A/N: I just got over a week of binge-watching this show, and now I'm having withdraws. So here, have a fic of the cutest freaking couple ever.

(Sorry if there are any mistakes. I wrote it late at night after taking drowsy medication, so I was somewhat out of it. XD ) It's set... sometime. Definitely after Nathan meets Sarah, but before the events of the Barn. I dunno when. :P

The Cost of Silence

He's starting to think that maybe he should tell her. They're sitting on the balcony of the Grey Gull with two cups of coffee and a beautiful sunset, and it should be a moment to enjoy. It's peaceful, quiet, comfortable for once in their crazy lives.

He should probably tell her. But the moment's just too damn serene.

His eyes slide to her. His vision's going dark, but he pretends it's just the black of night creeping over them. The two white chairs are backlit by her apartment. She's dwarfed by his jacket, cupping her mug with both hands, watching the sun disappear behind the ocean. There's a slight smile on her lips, and he stares, fascinated, as she takes a sip of coffee.

His own mug is in one hand. He can feel the weight of it, just like the light pressure of the blanket she insisted he drape over himself. It's unnecessary since he can't feel the cold anyway. He can't feel the heat of his coffee cup.

He can't feel the pain from his wound.

But that's a blessing, because even though he's starting to get dizzy, he can still extend this moment just a little longer.

"This is nice," she says quietly. The wind rustles her hair, and she hunches a little lower into his jacket. She's not really petite in height or build, but in the dark folds of the coat, she looks absurdly delicate. It's a fallacy in every meaning of the word, but he smiles a little anyway, because he actually likes how it looks on her.

He resolves to give it to her more often.

Subtly, of course.

"Nathan?"

"Hmm?" he says, blinking out of his reverie.

She raises an eyebrow and quirks a smile. "You were staring. Why are you so quiet?"

"Oh. Just… enjoying the moment," he replies with a shrug.

Audrey's eyebrows furrow, and she looks at him the way she looks at a particularly puzzling Trouble. Nathan smiles at her. He's starting to lose his grip on the mug. There's a small round table between the two chairs, and he quickly sets it down.

"Nathan, you spilled—"

His hands are shaking. He grips them against his legs so she won't see, but his vision is swimming now. He somehow doubts that he'd be able to stand, and he knows she's going to figure this out soon. It's not like he can just walk to his car, drive home, and nurse the wound on his own.

But he sees the concern in her eyes. He hates that look. He hates troubling her. So he says, "It's fine. I didn't get burned."

He wants to go back to their peaceful quiet, back to when she was content to just sit beside him and drink her coffee.

She's not having that. She huffs and sets her own mug down and kneels beside him. "Well, you wouldn't know, would you? Here. Let me see."

He lets her take his hands, mainly because he can't really pull away. His sight is definitely tunneling now.

She dries the coffee with the bottom of her tank top and shivers as the cold air brushes her exposed stomach. He pulls the jacket around her, zips it closed, rubs her arms. She smiles a bit and takes one of his hands.

Her touch feels warm, and the pressure coupled with actual sensation is incredible.

He wishes he was brave enough to touch her whenever he wanted. But then he'd probably never let her go, so it's really for the best.

"Nathan," Audrey says, her eyes widening. She holds up his hand for examination, but the lighting is poor. She shifts it towards the light from her apartment, squints a bit. He closes his eyes, because he knows what she's going to say.

"Jesus, Nathan, you're bleeding!"

Moment over.

"It's fine," he says again, but it's useless now.

"Like hell," she snaps, pulling the blanket off his legs. It piles at her knees. She touches his stomach, his legs, his back. But he expects his whole shirt is bloody, and he can't react if she touches the wound. He honestly has no idea where he's hurt. It's too dark to see properly, either.

She realizes the same thing. "Damn it," she mutters under her breath. She takes his hands again and hauls him out of the chair with surprising strength. He stumbles, nearly crashes to the deck. Yep. He's definitely not running now.

Audrey loops an arm around his waist and hauls him inside. He drops to her couch, swaying. The room is spinning, and he closes his eyes. His breath comes short. His arms are lifted, and his shirt is torn off. He feels her warm hands on him, feathering across his abs as she turns him around.

He knows the moment she finds the wound. She gasps, and her hands stop moving.

"What is it?" he asks faintly.

"You need a hospital," she replies. He pries open his eyes to look at her. She leaves him on the couch, lying on his stomach. She's scared. He can tell by the way she bites her lower lip, how she fidgets as she dials 911.

"I don't want a hospital," he says, pushing himself up. The room spins again, but he only focuses on her. "If I haven't died yet, I'm not going to. They're busy enough with all of the people brought in today, Parker. Hang up."

She looks at him like he's asked her to throw him into a cage with hungry lions. Her eyes flash in irritation. "You're suffering from blood loss, Nathan. You have a hole in your back. You need help."

"Just let me stay here. Sleep on your couch. I'll be—"

"Don't say 'fine,'" she says sharply, narrowing her eyes. But she ends the call and lowers her phone. He holds her gaze, quirks a slight smile.

"I was going to say, 'okay.'"

She stares at him. Then she runs a hand through her hair and says, "Shit." Then she disappears into her bathroom, and when she comes out, she has a medical kit in her hands. It's exactly the kind he'd expect an ex-nurse to have in her home, and he smiles at Sarah's touch. Audrey probably isn't even aware of the influence.

"Lay down," she instructs, dropping the kit beside him. She fills a bucket with water and grabs a few towels. He obediently drops onto the couch, and he can't help but think that this is a nice moment too.

Funny how every moment with her ends up "nice" in his book.

She dabs his back, but he can't feel the water or the towel. He closes his eyes and waits for her fingers to accidentally brush his skin. Whenever it happens, it's like a stroke of fire, a fierce reminder that he's not completely senseless. He holds onto consciousness for that feeling.

"You know you're an idiot, right?" she says quietly as she cleans the blood. He hears her rinsing the towel, the water splashing into the bucket like rain. "We were sitting together this whole time, Nathan. You had to have realized at some point."

"I did," he says before he can stop himself.

She pauses. "Then why didn't you say something?"

He doesn't reply for a while. She sighs and drenches a washcloth in antiseptic. When she presses it against the wound, he knows it should sting. It doesn't. He sighs. "I wanted you to have one normal night."

"Nothing about my life is normal, Nathan."

"Tonight was."

"Emphasis on was," she says. She's angry. He can tell from her voice. "I mean, come on. What if this was worse, huh? What if it wasn't just blood loss? Would you have told me then, or would I have to wait until you were twitching on the floor?"

Nathan thinks he should feel guilty, but he's too tired. He almost doesn't reply, but she rests a hand briefly on his back and the touch is magnificent. He forces his eyes open and turns his head to look at her. She has a threaded needle and a lighter now, and she watches as it glows red.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"You should be," she replies.

He winces, and it's not from the needle piercing his back. "I should have said something."

"Yeah, you should have. Now shut up and let me close this."

Silence falls as she works. The gentle tugging of his skin gives him an idea of her progress. She snips the thread, then sifts through the medical kit and finds a large square bandage. She rips the package open, but despite how irate she is with him, she smoothes it over his wound like a caress.

He smiles against the couch cushions. This is why he didn't want a hospital. Audrey is such a better nurse.

"I mean, imagine if it were me," she mutters, and his eyes snap open again.

"It wasn't," he says, too quickly. He made damn sure that it wasn't. When the woman created that windstorm, he made sure Audrey was shielded from the debris.

But when he pushes upright and meets her gaze, he realizes that tears are welling in her eyes. She ducks over the medical kit, fishing for something else, and he watches her, enraptured. "Parker, why are you crying?" he asks.

"Imagine it were me," she repeats loudly, angrily. She stalks to the kitchen before he can blink, snatching a glass from one of her cabinets. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch and watches her. His head is pounding, but he can't sleep now.

"Imagine that we're having coffee, and then you realize that I'm about to faint and my back is all bloody and I've been walking around all fucking day with a gaping wound! I don't think you'd be so cavalier then, Nathan."

"No," he says slowly. "No, I wouldn't."

"No. You wouldn't," she repeats, walking back to the couch with a glass of water. She holds out two pills and waits until he swallows them. "Drink the rest of that water," she says, moving to stand again.

He grabs her arm. She looks at him. Her eyes are red.

He leans closer. "Audrey. I'm sorry. I should have said something when I realized."

"You have to stop protecting me, Nathan. It's going to get you killed," she whispers.

"Better me than you," he says automatically.

She slaps him. He recoils, rubs his jaw, rests his fingers on his cheek. He can't feel his own fingers, but shit, he felt that. Audrey storms away again, and two minutes later she throws a blanket and a pillow at him.

Then she flicks the lights off, locks the front door, and drops into bed.

Without a word.

Nathan waits. If there's one thing he's good at, it's waiting. (It's obviously not conversation with Audrey, if tonight is any indication.) But twenty minutes pass, and she still hasn't said anything. Or moved. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was alone in the room.

"Audrey?"

She doesn't reply.

He can take a hint. He lies down, tugs the blanket over his legs halfheartedly. Closes his eyes. It almost feels like he's on Duke's boat in the middle of the ocean, rocking to sleep. He's so tired. But then he hears sheets rustle, and soft footsteps, and suddenly Audrey is bending beside him, pressing her lips to his.

He can barely see her face in the dark. Her lips are hot, her fingers desperate as they wind in his hair. He grips the back of her neck, pulls her closer. She tugs away. He bites back a groan. It's almost unfair how breathless she leaves him.

But she takes his arms and pulls him off the couch. The blanket falls to the floor as she helps him to her bed. He sits on it, frozen, waiting for her to guide him. He won't overstep boundaries. She's too precious to lose.

"Lay down," she breathes. He does, and a second later she's beside him, her bare feet pressed against his leg, her fingers intertwined with his, her face inches away. She kisses him again, soft and quick.

He chuckles.

"What?" she asks, sounding almost amused.

"Your feet. They're freezing," he says.

"Oh, sorry." She pulls away.

"No," he says, pressing his forehead to hers. His eyes drift closed. "No, I love it."

She slowly moves her feet back to his legs, and the silence falls again. But the tension is gone, and Nathan suddenly feels like he'll sleep for a year. But he has to mumble, "If I'd known this is what would get me in your bed, I'd have been hit by a flying chair ages ago…"

She hits his shoulder halfheartedly, but she's smiling as she says, "Not funny, Chief. Go to sleep."

It doesn't take long to comply with that order.

A/N: I can't even begin to describe how adorable it is that Nathan can only feel Audrey's touch. I just freaking LOVE the two of them. :D Hope you enjoyed, and I love reviews too!