Author's Note: Ok, so first ever Haven fanfic. Not really sure what I was thinking when I wrote this, which was a couple of months back, soon after finding out about this wonderful show. Typically, the episode that introduced me to this fantastic series was the episode two of season three which is the the episode Audrey discovers she is going to disappear with the Hunter. So while I was completely confused by that, I was intrigued and hunt down this series. Which I have and now proudly own season 1 and 2 of... hehehe, 'Yay'.
Anyway, so this little fanfic one-shot(?) has been sitting around on my thumbdrive for awhile, almost forgotten about until today because I'm in a posting mood, am posting this up.
The idea behind this is basically, Audrey has "disappeared" but has woken up (or whatever it is she does within the 27 year span of time between her visits to Haven) sooner than expected and that's basically the gist of it. As I said before, I really don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this, it's mainly speculation and me rattling on, but please enjoy anyways.
Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing of Haven nor am I Stephen King, so obviously I am a nobody who is getting nothing out of this except simple enjoyment.
The moment she woke, she knew that something was wrong. Her mind was fuzzy and she couldn't think straight. She didn't feel like a hangover was coming, nor did her brain feel unfocused due to sleep, it simply felt… unfocused. Fuzzy, like something was missing and then… replaced. Returned?
She opened her eyes cautiously and blinked around her.
Where was she?
She was in a room that look like a bedroom. Not a hotel bedroom but a bedroom that has been lived in for awhile. Articles of clothes hung here and there, a blue sweater thrown over a white rocker that was placed beside an equally white dresser that had photographs strewn across it.
She shook her head a little, but still her brain felt fuzzy and things, thoughts just weren't making sense within her head. She knew this room. She didn't know this room. She knew that blue sweater; it was her favourite blue sweater. She knew that she had never worn it and yet it was still familiar to her even though she had received a blue scarf instead.
Her eyes instinctively search for said blue scarf. It was important she was sure of it, but she couldn't see it. Where was it?
And where was she?
She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to force herself to think, to gain control over her muddled thoughts. She didn't understand, she couldn't remember and yet she remembered so much. Too much.
What was her name? She had had many. Too many in fact, all had been hers and yet never were.
Whispers of names fluttered within her head, so many, too many. Names and faces, so many faces. Her head throbbed and her mind once more did not want to think, it wanted to shut down. Too much, too much, her head couldn't contain all of it. Make it stop, someone make it stop.
A name? Her name and yet not. But it was her name because that was what he called her. Parker. Audrey. Also not her name and yet it was because it was the name he knew her by, called her by.
Where was he? Was he here? Wherever here was? She didn't know and it hurt to try and figure it out.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She knew that much at least. Something was wrong. With her, there had always been something wrong with her, right from the beginning there had been something different about her. But no, it wasn't that, it wasn't her that was wrong, something, something else was. Or maybe it was her and her head was simply denying her the information to sort out what was happening.
More names, more faces flash before her mind's eye. So many of both, some she can't identify with each other, or some go without the other, and others make her want to cry, to mourn for what she has lost even though she can't quite remember what it is that she has lost. Too much, too little. Names and faces. Some are important, some are not. Some she tries to drag to the front of her mind and make them stay with her, always and others she wishes to simply disappear to the deepest parts of her mind so that she'll never have to think of them ever again. And yet hand in hand those she loves most and those she hates dance before her, hand in hand almost, trying to make her forget again, trying to make her remember.
Too much, too little, her head won't be able to deal with everything for much longer but she knows, instinctively almost, what will happen when she finally gives in. All the names, all the faces, they'll been gone, again and with no guarantee of ever returning to her again. At least not in this life. Maybe another, she won't, she won't remember. She's already forgetting. She can feel everything, names, faces, a name of place that is and always will be more of a home to her than any other place that she'll find herself waking up in. All of them, slipping away, falling away. Gone.
She can feel sleep creepy back and her eyes begin to close on the room that she is in, the room that is hers but not, with the blue sweater that is hers but not that hangs from the white rocky chair that stands next to the white dresser littered with photographs that are hers but not. All hers and at the same time not a single thing belongs to her.
Nothing belongs to her. Nothing at all. And nothing ever will. Nothing…
Nothing but him…
Where was he? Her mind was growing heavier and yet her thoughts go back to him, back to him even though she is meant to forget him.
Where was he? Was he safe? Has he forgotten her as she has almost forgotten him? Did he miss her? Does he know what's happen to her? Where she is? Will he remember her when she returns or will he have forgotten her, moved on with the life he so deserves? She wants him to be happy, that's all she's ever wanted for him.
Only… she wants him to be happy with her.
She fights to keep the smile, his smile, so rare and pure, in her mind as she slips into an almost unnatural slumber. Or rather returns to an unnatural slumber. If she can't, isn't allowed to remember anything, let her at least remember this one thing. Just this one thing and she'll gladly let go of the names and faces that haunt her. Just this one thing and she'll become someone who isn't her.
She woke too soon, she knows this now and things will be, maybe different because of this. She doesn't want to forget, to let go. She wants to remember but the sleepiness is almost a weight that is pushing her under, forcing her to sleep until it's time to wake.
Time to wake, to start again. But she's woke too soon, so maybe, maybe things will be different.
The smile is still with her and she smiles because of it.
She'll wake again soon and start the cycle again, but maybe things will be different. No, this time she would make things different. For her. And for him.
Author's Note: I don't know. It was fun to write, I'm not sure if I'll continue it or not.