tides | jj maybank x oc

ep. 17 ~ reality

The elation that the pogues felt upon the discovery of the royal merchant came crashing down quicker than anyone would have liked with the revelation of the missing treasure. there was nothing there.

pope, desperate to prove himself as the 'brains of the operation', desperately sent the drone round and round the wreck until luna b was blue in the face trying to steady the boat and jj was shouting at him to leave it.

John b came down the hardest of all, feeling as though any ties he had left to his dad were snapping before his eyes. It took a lot of convincing, a lot of jj shouting to convince him that it was a dead end and luna b felt awful about it.

she found herself wishing she could fix it even as she began to remember more about that night, and the bruises on her skin began to make more sense.

in the end, she was grateful when the group decided to disperse for the day, go about their separate business and regroup at the outdoor movie night that evening. luna b couldn't remember the last time she'd been to an outdoor movie night.

~~~

I'm walking back from the dock at heyward's, having just left pope to go to his shift, and I'm alone. and I can't stop thinking, can't stop remembering.

i think I've got It nearly all now: how i was smoking and wanted some water. how the water tasted a little funny but i didn't think enough to stop drinking it. how everything started to go dark, to collapse around me until i couldn't move properly. how someone had been there to help me, holding me, guiding me. how they didn't help. how they instead grabbed me and pulled me and pinned me down and then... then i don't want to remember anymore.

as i remember i walk, speeding up until I'm near enough running home. I'm tracing my skin, clawing at my wrists and my neck where it all still feels so, so wrong.

i try to think about other things; i wonder if my mum's okay, recovered. i wonder how my dad is. i wonder if they're angry with me now. if they hate me. i wonder the same about jj. he took his sunglasses back without saying anything, but let me keep the cap. it's still on my head. its almost comforting.

thinking about other things doesn't help.

by the time i get home I've remembered so much that i have to pause to vomit at the top of the drive way.

then i pull myself together and go inside.

it's quiet, i wonder absently if anyone's home, but i can smell cooking (eggs) so someone must be. i keep my shoes on, just in case i need to get out, and make my way into the kitchen.

my dad's standing at the stove, flipping an egg and humming along to the radio. my mum's sitting at the table, wearing what look like a pair of my dad's old sweats and drinking some steaming coffee. she looks small but she also looks... sober.

they turn, almost in unison when they hear me come in. it's silent for a moment before my mum pats the seat next to her gently, trying to smile at me.

i have no choice but to sit down.

"hi, love." dad greets me from his place at the stove, "eggs?"

i turn down the food gently, not wanting to offend him but also feeling sick at the mere thought of eating anything right now.