"whatever our souls are made of
his and mine are the same."

Thursday, 7 days before.

     NADIA WAS STARING BLANKLY AT the blank wall of the interview room. She was definitely regretting it. Deputy Shoupe had excused himself to make some calls after she had said his name. She knew that meant he would probably be brought in for questioning.

    "You need anything? Glass of water?" McCloskey rasps from across from her, tapping his fingers on the metal table. She shakes her head, letting out a small exhale. "No. Thanks." she murmurs.

    "—Can I go now? I've answered all of your questions," she says quietly. She watches intently as his phone buzzes, eyes flickering down from her face to glance over the message.

    "Rafe Cameron's agreed to come in— thank you Nadia you've been really helpful today," he nods. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "He's coming now?" she questions. Her mind was racing, having the urge to make a break for the slightly ajar door right then and there.

    "Okay—can I go now?" she speaks again, although she sounded more frantic this time, already shifting from her chair to stand up. He frowns, standing up to meet her. "We need you to stay for a little while, we'll be interviewing him separately," he says firmly, but she barely heard him. She really was attempting to make a break for it. She must have looked crazy, she thought.

    "Nadia," he says softly, catching her wrist gently before she could pull the door open.

    "I just remembered I have to be somewhere today," she rushes, shaking her head up at him.

    He sends her a small look, a half smirk, raising his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Where?" he questions, arms folding in front of his chest, staring down at her. Her poor attempt at a lie was very amusing. He didn't seem as scary now as he did before.

     She narrows her eyes slightly, pursing her lips and wracking her mind for something that didn't sound pathetic. "I forgot to make my bed this morning," she says blandly. And now he was definitely amused, letting out a breathy laugh. "That's a very good reason," he nods, and she actually laughs this time— covering her hands over her face to hide her cheeks that had turned a crimson red.

    "Come on— sit down, i'll get you coffee," he nods back towards the table. And despite Nadia Kennedy's painful stubbornness she actually listens to him. Maybe because he was a police officer. Or maybe just because it was the first time she felt comfortable since she had arrived home.

   He had disappeared after that to get her the coffee that she realised she probably needed, the folder that still sat across from her catching the corner of her eye. She glances back towards the door as her hand slowly reaches for it, sliding it towards herself. But she couldn't find the courage to open it. She stared at the front cover. His name scrawled out in black marker. Elijah Kennedy case number #58.

      Rafe Cameron had practically sped to the station when he got the call from Shoupe himself. A part of him hoped that it would mean he would run into her, as selfish as it was through everything that was going on.

    Grace insisted she came with him, sunglasses propped over her blonde hair as the two pulled open the station doors, his eyes scanning over practically everything and everyone. Just a glimpse of her would probably be enough. "Rafe," Shoupe calls. The two shook hands firmly, Rafe greeting him with a nod. "I apologise, I should have mentioned we do have to do this interview alone," Shoupe says firmly, gesturing to Grace who nodded slightly, retracting her grip on Rafe's upper arm. "I'll wait here," she smiles softly, glancing around for any unoccupied seats.

    Rafe nods, pursing his lips just as Shoupe motions for him to follow him. He barely was listening to the small talk Shoupe was making on their short lived walk, just a chorus of hums and "yeahs."

His eyes were scanning everywhere. Like a child that had lost their toy. "This is us," Shoupe nods towards a door with Room 3 sprawled across the front. He stops abruptly, watching intently as a younger looking officer opens the room right across from where they were stood, two cups of coffee in hand. It was like he stopped breathing right then. She had her chin leaning in her palm, staring right in front of her in a world of her own. She was always in a world of her own. He loved that about her. But then the door closed, and he was still staring, chewing on the inside of his cheek in frustration.

Shoupe's voice had him snapping back to reality, "Rafe? You ready?" he clears his throat.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "Yeah, yeah," he breaths. He trails inside, eyebrows still knitted together. "I'll be back in a minute— i'm not the lead on this case," Shoupe informs him.

"Nadia's still here," Rafe nods towards the door, voice coming across as more of a statement rather than a question. Shoupe nods. He doesn't say anything else, just leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

They were like a mirrors image of each other. Nadia hadn't even see him, but she was shifting uncomfortably in the quiet room, almost like she could feel him from across the hall. Detective McCloskey had set down her coffee in front of her before Shoupe had reappeared, the two falling into a quiet discussion.

"You think you can sit tight here?" Aidan hums.

She raises an eyebrow, "do I have a choice?"

He hangs his head in a low chuckle, nodding, "good point."

And then she was alone again. throwing her head back in a small groan. Her phone started buzzing from her jacket pocket, Phoebe's name flashing across the screen. "Hey."

"Hi Nads, everything okay in there?" Her voice was shaky, it was obvious she had been crying. "I'm fine— I don't know how much longer i'll be here maybe you two should head home," Nadia murmurs. "Gavin left. I'm just sitting outside," the Sinclair girl grumbles. "Are you two okay?" the brunette wonders quietly. "Don't worry about that, I'll talk to you about it later— it's not important, i'll wait for you here okay?" Phoebe trails off by the end, and Nadia could hear someone distantly talking to her. Phoebe's voice was muffled now, clear her phone was away from her ear, "Grace, hi," was all she could really make out. She lets out a small breath, pinching in between her eyebrows. "Nadia i'll see you in a bit okay, love you," Phoebe breaths, and Nadia couldn't help the way the corners of her mouth turned up. "Love you too."

    Phoebe Sinclair was truly an angel sent from heaven at her ability to make everything seem okay.

    "Rafe— we've got some information about a man that showed up at the Kennedy residence approximately two years ago. He was angry, and it's been made clear to us that you told him to leave. Did you know him?" McCloskey didn't waste anytime when he entered Rafe's interview room, and Rafe eyes narrowed slightly.

    "Sorry and you are?" he mutters.

    "Apologies— Detective McCloskey, lead investigator," he nods, hand reached out across the table, to which Rafe dismisses with a quirked eyebrow. Rafe was never very good with outsiders of Kildare Island.

    "— but yeah he came to the house, was shouting the minute he pulled up. Nadia was scared, told him to leave," he grumbles.

    "What was he shouting about?"

    "Looking for Eli— he wasn't home," Rafe shrugs.

    "Okay, listen Rafe, I know you don't know me, you're not in any trouble, we just need to know more details about this incident, did you know the man?" Aidan nods.

    Rafe exhales heavily, "it wasn't a man it was just a stupid kid, he barely knew how to hold a gun—" he clicks his fingers, recalling the name of the boy, "Adam Carter."

    "And what was he so angry about?"

    Rafe grazes a hand over his eyes, sighing. He glances between the two officers in front of him for a moment. "I don't know, I guess Eli owed him money."

    "Sounds like you know more than you're bargaining for," Aidan raises his eyebrows. And Rafe narrows his eyes, shaking his head.

    He pinches between his brows, like he was contemplating how worth it what he was going to tell them would be.

    He takes a heavy breath before he continues, both of their stares urging him, it was clear now he had more to share. "Look— Eli came to me. He needed help. And he needed money, I leant him some— but he must have blew it all alright?"

   "Jesus Rafe," Shoupe breaths, shaking his head, "why didn't you come forward with this sooner."

   "Adam's just a kid— he was angry but I sorted it out okay? Nadia was terrified so I payed him off— told him never to come by again, so yeah. I didn't think it was important," he points to himself, and then glances down at the notepad the younger officer was writing in.

    He knew it was important. But Rafe was selfish when it came to her. She would have hated that he didn't come to her about it. But he would have given every penny he had to his name if it meant she wasn't involved with a drug deal gone bad.

   "And that's all you know?" McCloskey doubted.

   "That's it— I payed him off, he never came around again," he mutters.

    Shoupe nods.

    "I gotta ask Rafe what sort of relationship do you have with Nadia Kennedy?" McCloskey quizzes, and it even had Shoupe's head turning to look at him strangely.

    "I don't think that's any of your business, Detective," Rafe seethed.

    "So it didn't make you angry that Eli would put Nadia in danger like that," McCloskey's words were bland. Rafe's head turning in a warning manner, "what the hell are you implying?" he spits.

    Detective McCloskey leans back, tapping his pen against the table, "Let me reiterate— you payed off the kid that came by the house— because it scared Nadia, right?"

    "Right," Rafe grits.

    "You clearly have a lot of feelings for her to do something like that? How far exactly would you say you would go for Nadia Kennedy," his words were taunting, and it was clear he was trying to get a rise out of the Cameron boy.

    "McCloskey," Shoupe warns.

    "I'm just trying to understand the real depth of his and Nadia's relationship— answer the question Rafe, how far would you go," Aidan continues, leaning forward to get his point across.

    Rafe's knuckles were practically white from squeezing the edge of the table so hard, a bitter laugh echoing against the walls, "are you accusing me of something, McCloskey?" his voice was calm, but his expression said different, a threatening look in his still narrowed eyes.

    "Alright— Detective can I speak to you outside. Now," Shoupe suddenly mutters, wasting no time in standing up, pointing towards the door.

    Shoupe had practically forced him out of the room, their hushed whispers heard just outside the door, "are you crazy, Detective," Shoupe hisses. "It was a valid question?" he shrugs.

    "I don't know what way you do things back home— but we sure as hell don't throw accusations like that out around here. I think we're done here for the day," Shoupe nods firmly, nodding for him to return back to his makeshift desk.

    "—We'll call them both back in tomorrow," he adds.

   He runs a hand over his forehead watching the younger police officer mutter under his breath, returning back to his desk with furrowed brows. "I really should have retired," Shoupe grumbles.

    He knocks on the door across from him gently, Nadia's head springing up from where she was half falling asleep in her hands.

   "Nadia— i'm sorry to keep you, but we've had to cut today short. We will need you in again soon," he nods.

    Her brows knit together, nodding slowly, "right— yeah okay," she grumbles.

    She throws her bag over her shoulder, brushing past the officer who was holding the door open for her, moving cautiously. "We'll keep you updated."

    She politely thanked him before he walked away from her, pulling the clear doors open for herself before her name was called from behind her.

    "Nadia— thanks for coming in," she watches as he moves towards her, pulling something from his back pocket, offering it to her. She was slightly jittery in knowing she could run into Rafe at any moment, shifting around on her feet.

    She purses her lips, looking between his face and the card. "—You know just in case you need anything," he nods.

    She stifles a laugh, cheeks flared, "thanks."

    "Rafe, thanks for coming in— we will need to speak to you again but I think we're done here for the day," Shoupe opens the door only slightly to call into him.

   "Yeah, thanks Shoupe, i'm so glad you got what you were looking for. Who is this asshole anyway?" he berates, arms flailing as he moves past him, that scowl still etched across his lips.

    "I know, i'm sorry about that— i'll speak to him," Shoupe nods.

    Rafe had stopped just as he barely made it out of the door, watching the Kennedy girl take the little card that was being held out to her. They were both laughing.

    He watches as she turns around after that, freezing and the smile dropping entirely from her face when she meets his eye. "Hey," he breaths. She felt like she was going to throw up. She couldn't even find her words, and she cringed at herself when she just quickly brushed past him, shaky hands pushing the glass doors.

He runs a hand over his head, screwing his eyes shut. "Nadia, please talk to me," he mutters.

She heard him loud and clear. But she only had her eyes set on Phoebe now, who was sitting on the front steps just outside the station, twirling her red hair around her finger. "Nadi, please," he says again, voice pleading. She barely turns to look at him. She wasn't sure she could. She was going to open her mouth to speak, tell him maybe another time, but Grace had bet her to it, practically throwing her arms around his neck, asking how the interview went.

He didn't even respond to his wife, just aimlessly staring as Nadia gave him one last glance, deciding that was her queue to leave it. Grace had sure noticed. And she fell quiet again. She had been trying to talk about what it meant that Nadia Kennedy was home for a few days now. He dismissed her every time.

The Kennedy girl's heart was pounding. Just hearing him call her that again had her sucking in a breath, palms getting sweaty and closing her eyes the minute the fresh air hit her skin.

She didn't look back even once while he was staring after her. But if she had it would have turned her to mush. He looked eighteen again, hair messy and shirt untucked and that soft pleading look in his eye as if he didn't have his wife trying to get his attention.

    It didn't really matter to him. Nothing else did. He had been waiting two goddamn years just for one more second to look at her again.

bellas thoughts/
popping chapters out like i dont have a full time job.
i had some time off so i had a lot of time to write, expect another chapter mid week as im back to work now for the next few days <3
let me know what u think x