amichan | Entries tagged with audrey two

It can't be here.

It can't.

Standing in the middle of the store, lolling tongue, gaping mouth and huge rotating eyes. For a moment there's a flicker and I'm expecting it to screech and disappear, and then something ripping my face off, but nothing.

It's still there. The lopsided, shit eating grin and then as my brain reboots and I drop the beer to go for it. It's gone and someone else is screaming and I run because fuck—I fucking froze! And it's ripping someone apart—but no, no-one's being attacked, just some crying woman—it would have—why has no one been attacked?

Am I going mad?

Shit—no--at the end of the aisle? Staring at me. Is it toying with me? I've never seen it out in the day but I've seen it all of twice...and the last time Jodi had burned a hole through it's chest.

Has some Child of Skinflayer activated a Trouble and come for revenge?

“Come on, lady,” I tell her, given I can't place her right now, “Let's get you away from it-”

“My husband--” she says, pointing in the direction it went.

Shit. Did it get someone aftera ll?

“We'll find him,” I tell her, “Where did he go?” I can hear the police sirens already coming up the street towards us.

“He's dead,” she whispers.

Fuck, “He might be okay...it--”

“No!” she grips me, cutting off my sentence, “He's been dead for years and he was—he was here!”

Shit—is there some sort of resurrection Trouble now?

“He shouldn't—” she points towards the back of the store.

“Alright,” I tell her, “Well, let's get you out from away from him,” and my focus elsewhere. It can't. It can't. At least hold her upright I feel less shaky myself. Think sense, Crocker. You're being dumb.

Nathan, Audrey and Audrey-2 are outside. I wonder when we're gonna get shot of her—actual FBI in town is one unhappy smuggler for some strange reason.

“Duke,” Nathan says in the tone that wonders how it can blame me for something.

Someone's moving around...oh, right Julia's here and two others. I roll back over and go to sleep again. I've no need yet and it's probably early. Sure. They can feed themselves too. They're adults. I don't need to be up. I float back to a dream of swimming through bright clear water surrounded by large happy colored fish and clams opening up to let their pearls be easily taken.

Coffee is not underwater.

I open my eyes slowly. The bedroom door is open and I can hear sounds of talking from the other room and smell coffee coming from there.

There's sounds of a toilet having been flushed and water running from the sink. I turn over in the bed so that I'm facing that way and listen. It's Julia and Parker in the main cabin, so I make sure that I'm covered in the blanket as Audrey comes out of the bathroom. There's a pull from my shoulders but nothing too bad, yet.

“Good morning?” she queries.

“Yeah,” I agree, “You?”

“It'll be better once the coffee's finished,” she says.

“You know it'll be about lunch time before we get to Newfoundland, right?” I tell her, “if you need headache stuff...”

“Let's just see how the coffee does first,” she says, “and whatever Julia's coming up with for breakfast,” she glances towards the cabin and then heads back that way, but pauses before she reaches the door and drops her voice to almost a whisper, “Parker wants to use the bathroom but she's paranoid about your state of dress, so...if you could do whatever you need to do and get out there quickly it'd be appreciated.”

“Okay, then.”

“Thanks,” she says, one hand on the door.

I give her a mock salute and she pauses with this expression that suggests she was going to stick her tongue out at me and then shakes her head and closes the door.

It is a well practiced routine at this point so it doesn't take long to dose, dress in a few layers of tank, sweater and such and come back out into the main cabin, carrying the bong and some more pot, as things are getting nice and loose. Audrey is working her way through a pile of toast that she's buttering and setting aside on a plate. Julia, however, is stirring something that's in a pot on the stove. I can smell spices beginning to fill the cabin and competing with the coffee. I inhale slowly trying to take in what's going on. Whatever she's doing she seems very excited. Parker also seems excited, but in a different way as she scoots by me and heads through the bedroom at a quick pace.

I set the bong down on the counter and let Audrey know that it's there if she needs it.

“Could you do it on the deck though?” Julia asks, “Might be safest for everyone else...contact highs and things...”

I can't help but smirk, but she's probably right. It would be hard to pilot if there's a wench sitting in my lap, grinding against me...to say the least of not being able to see through her...

“Okay, Boss?” she says, with teasing tone.

“I'm just...going to check the weather on the radio...” I point.

“I. Don't. Want. To. Know,” I hear Audrey saying firmly to Julia behind me.

“You might...” Julia says.

It's all clear towards Newfoundland which is good. We can get what they need and get what I need and get on the way to where we, technically all, need to be.

I come back from the cubby which passes for a bridge on the Ursa considering how small she is. To find Audrey pouring coffee and Parker nursing a mug of it at the table, with a couple of pieces of toast on a plate in front of her, while Julia is still working at the stove. She has the bowls of leftovers from yesterday next to her now and is putting things together into the pot on the stove.

I amble over to see more closely what she's doing given she's humming to herself as she's working, sprinkling some of the spices I keep strapped in the back of the cabinet into the pot, stirring and tasting. There's fish, noodles and a few vegetables in there now, and she aims the flat of the spoon at my hand as I get close.

“Almost there but not quite,” she chides, “No touching.”

“I wasn't going to!” I protest, “I was just...curious.”

“Well, be curious over there,” she says, pointing towards the table, “and you can try it when it's right.”

“I will not say no to trying it,” I agree, and point questioningly at coffee mugs that Audrey is no longer filling.

“Help yourself,” she says, “They're all the same.”

I grab one and sit down.

“Is there good news from the weather radio?” Parker asks when I do.

“Should be as smooth sailing as it gets this time of year,” I tease.

There's a moment of wary look which crosses her face and then she fixes me instead with a sort of piercing look, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“That the sea is as fickle a mistress as I am?” I ask, pausing a moment to review what I just said because it doesn't sound right, and the look Julia is giving me suggests that it didn't come out entirely correctly, “things are changeable...” I wave a hand, “It's fine now, so we should set off soon, because unlike most women I can't sweet talk the sea into fairer temperament. If she's going to rustle up disaster she will, unless any of you happen to have some sort of helpful Trouble or magic weather book?”

I'm greeted with silence and no one fills it even as I drink some more of the coffee.

“I didn't think so.”

“If Troubles were useful. They wouldn't be called Troubles, Boss,” Julia says, setting a bowl of soup down by me. A spoon follows it shortly and then she sits down with one of her own. Audrey tastes a little of the soup from the pan but in the end settles for a slice of toast as she sits down. The soup tastes delicious. I close my eyes as I let it down my throat, warming myself through. I can feel the spices going through my nasal passages at the same time. It's amazing. I breath in deep because I can't believe the combination of flavors going on in my mouth right now.

“You okay?” Parker asks.

“Mm-hm,” I answer, taking another spoonful, “You should try this,” I tell her, after I've savored it and am selecting a bit with actual fish and not just vegetables, “it's really good.”

“I don't think I can do fish for breakfast,” Parker replies, “besides I'm not entirely human yet. I need to finish the coffee.”

“Yeah,” Audrey agrees.

“How's your head doing?” Julia asks, “I was meaning to ask but I was distracted concocting...”

“It's okay,” Audrey says with a cautiousness I recognize well.

“Well, you know where the stuff is if it gets not okay,” I point out, “It will be a bit before we get to Newfoundland and more legal methods of pain control if whatever it is is, you know.”

“Right,” she says, clearly avoiding the faces of the other two who are looking at her, “Thanks.”

There's minor chit-chat as we finish breakfast and I'm excused even though I didn't make anything so that I can get us underway with Julia's help as she's the only one who might know anything about anything to do with that. Audrey and Parker will clean up the kitchen and put things away.

“Remember things need to be secured,” Julia warns as we go to check the lines and make sure the Cape is still attached with all lines, and pull up her own anchor. There's a wistfulness to Julia as she puts a hand on the Cape's cabin frame and then moves to check the lines, as I climb up to the bridge. Might not be the wisest to loose the bigger boat first, but it's not going to be for too long and it's not as if we're in a storm.

Soon enough we're back on the Ursa and gently moving off, watching the Cape in case she decides to yaw weird all of a sudden, but she behaves herself, following along like the ugly duckling behind it's much smaller mother duck.

We make good time considering our tow. Parker sits out on the bench watching the waves for a while, and the three of the ladies sit talking as well, and then disappear inside again. After a while longer Julia comes to the cubby-cabin to see how things are going and apparently massage my scalp. I lean back into it. Sitting, as I am, my head slips back towards her boobs.

“What's up?” I ask her.

She looks down at me. There's a slightly amused glance towards my crotch but at the same time she looks concerned too and strange because she's at a weird angle her eyes level with my mouth and our noses almost touching.

“I would ask you,” she says.

“I would probably say something smarmy like you,” I tell her, “You're up, or keep that up and something else might be...”

She blows a raspberry at me, “Boss...” there's a tone again.

“Yes?” I ask, leaning forward again and checking everything on the panels just to be safe.

“Come on, now. I get the feeling if you were by yourself you would maybe be stopping for a break about now. Don't feel you have to push on because we're--” she waves a hand about the area.

“I...” I can't finish though because she has a point. They need to get back and I am trying to get them there as fast as I can.

“It is time travel, Boss. We won't be late.”

“...and your Audrey?” I ask her.

She glances towards the area of the prow where Audrey is leaning on the railing, and purses her lips, “You have me there,” she says, “but still you don't need to be in pain too. Do I have to bribe you with a blow job to go? Or will one as reward help incentivize you to do so?”

“I didn't know blow jobs were on the table,” I tell her with a raised eyebrow, turning slightly in the seat.

“Well, I wasn't thinking on the table given who knows when company might arise,” she answers, “but there is a dresser in your room...for later though,” she amends, “given lost time and all. There's room enough to work with here.”

“You're a wicked wench.”

“So I've been told,” she replies with a smile, “You didn't answer about the BJ,” she points out.

“No, I didn't, but let's have something more to look forward too, and I imagine you can keep her on a bearing...” I gesture to the controls, “while I 'freshen up'.”

“Aye, Boss. I reckon as I can,” she gives the half salute as we trade positions, and then yanks my sleeve to pull me down for a kiss before I can get away.

I take a partial and come back out in that nice mellow place where things are cozy, having brought two small rolls of Canadian money from one of the stash spots for them to acquire things with; because it'll be reimbursed at a later time.

Parker is sitting on the restored couch reading when I come back out of the bedroom and I soon realize that's because Audrey is hitting the bong on the deck all the way towards the prow. She waves to me as I go to check on her, wiping at her nose self-consciously.

“I might think you'd been at some nose candy,” I point out.

“Looking for a share?” she answers.

“Of nose candy?”

She gives me a slight glower as though she doesn't want to risk anything stronger, “No,” she extends the hand holding the bong.

“When in Rome,” I remark, taking a hit.

“I thought we were Holland,” she answers as I pass it back.

I shrug, “Wherever we are we're not in the U.S.”

“I hope you actually do know where we are,” she says, blowing smoke over the side.

“Close enough,” I scan the horizon, “and not too much long before we hit actual port either,” I tap the railing a couple of times and go to check on the wench.

Obviously the first thing that needs to be fixed is the lighting so it's easier to actually do the work. The first three pages of the notebook I'm mapping the layout of the decks, and then the rest is the notes on things that need to be fixed, replaced, supplies that will be needed. This is a hell of a project, but the Cape has amazing potential and I'm sure I can take some parts from the Ursa to help with some of it, and sell or trade off others to offset costs.

I'm in the various spaces of the hold scanning around with the flashlight looking at the walls and testing places to see where I might be able to put panels in for back exits when there's a noise upstairs. She's an old girl maybe she's just making noise. Still. It's best to stop and listen for a while...

...no, that's definitely not the boat creaking, that's someone—more than one someone on board. No one was on board when I left harbor so what the fuck is going on?

I suppose someone could have snuck up while I was blissed out overnight and come up over the side. Well, better see what's going on. I go carefully up the ladder to the main cabin floor stopping just below to listen again, three different sets of footprints and someone talking in urgent whisper, sounds female, someone else...also...female? Angry accusations I can't make out, but tone is distinctive. Curioser and curioser said, was it Alice?

Don't have any guns stashed over here yet.

Fuck.

It's not like I have anything that can fake being a gun and that's just dumb in case your bluff gets called, but there's plenty of hefty threatening bits of metal around so I grab one as I go closer, stashing the notebook in my back pocket and turning off the flashlight. Flashlight gets pulled up inside one sleeve of my sweater. It's cold out here in the North Atlantic, many layers aren't weird, and it's handy for hiding all kinds of shit.

Still have knives too but it's not as imposing.

And maybe they're just...what? Lost? In the middle of ice cold BFE...let's just...yeah...just stop. They're in what passes for a state room or did at one point and hopefully will again. The draft that just blew through suggests someone opened the door to the deck but well it's closed now...

I bang the rod I'm carrying heavily against a pipe on the wall and please don't fall down on me. Good just loud noise and people freaking out—not in an oh, my fucking god we're gonna die horror movie way though more loud noise at the ready attack.

Hm.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, flicking the flashlight on with my other hand so I should be in shadow but be able to see them in theory, “Did Fiegler have loser's regret?”

There's a vague murmur from one side of the room but as I swing the flashlight in that direction someone else attracts my attention and I turn that way. A woman, maybe thirty with long brown hair is there, dressed in a sort of business type suit, definitely not the sort of thing a boat thief or a recoverer might wear, “What are we doing here?” she asks but she's not looking in my direction, she's looking across where the murmuring noise came from.

“This isn't what it looks like,” comes from that way, and when I swing in that direction, someone else with brown hair of a slightly different shade, face obscured because they're shaking their head with their hand over their face apparently disgusted with themselves. Their voice was sort of familiar though. They're not suited up. More casual, practical.

Okay, what the fuck? “What is it then?” I ask her. I'll play along.

“A long and complicated story that's not going to be easy to believe?” she says, lifting her head from her hand, familiar facial features, “We're not here for the boat. We're not here for anything you may or may not be carrying. We just need a ride,” with the tone and the features...I move the flashlight around trying to get a clearer view, because it can't be. This is an adult, not a teenager, and how would she get out here? How would anyone have gotten out here? This is a trick or a...I hate that word, “I swear by the bug that crawled up Eleanor's ass and died.”

I took too much and passed out somewhere. Maybe weird old fuel too, hell of a combination.

“Julia!” another voice. I move the flashlight. A blonde, also suited. Am I going nuts? She looks familiar too but much harder to place.

The woman who can't be Julia turns to the blonde, “Hey, you didn't have to live under her roof and her rules,” she half-snaps.

“You can't seriously be trying to say you're Julia Carr,” I tell her, pointing at her with the metal pole I grabbed.

“...I told you it would be hard to believe,” she says.

“Uh-huh.”

“I can explain, I swear,” she says, “but could we not do it in the dark?”

I point to the door behind her with the pole, “...the deck's that way as I think you know,” considering the door was opened earlier.

I cast the flashlight beam towards the door as well and make them go in front of me out into the somewhat gloomy daylight, considering the weather. On the one hand they're not exactly dressed for this weather either, which is something against this being a really weird story from boat thieves. The suits and the clothes it's got to be chilly for them, given they're not in three layers of clothes like I am. I don't like the way the two that aren't trying to claim to be Julia are walking, it's got that definite I'm packing and I have authority of law behind me thing, though I think they're all armed, really, looking at the way things go.

Joy.

Possible Julia takes a deep breath and looks almost pained to be saying what she's saying, “Okay, so, long story short: an asshole chucked us back in time and I have a magic book that can get us back to the future, but we need to be in Haven for it to work.”

Magic...book...? Haven...? How convenient, and...seriously...magic book. Time travel was one thing, but magic fucking books now. I brace myself on the pole because I'm laughing so hard. I have to be passed out somewhere, though the wind is pretty damn cold on my nose for that to be the case.

“If you think that's funny you should see the video of Nathan trying to dance.”

“Julia!” blonde not hippie cop complains. She's leaning against the railing of the boat, looking a little...maybe she gets sea sick, the other one is standing their arms crossed still angry at everything, “Okay, yeah,” she continues with somewhat reluctance, “that was pretty funny.”

So, they both apparently know Haven things?

My head is starting to hurt, “No, okay...time travel...if that's...that'd be a Trouble, so don't you just—but,” I rub at my forehead I shouldn't be trying to unknot this right now, But if she was the...that doesn't make sense either, “even if that's the thing, and it's not—because you're,” I wave towards possible Julia, “and you kinda look like Gar--” probably best not to say Garland's piece to a cop, “this hippie chick that, but you; both of you...” can't be.

“The book isn't Troubled; it'll work even though the Troubles aren't due back for another fifteen years or so,” possible Julia continues, “There actually isn't—it's complicated.”

“Of course,” I tell her as sarcastically as I can. How convenient.

“It's actually not that complicated,” angry brown haired woman says, taking a threatening step towards me. I fix my stance and level a look at her, “You don't need to know what she has to do. We need to get to Haven, and you're going to take us there or we can call in the--”

I put up my hand and cut her off, with a motion of the pole, “I don't have to take you anywhere. I can drop you right here. I have no real proof you are who you say you are. Whose to say you're not just a Trouble that makes you seem like you're some future version of Julia...” or I'm not in a drooling puddle in the engine room somewhere...

“What kind of proof do you need?” “Julia” asks, musing and thoughtful now instead of looking like she wants to throw the brown haired one overboard herself or worse.

Yes, what is the magic Trouble fairy going to magic up now? I snort. Maybe they're some sort of weird thing attached to the Cape. Am I going to need to call in an exorcist or something?

“I know you're not going to throw us overboard,” the blonde one speaks up now, pushing slightly off the railing and moving towards me, but non-threatening gesture, “and I--”

“Fair enough,” I admit, for the time being, “but I have to go to port for supplies and I can just drop you there if you still exist in the morning.”

“So, we need to barter for passage from there to Haven, then,” possible Julia counters.

Ugh, my head hurts. I lean forward against the metal pole for a moment. What the hell are they going to pay with if they even have? I've never taken credit cards, and a 'get out of jail free' card from a cop who is theoretically going to disappear. I'm too sober for this shit. Why the fuck are there future cops on my boat anyway? I'm actually entertaining this future cop bull--

“This is ridiculous!” The dark haired one snaps, “Why are we wasting time arguing with the pubescent unwashed junkie when we--?”

“I bathe, thank you!” I snap back before I can stop myself.

“Because it's his boat!” “Julia” retorts, furiously, but then turns to me, “...and you should really get off heroin if you want to get anywhere with my past self without Garland getting involved,” like casual conversation advice.

What. The. Fuck?

What the everloving fuck? No.

Just, but yes, yes, lady this is my damn boat, I push back on the pole a little, “Okay, if you really are from the future—and I generally don't do favors for cops as is, no shit I know you're cops I'm not stupid even without the posturing you were going to start before I cut you off,” I wave at the brown haired one, “you're supposedly from the future, so nothing is gonna be valid, and if you're from Haven, you're really far outside your jurisdiction right now, and your gun registration, bank account, credit cards, nope. I sure as shit doubt you have a passport...so...yes, good luck with Newfoundland. It's really pretty. They have good moose.”

The blonde looks crestfallen but she's also back leaning on the railing again. The brunette looks pissed still but also like things are crumbling there might be something to this future thing. Fuck.

“Julia” has slid further away from the brunette like the stank might touch her, “How much to take us to Haven?” she persists.

“With your crazy future money?” I wave my hands at her.

“I have a college fund I'm not going to use,” sure, okay, if you're Julia I'm sure Eleanor is going to, “I don't care if Mom wants me to go to medical school. I'm going to run away as soon as I graduate and I'm going to do it with the money I earned working for you.”

I put my hand up towards her, “I don't—if you really are from the future I don't want to hear about it,” be fucking things up left and right, “and I just...” I drop the pole, either way they're coming with me for some of this trip, so I find the crossing plank and start to hitch it to the Ursa, and then line everything up pushing the two boats the right distance apart so I can attach it to the Cape as well and run across between the two so that I'm on the small area on the back deck of the small bear. The two cops are ushered towards the plank first by their traveling companion.

The blonde comes cautiously over followed closely by the brunette, and they stand down next to me looking a bit awkward.

“Permission to come aboard, Boss!”

I lean on the railing for a moment watching her. She did just say that, and the tone was the right. How many times have I heard that? And the blonde mutter something to herself that sounds like she wishes she thought of that, sanctity of the ship, something.

“What?” The brunette sounds confused.

“Too late now,” is the reply she gets.

“Julia” makes no move forward though. She's just there in the cold wind watching me from the other boat. I wonder how long she'll stand there. She doesn't say anything else. She just waits.

“Alright,” I wave a hand, “Come over.”

She does, with ease, and I pull the plank back and stash it along the side of the railings of the Ursa's back railing so that it looks like part of the wall. The two boats rock for a little while after being separated, and the blonde holds the railing slightly tighter for a moment.

I turn and reluctantly open the main cabin and usher them inside. I adjust the temperature as I turn the internal heater on and take off the outer sweater I've been wearing so that I'm only in two layers. When I turn back around to them “Julia” is having a low-voiced argument with the blonde woman, and the other is leaning against the wall arms still folded, “If she's insisting she's okay,” she says, “just let it alone.”

I get the feeling based on the brunette's expression that she just got subjected to a very fierce glare. She puts her hands up, “I wouldn't let you help me if I didn't want you to,” she says, “that's all I'm saying.”

The blonde sighs, “It's probably just...whatever the equivalent of jet lag is really...”

“Julia” clearly doesn't believe her but also doesn't say anything.

“So,” I say, into the sullen silence that's coming around them, leaning against the wall by the door towards the back rooms, “What do I call you?” I nod towards the blonde and the brunette, “given,” I nod towards “Julia”, “apparently has a name,” whether or not I believe it.

The blonde starts to say something, when “Julia” cuts in, pointing to her, “That's Audrey and that's Agent Parker...” she stops for a moment as though she was going to say something more but then it doesn't happen.

Agent.

Not just cop. Agent.

There is an agent of some kind. On. my. Boat.

No wonder she's trying to—on my fucking boat.

Nope. Newfoundland.

Maybe I can just dump them in a dinghy.

No, I push away from the wall with my hands up and cross my hands, “No. Fuck. No! Newfoundland is generous. Find some other idiot to take you the rest of the way. I'm not going near Haven until you're done with whatever the hell it is!” I turn on the radio to find the weather, hopefully we can set sail sooner rather than later. This is too much shit right now and it needs to be off the boat.

I will not throw the radio. It's not it's fault.

Agent Parker is back on tirade mode again, “Stop threatening--” she starts.

“I'm not threatening!” I cut her off, “This is a promise!”

“Agent Parker, I swear to God I will throw you overboard myself if you do not shut up.”

“I'll help,” Audrey mutters.

“Leave the man alone,” there are tuts at the agent and actually talks her down which is...how? “Stop antagonizing him. This is his boat, we're the intruders and if we want his help we need to work out arrangements with him.”

Yeah, because I trust any of them to be good for anything right now, and if this is Julia talking down a federal agent of some sort...what does that mean?

“I can give you information,” “Julia” offers, “tell you about things to do with fixing up the Cape and salvaging things from the Ursa.”

Right, that sounds like a thing I want this random—does she really?

“If I can use a phone,” she continues, “I can get money wired or arrange for a payment to be waiting...” she puts her hands up when our eyes meet again, “I understand. Just putting it out there. I do know the ways you usually get paid.”

“Oh? Do you?” I know I'm very snarky towards her. This is getting ridiculous and I'm sick of it.

“Cash, favors, information, sex,” she says, “I've known that since I was fourteen, Boss.”

Walks like Julia kinda, talks like Julia kinda, looks like Julia kinda, what's the trick here? Well other than going to Haven...where I was going anyway...not that they, or do they?

How does she? Did I..? This is really annoying right now...because if she is—and if she's not then really how?

“I'm not paying someone like him in sex,” Agent Parker says, “and I hope you two won't either and not,” her voice drops then and whatever she's saying is more towards Audrey, who just shoots her a glare.

I go back towards the wall, something stable to lean against is good right now, “Oh, don't worry, Agent Parker. It has to have value in trade to make it worth while. I barely trust your money to be good.” I tap the wall behind me because I'm not going to start stripping off the overheating sweaters right now. Agent Parker already made the junkie jab which is not something I have never heard before, just like the unwashed, because gypsy's are filthy untrustworthy creatures after all, but “Julia” she smacked, oh, great thing to think, at me with heroin, don't need to prove that right in case they do have ways to get me in lower case trouble about what I'm carrying on board.

Don't open the boxes, Crocker.

Don't look in the box, Crocker.

“I'm not saying sex isn't an option,” Possible Julia tells me, “with me anyway, but it's not a payment option.”

It's a trap.

Stay away from the box, Crocker.

Stop just staring at her like that. Julia isn't—and this might not be—it can't be. Look at her—it can't be and surely not.

Is that a flirty smile I'm getting sent across at me? I'm not usually so uncertain about a thing but this is not a normal day. If I can...I catch myself running my hand through my hair like it can sort my head straight.

It seriously can't be Julia, and the Audrey...what was that woman's name? Who took me to foster care? That's not important—I know where I need to be right now, I don't even have to get anything from the kitchen in front of them. It's plenty in the bedroom or bathroom, but then I have to leave them alone...

I sit down, and lean forward to massage the back of my neck.

“This is really what we're relying on here?” Agent Parker demands. I'm not exactly looking but I can feel the hand pointed in my direction, “I think your judgment is off,” I'm not sure who that's directed to exactly but “Julia” has been doing most of the talking, and telling her off—is she in charge? She has guns too. The Julia I know—in law enforcement? I can't--

“Hey!” is directed at Parker from Audrey.

“He's not exactly with it, is he?” Parker continues, “don't think I didn't hear you talking about heroin just because you got quieter before--”

“Stop it!” is the retort, and I can hear Julia's tone, but it's just...and then she's there in front of me though, crouched down by my leg, and I can see that little girl asking if it's okay to come watch me work; she won't get in the way, “Hey, maybe you should go lie down in the back room I can make sure they don't get into anything.”

Sure.

“Lie down?” Parker retorts, “You mean get high? How is this going to--?”

“No one's going to be doing anything if you don't shut up!” she says from in front of me, turning to face the Agent, “We're going to be stuck in Newfoundland in the 1990s. If we wind up in jail or something and I have to live out twenty years before I get back to--” she hesitates for a moment, and I see her eyes drifting in my direction.

“You're being ridiculous and focusing on the wrong--” she stops talking suddenly and I look over, Audrey has grabbed her in some sort of arm bar and is whispering to her while dragging her backwards out onto the deck.

What the fuck? Is she going to actually throw her overboard?

I push myself up because I've got to check and there...Julia? Is again moving between me and the door concern still on her face, “Please, go rest before you start hurting. I can--”

Oh, for the—fuck--I can't...

This just--

“It doesn't matter if you are who you say you are, you've clearly changed if you think bringing cops and Feds or whoever—” I point at her, “onto the boat is okay, and I'm not doing anything.”

She just stares at me for a moment, but is—is she shaking?

She takes a couple of stumbling steps backwards. Shit. But then she pivots and stalks out onto the deck, slamming the door behind her and I hear:

“GUNS NOW!”

I'm not going to follow. I flop back down onto the couch and stretch out, massaging my temples. Fuck. That look.

There's angry voices outside. I can hear the tone of Agent Parker again, but only make a few words about “not” and “hell no” and then, “Because you cost me the thing I value most! Duke's trust!”

I find myself sitting partway up at that. The way it sounded. I can't...

“Julia runs a little short on logic where Duke is concerned,” I hear from the Audrey woman.

There's something else at first and then, “focusing on getting back to the future!”

“I don't want to go back to the future if it's one where Duke doesn't trust me!” Fuck. Oh, fuck.

Okay, couch eat me now. Fuck. My head hurts and I'm too hot and fuck everyone's pissed off outside. I pull the top sweater off. I've still got one more. I use the one I've taken off to wipe my face and neck am I really sweating or am I just imagining it?

There's still loud noises, and shouting going on outside, though at one point I think I hear Nathan's name being invoked for some sort of purpose, and something about a thigh? then the door slams open again and I turn to face the wrath of the wench.

She's disassembling guns, still somewhat shakily...she's been crying, fuck, and setting them on the table, “These are Audrey's. These are Agent Parker's. This,” she takes one from her person and takes it apart too, “is mine, and this,” another one, “is also mine. All our guns. Get up.”

“What?”

“Get. Up,” she points behind me, with the clip from one of the guns, “I'll put the guns in the panel back there, and then the only ones available on the boat will be yours.”

I stand and move the couch to the side, and carefully ease the panel out. Of course she would know where it is. Shit. I lean my head against the wall as she puts everything inside and put the panel back once she's done. She helps me put the couch back.

“They have no idea that's there,” she waves a hand towards the door given the other two are still out on the deck, and takes a deep breath, “I know you have—I know you have a gun under the bench. I know where your shotgun is and if you don't trust me to not shoot you with your own guns then you should just handcuff us all and tape our fingers together until we...” she just trails off.

“I'm not going to...”

And then she's wrapped around me so tight and with such force I'm pushed into the wall. Her head buried in to my chest, squeezing me, any harder and I'd not be able to breathe, and I'm—what is happening? But at the same time it's okay. But...I...have...a Julia on my boat who is old enough to—who knows things...and...

Stop...

“I'm sorry,” she says, pulling back a little, and releasing her hold on me with one hand to wipe her face with the edge of one sleeve, “I'm sorry for bringing the law onto your boat but things—it was either that or reenact the ending of Titanic.”

“What?”

“Shit. Um. Giant boat that sank? People freezing to death in the ocean. They made a movie - a stupid, sappy, love story masquerading as historical fact - but the point was,” she pulls away, somewhat reluctantly, and goes to the other side of the cabin, “When we landed here- there, on the Cape, she was...not fixed. I was afraid you hadn't won her yet, and- but you- I looked and saw the Ursa towing her so that was kinda reassuring.”

“Kinda?”

She presses her lips together, “It meant we wouldn't be camping out in the dark, waiting for you to win her, but...” she gestures towards the deck where Audrey and Agent Parker are still waiting, “...that still happened. I'm not a cop. Wouldn't work for the government if you paid me.”

So, if she's not either of those things then what the fuck does she do that she has guns and they—nope, don't open the box, Crocker. Close your mouth.

“Military-trained assassin. I won't tell you anything else,” she says, crisply.

That's...but...

“Why would you tell me...future things...?” I don't want to know stuff that could—I start to move away to cross the room but that's just going to be a ball of no, so I stay where I am, though visions of her suspended on ropes breaking into buildings, and taking down a guy with a flying-- “I mean, damn, that's bad-ass but...”

“Because there's not that many other professions that use firearms and you deserve to know why your kitchen wench is able to separate a hostile federal agent from her gun,” she points out, “Won't you sleep better knowing that if she tries to kill you in your sleep I can kill her first? O-or incapacitate her and keep her secured because even if she's from the future you don't need a crime scene on your boat.”

“I was just going to ask if they were okay out there and no one had actually been thrown overboard—though I would have thought we'd have heard the splash...” Idiot. I sigh. Think straight, Crocker, “but, I...suppose...would she really try to kill me in my sleep? Future box not opening and all, I seem to be around, aren't there issues with paradoxes?”

She gives the sigh and eye roll of someone whose had to deal with way too much, “Not if she's smart. Hopefully Audrey's talked some sense into her. As for paradoxes...do you really want to talk time travel with your head like that?”

There's...this her knowing things is really annoying.

“I'm not happy about the heroin, but I understand why...” she sort of waves her hands about, “I'm sorry, I know you don't want to know. I'm just trying to answer your questions or explain myself in the most noncommittal way possible.”

I wonder how used to my grumbly noises she is, “I get it, kinda. I just...people showing up knowing all this stuff about me is...”

“Cheating,” she says, “We're dirty cheaters from the future, and the only thing I can do to even the odds for you is make sure you know I'm on your side.”

“Hm,” I allow.

“So...” she says, softly, “will you take us to Haven?”

“I'm kinda going there anyway...” I admit.

The smile she gives, obviously she knew that, but obviously she was going to, “Is there anything you'll trust as payment?”

“I don't...” there's this impulse to not charge her because it's her, but that can't...and there are is the cop and fed to put up with and all the rest of it, but...her money, “I do prefer cash...but emptying your college fund...”

“Were you really going to charge us fifty grand?”

Fifty? Fifty...? What the fuck?

“That's what...” How do people even?

“College is expensive, Boss. Especially medical school.”

“I see...” Good thing I never wanted to go, “So...no...I...not that much...”

“Five thousand?” she suggests.

Well, I am going to Haven anyway, not that the other two need to know that, unless they're listening at the door, and towing the Cape is going to screw up fuel, and they're going to need to eat and I'll actually have to put the heat on instead of bundle up a bunch.

“Sounds reasonable, considering you guys will need to eat and everything. You might not like what I have in stock...” What do I have in stock?

“Plus bonus for cops being on your boat.”

I find myself smirking a little, “Should we let them back in? Let them know you've won over the obnoxious gypsy?” I find myself meeting the wall rather solidly because it's comfier than standing up. Maybe it's a good thing the weather was going to be too shitty closer to the coast to set off right now. Though I'm behind on my planning...we do need...

Her smirk turns concerned after a moment, which I wasn't expecting, “...Boss, you need to take something. Even if it's just a little. You're not doing well.”

I lean forward for a moment and massage my head. God damn her being right.

I stretch back up, “You'll keep them occupied? And out of trouble?”

“Even if I have to tie them up and sit on them,” she assures.

I nod, “Okay, well...I imagine you know where things are given you've bought access to the kitchen. I'll be in the bedroom if something catches fire.”

“...you got it, Boss.”

I could swear that she looks like she wants to kiss me as she says it. I can't...in the future are we?

Don't open the box, Crocker. Especially not when...look where you're going and what you're...but she...

Don't open the box, Crocker.

Never open the box.

When I get the junk and supplies out from under the bed I sit for a moment and debate how much to take. I have to admit the soreness coming in and the overheating...how not good I feel. Taking the edge off...I'll be cranky and hurting again so quickly and I know it.

Don't need another round of fight and fight.

So, I best just...Julia's out there...it'll be fine. It'll be fine.

Both she and that Audrey seem to be pissed at the FBI bitch so that's—it'll be fine.

I flick the needle a couple of times to clear those pesky air bubbles, and it won't be long until the juice works it's magic.

I flop back on to the bed to not think for a while (and maybe exercise my hand a bit) before everything is over warm and jelly like and it's better to just float off with it.

Julia's swinging down from a helicopter by rope, semi-automatic on her back, bandoleer of ammunition across her shoulders, and down on to the top of a building in the shadows of the night ready to break in. There are several people at her back, following her instructions.

I can see her from beside and above.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Onto the roof of the building.

Hiding behind outcroppings of rock.

Over sand dunes.

Caterpillar treads and flags flying behind, giant cats pulling the cart, as it submerges beneath the sand, basking on the back of the tank warming in the sun as it bobs and weaves, and butterflies explode around it.

Something grabs my hand. I pull back and swing and hit something as my eyes properly open. Not a tank. Bed. Ursa.

“Easy, Boss. It's me,” she says, one arm up, stopping mine from hitting her in the face.

I pull my hand back, “...Julia???” she looks, smoother, straighter.

“From the future, remember?” she says, carefully.

I need to iron my head out, I work at my scalp with my fingers, trying to smooth out the knots of information, “...right...with the cops and the...magic book.”

She looks at me then, lips pursed and eyes almost sparkling...is that? I've seen that sort of look before, but surely...not, “I made food,” she says, “You should probably eat some while it's still hot.”

I push myself up into a full sitting position, swinging my legs around to the floor, carefully avoiding hitting her with my feet, though she backs up a few paces, “Right...um...thanks,” I should probably boost first though, and wash up, “I'll be out in a minute.”

“If you're not out in five, I'm coming back,” she warns. There's a vague motion of a finger move but it doesn't really go anywhere.

I half salute her, “Yes, ma'am.”

She might be blushing as she ducks out into the main cabin. I need to stop that. Seriously.

I pull myself up and go into the bathroom to clean up just a little bit; but I should also take a little more, just in case, just to—right...I mean, seriously, I don't need to be nodding out in the middle of conversation with the Agent Bitch and start all that shit over again.

I quickly prep and shoot about a third of what I would normally take, and I'm going to leave but then fuck, not now. I'm spitting up into the sink.

So...rinsing the mouth out and washing the face again, and then going out to the main cabin after waiting by the door for a moment. No, wait, change sweater, yes, that's a good idea. I do that first instead, rearranging shirts and layers, and pants, and dumping the others in the corner of the bedroom for now and then going out into the main cabin.

Audrey is sitting at the table the seat close to the wall, and Agent Parker is opening some cabinets, at Julia's direction, and awkwardly getting out plates, not used to the way things have to be restrained because of the potential for storms at sea and not wanting things to fly out of cabinets and smash everywhere as is being explained to her, “It's the same reason the mugs are on hook clips and have padding and things,” she continues.

“And the fridge, and oven lock,” I point out, “and all the counters have lips.”

“Ah, good. I don't have to follow through on my threat,” Julia remarks, upon my words, “Going back in for him,” she clarifies when the other two look at her questioningly.

“It's all good,” I tell her, “There was mention of Julia made food. Any home-made food is good, but Julia-made,” I give perfection-kiss hand motion, and she eye rolls and turns back towards the stove, taking a tray of something out and putting it on a towel on the counter top.

“Okay,” Julia says, carefully, “We have roasted fish and vegetables with a simple beer sauce, and then toast with melted cheese. I'm not 100% sure which fish this--”

“Lake Trout, from the looks of it,” I fill in, “The other's whitefish.”

“And the potatoes are okay being blue?” Agent Parker asks, “With the fridge having frozen some of the things I was--”

“That's a Newfoundland thing,” Julia and I wind up saying at about the same time, though she says “delicacy”.

“Do you have any concerns about the carrots?” Julia continues, “or the cheese?” she starts putting servings on to plates as the agent shakes her head and then passes the first plate handed across to Audrey.

Julia asks me to get drinks for everyone. Audrey takes one of the beers, but everyone else gets water and we sit around the table after I get the silverware, hand it out, and set a roll of paper towels in the middle of the table. The food smells really good, but, of course, I'm not that hungry.

“Thank you for agreeing to take us to Haven,” Parker says, cautiously, after a little while of silence as people sample food and thank Julia for cooking and me for having the ingredients on hand and declare it tasty.

“I'm not going to bite,” I tell her, “but you're welcome.”

“Well, earlier neither of us was at our best, so I wasn't sure,” she returns.

“I only bite people when I've been given permission,” I point out, taking a bite of fish and potato for emphasis.

When Audrey makes a coughing sound I realize that Julia's blushing and looking at her plate. The way she keeps looking at me...I don't...anyway. I mess around with the one piece of fish and chop several of the vegetables up, maybe if I do that I'll have more appetite by the time I'm done portioning.

“So...” Audrey says, sounding a little hesitant, “...that made me think how are we going to sleep tonight? And well, however many nights it's going to take to get to Haven.”

“It'll really depends on the weather,” I point out, “I couldn't take us to Newfoundland this afternoon because there's a storm closer to the coast and towing the Cape makes that even more dangerous for us than just going there in the Ursa. Provided that's cleared up we can go there tomorrow, and then on to Halifax depending how long it takes to get supplies, and then to Haven the next day.”

“So, that's tonight here, tomorrow night in Halifax, and then to Haven,” Agent Parker clarifies.

“Depending on the weather,” I repeat, “Winter is not always kind to the sea.”

Audrey and Julia both nod in agreement there but then Julia is a Havenite and Audrey seems like she must be...at least adopted native or...I don't know. Julia seems more comfortable with her than Agent Parker definitely, but they both have affection for the agent, she wouldn't frustrate them so much otherwise.

“So, that's two nights,” Julia points out, “and the Ursa is...cozy.”

“This is true, but it's not like I haven't...ferried people before. The couch is an option some people choose, alternately the cushions can be put on the floor. I have at least one air mattress, sleeping bags, blankets...”

“Where do you want to sleep, Audrey?” Julia asks, firmly, putting her fork down and looking across the table at the blonde woman.

Audrey stops chewing for a moment looking at Julia confused, but she also has a tired and drawn expression and has for a while, “What?” she asks, “Why come to me first?”
“Because you're the one who has the headache they're trying to ignore and probably has been since we got here...” Julia says.

Audrey frowns. I wonder if it's the same expression I had when Julia called me out on being dope sick. Then Audrey sighs, “If it wasn't so cold outside I'd ask to sleep on the deck outside where it was cooler, but that's...asking for hypothermia.”

“Yes,” Julia nods, “It is.”

“Maybe the floor then?” she says, “I can be near the door and get air if I need it.”

Julia turns to me, “I know you don't keep regular painkillers, but do you have anything else that might help her rest?”

Parker sighs, “I was just going to ask about advil...if we'd stopped being stubborn.”

Julia looks as though she bites back something else and instead just says, “We can always add extra to the--”

I put up my hand, “You don't have to finish that, and I can probably come up with something,” considering the cannabis in the hold, “depending on Ms. Audrey's opinion.”

“Ms. Audrey's opinion on what?” Audrey asks.

“You'll see when I dig it up.”

Audrey looks both curious and wary.

“So, there's the couch then?” Agent Parker asks.

“Yes,” I nod, getting up, and moving my plate to the counter, along with any others that people have finished with, and scraping food into the trash, and putting the plates into the sink after rinsing them quickly. I should get Audrey's “medicine” sooner rather than later, “I'll bring up the air mattress and pump when I go down to the hold. There are spare blankets and things inside the couch storage.”

Julia is getting up as I head towards the hold area and I hear her starting to say something but don't make out what it is. The mattress and pump are together along with another storage box of blankets and pillows so I push them out of the top of the hold and into the cabin area, and then go back for the less legal supplies that I need.

I go into the delivery things. Generally it's a rule, yes, to not open the box, but this is not that sort of box. This is something else entirely given I already know what's in that section of the cargo hold. I pry open one of the boxes, move the cheap crappy, but strong smelling coffee, and take out the green bundle that's about the size of two bags of flour and bring it back up to the main cabin holding it by my side away from the view of those in the room.

Things have been rearranged in there. Half of the table has been folded down, and chairs pushed to the side. There are blankets and pillows laid out and the air mattress is inflating: the vibrations running through the deck as I go into the bedroom and look for the bong. I bring it, a lighter, and a portion of the pot in a small bowl back out into the kitchen after sealing the packet back up and leaving it on the dresser.

“What is that?” Agent Parker asks in tones of someone who has a damn good idea and is probably correct.

“Pot,” I tell her, “It's good for what ails you,” then I have to cough, “provided Audrey wants to have it, of course.”

There's a moment of mixed emotion across Audrey's face but then, “If it's going to make things feel better I'll give it a try.”

“Are you--?” Parker starts.

“It's not as though it's a class A substance. It's basically aspirin,” I point out, prepping the bong given Audrey's agreed, “and we're anchored in international waters. Cannabis is legal in many places. Consider us Holland right now.”

“Right,” Parker says, “Well...I'm just going to...” she grabs a couple of blankets, a book off my shelf, wraps up and goes back outside, “...call me in when the air's clear.”

“Using this is going to be okay?” Julia asks.

“I can pick something up when we're in Newfoundland to make up the missing. It'll be fine,” I wave a hand in her direction, “I've done it before.”

There's a moment of frown, and then she shakes her head and gives a vague smile, “You know what? I'll go outside too. I have some energy I need to work out...a contact high's not going to help with that I'll check on you guys in a half hour or so if we haven't heard anything,” she follows Parker outside with a, “I hope it helps,” in Audrey's direction.

“Me too,” she says, as the door closes.

I pull one of the chairs around at the table, as I take my first hit on the bong.

Audrey comes and sits on the other side of the table, “I don't want to...” she starts, “...but is it okay to...” she waves a hand towards the bong, “...with...” she trails off, “I'm sorry. I just I want you to be safe.”

“It's all good,” I tell her, “It's not like I haven't done this before, and it is just pot in here don't worry.”

“I trust you,” she says, massaging her temples again, “As weird as that probably sounds to you.”

“These things are getting less weird,” I say, “Now, do you know how to do this?” I waggle the bong towards her, “Or...” I can't help but laugh.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say, “Well, I mean I'm getting stoned and I'm already high, but it's just...I'm about to volunteer to shotgun this chick who kinda looks like this hippie I remember being around when I was a kid but is a cop now and it's just...”

She has this weird look for a moment, but then waves her hand towards me, “Just pass it here. I wasn't always a cop, you know? I do know how a bong works.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I slide the bong across the table and she catches it, and follow it with the lighter.

“Don't ma'am me, Crocker,” she remarks, flicking on the lighter, and inhaling through the top, and slowly exhaling.

“So, you haven't always been a cop,” I repeat, “What else have you been?”

She laughs for what seems like ten minutes but I know well can't have been, “Oh, well, a nurse, an FBI Agent, a bartender.”

FBI. FBI, son...no, wait, not, “So, wait, you were FBI, too? Is that how you know stick-up-her-ass Parker?”

She laughs some more, covering her nose and mouth, “Yeah, that's it,” she passes me the bong back.

“Why'd you leave?” I ask her, before taking my next hit.

“Can you imagine the actual FBI running around Haven during the Troubles?”

“Good point,” I exhale. So, I was right. Not native but adopted.

She slides around closer so it's easier to pass the bong backwards and forwards. She's already looking less pinched about the face.

“....soooo, you left the FBI to be a cop? And you were a nurse and a bartender. I'm guessing that was before those...that's an interesting mix.”

“Oh, I've done so many things it's hard to remember what they all are,” she waves a hand, all dismissive, taking the pot back, “Hey, I've even been an investigative journalist!” then she pauses lighter at the ready, “Wait, have I?”

“Are you sure you actually need more? It's not been that long. Forgetfulness usually doesn't set in until at least--”

She points at me accusingly, “You're trying to tell me not to—no way,” she takes a long drag and holds it for a while, before blowing it out in my direction, “I should be confiscating this.”

“You are—in a way.”

She giggles practically hugging the bong, “No, no, now I'm like, acting like, I mean...Or—Parker. That's not. No.”

“You're not,” I tell her, “Seriously. No.”

“Thanks,” she says, with a smile, “but yeah...hers and my paths diverged after I went to Haven, definitely.”

“Haven does that to people.”

She nods, “Definitely. I wonder how it'll look, you know? It's got to be different to how it is—will be.”

I shrug, “The way I understand it Haven is pretty much Haven.”

She laughs again, “Still...it's...what year is it?”

“1995.”

“Okay, so...about, hrm...fifteen, sixteen years ago. I shouldn't be trying to math right now...” she waves a hand through the smoke, “there's bound to be some differences.”

I lean back, “I'm not getting into things. Don't tell me places that are there and I'm not going to be all, is such-n-such still there?”

“No, no...but...” she points at me, “You could tell me what's on the corner of some places, so that...” she makes an vague raspberry noise, “No, never mind, that's just boring anyway.”

“Yeah. Really,” I have to snort though, “I bet the paper's still there.”

“Oh, please. Like Vince and Dave would ever go anywhere,” she gives me a sneaky look, “I thought you didn't want to know anything.”

“That's not knowing something if it's a foregone conclusion,” I wave a hand, “That's not something you could even bet on it's a 1:1 odd.”

She nods, “You have a point. Do much gambling do you?”

“Enough. Got me the old girl,” I nod my head back towards the Cape.

“Are you sure that's a good investment?” she teases.

“She may be battered but she's solid,” I tell Audrey, “It'll take a lot of work but it'll be worth it, and I already have some things I can move over – not the fridge though. That needs to be put out of it's misery...”

“It was kinda strange to open the fridge and find a good portion of the things in there frozen.”

“Well, they call them ice boxes,” I wave a hand towards it.

“There's a difference between ice and a glacier.”

“Fair enough,” I spread my hands, “but food's still edible and provided you know the ins and outs of it's hot and—well, cold and colder zones it works. That's not to say I'm not going to get a new or newer fridge, at least when I fix her up because, you know, just because I have to put up with that now doesn't mean I want to forever.”

“Makes sense,” she nods, getting up to get herself a water, “I upgraded from a tiny B&B to a...an apartment above the—to a...to an apartment,” she swallows the water carefully, wiping her mouth with a slightly awkward look.

“Almost said something?” I ask her.

“Yeah...kinda.”

“Maybe we should do a thing where you have to do a...hm...well, depending on how bad you are at this shots might get dangerous quickly,” it's my turn to have teasing tone. I waggle eyebrows at her as crosses the small kitchen space and sits back down.

“What do you have that I could do shots with?” she inquires, sitting back down.

I sigh, “You have me there. I have some Johnny Walker, and well, there's the beer.”

She shakes her head, “I think,” she continues, as she sits back down, “That's okay, and I just I feel weird, because you're...are you even old enough to have the beer on the boat?” then she puts a hand up, “No. Stop. I'll stop. I'm...” she shakes her head.

“International waters,” I remind her.

“That's not going to work once we get to Haven.”

“Who says there'll be any left by then?” I mock toast her with the bong.

She shakes her head, laughing again, “You're just...you--” she stops.

“I am me.”

She sighs, “Yes. You are. I...” this is a different head shake, “I'm getting too deep, maybe. I wasn't expecting...you were like “Trouble this” right away...kinda, but...”

“It's Troubles and Haven? It's like racism? Everyone knows it's about but mostly it gets ignored? Just some people have to deal with it more often than others, right?”

“I guess...” she scratches her head, “I just...I thought they were done when you were a kid.”

“I thought so too, but things--”

But then she cuts me off with this horror struck look, “Your Dad's not alive, right?”

“No.”

“Phew,” she says, and then the horrified look comes back with a different twist, “I mean, shit! I mean--” it's my turn to cut her off this time though.

“No, seriously okay,” I lean over and pat her hand, pushing the bong into it directly after, “He's been dead for a long time and no one liked him when he wasn't.”

She gives a wary laugh at that.

“I'm not going to ask what you've heard,” I tell her, “but whoever offed him did me a favor, really. I dread to think what things would have been like if I had to grow up with him, well, past the age of almost eight I mean.”

“Yeah...” she says, “...from my understanding he was kind of a bastard.”

I laugh, “Yeah. What bits and pieces I've ever gotten from Carolina would agree with my memories and with that but he's not worth the breath,” I blow smoke towards her, “How's your head doing?”

“Pretty good,” she says, cautiously.

“It's good for what ails you, right?”

“Definitely seems to be,” she agrees.

“I can leave some more out for you...for tomorrow...” I tell her, given we'd best start airing the cabin out before everyone else comes back in, and there aren't many places that can be opened to do that.

She nods, “Thanks, but, I'm sure when we go into town there's stuff we can buy, right? We'll need clothes too...that are less--”

“Conspicuous?”

“I was going to say less cold,” she counters.

“Potato, po-tah-to,” I tell her, “but you do need to be less...coppy if that's possible, especially for Agent Parker, traveling around, otherwise she's not going to be anywhere near me going places. She can stay on the boat. Out of sight. I'm not burning contact bridges over this no matter what I fe—think about Julia.”

She puts her hand up, as I go towards the door, “No. No. I understand. We don't want you losing any contacts or possibly getting into any...hot water with anyone because you're suddenly associating with law. You're not a snitch.”

“Appreciated,” though...snitching can have it's benefits; but we don't need to get into all that, because snitching also only works when you can generally pin it on someone else after a fashion or...anyway. Both of us are way too stoned to get into my complicated moral methodology. I turn the vent fan on over the stove and then open the door and make a half-hearted attempted to waft some of the smoke out of the room. The cold air hits fast as I open the door, and Audrey coughs, hopefully, at the unexpected draft and not something else going wrong with her.

She's pouring the water from the bong down the sink after getting my okay and begins rinsing everything out.

Julia and Agent Parker, out on the deck, turn around when the door opens. Agent Parker shrugs the blanket tighter around herself and looks over questioningly.

Julia moves closer to the door, “Everything good?”

“She says the headache's eased,” I nod, leaning against the door frame, “but may want to let the place air out a little bit before being in there.”

“Well, I need to shower,” Julia says, “Can I use--?”

“Sure,” I point towards the bedroom, unnecessarily, “You know where it is.”

She crosses the room and disappears through my door. Audrey sets the bong carefully on the counter, and turns around towards the door where Parker is still hovering, hesitant, like a strange monk with her blanket robes and book held tightly at her chest.

“It's looking clearer,” Parker says, after a moment, looking past me into the cabin.

I nod, “It is a thing about smoke. It clears.”

She shakes her head, and I make a butlery type gesture indicating she can come inside if she likes, and she walks by me, and I close the door, which is good because it doesn't take long to get really fucking cold. I remember about the dishes then, but it turns out they've already been washed, which is good because, of course, Julia is...in the shower and the...water...usage.

Julia is in the shower.

What is she going to—where is she sleeping for that matter? As I see there are only two sleeping places set up in here which I hadn't paid attention to with all the pot. I pick up the bong and then set it down again not quite sure what to do with myself given Julia is in my shower and I...clothes and...hrm.

“You okay, Duke?” Audrey taps the counter near me but doesn't touch me.

I look over at her, “Yeah...just...well...” I waft a hand about.

She laughs, “Yeah...shouldn't ask really, I guess. I just, we're going to be bedding down, so...”

“Right. Look, in the morning, kitchen, whatever, and I can bring you out more...” I pick up the bong and wave it about for a moment, “if you need it.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“Right.”

“Julia—when she was making dinner, we went through what was in the kitchen and things: coffee, that's the all important.”

“Right,” I nod, again, “Okay, I'll leave you to it,” I bring the bong back with me to see what's going on in the bedroom or bathroom, as though I need defending.