𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²

05

    "I think so," she answered, nodding once.

    Then it was quiet, a comfortable quiet as they all ate, and the sun shined through the window. That comfortable quiet lasted for a bit, until it didn't, and the mood slowly shifted. Daryl was looking at his wife, and they were sending silent signals, both knowing what they needed to talk about. Charlotte looked up from her plate.

    "So, um," Caroline started, clearing her throat. She wasn't so enthusiastic anymore, but always, she tried to keep a smile on. "There's a few things we need to talk about. Things that are important— that we didn't really discuss yet." Her voice was more serious, but nonetheless delicate.

    Charlotte already knew what the next conversation was going to be— she'd heard them talking back in the penthouse on their last day. She swallowed, hard.

    "It's about Ward," Daryl spoke.

    The name cut like a knife throughout the room. Daryl spoke it with a stern tone, filtered with hatred. Charlotte sort of froze up, from hearing the name after so long, and remembering everything it meant. Everything it meant.

    Caroline took in a breath. "We have to set some boundaries, Charlotte," she said, using her full name. "I think you know that. We've figured out a way,"

    Charlotte shifted her eyes between both of them.

    "We want you to avoid them— the Camerons— as much as you can," Daryl said, she she never heard his sound so concerned before. "Stay as far away as possible. We don't know what could happen if you get close to them. Hell, if they even see you around, we dunno what they'll do."

    "I was there on the tarmac," Charlotte said. "And Ward, you know he—"

    "He doesn't like people who know too much about the truth." Caroline finished off, saying exactly what Charlotte was  thinking. "You need to be careful. Until the cops find more dirt on him— if they ever will— you need to stay out of danger. That means calling us if anything goes wrong, and getting away if they're near." She sighed.

    "Away from him, and away from Rafe." Daryl spat out the names.

    "What about you guys?" Charlotte asked, concerned and slightly panicked. "What's he gonna do to you guys,"

    "We'll pretend like we don't know about it," Caroline answered. "To him, we have no idea what happened on that tarmac, we don't know about Rafe, or what they did to John B."

    "But it's obvious," she sat up straighter. "Why would he assume I never told you anything?" her voice rose, fear in it.

    "We'll figure out what to do, if that ever happens." Daryl spoke.

     She knew that meant leaving again, and this time for good. She leaned her back against the chair, letting out a breath.

    "But for now, at least, you stay away from the Camerons, whatever means necessary." Daryl finished. "Got it?"

    She nodded, half-distracted.

    "It's a small island. But you have to try, bug, you have to." Caroline rubbed her hand on Charlotte's arm. "Who knows what he'll do if you don't."

   

   

    "You wanna give it a try?" JJ said, lifting the stick and poke pencil into the air.

    Charlotte pressed her lips together as her legs swung back and forth at a slow pace, her hands gripped onto the chipped edge of the wooden workbench she was propped up on. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, and her torso leaned forward with her shoulders slightly scrunched. JJ was a few feet away on the other side of the work station, sitting on the scratchy counter with his leg folded up and his bare foot resting on the wood. He held a pencil between his two fingers, a pencil with a tiny needle strapped to the end of it, dipped in ink. They were at the Chateau, in the back shed.