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Duke woke unnaturally early this morning. Before dawn early. He lay in bed, staring at the still unfamiliar ceiling of the Fin & Tonic's captain's cabin, and waited to feel tired again. Tried closing his eyes and counting his breaths, meditating himself to sleep, but it was no good. Eventually he extracted himself from his partners, careful not to jostle them into waking (this was easy with Lucifer, who would stubbornly sleep through most things, but much, much harder with Octavia, who would wake up if you blinked too hard), and headed up onto the deck to watch the sunrise.
He was 35 today. Ish. Well, it was his 35th birthday anyway, all time travel silliness aside. It was older than he'd ever thought he'd be when he was growing up, but so much younger than it should be, for all the crap he'd gone through. But he was here, in his favorite part of the world, with his two favorite people in the multiverse here to celebrate with him. He should be happy. (He was happy. His happiness was just more complicated than he wanted it to be.)
Because the two on the boat with him weren't his only favorite people. And he still didn't know if the others were alive or dead. If Audrey had been erased by the barn and overwritten, or thrown from it like he was and lost somewhere, confused and hurting. If Nathan had bled out from his wounds on that bluff, or smashed by a meteor, or somehow, impossibly, survived. If Haven, his Haven, with his Dwight and his Teagues brothers, and his Gloria, even still existed.
He was 35. In paradise. With people he loved and who loved him.
And he didn't deserve it.
[for them who are on the trip with him, and phone calls if anyone wants to call]
He was 35 today. Ish. Well, it was his 35th birthday anyway, all time travel silliness aside. It was older than he'd ever thought he'd be when he was growing up, but so much younger than it should be, for all the crap he'd gone through. But he was here, in his favorite part of the world, with his two favorite people in the multiverse here to celebrate with him. He should be happy. (He was happy. His happiness was just more complicated than he wanted it to be.)
Because the two on the boat with him weren't his only favorite people. And he still didn't know if the others were alive or dead. If Audrey had been erased by the barn and overwritten, or thrown from it like he was and lost somewhere, confused and hurting. If Nathan had bled out from his wounds on that bluff, or smashed by a meteor, or somehow, impossibly, survived. If Haven, his Haven, with his Dwight and his Teagues brothers, and his Gloria, even still existed.
He was 35. In paradise. With people he loved and who loved him.
And he didn't deserve it.
[for them who are on the trip with him, and phone calls if anyone wants to call]
