly not her. You didn't just not age for 27 years and then come back with a new name and new hair, not outside of Fandom, anyway.
Or . . . possibly Haven. The troubles were quite possibly even weirder than Fandom's whims.
"Nah, I wouldn't." Duke tilted his head, covering with an ease borne of a lot of improvised cons. "But it would have been cool if I did."
She laughed. Duke smiled. She tried to play it off with a snort as she took the mug, and headed for her clothes. "You know Jonas Lester?"
Down to business already. Oh goody.
"Uh. I know he's dead." Duke counted that off on his finger, raised a second, then shook his head. "That's it. Just — dead."
"You might want to rethink your answer." Parker shook out her pants, then gestured for him to turn around.
"Really." He turned, looking out over the water, hands sunk deep in his sweater's pockets.
"Yeah. Your, uh. Gun was found where he died."
"Now that doesn't sound like me."
"Well, you know." She paused and he glanced back, catching a glimpse of her buttoning her pants. "Everyone makes mistakes."
He sat back on his bench, picking up his mug and his paper again, careful not to ogle. "I didn't make that one. My gun was stolen."
"Okay, so. Of all the guns in the world, he stole yours." He heard the snap of her pulling more clothes off the line. "That's convenient. And then, you didn't report it, which is also convenient and, uh. Illegal?"
"Well, now, actually I did report it." Duke glanced up again, saw her shirt was on, and set his paper aside so they could talk face to face again. "Nathan didn't mention that part, did he."
It didn't take a genius — or the fanboy-esque reporting from Vince and Dave — to work out that was who she'd gotten her information on him from. Her total lack of denial told him everything he needed from there.
"I thought as much." He nodded with a little sigh, then gestured to his coffee and paper set up. "So are we good?"
"Well, if you're telling the truth, we might be," Parker said. Which was a fairer shake than Duke had expected. "Nathan really doesn't like you."
"Oh, and let me guess what he said." He started counting off on his fingers again. "'He's unreliable, dishonest, and uh.'" He put on a passable imitation of Nathan's grumpy cadence. "'A general pain in the butt.'"
"Ass," Parker corrected quickly. Duke raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, he said ass."
"Wow." Duke huffed. He was enjoying this FBI agent far too much. He blamed the memory of Lucy. "And strangely, I was going to say that. I was."
Parker sipped her coffee. "Was he right?"
Duke tilted his head and wobbled his hand back and forth. Parker smirked, looking out over the docks.
"Is the weather ever . . . normal around here?"
Duke followed her glance. Some of the smaller boats along the shoreline had been fairly well wrecked in the hailstorm overnight. "It's . . . normal for Maine."
Well. Normal for Haven, Maine, maybe. He was still enjoying the fact that the air wasn't a 100 degree wet blanket, like it was down in Maryland when he left.
"'Cause this damage," she was saying. "This is odd. And I need to get a bird's eye view picture of this." She patted her pockets. "Oh. Oh no. My cellphone. Oh crap, it's —"
"Oh yeah, it's toast." Duke set his paper aside and dug into his pocket for the one he'd picked up for her. "But I got you another one."
"A princess phone?" Yep, that was the tone he thought he'd get. "Seriously?"
Duke pretended to be offended, looking from the phone to her. "You really need to work on your thank yous."
With his gun officially connected to Lester's death, Duke knew it was just a matter of time before Nathan graced his boat again. Agent Parker, at least, seemed willing enough to believe that Duke hadn't been involved in that mess, but Nathan had no idea how to leave well enough alone.
He never had, but since The Fight last fall — two falls ago, for Nathan — he was on an especially short fuse.
"Duke!"
Ah. Right on time. Duke stepped out onto the deck, watching Nathan come leaping over the gunwale. "Nathan," he greeted with a nod. "Nice to see you again. How've you been?"
Nathan pulled his cuffs out, glaring all the while. "Duke Crocker. You're under arrest for the murder of Jonas Lester."
Duke sighed. "Yeah." He nodded. "Right, of course I am. You know, I cleared this all up with that lovely FBI agent this morning. Didn't she tell you?"
"She said you reported your gun stolen." Nathan gestured for Duke to turn around. Parker had done it better. And for a much better reason. "Convenient."
"Yeah, not so much for me," Duke said. He apparently didn't turn fast enough, as Nathan just grabbed his wrists and cuffed them in front instead. Danny had been much gentler about this, too.
Maybe Nathan was just really bad at being a cop.
"This is the part where you tell me I have a right to remain silent, right?"
"Shut up."
"Well, now, that's not how it goes." Duke laughed around a wince as Nathan closed the cuffs tight and started manhandling him onto the dock. "God, I wish Octavia was here," he muttered. He missed her fiercely just now, even more than he'd been missing her since he ran off the Rouge last week. "You remember her, right? She fucking decked you last time you came to harass me. Kicked your ass."
Nathan grunted faintly. "Didn't feel it."
They were in the parking lot now, and aimed at Nathan's ridiculous giant tank of a car. Duke started dragging his feet, his stomach sinking at he realized that he really was getting arrested again.
For murder this time.
And in Haven, he wouldn't be getting a slew of visitors coming to yell at the arresting officer that he was innocent.
His breathing started to kick up. No one in this town would give him a fair shake. If they didn't find anyone else to pin this on, he would quite possibly end up in Shawshank. Gloria said the troubles weren't just in Haven. How many inmates were troubled? It was extra easy to get bled on in prison. He started seeing stars, drifting white pinpricks across his vision. . . .
One of them hit him in the face. "Is it snowing?"
There wasn't much of it, but the white stuff drifting on the breeze was definitely snow. Duke frowned up at the sky, thinking about what Parker had said about the weather. It hadn't been nearly cold enough for snow a minute ago. He was wearing shorts, for chrissake. Someone must have a weather trouble. He wondered if it was always as dangerous as it had turned out to be last night, when the sudden hail storm knocked Parker into the harbor.
If someone was going to want him to kill to get rid of it.
Nathan shoved him into the back of the Bronco. Despite the discomfort of the situation, Duke couldn't help but smile slightly when he took a good look at the interior. "You kept it," he said, gesturing with his chin to the pirate sticker he'd plastered onto the dash when Nathan first got the car in high school.
Nathan followed his gaze and scowled. "Won't come off."
Duke sighed and leaned forwards, his cuffed hands tucked between his knees. "Nathan, listen —"
"You have the right to remain silent, remember?" Nathan said. He started the engine. The ancient machine's roar drowned out anything Duke might have to say in response to that, so he sat back again to watch the town go by.
Nearly two years later, and Nathan was still pissed. Well. At least no one could accuse him of not being consistent.
Nathan shoved Duke into a seat at the interview table in the bullpen with enough force that he nearly knocked him over, chair and all. Duke just barely managed to catch himself, the cuffs chaffing roughly against his wrists.
"Pretty sure this is police brutality," he said.
"Sorry," Nathan bit out. "Guess I can't feel my own strength."
Duke winced and fell silent.
"What in the goddamn hell?" the Chief said, stepping out of his office. "Thought Parker said he wasn't involved."
"Could've reported the gun to cover his tracks," Nathan said. Duke tilted his head with a slight nod. Technically, that was exactly what he'd done. He'd just also been innocent. "Doesn't have an alibi."
"Well no, actually," Duke said. "You never asked."
"He's a CI, Nathan," the Chief said. Duke quickly covered his surprise. "Now I gotta contact that ass Williams. Swear to god, if we get a federal task force up our ass along with the FBI. . . ."
Goddammit, Danny. Duke raised a hand. "Does that mean I can go home now?"
"No," Nathan barked. He turned back to his father. "He shows back up in town the day before Lester gets killed. His gun shows up at the crime scene, along with a piece of paper torn off his tide calendar." Duke glared at him. When the fuck had Nathan gone looking at his tide calendar? "And he doesn't have an alibi."
"You didn't ask," Duke said.
"Well then, I'm asking." The Chief leaned against the table across from Duke. "Where were you night before last?"
"Sleeping," Duke said. "On my boat. Docks have security cameras if you want to check them."
"Security cameras can be tampered with," Nathan growled.
"Check 'em anyway. Williams is going to want to know we've done our 'due diligence'." The Chief straightened up. "And for chrissake, boy, I find out this has anything to do with yours and Crocker's past. . . ."
Nathan rolled his eyes like he was fifteen again, and the Chief was telling him off for sneaking around with 'that Crocker kid'. Duke used to be really fond of that expression. "I'm doing my job, Chief."
The Chief stared him down, then nodded once. "Good. Get this cleared up quick, you hear me? And get someone on the horn to this Detective Williams character before you book him." He looked up towards something behind Duke and snorted, then disappeared back into his office.
"What's he doing here?" Parker asked. Duke twisted to watch her walk up, leading someone faintly familiar. Her hair and suit were mussed. Like she'd just lost a fight with a box fan. Duke waved, having to raise both hands thanks to the cuffs, and she rolled her eyes. "Never mind. I can guess."
"What happened to you?" Nathan asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Audrey steered the man she was with into a chair across from Duke. "Just — let Duke go. Conrad's our guy."
Something unknotted in Duke's chest. He was starting to really like this Agent Parker.
"Don't think so," Nathan scoffed.
"Did your guy confess?" Parker asked. Duke raised a hand.
"Uh, no. No, he did not!"
Nathan ignored him. "Conrad? You saying you did this?"
"Yeah, Nathan," Conrad said sharply. "That's what I'm saying."
Duke threw his hands in the air and leaned towards Conrad. "Thank you, sir." He stood, shoving his cuffed hands at Nathan. "Can I go now?"
Nathan shoved him back. "Sit down."
Duke fell back into his chair with a sigh, looking over at Parker to see how she responded. She looked back, a serious expression on her face. Duke missed the teasing from the boat that morning.
"Conrad," Nathan said. "Come with me."
They headed off. Parker watched them go, then turned to Duke again. "I know you didn't kill Lester."
"Well, that's fantastic." Duke set his cuffed hands on the table. "I'll buy the first round."
"I also know," she said, sitting down. Duke swallowed a groan. "That Nathan's right. You saw Lester."
Duke sat up to face her properly. "Okay, here's the thing. I have a rule —" He broke off, remembering that Haven PD officially thought he was a goddamn CI. "— It's more of a guideline, but." He shook his head. "I don't talk to cops. Even cops that I like."
"I could have a customs agent assigned to you," Parker said. "And only you."
And wouldn't Danny just love that.
She handed him a photocopy of the torn-off page from his tide calendar. "What do these numbers mean?"
"Nice photo." Duke waved it in the air, then set it down. He looked over to where Nathan was sitting with Conrad and smirked. "I think an apology — from Nathan — might help me remember."
Nathan stared stone-faced off into the middle distance. "Fine," he bit out. "I apologize."
Oh, that was precious. "Fooooor?" Duke asked.
"Don't push it," Parker said.
Duke had already gotten plenty. He made a show of giving in. "Lester wanted me to run him up to Canada."
"Yeah?" Nathan asked, clearly chomping at the bit for something he could legitimately arrest Duke for.
"Yeah. But smuggling escaped felons is not on my to-do list."
"The 2-5-7-8," Parker said. "Is that a partial phone number? Social security?"
Duke looked away.
"Lester was looking for a boat," Nathan said, standing. "Maybe it's a registration number."
Duke raised his hands in a shrug and made a non-committal noise.
"Wanna make this easy for me?" Nathan asked.
"No." Duke shook his head, making a show of taking that question seriously. "I mean, not particularly."
"Fine." Nathan turned to walk away. "Harbor master will take care of the rest."
"Do you mind taking care of that yourself?" Parker asked. She and Nathan started talking shop, and Duke turned his attention to the cuffs, tugging at them and looking around for something he could pick the lock with. He was only listening with half an ear, but he did hear something about Conrad 'blowing' Parker down the street. Which meant that there was a troubled man sitting not six feet away from where Duke was. One who might just be crazy enough to do something stupid and bleed on Duke.
Well. Another troubled man who might do that. Nathan had never been particularly good at avoiding bleeding at people, either. Especially since he was apparently still deep in denial that the troubles were even happening.
"Excuse me," Duke said, standing. He needed to get out of here. He held up his cuffed hands towards Parker, clearly the more level headed of the two. "I mean. You guys are going to let me go first, right?"
"No," they said simultaneously, and left Duke at the table.
Why did these things always happen to him?
It took far longer than it should have, but Duke finally managed to convince one of the other officers to at least let him have a phone call. The sound of Gloria coming in and reading the desk sergeant on duty the riot act for keeping an innocent man deliberately cuffed at a table almost made up for the whole thing in the first place.
"You're starting to make a habit out of this, kitten," she said when Duke came over to her, rubbing his wrists. "You're going to give me a reputation."
"I wouldn't dare," Duke assured her. "This is an anomaly, I promise."
"It'd better be." She looked up at him as they started down the front steps. "You okay? Last time I saw you, you looked about ready to burn down the world."
"That's one way to put it." Duke shook his head. "I really thought — I thought I could come up here, ask around a little, and get some . . . magic formula that would let me get this thing under control."
"Oh baby." Gloria wrapped her arm around his lower back. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Why the fuck do you think we call them the troubles? If you could control them, they'd just be . . . superpowers. Best you can do is avoid 'em."
"You'd think that wouldn't be that hard." Duke shook his head. "I just need to, what, not get bled on."
"Boy, I've been on this earth for a long damn time. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the only way to completely avoid getting bled on is to completely avoid people." She turned, gripping him and shaking him by the chin. "And don't you dare try to do that, you hear me?"
Duke blinked, wondering why his eyes were burning faintly. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
Gloria nodded. "Then don't. Your daddy and your granddaddy and your great-great-whatever might not have found a way to resist what troubled blood did to them, but that doesn't mean you won't. I remember you from when you were a kid, you know that? Chasing Nathan around all day like a puppy." Duke scoffed and looked away. She pulled him back. "You were a good kid. Rough around the edges, sure, but who could blame you for that? You've grown into a good man, too." Duke tried to shake his head, but she wouldn't let him. "You have."
"You don't know me."
"I know enough." Gloria looked him in the eye. "You love your wildcat, you will find a way. Generations of my husband's family have taught themselves not to cry. I have to believe that at least one Crocker can teach himself not to kill."
Duke blinked, then tugged her impulsively into a hug. "You should have smacked me upside the head when I was a kid. Straightened me out."
Gloria patted his back, then pulled back with an offended noise. "I wouldn't dare! But yeah, I maybe could have kept you from stealing quite so much. . . ."
Duke laughed, swiping at his eyes, and eyed the police station behind them. "Can we get out of here, please?"
"Of course." Gloria tugged him towards her car. "We'll get some food in you, and then you need to get back out on the water. You've found yourself a home, kitten, and it sure as hell ain't here."
Duke frowned. "Maybe I should, uh. Stay. I promised my dad —"
"No," Gloria said. "I won't tell you not to come back. Lord knows we'll probably need you here, yet, if she hasn't arrived." Duke frowned at the extra emphasis on 'she', but Gloria continued on without explaining. "But we don't just yet. So you're going to do what you need to do right now. And that's stay the hell away from Nathan before he finds a reason to lock you up and throw away the key."
"Yes, ma'am," Duke said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She swatted him on the shoulder for it, and he laughed again. "You'll call me? If he gets in over his head?"
"I'd be calling you every ten minutes if I did that. But yeah, I'll keep you updated. Maybe send you copies of the Herald."
"Hey now. That'd just be cruel." Duke looked around. "Once a month," he decided. "I'll come up and check in. I promised Dad, and — maybe I can help. Preferably without getting bled on."
Gloria nodded. "Good a plan as any. And you tell Octavia I'm thinking about her."
"I will." Duke looked at his phone, considering texting that right away. Wondered if it would help or if it would just make everything hurt even more for her, somehow. "Maybe I'll bring her with me, next time."
"Little Timmy would love that." Gloria wrapped her hand around his arm. "Now, lunch. I was thinking Lobster Pup. . . ."
"You wouldn't dare."
Gloria laughed. It was a lovely sound. Made Duke think that maybe, just maybe, everything would eventually come out alright.
The weather kicked up again that evening. A torrential storm, isolated up on the hills over town. Duke watched the dark clouds swirl from the deck of the Rouge as he prepared to ship out again, and wondered at the little pinpricks of debris he could see even from here.
That wasn't a normal storm. He'd seen enough of those over his years on the water to know that. That was a trouble, no question. Conrad's, maybe. A trouble strong enough to blow people down streets and off of docks and cliffs. Volatile enough to kill.
He could end it. Make sure no one else ever ended up like Jonas Lester. Who was a dick, to be sure, but frauding people out of VA benefits and escaping prison weren't capital offenses.
But neither was involuntary manslaughter. If it had been involuntary. Conrad confessed, which made it seem like he regretted it, at least. Had Lester threatened him with Duke's gun? Had it been self-defense?
Duke shook his head and went back to throwing off the dock lines. He was standing here, honestly considering if it was his place to execute someone. He had to get out. Get back home. The answer to controlling his trouble, to not hurting Octavia again, wasn't here.
The only thing for him here was . . . well. Trouble.
[NFB, NFI OOC welcome. Transcribed, adapted, and filled in from ep 1x01, "Welcome to Haven". Eeee, canon!]
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Date: 2020-07-09 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-07-09 05:00 pm (UTC)