December 20th, 2015

Kat Darcy wasn't always a monster. Back when she was a little girl with round cheeks and a missing tooth, she wasn't a monster. Back when things were simpler. When things weren't burning her through and through.

Her father died in April that year, and three days ago, she had her first birthday without him. She'd thought it'd be worse, to be fair. But she had convinced her mother that she could spend it at her uncle's place, with her friends, the Pogues, so maybe it wasn't all grey and sullen. Kat still had hoped that things would look up, eventually, for her.

Her father's disappearance had taken a toll on her, of course it had. Kat had spent days waiting for him at the docks, hoping he'd somehow come back from the ocean that took him. She still had hopes for a lot of things. Still smiled. Still hugged people as close to her as she could, arms like vices around her loved-one's waists.

She kept her friends close, like Henry had advised. To be honest, she didn't imagine a world where they weren't close. It's the sort of thing that seems timeless, when you're a kid. Your friends will always be your friends. The boy you shyly peck on the lips in the schoolyard will always be here. You will always be here.

Kat had talked to Rafe Cameron a handful of times. He was older than her, but she felt a sort of understanding with him. Every time she visits their house, her mom and his dad always manage to shove them in a room together, for reasons that won't be explained until two days later. Reasons that shouldn't exist in the first place.

But Kat has yet to expect the worst. She just thinks since their parents are friends, they want them to be friends. Besides, she likes Sarah Cameron, too. She gets to have some sleepovers with her, from time to time.

So when Ward and Caroline lock her up in Rafe's room, she isn't sure what she's supposed to expect. She felt a kinship to Rafe, she felt like he was suffering the same pressure her mom puts on her shoulders, from his dad. She thought that maybe, they could talk it out. And because it seemed like he was having a hard time, she hoped she could help him, even if he was sixteen and she was only twelve. She really, truly, did want to help.

Hours later, Ward will give her a disappointed look, and mutter her name with disdain. Her mother will tell her to cut the theatrics. Rafe will apologise, again, and again, and again. Each 'sorry' will sound more bitter than the last.

Hours later, she'll be curled up in her bed at her uncle's place, shaking and crying as he just stands next to her – she can't be held anymore. Her starry-eyes have grown steely. Her jaw is set, clenching her teeth so hard they hurt, but she still does it, because the hurt distracts her from the rest. Hours later, Kat Darcy will have died, and an empty shell will have taken her place. An angry, hopeless, shell. She won't hug like she used to. She'll push all her friends away. She'll abandon the boy from the schoolyard. She won't be her again, and she'll burn everything that will remind her of little Kat Darcy, like you burn sick-ridden clothes. To survive.

Kathryn Elizabeth Darcy wasn't always a monster. She just didn't have a choice.

🐝

September 4th, 2020

Kathryn doesn't question Ward's comeback from the dead. First of all, he's standing right in front of her, so it'd be a bit hard to just not believe it. Second of all, considering her luck, of course he is.

They're sitting on opposite sides of a table, sitting down on chairs that are frankly uncomfortable. Kathryn's keeps rocking back and forth. A leg must be broken. Maybe she can unscrew it and shove it in his eye.

The boat has left the harbour for a little over an hour now. She hasn't got the faintest as to where they're going, she just knows that she won't be there when they make it.

Right now, Ward is just the second Cameron to walk into her room and leave her wondering why they even bothered with kidnapping her. Sure, it happened in the moment, but why was she still here? Surely it was easier to let her go, they have to know she won't make it easy for anyone here. She has an uncle that's going to go bat-shit crazy, and a boyfriend that can show him where they hide dynamite.

Still, what she wants to ask the most, is, "How? How'd you do it?" She knows why. To avoid Rafe and himself prison. Not to mention they have the Merchant's gold already, as insurance.

Ward makes a face, as if he expected that question. "I used the scuba gear that was on the Druthers. I had it all set up in advance, timed to the second. It was touch and go getting off. I almost didn't make it," he adds, chuckling.

She laughs along. "Oh, I wish you hadn't."

He sighs. "Listen, Kathryn Elizabeth, I know we don't get along..."

"No, no," she stops, holding a hand. "I don't get along with my maths teacher. I want to see you dead and buried."

"I know, I know," he admonishes, a hand running on his face. "But we're going to have to."

She scoffs. "I'm not braiding what's left of your hair."

There's silence, Ward visibly fighting himself not to indulge Kathryn in her behaviour, and Kathryn staring back at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm allowing you to stay here–"

"Actually, I'm wondering how you got the nerves to bring Sarah here," she corrects swiftly.

Sarah didn't deserve to be reminded of what her family was at every turn. She didn't deserve to be dragged into this. Kathryn is no stranger to that, everytime she remembers where her mother is, she feels her blood run cold.

"Sarah's my daughter," Ward says.

"She might not feel that way."

"She does," he corrects hotly. "She cares, every person on that dock could see it."

A laugh escapes Kathryn again. "Because she's a nice girl. Because you'd just kill yourself in front of her, you psychopathic moron!"

They sit in silence again. Kathryn loves to see Ward fighting against his best instincts to strangle the life out of her. Even if she is playing a dangerous game, after seeing him so unbothered when she came out of his son's room, any shred of anger she can get out of him is enough for her.

"Why am I still here?" she asks Ward. "Your son had a sudden urge to kidnap me, as one does, but you could have told him to let me go." He huffs a little. "And trust me, I know you want to. So why?"

Ward closes his eyes tightly, and opens them again. "We're going to this place near Guadeloupe, off the coast–"

"I know where Guadeloupe is."

"They speak french there, so I hope–"

"C'est pas ce que j'ai demandé, concentre-toi aussi."

"I know it's not what you asked!" he snaps, before letting out a trembling breath. "Listen, I know, as someone who has lost her father, I know you understand that I couldn't do that to Sarah. I had to get her on that boat."

Kathryn grounds her teeth, fist tightening on the table. "Don't talk about my father."

"I'm not, it's..."

Ward's voice dies out in his throat, Rafe entering the room sheepishly. Kathryn sucks in a breath involuntarily, straightening up in her chair. Rafe sits next to his dad, and Kathryn thinks if Limbrey comes in, she'll start having a panic attack.

"What's this?" she scoffs. "You had to ask daddy for help?"

Rafe shakes his head, hand running over his mouth. "Well, he insisted."

Ward seems as happy to see his son as her, which is no surprise, and Kathryn refuses to feel any hint of compassion over that.

She watches how uneasy the two act around each other, like two dogs fighting for dominance, frowning. Ward doesn't want her here. From his last encounter with his sister, she doubts that Rafe wants Sarah here. And then, she laughs.

"Oh, my god. You're letting Rafe keep me because he lets you keep Sarah." Ward glares at her. "Waw... that's awfully nice of you two. Anyone asked what we thought of this? I know you have a hard time with consent in your family."

If Rafe's jaw clenches abruptly, Ward smiles congenially. "Our methods... are dubious, I'll give you that. But wait a little, and you'll see, we can make this work."

She stares at him, wondering if he has a rock with googly eyes instead of a brain. "No, Ward, we can't make this work. Your son's a monster, you're an asshole, and I hate you both. Not to mention the fact that you hate me. And now you want to keep me here as part of your big happy family?" She scoffs. "For someone who said that people keep leaving me, that one-eighty must have hurt your neck."

She isn't winning any points on the Camerons' side, that's for sure. Then again, does she really care? "I know it's hard to wrap your head around, but when we touch land, you'll be free to do whatever."

She scoffs at Ward. "Right, if I'm so free – I want to call Henry. I want to call my friends, and I want to call my boyfriend." The look on Rafe's face isn't lost on her, and she'd go as far as to say that she greatly enjoys it.

Ward nods. "Yes, of course. As soon as we get there, you can call JJ. He knows you're here, right?"

She tilts her head. What game is he playing at? At this point, they're both aware that the Pogues are on the ship. She doubts Ward is stupid enough to think that the explosion from earlier was just a coincidence, not that she holds him to any high standard.

"What makes you say that?" she asks instead of dumbly agreeing with him.

Ward stands up, and Rafe smiles knowingly. What is this? She hates being taken for a fool on a good day, and today is not one. "When Rafe was showing you the Cross, he came by the house, and Rose talked to him, before they left to get here."

She makes, what she hopes is, the absolute most doubting face ever known to man. JJ having a conversation with Rose. No guns involved. Civil discussion. Yeah, okay.

"You know that Cross you've all been looking for? That Rafe showed you? Turns out that, I guess, historically, it belongs to the Heywards."

"You're officially the last one to know."

His gaze hardens. "It also turns out that the most important thing to my son is you, so I gave JJ enough to pay for his restitution and brought him and his friends the Cross back."

Kathryn starts laughing hysterically. Ward Cameron may have convinced her once that people left her, that she wouldn't be able to keep anything to herself, but Kathryn was not that dumb. This, was maybe the funniest lie she had ever heard. JJ... talking to Rose... and making a deal, to hand her over.

Oh she was telling him that later.

"And JJ Maybank was okay with that?" she asks once she's calmed down.

Ward sits back down. "I had just given him a half-billion-dollar artefact, so, yeah, he seemed pretty okay. I don't know what to tell you."

Rafe smiles smugly at his father. Kathryn shakes her head, with an eternal sardonic smile on her lips. "Okay, let's break this down," she says, uncrossing her arms and leaning against the table, nails hitting the wood with each step. "JJ, took a deal with Rose, for money and the Cross in exchange for me."

Ward shrugs. "He's a Pogue."

"And you, willingly gave up both." She holds up her hands. "That's... I'm worried that scuba diving made oxygen bubbles explode in your brain, if you think I'm going to buy that."

"Buy it or not, Kathryn Elizabeth, it's what happened." He stands up, ready to leave, Rafe following after him. "I guess you just weren't worth the trouble for him. I mean, after stringing him along like that..."

She stands up after them, eyes blazing with anger. "The only reason any of this happened is because of your psycho son who can't even have a normal conversation without asking his dad to butter me up!"

Rafe moves to get back inside, making Kathryn recoil, but Ward pushes him out. Before he locks the door again, he looks back at her. "Maybe you should watch your mouth, Kathryn Elizabeth. We wouldn't want to give Rafe another reason to hurt you again."

When they leave, she throws a cushion at the door, picture a bomb blowing up the whole boat with her in it.

There is still not a doubt in her mind that JJ and the Pogues are coming. Ward can fool her on many things, but they all pertain to her. She would never think of any of her friends with so little regard to who they are, as to think that they wouldn't come save her. This wasn't about her worth, it was about who they were. And they weren't the type of people to just give her up for money, she was sure of it.

But all those comments about it being her fault are starting to ring true. It's a thing to think of them yourself, but it's a whole other matter to have people confirm it. To have the actual culprit confirm it. She fights against the tears welling up in her eyes. She won't cry. She can't curl up in a ball like she did that night, she has to press forward, whatever it takes.

But even as she works on the leg of the chair, unscrewing it as fast as she can, her brain thinks of its own accord. How can she be with JJ if this was her fault? How can she risk letting anyone in, if this was her fatal sin? She may not be twelve and curled up on a bed again, but the same thoughts are racking her brain, the same tears burning her eyes.

If this was my fault, how could anyone ever love me?

For a half a second, JJ giving her up for money and the Cross doesn't feel half as stupid. She's aware, somewhere, that Ward only said it to mellow her down, so that she's easier to manipulate. But her thoughts are rarely her own when she spirals, and they carry his voice this time. She angrily rips the chair leg from the screw, almost hitting herself in the process.

She tries not to let it get to her. Not to let the words stifle her. Instead of blowing up with anger, or hitting herself with the wooden stick, she tries to disagree with what Ward and Rafe said. She tries, for all the times she hadn't. All the times she just went along with what people thought of her. But alone, in that room – alone in a room they just left, the scene feels all too familiar, and familiarity is choking her out.

Kathryn can't wait to get out of there.

She waits in the quiet of the boat for Ward or Rafe to come back. She knows they're relentless, that they won't stop until either one of them has successfully broken her down – again. Their fault for trying, really. Because Kathryn is waiting for a pretty consequent piece of wood she could easily – and will – ram in their faces the first chance she gets.

Waiting around for JJ and the Pogues to come get her isn't enough, she needs out, now. But would she be able to save herself, alone, in the middle of the ocean, on a boat filled with people actively working against her? This was never going to work. She needed help. She had asked for help.

The doorknob rattles. Kathryn jumps at the sound, almost tripping onto her feet as she places herself next to the door, arm raised with the chair leg in hand. She hopes she blinds a male Cameron, whichever one of them.

When the door opens, she hammers her hand down.

"Wh–Hey! Dude, stop mauling me! KD, stop mauling me!"

The wooden stick falls to the floor in a clatter. Kathryn blinks at a face entirely too close to her to even see who it is – but she'd know that voice even if fireworks were going up around her.

"JJ?"

JJ barely has the time to even hear her that Kathryn already threw herself at him, clutching him close to her with all the might she wished she had at twelve years old.

"You came," she whispers against his skin.

He melts against her, relief hitting him like sand trickling down his body. "Well, uh, Pope told me you asked me to come get you. So, of course I did."

All the strength she had used to keep him away for four years now makes her tug him closer, and she doesn't know when she started crying, but suddenly JJ is rubbing her back and telling her it's going to be okay. She's not sure why she's crying in the first place, she knew he was coming. Maybe it's that same twelve year old that cries because this time, she was saved.

She hears him close the door with his heel and walk them both a little further into the room – they are still on enemy grounds, if JJ's seen here with Kathryn out of her room, that stupid deal Rafe forced her to take might very well blow up in their faces.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're safe." Between kisses on her cheeks, nose, closed eyes, JJ keeps repeating those words over and over. She's not sure which one of them he's trying to convince.

She kisses him, and it tastes of salt and desperation as he reciprocates, holding her face delicately between his calloused hands. She can feel his worry in the way his thumbs wipe away the tears at the corner of her eyes, the way he heaves out a breath when they part, and he rests his forehead on hers.

"You're crying," he breathes out. "Did he hurt you?" The underlying threat there isn't lost on her.

"I don't know why I'm crying," she apologises, hands holding his wrists. "I'm okay, I swear."

JJ lifts his head, looking over her face, carefully, checking for himself. He holds one of her cheeks in his palm, tilting her face to the side. His gaze darkens.

"Rafe did this to you?"

In the middle of being kidnapped and having several existential crises, Kathryn forgot the sore, definitely purple spot on her cheekbone. She sniffles. "It's fine. I gave him a nosebleed."

"Attagirl."

Kathryn hugs him again, as close as she can, arms around his waist live vices. He holds her, hands at the back of her head and the small of her back. When she closes her eyes, she hums, and it sounds more like a sob. He smells like the sun.

"Thank you," she heaves out between two poorly hidden sobs. "Thank you for coming."

"Kat, I was never not going to come get you." She feels his hold on her tighten. "I was so goddamn worried, you have no idea."

She nods against his shoulder. "I knew I'd be fine."

"I didn't." His voice breaks a little. "...I didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

He parts from her again, keeping her close, still, not too far. He fishes for something in his back pocket. Then, he places it on the bridge of nose, and Kathryn is suddenly dumbstruck at his face, salt blue eyes swimming in relief, blonde sandy hair falling in his face, pouty lips turned into a frown. He's beautiful.

"You had my glasses?" she asks, a little dimly.

"Pope found them," JJ tells her. "I uh, tweaked a bit when he brought them back, and you were, you know. Not there."

It gets a snort out of her, shaking her head. All her previous thoughts seem a little ridiculous, now that JJ was here. It's easier to try, not only to convince herself that Ward and Rafe were wrong, but to actually believe it. She had never once believed it before, but she did now.

Maybe she had been a monster. But maybe this was all in the past. If Kathryn hadn't changed, if she had remained the same girl Rafe made of her, she wouldn't have asked for help, and JJ wouldn't have been here for her. And if it had been her fault, if she could have changed it, well, she chooses not to believe that.

Kathryn Darcy had been a monster. But she could be something else.

Because how could she be unlovable, if the sun was holding her?

"Are you sure you're okay?" JJ asks, rubbing that spot between her eyebrows. "You're staring at me, in a sort of weird way. I'm not going to run away to shoot Rafe if that's what you're worried about... I mean, not yet."

She smiles. "I think it's time we get out of that room, yeah?"

"'Was waiting for you to say the word."

He takes her hand to leave, guiding her on the way out. Kathryn doesn't turn around, but she's almost sure there's a little girl, smiling at her with big cheeks and a missing tooth, happy that she'd let someone save her, this time around. 

Author's Note: Going insane rabid eating the bars of my enclosure hitting my head against the floor violently sick shaking --