Kathryn doesn't remember how this started. Hadn't she just come home from London, for a little vacation before going to Yale? A break, before she goes away again. A breather, for the life she almost lost. And then came the Pogues, the gold, the Merchant, Limbrey, the Cross, JJ.
She's not sure what happened to those well earned vacations she was promised. She's not sure she'd have it any other way. In all this time, she can't believe she managed to do what she came here for; heal. Not to sugarcoat it – there was still a surge in her blood, the uproar of fire in her words. There would always be. Sometimes, the hands that touch her will belong to Rafe. Sometimes, so does she.
But it doesn't define her anymore. She isn't Kathryn Elizabeth Darcy, monster in the shape of a girl, carving her way through life. She isn't Rafe's girl, she isn't Kook queen or whatever people call her. She could just be Kat Darcy. She could try to be, find out who it is. A weight lifted from her shoulder at the thought.
So, at the moment, Kat Darcy is helping JJ tie the Cross, as Pope climbs into the crane on the docks. Then, carefully – so messily they almost get a concussion twice – they hook the Cross to it and slowly raise it. The Cross is about halfway up when everything goes to shit.
Cleo – Kathryn guesses, as she's a stranger who isn't shooting at them. Brown skin, darker than hers, brown hair, a cap on, from afar, she can tell she's pretty – screams at Pope that he's almost got it. Pope asks where's John B and the lifeboat.
No one knows. Kathryn looks back at JJ.
"I'm sure he's fine," he says. She's heard that before. And then, John B drove into a tropical depression. She wouldn't risk his life on that sentence.
It was always like that with their gold hunts anyway, right? They get close to getting it... only to fail miserably and end up in an even worse situation than what they started with. Admittedly, with two of their friends presumed dead, it was a hard feat.
But it was better than all of them going missing.
"Let's go help John B load it up on the lifeboat," JJ says, and Kathryn nods, following as he runs out.
Of course, neither of them say anything about the fact that they don't know if they have a lifeboat yet. Or a reminder that they can't go back to the OBX. Or that the Cross will probably make the lifeboat sink...
Running through the boat is easier this time around, considering they get to gulp fresh air and not rancid smells. Or the lack of threat of someone coming around the corner to kill them, that helped a bit too.
They run all the way around the boat, trying to catch a glimpse of a lifeboat.
"You look over," Kathryn tells JJ. "If I look down, I'm puking."
"Roger that." JJ bends over the railing. "I don't see him."
Kathryn takes a step forward, ready to take another lap around that god forsaken boat. Ward is still out there. If he so much as hurt John B, she might find some fire left in herself.
A man walks down the stairs to her right. It's not Ward – Kathryn has no idea who that is, really, but he has a machete in hand and, unlike Cleo, doesn't seem friendly at all.
"JJ?"
JJ whirls around at her worried tone. When he sees the man walking towards her, he holds out an arm, eyes bugging around to look for a weapon to defend her with.
"Of course," the man pants out, clearly out of breath. "There's more of you."
Kathryn's throat is dry and her limbs are hanging aimlessly from her body as all she can do is stare. She's aware she said she could take Ward in a fight, but this was different. Ward didn't have a machete.
"Get down on your knees."
JJ doesn't blink, eyes zeroing on the raised weapon. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen."
When the man hammers it down in his direction, he ducks, his name on Kathryn's lips. If she was the only one there, she would already be dead, anxiety freezing her in place, the perfect target. But JJ is with her. Her body itself conspires to help him, even as her brain lags behind.
The man jerks his arm back, and, purely out of instinct to get the weapon as far away from JJ as possible, Kathryn grips his arm between her hands, nails digging in the skin, and pins it to the emergency power supply closet.
JJ punches him in the face, making him recoil. "Hit it KD!" She's not sure what he means by that, but she opens the door, her body taking over for her, and slamming the metal in the man's face.
Her boyfriend kicks the machete away, still staring the man down from his position on the floor. "Check for John B!"
Despite the immediate nausea that comes with looking overboard, her eyes rake the moving sea for a boat, hands firmly holding the railing.
"John B!" she screams out to the ocean, but no sound carries up.
Either John B is still inside, or he went overboard and in any case, this is bad for them. She hears grunts and groans behind her, but her vertigo is keeping her pinned in place, shaking slightly, unable to move. The distance feels like it's closing in, reaching out. Her body betrays her, worse, it betrays JJ.
"KD!"
She barely has time to register JJ's scream that she's turning around and leaning away from the swish of the blade. It comes so close to her face that Kathryn can feel the wind of it.
JJ screams her name again, jumping on the back of the man, holding the machete away from her. But the older man, stronger than JJ, pins him between his body and the railing, forcing him to let go.
When he swings at her, Kathryn, for once in her life, doesn't freeze. She jerks back abruptly, a scream lodged in her throat. The machete flies right past her head.
The handle hits JJ's temple, who falls back into the ocean.
"JJ!"
The man raises his weapon to hit again, but Kathryn's self-preservation instincts fly right out the window and she lunges for him, effectively body slamming against the door, leaving him dizzy for what she hopes is a couple seconds. That's all she needs.
Couple seconds during which she turns back on her heels, staring at the impossible distance between herself and JJ, face in the water, body floating with no movement at all. Her heart almost hammers out of her chest, fingers taunt against the metal. She can't do it, she's too scared, she can't do it–
It's JJ. Kathryn has lost too many things to the ocean. She won't lose him too.
Kathryn, scared, trembles as she goes over the railing.
The fall is longer and shorter than she expected. She feels air swallowing her, whistling in her ears, and then saltwater is in her mouth. She kicks her feet to push herself afloat. The pressure resists her before she breaks free, and looks around, screaming his name.
JJ's blonde hair is a little further down, she hurries to it, swimming to him, tears mixing with the sea.
"JJ?" she croaks out when she turns him around, holding his head up, fighting to keep them up. "JJ, please, please wake up!"
He's unresponsive, limp in her hold. She can't check for his pulse without drowning in the process. An awful thought grazes her brain. She could be holding his corpse, for all she knows. Her head sinks for a minute, robbing her of speech and thought.
She swims back up. "JJ, don't die. Don't you dare die." Water gets in her mouth, tinting her pleas with salty reality. "JJ!"
The sobs in her throat don't make it any easier to breathe, and her head starts going under water more often than over it, but she doesn't care as long as she tilts JJ's chin up, forcing him to stay afloat.
"Come on!" she cries out. "JJ, please!"
It takes every muscle in her body to not drown, keeping them both afloat impossible at this point, but if Kathryn drowns, she might as well drown with JJ. If he dies, so does she. She doesn't think there's any other version of this story, as the water gets in her lungs.
No paint. No waves.
Then she hears her name, screamed. The roar of a boat.
John B hoists her up before she can register that the rest of the Pogues are in a lifeboat, next to her. "Let go! Bug, we've got him, let go so we can bring you up."
Pope pries JJ from her clenched fingers around his shirt, John B grabbing her from under her arms to hoist her up.
She crawls back to him the second they hit firmer ground.
"JJ," Kathryn begs, holding his face between her fingers. "Come on, JJ, please."
It makes no difference to her, the screams of her friends, in the water, on the lifeboat, underwater. As long as JJ hasn't opened his eyes, the rest of the world doesn't deserve an ounce of compassion. As long as JJ doesn't respond, she'll be drowning.
It doesn't matter if the lifeboat stalls, if they're sitting ducks, waiting to be shot. If JJ is dead, Kathryn will let the ocean carry her with him.
"You gotta wake up," she cries out, shaking him. "Get up!"
She finds faith, for a split second. Begging to whoever can hear her to bring JJ back. To make sure he was okay. Needing someone or something to do it. Desperation turned prayer, like all lost souls do.
A splutter.
Kathryn's eyes blow wide, inching back as JJ sits up, retching the saltwater out of his lungs, looking around, blue eyes raking the people looking over him until they find Kathryn's. She's not even sure she hears the others, still.
Relief hugs her in its warmth, her hands on JJ's face, trembling, tears stinging her eyes. Kathryn had never been so scared as when she thought she was holding his dead body. No Cameron, no square grouper, no Limbrey had made her quite so terrified. So ready to end everything if he wasn't there, because what would have been the point?
He blinks at her. She gulps her sobs away. He's here. He's back. He's okay. She's not drowning anymore.
"Jay?"
He seems unsure for a moment, and her heart stalls, wondering if he has a concussion from the blow at his head. Then, he smirks.
"'Sup?"
Kathryn would shove his head away. She would laugh along with the others, but she had been so scared.
She slams her lips on him, the salty taste coming from the ocean or her tears, she didn't care, they had the same source; pain. His fingers idly hold her wrist, small gasp leaving his mouth, making her inch back.
"Sorry, you might need air."
"No I don't."
Kathryn finally laughs, and JJ knows that he's back from whatever darkness had gripped him. Her grip on him had always been tighter anyway.
Relief spreads through the group as Kathryn inspects him closely, making sure that he is indeed well.
"Just always looking for attention, uh?" John B breathes out, patting his shoulder.
JJ swallows the salty taste in his throat. "Whatever it takes, right?" Then, he raises a hand to the side of his head Kathryn is dabbing with his bandana. Blood coats his fingers. "What the hell happened?"
"Blunt end of a machete," she says, voice still shaking.
His eyes light up. "Machete?"
She scowls. "Blunt end. Just duck–"
"Next time, duck," Cleo says at the same time.
His eyes fly between the two of them. "I'll try to remember that next time. Thanks."
Kathryn runs a hand on her face. "Yeah, maybe wait a bit, my heart nearly gave out." It did.
They stay silent for a moment, Kathryn brought back to a reality that included more than JJ. The Coastal Venture's crew was dragging the Cross up from the sea – Pope would have tried to get rid of it, of course. If he can't have it, no one should. She gets that.
This lifeboat won't last for long, but they can already see an island in the distance. At least, they'll have a place for the night.
JJ is alive and breathing. She can't ask for more, not after coming so close to losing him.
Her eyes settle on Pope. His inheritance stolen again, by Rafe Cameron of all people. His jaw is set. Eyes determined.
"This shit ain't over."
Author's Note: Locking in for the epilogue (I'm going to cry)