A lot has changed ever since the troubles decided to come back.

A lot.

Suddenly, Al found himself right in the middle of something he could not fully understand, but also unable to escape. Trapped. Stuck like a fly that ended up flying right into a spider's trap. No way out, just a painful and terrifying inevitability of death.

He was well aware of them, of course, as it was his own grandfather who was the previous carrier of this family curse. However, even in his worst nightmares, Alasdair could have never imagined that it is going to be him who is going to end up with the unfortunate pleasure of carrying on this weird family legacy.

The town was changing too. Alasdair could feel it down in his bones. Mostly in the way people acted - more and more often he noticed that strangers on the street looked at him with an odd spark in their eyes as if they were expecting something horrible to happen right that second. His workplace was becoming different too. This bar has always been a place of refuge for the locals, a place where they can come and forget about their issues for a while. Back in the days before the troubles, Al had to listen to patrons complain about their life, their jobs, and their families and significant others. Usual human stuff - who is one hundred percent happy with their life?

However these days, it was harder and harder to figure out what was bothering their patrons. It felt like they were all hiding something, that they were all drowning in secrets.

He was changing too. It was hard to meet new people when the first thing he had to be on the lookout for was the too-familiar fog of imminent death around his new acquaintances. He saw it everywhere he went almost every single day. Death was a permanent presence in the town now. Too many freak accidents. Too many unexplainable deaths. Too many secrets.

Just too much of everything.

Alasdair felt that he was slowly crumbling underneath the weight of it all. It was hard to deal with even for him - a person who always looked at the bright side of things, who always tried to make bad things seem better. Al was an optimist through and through, no matter what.

Until this curse that is.

Harper was the last straw. Seeing the fog of death around her, knowing that there was nothing he could do… It was too much. Al pushed through for her sake, he followed their plan and by some miracle or a freak accident of the universe, it worked. She was back, she was here. Alive, in his arms, shaken to the core, but alive. Alive. Alive.

Still, her death and subsequent resurrection were a step too far down the path he really didn’t want to follow. So, who is it going to be next? Who is going to be the next person engulfed in the cold and dark fog of death? His parents? Maybe another relative? One of his friends? That was the only thing he could think about now. Sooner or later, he’s bound to see another death creeping behind someone dear to him. The favour he had to use to bring Harper back was a one-time thing - the next time it happens (and Al was more than sure it will eventually), he is going to be completely powerless. No way to escape, no way to cheat fate now.

He decided that it was finally time to use all those vacation days the bar owner has been nagging him about. Alasdair knew that he was no good right now anyway - looking disheveled and feeling empty inside. No one wants a bartender who is too overwhelmed with his own issues to help others.

It was late when he heard that knock on his front door. It was dark in the living room - the only thing providing any light was a small table lamp with a lightbulb so old that it barely had any life in it left. Al couldn’t really tell how long he had been sitting in this semi-darkness completely lost in his own thoughts, drowning in imagining every horrible possibility awaiting him around the corner. A slight silhouette of his dog curled up next to him was the only real reminder that he was in fact not the only living thing left on this planet. From time to time Mars would look up at him, as usual perfectly sending his owner’s desperation and misery.

For a few moments, Al wrested with a desire not to open the door. He wasn’t excepting anyone and really, if you show up at someone’s door at night, you probably have bad news. Or you are bad news. Or both. Either way, as they say, nothing good comes after two, even if it wasn’t two am yet. It’s more about the principle.

And yet, Al couldn’t just pretend he wasn’t home. You can’t hide from the world forever, so he finally got up from the couch, stopping for a second to scratch behind his dog’s ear.

- Alright, let’s see how much trouble are we in now, - he signed quietly as Mars lifted his head of a soft couch cushion with curiosity in his dark eyes.

However, the person behind the door was not trouble. Not trouble at all, even the opposite - quite a good surprise.

- Fionn? - Al stared at his friend unblinkingly for a few long moments, completely lost and not knowing what to say. Fionn looked about the same as usual just with slight shadows of tiredness around his eyes. - What are you doing here, buddy? - finally, Al managed to get over the initial surprise and felt a smile starting to light up his face.

Taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms around his friend, feeling a nice feeling of warmth slowly spreading inside him. They haven’t seen each other in a while and Fionn was one of the few people Al actually missed since he moved back to Haven, one of those few people he felt bad about leaving behind. Of course, they still talked and Alasdair visited New York on a number of occasions since moving away, however that wasn’t nearly enough.

- Oh, sorry, come in, - he finally stepped back from the hug and inside his apartment, beckoning Fionn to follow him. Of course, he’s not going to turn him away. - Why didn't you tell me that you were coming over to visit? You could have called, - as he led his friend into his living room, turning on some extra light, he realized that his phone was been off for a couple of days. So maybe Fionn called and Al just missed it in his futile attempt to hide from the world. - Oh, this is Mars, - he pointed at a sleepy dog on his couch. Since Mars was a relatively new addition to his life, they haven’t had a chance to meet yet. - Don’t worry, he’s friendly and will sell his soul for a belly rub.

Some heads up about a visit would have been really nice. Looking around his living room Al realized that his apartment was not in the best state, just like its owner. He didn’t want to worry Fionn unnecessarily and he really didn’t want to drag anyone else into his situation right now either. For their own sake and his own peace of mind. He’s not gonna let anyone else suffer on his behalf.

- Oh, um, Harper is here, - there is an open suitcase by the window with her stuff, little traces of her presence everywhere. - Well, not right now, she went to Portland yesterday, but yeah… - Al had a tendency to ramble whenever he got flustered by something. - It's a long story really. So what are you doing here? - he tried to shift the focus of the conversation back to his friend. - Have you taken an interest in fishing since we last talked? There’s really not a lot more to Haven other than that. Fishing and quiet desperation of a small town slowly dying off. Please don’t tell me you are here for the latter.