By the time Kiara and Pope come back to the Château, Kathryn has gnawed on all of her fingernails – despite her gorgeous red nail polish, she'll have you know – and the group has been going in circles for hours, non-stop.

"They could be here any time now," Kathryn reminds them, as she paces in front of the jacuzzi. "And if the cops know, we'd need to have exonerated you by like, yesterday, which was already the case but you know, it'd be worse, because what can't we have? Nice things, that's what I'm saying."

John B, who is concerned about his own fate at least a healthy amount, shuts his eyes tightly and sighs through his nose. "Bug, you have to calm down."

"Do I?" she ironises. "I feel like none of you is worried enough."

Sarah makes a pained face at her. "We are, but it's no use. You're just torturing yourself, Kat."

"Yeah no, she's good at that," JJ hums, before standing up.

She holds up a hand as he gets closer, but he still puts his on her shoulders, to force her to stay where she stands. "Let go of me, JJ."

"Stop pacing," he fires back. "I know you hate this, but right now, the only thing we can do is wait for– Pope!"

He lets go of her and runs to the wooden docks with his backpacks on his shoulders, the other three in his trail.

"Don't tie up!" Kathryn screams out as Kie scrambled for the rope. "Kie, don't!"

"What?" she calls out as they reach the HMS Pogue.

JJ shrugs. "We're dipping."

Pope stares at him. "Wait, why?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

Kathryn scoffs at how casual JJ was, climbing in the boat once Sarah is in. "Rafe and Barry showed up after you left. Where the hell were you?"

Pope blinks at her, several times. "We slept on the break. What the fuck?"

"Slept," JJ choruses, patting his chest. "Right yeah."

"JJ, shut up," Kie lets out. "Now's not the time." Her eyes go over Kathryn, panting for breath. She may not have the best cardio, but that short run cannot have done that much damage to her breathing. "Are you okay?"

Kathryn gives her thumbs up. "Peaches. Fucking aces. Let's go."

She helps Sarah in the boat, eyeing the huge bandage peeking from the waistband of her shorts. She can't believe she let her get in the tub with a gunshot wound – she had got to be more drunk than she thought, yesterday.

They take the boat to the quiet side of the island – somewhere where houses have yet to sprout like mushrooms, and most of it seems to be marshes. Smells like it, at least, but Kathryn can't complain.

She'd like to keep herself as far away from Rafe as she can.

JJ senses that, in his own way. By that she means that while she keeps to John B, JJ keeps to her, hovering like a helicopter parent. Endearing, but useless.

If Rafe comes after her, she's as good as dead after what she did to him.

"Look, if Rafe and Barry know, it's only a matter of time," Sarah tells them, sitting on an old forgotten stone bench.

"Before everyone knows," Pope completes.

JJ shakes his head. "I told you. We should've gone south, man."

"Just stop it," John B sighs.

"Why does no one ever listen?"

"Because it's a shit plan, JJ," Kathryn says, fear laced in her voice under the shielding irritation. "We're teenagers, we don't have a single fucking clue how to go into hiding!"

"We could've at least tried!" he cries back at her. "But no, no, we just waited around until someone saw us–"

"It was your fucking plan?"

"Guys!" Sarah cries out, stopping their screaming match. "Look, I have an idea. With me back, my dad's going to have to choose between me and Rafe." Right. Either lose her, or send his son to jail. Ward is too self-centred to have anything tarnish his reputation.

Kathryn looks back at her with wide eyes, holding her scoff in as best as she could, to the point where she might as well turn bright red from not breathing. JJ sends her a warning glance. She's going to blow up.

"Sarah, Sarah–"

"He's gonna choose me," she goes on.

"Just please, listen," John B asks. "Ward keeps lying to you, Sarah."

Sarah lowers her gaze, biting on her lower lip. It's obvious she wants to cry, but tries to hold it in for the sake of her argument.

"He won't agree after all that's happened," Kie says softly.

But still, the blonde holds her ground. "No. I... I know it sounds crazy–"

"Yeah, it does."

"I know!" She licks her chapped lips. "But he's my dad. And I know him, and I know he loves me." She looks back at Kathryn. "I'm just asking for two hours."

Kathryn stares back at her. "You better be joking." JJ, beside her, shakes his head. If they're agreeing on something, it must be dire. "You're asking me for my permission? Fine. No. You don't have it."

John B sighs. "Kat–"

Her head whips towards me. "Excuse me? No. No, I'm not putting either of your lives in Ward Cameron's hands. He killed your dad!"

"I'm not asking you to trust Ward, I'm asking you to trust Sarah," he tells her.

"I don't! Not on this. He's a psychopath!" She turns back to the blonde. "Rafe is still running around after shooting you, you think he'll help you now?"

Bile rises in her throat at the thought that she doesn't seem to understand how stupid this plan is. Ward has never once put his children before himself. Sure, he loved Sarah in his own way, maybe he even loved Rafe, but they would never come first.

Panic constricts her chest, enough for it to start heaving as tears cloud her vision. Whether they are of rage or fear, she doesn't know.

"Don't you get it?" she cries out. "The gold will always come before you, Sarah. We can't trust him!"

Sarah knows that it's true. She does, she isn't an idiot, she has common sense. But it's their only choice.

"I have to try."

No one says anything. Apart from JJ, who just stands there next to her, no one really shows that they're against this idea. Kathryn swallows down any insult, anything from her vile tongue that might make Sarah feel like a fool for loving a dad that can't love her back. She's been there too many times. Instead, her lip curls over her teeth, sour in defeat.

"Our lives in your hands, Cameron."

🐝

Kathryn isn't pacing, as they wait for Sarah to come back with the HMS Pogue. What's the use? She's running on fumes, in and out of a panic attack that costs her her breath when it comes, and sanity when it goes.

She's sitting on the bench, letting JJ draw shapes on her bare thigh from her linen brown shorts. She tied her button up shirts at her waist, the stifling heat of anxiety and anger making her sweat.

She watches as Pope and John sit on the beach, merely a few feet away, probably talking about Limbrey and Ward and Big John. She doesn't want to participate in that conversation, not right now.

"I hate this," she says for the umpteenth time.

His fingers trace the hem of her shorts, following her gaze, towards the horizon. "I know."

She holds his hand, threads their fingers together, swears on a wicked lie that they are just friends as she does so. "Do you think my whole life will always depend on a Cameron?"

She can feel the way his gaze shifts to her profile, taking her words in. He's not sure what to answer, because he knows exactly why she feels this way. From her father, to John B, to her life on the island, there is always a Cameron lurking to ruin it.

"Everything I have," she says oh so plainly. "They keep taking, and I know that if it has to depend on any of them, I'm glad it's Sarah, but I'm tired of it. They keep taking from us. From me."

JJ doesn't shy away from the broken look on her face. Instead, he says. "Well, they won't take me. I'm resourceful."

The corner of her mouth twitches and she meets his gaze. "What?"

"I can weasel my way out of anything." He puts his hands together, and whistles as he squiggles them away. "Weasel."

She chuckles. "I'm pretty sure you just imitated a snake."

"Made you laugh, though."

She rolls her eyes, but smiles as she sighs. She is thankful for him, and the way her anger never scares him.

She may have lost the love of her life, but maybe it was for the better. This feels nice, having him with her and not against her. Though, she'd love to hold him against her. The fact that she'd jeopardise all of it for a kiss might make this less platonic than it seems.

"She's here."

They stand up and run for the beach as Sarah approaches in the HMS Pogue. Kie calls out her name, waving, smiling.

JJ helps Sarah dock the boat as Kathryn holds out her hand for her to take. Sarah takes it.

"How'd it go?" Kathryn asks, swallowing around the lump of fear in her throat.

She shakes her head. Kathryn's stomach sinks to the bottom of the ocean. "You were right. It didn't work," she answers between two sniffles. "Sorry."

Kathryn feels panic rise in her chest again, spreading like cancer. "I'm sorry," she tells Sarah.

To say that both of them were once this island's shiny toys. The ocean swallowed them and spat out broken versions of themselves. Caricatures, almost. As empty as the shells on the sand.

JJ blows out a breath. "Welp, then that settles it, guys. Now, y'all need to load up in the paddy wagon and get the heck out of Dodge right now."

The world spins for a second. Kathryn hasn't eaten. Hasn't slept. Her heart has been hammering against her ribs for the past six hours. She grounds her feet in the sand.

"Right, you'll need supplies, and you'll have to split as soon as possible," Pope says, matter-of-factly.

"We're splitting again?" Kathryn lets out, voice high.

"I think it's too late," Kie says, staring off in the distance.

They turn around, staring for a few seconds, before the spots in the horizon turn into boats. Before the sound of sirens carry to their ears.

The cops.

"Your father must have called them," John B says.

Kathryn tries not to think about it, otherwise she might end up on the floor. A fed screams at them to stay there.

They cry amongst each other that they have to go, right now.

The six teenagers run all the way across the beach and into the woods, sirens getting closer as the boats hit the sand bank. They have to outrun them, someway, somehow.

John B carries Sarah through the water of the marsh, swimming, water going in their mouth, coughing. It's no use, every time they reach the other side of a water body, the outline of a forest, the cops are behind them, screaming for them to stop.

Kie grabs Kathryn's hand and leads her behind a tree, hiding from the cops thanks to its huge trunk. Her gut is screaming, feet scrambling, world spinning as she rests her head against it and closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, police cars are coming from in front of them, and behind them, the feds are closing in.

"We're trapped," JJ speaks the obvious. "They surrounded us."

Kathryn closes her eyes again, head hitting the tree. Her legs feel like mud. "What do we do?"

"No getting out of it. We gotta make a stand."

JJ scrambles for his gun, ready to defend his best friend if it's the last thing he does. John B doesn't deserve to go to jail. It has long been said that JJ does.

The world moves slowly as John B watches the scene, almost like a stranger, almost like he isn't the one living it. But it's his friends that are scrambling to hide. It's his girlfriend that's crouched down, crying hot tears. It's his best friend that's drying a gun to use against cops with rifles. It's his sister that's pale as a ghost, looking around with wide, horrified eyes.

He grabs the gun from JJ's hands, and shakes his head. They wouldn't suffer for him any more. They had given too much already, and he had taken everything they could offer him to survive. To run.

John B was done running.

Kathryn feels something cold against her arm as John B hands her the gun. Her eyes snap open, and she immediately takes it, before throwing it on the ground near her feet, and hiding it under leaves.

When she looks back up at John B, he's smiling. "What are you doing?" she asks, voice hoarse.

"It's okay," he lies. "It's gonna be all right."

"Bee?"

The car stops in front of them. John B pats her cheek. "This isn't on you," he reminds her, as if it would mean anything to her.

As if it would mean anything to her, as he raises his arms, and walks to the cops, surrendering himself.

Kathryn wants to scream, but the sound is lodged in her throat. John B sends JJ a look as he steps forward, Shoupe screaming at him to get down and not move at the same time.

JJ's grip on her arm isn't for support. It's holding her back.

"I'm surrendering!" John B screams out, fear evident in his voice as they all point their guns at him.

"John B?" Kathryn finally croaks out.

"The rest of y'all, stay right where you are!" Shoupe screams. "Keep your hands where we can see them."

The world spins again, and breathing becomes erratic. There is no rhythm to it, no sense as she breathes in and out and in and out and in and out at an impossible pace.

"Hey, listen, Shoupe, I wanna testify!" John B's voice is droned out by the roaring sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

"It's about time," Shoupe says, getting closer. "Get down. Do not move a muscle. Everybody else, don't move."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, self-preservation kicks in for Kathryn as she obeys. Kids have been killed for less, and the cops surrounding them are lacking diversity.

Kathryn's eyes bug out when Plumb, an officer, gets so close to her she's almost holding her at gunpoint. Her breath shortens, if it was even possible.

She hears JJ scream something, and when she turns her head, an officer is throwing John B on the ground. Their screams melt against each other, one loud plea for the man to just let go of her best friend. The world darkens around Kathryn.

Maybe it's mercy that Kathryn passes out after the seventh blow.

🐝

Henry didn't say anything when he collected Kathryn and JJ from the police station. He remained silent after he dropped the latter off at the Château, silent as a tomb when he carried her to her room.

But when Kathryn reaches out and brokenly asks, "Don't you hate me?" For everything she's done to him, for lying, not telling him John B was alive, going behind his back, forcing him to come to the police station after not giving him any news, trying to exonerate her best friend at the expense of their relationship.

He only said, "You're just a kid." She shouldn't have had to go through any of that.

Henry held her as she cried.

Author's Note: My birthday came and went and now I'm 21 and still delivering trauma, maybe people don't change???