Chapter Text
Jeremy
JJ and Jeremy stepped out of the police station, the bright sunlight contrasting sharply with the heavy, oppressive tension that had clung to them inside. The door closed behind them with a hollow thud, but the weight of the situation stayed firmly on JJ's shoulders. They walked side by side down the cracked pavement, the air between them thick with unspoken words. JJ hated silence; it was a void where the worst thoughts festered. So, he broke it.
"Do you believe this shit?" JJ muttered, his voice low but filled with bitter venom. "Kooks, man. They think they can do whatever they want. Kill my dad, then call me his son because he doesn't want to go to jail." His sneer deepened, and he kicked a loose stone on the sidewalk.
Jeremy glanced sideways at him, trying to gauge how far JJ was from completely losing it. "I mean, not everything would be bad. If you're Ward Cameron's son, you'll be a Kook yourself," he joked, his tone light but cautious, hoping to defuse the tension.
JJ's head snapped around, his eyes blazing. "Fuck him I will not be a Kook. I will not be Ward Cameron's son." He spat the words out like they tasted bitter. "He killed my father, Jeremy. Do you believe his made-up story? No chance."
Jeremy held up his hands, trying to keep the peace. "I mean...he could be right, JJ. We don't know the whole story."
JJ laughed harshly, a sound devoid of humor. "Oh, right. Because Luke Maybank was a bad guy, Ward must be the hero now? Yeah, that makes perfect sense." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "The DNA test will come back, and we'll see."
He turned abruptly, walking away with quick, angry strides.
"Where are you going?" Jeremy called after him.
"Home. I need to grab some stuff," JJ replied without looking back.
Jeremy frowned. "I'll come with you."
JJ shook his head, his pace quickening. "No. I want some time alone to think."
Jeremy stopped, watching JJ's retreating figure. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Only JJ would turn something like this into a one-man battle. Opening up wasn't his style; asking for help even less so. He wouldn't accept any offers of support, and he sure as hell wouldn't ask for it. Jeremy knew that better than anyone.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way home, his thoughts swirling. By the time he reached the house, his mind felt as heavy as his steps. As he opened the door, he was greeted by the familiar sight of John B, Kiara, and Pope sprawled on the couches, their conversation pausing as he walked in.
"You're here," John B said, grinning. "Where's JJ? We were thinking of going out on the boat, maybe catch some fish today." His smile was wide, carefree—completely out of place in the current reality.
Jeremy sighed, dropping his bag by the door. "I don't think that's a good idea."
The mood in the room shifted instantly. Pope leaned forward, worry etched on his face. "What's wrong?"
Kiara and John B exchanged anxious glances. The carefree atmosphere evaporated like mist under the harsh sun.
"JJ's father died last night," Jeremy said, the words heavy, each one like a stone dropped into still water.
Kiara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. John B's eyes widened in shock. Pope's jaw dropped, his face pale.
"What happened?" John B's voice was tight, urgent.
Jeremy held up a hand, cutting off any more questions. "It's a long story, so let me get through it. No interruptions." He waited until they nodded, then took a deep breath. "Ward Cameron killed Luke last night."
The room erupted.
"What?" Kiara's voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Impossible!" John B's disbelief echoed through the room.
Jeremy slammed his hand on the back of a chair. "Shut up. I'm not in the mood for interruptions. Ward Cameron killed Luke and turned himself in. He says it was self-defense." He took another deep breath, steadying himself. "Ward went to Luke's house because...he thinks JJ is his son. Jackson."
The silence that followed was deafening. The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to comprehend.
Pope broke the silence. "Wait...what? How?"
Jeremy's shoulders slumped. "Apparently, Luke killed Larissa—Ward's wife, Sarah's mother—and Kidnapped their baby son, Jackson. Ward thinks JJ is Jackson."
John B ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide with disbelief. "Well, that's...heavy shit."
Jeremy scoffed. "Tell me about it. Think about what's going on in JJ's mind right now." He walked to the fridge, pulling out a beer and popping the cap off with practiced ease.
Pope's voice was quiet but steady. "So...is JJ really Jackson?"
Jeremy took a long swig, then shook his head. "Nobody knows yet. They took a DNA test from JJ and Ward. We'll find out soon enough."
John B's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "So, there's a chance JJ is...Sarah's brother?"
Jeremy rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "JJ's dad is dead. I don't think he cares about that right now."
Kiara's voice was soft, filled with worry. "He'll be heartbroken."
Jeremy's laugh was bitter. "Oh, no. JJ doesn't get sad. He likes to pretend everything's normal .he's stubborn as a mule." He looked at each of them in turn. "And listen—no one mention the whole 'Ward's son' thing. He won't believe it. He'll just get mad."
Kiara frowned. "So, what? We just pretend everything's normal?"
Jeremy nodded. "Yeah. That's exactly what I mean. I'll handle JJ. You guys...just act normal. That's what he wants."
The room fell into a heavy silence. No one knew what to say. The storm was coming, and they all knew it.
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Chris
Chris Genrette drove up the long, winding driveway to the Cameron estate, the tires crunching over gravel as he approached the imposing house. The evening sky hung heavy with clouds, matching the weight in his chest. The news he carried wasn't easy, but his confidence in Ward's release was unshakable. He couldn't stop thinking about the striking resemblance—JJ had his sister's eyes. The sea hadn't taken Larissa and her baby after all. Little Jackson had survived, and now, after all these years, the truth was surfacing.
He parked and stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket. The Cameron house loomed large and silent, a fortress of wealth and secrets. He knocked once before opening the door and stepping inside, the familiar scent of the home greeting him—polished wood, expensive leather, and a faint hint of Sarah's favorite vanilla candles.
Inside, Sarah lounged on the couch, the flicker of the TV casting a soft glow over the room. She glanced up at the sound of the door and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Uncle Chris!" She jumped up, a bright smile breaking across her face as she hurried over to hug him. "What are you doing here? It's not that I don't want you here, but my dad isn't home."
Chris returned the hug, squeezing her shoulders gently. "Oh, I know where your father is," he said, his tone calm but measured.
Sarah pulled back, a frown creasing her brow. "What's wrong? Did something happen to my dad?"
Chris nodded solemnly. "Yes. It's about your father, but he's fine. Don't worry." He glanced around the room. "Where's Rafe?"
Sarah called out, her voice carrying through the spacious house. "Rafe! Come here. Uncle Chris wants to talk to us."
They waited, the silence stretching between them. Chris's eyes darted around, taking in the family portraits lining the walls—images of a perfect, curated life. Footsteps echoed from the staircase, and Rafe appeared, descending the steps with an air of detached curiosity.
"What are you doing here, Uncle?" Rafe asked, his voice cool, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Chris took a deep breath. "I have some news. It's not good, but everything will be okay." He met Rafe's gaze steadily. "Your dad is in police custody."
Sarah's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "What? Why?"
Rafe's expression hardened, his jaw tightening. He stared at Chris as if trying to decipher a puzzle. "What happened?"
Chris raised a hand, trying to reassure them. "Nothing serious. He'll be out soon when everything clears up. Don't worry. I'll make sure of that."
Sarah's eyes searched his face, desperate for answers. "But what happened? Why would they arrest him?"
Chris shook his head. "I don't think I'm the one who should tell you. You need to hear it from your father. Go to the station and visit him. He'll explain everything."
Rafe's eyes narrowed. "Why the secrecy? If you know something, just tell us."
Chris placed a firm hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Some things are better coming from him. Trust me on this." His voice softened. "Your father has always looked out for this family. He'll handle it."
Sarah swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "Are you coming with us?"
Chris shook his head. "No, dear. I need to go see your grandfather. There are some things I need to discuss with him."
Rafe's eyes flicked to Sarah, then back to Chris. He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders evident. "Get ready quickly, Sarah. I'll wait for you in the car." His voice was low, clipped, as he walked past Chris and out the door.
Chris watched him go, his heart heavy. He knew the storm that was coming, the truths that would unravel. He turned back to Sarah, offering a reassuring smile. "Stay strong. Your father will explain everything."
Sarah nodded, blinking back tears. "I hope you're right."
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Rafe
Rafe drove toward the police station, his grip tight on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening with the tension that matched the silence between them. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, fidgeting, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her thigh. Every slight movement, every sigh, grated on Rafe's nerves.
"You have to stop moving," he snapped, his voice sharp and irritated. "Dad will be fine. Stop worrying."
Sarah shot him an icy glare, her eyes flashing with frustration. "Shut up, Rafe. You don't know what's going on." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her body rigid with tension.
"Neither do you," he shot back, eyes fixed on the road. "So just... stop."
The rest of the drive was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional swish of the wipers against the windshield. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken fears and unanswered questions.
Finally, Rafe pulled into the station's parking lot, the car jerking slightly as he stopped. They climbed out without another word, their footsteps echoing in the quiet lot. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow. The woman at the reception desk looked up as they approached.
"We're here to see Ward Cameron," Rafe said, his voice flat.
The receptionist nodded and spoke quietly into a phone. Moments later, a deputy appeared and led them down a narrow corridor to the detention cells. The echo of their footsteps followed them, the air growing heavier with each step. Sarah's heart pounded in her chest as they rounded a corner, and there he was—Ward Cameron, sitting on a metal bench inside the small, bleak cell.
"Dad," Sarah breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Ward stood and moved to the edge of the cell, gripping the iron bars. His eyes, softer than they had ever seen, met theirs. "Hey, Sarah. Rafe."
Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "What's happening, Dad? Why are you here?"
"Look, it was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was self-defense. Believe me." ward siad
Rafe's jaw clenched. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with a dangerous edge.
Ward took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on the bars. "I killed Luke Maybank. But it wasn't what it sounds like. He attacked me."
Sarah's gasp was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Rafe's face went pale, his eyes wide with shock. "What?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.
"There's more," Ward continued, his voice strained. "Luke... he killed your mother. And he kidnapped Jackson—your brother. He didn't die like we thought. He was taken."
Sarah's legs felt weak, and she reached out, gripping the bars for support. "Oh my god," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"JJ Maybank... he's not JJ Maybank. His real name is Jackson James Cameron. He's my son. Your brother."
Rafe staggered back a step, his mind reeling. The world tilted on its axis. "You're saying... JJ is... a Cameron?" The words felt foreign, wrong, bitter on his tongue. "A Pogue?" He shook his head, the idea almost too much to process. "You've got to be kidding me."
Sarah wiped at her tears, trying to find solid ground in the chaos. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Ward nodded solemnly. "No. Not yet. They took a DNA test. We'll know soon enough. But Luke... Luke himself told me. I believe him. There's a great chance it's true."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. The truth, or the possibility of it, hung in the air like a storm cloud.
"What's going to happen, Dad?" Sarah finally asked, her voice small, fragile.
Ward reached through the bars, his eyes fixed on hers. "Go home," he said, his voice low, steady. "Don't worry. Everything is under control."
Rafe stared at his father, doubt and anger warring in his eyes. "How can you say that? Everything's falling apart."
Ward's gaze didn't waver. "Trust me. Go home. Stay out of this. I'll handle it."
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Sarah
The golden hues of the sunset stretched across the sky, casting a warm, almost surreal glow over the beach. The waves rolled gently, their rhythmic crash against the shore a soothing background to the tension hanging in the air. Sarah sat on a weathered driftwood log, her eyes fixed on the horizon, lost in thought. The wind tugged at her hair, carrying the salty scent of the ocean.
She glanced up when she heard footsteps in the sand. John B approached, his silhouette dark against the fading light. He didn't say a word as he sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her gently to his side. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the sun dip lower, its colors bleeding into the ocean.
"Did you hear about what happened?" Sarah finally asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
John B nodded, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Yeah. I heard." His tone was low, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm around them.
"Is JJ okay?" Sarah's voice trembled, and she turned her head to look at him, searching his face for any reassurance.
John B sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. He disappeared this morning. Went off somewhere, hasn't come back yet." He glanced at her, his eyes filled with a quiet concern. "But he'll be okay. You know JJ—he's tough."
Sarah swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "I can't believe any of this happened. It feels like a nightmare." Her voice broke slightly, and she clutched her hands in her lap. "Do you think... do you think JJ will hate me?"
John B turned to face her more fully, his eyes softening. "No, no. He won't. Sarah, this isn't your fault. None of it is." He squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to anchor her in the moment. "JJ knows that."
"But it was self-defense," Sarah insisted, her voice rising a little. "It wasn't my father's fault either. He was protecting himself."
John B hesitated, his eyes searching hers. "Sure." The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken doubt.
"You don't believe that." Sarah's voice was quiet but accusatory, her eyes narrowing slightly.
John B sighed, looking back out at the ocean. The waves crashed, their endless rhythm somehow comforting. "I don't know what to believe, Sarah. But you have to admit, there's something weird about this whole story. It doesn't add up."
Sarah nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "Yeah. There's something weird about it. But... if JJ really is Jackson—my brother..." She paused, the word feeling strange on her tongue. "At least something good will come out of this. Right?" She leaned her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his presence.
John B rested his chin on the top of her head, his voice soft. "I guess. But can you imagine JJ and Rafe living together?" He let out a short, almost bitter laugh. "They'll kill each other."
Sarah pulled back slightly, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips. "Oh shit. I didn't even think about that." Her smile faded quickly, replaced by a somber expression. "This is going to change everything, isn't it?"
John B nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah. It will." He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "But we'll get through it. Whatever happens, we'll face it together."
The sun slipped below the horizon, the sky deepening into shades of purple and orange. The world around them seemed to hold its breath, the ocean stretching endlessly into the darkening sky. For a moment, the weight of everything—the lies, the truths, the uncertainty—felt almost bearable, wrapped in the quiet promise of the setting sun.
"We'll get through it," Sarah whispered, more to herself than to him. But in that moment, sitting on the edge of the world, it felt like a prayer, a hope she desperately needed to believe.
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Jeremy
Jeremy sat on the worn couch in his living room, the dim light from a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. He couldn't take his eyes off the clock ticking softly above the mantel. The sun had set hours ago, and darkness had completely blanketed the town. The faint sound of Big John bustling in the kitchen provided a backdrop to his mounting anxiety.
Big John's voice broke through the silence. "Where's JJ?" he asked, his tone casual but tinged with concern as he stirred a pot of soup.
"I haven't seen him since we left the police station," Jeremy replied, his fingers nervously tapping the armrest.
Big John turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. "Where'd he go?"
Jeremy hesitated, biting his lower lip. "He said he needed to grab some stuff from his house... and that he wanted some time alone." He glanced at his father, his expression betraying the guilt he felt.
Big John set the wooden spoon down with a heavy sigh. "Do you think it's a good idea for him to be alone right now?"
Jeremy shook his head, his knee bouncing anxiously. "No, no, it's not a good idea. But... I didn't want to push him, you know? I want him to feel like he can come to me. I don't want him to be mad at me for not giving him space."
Big John crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. "Sometimes, it's not about what he wants, Jeremy. It's about what he needs. And right now, I don't think space is what he needs."
Jeremy sighed deeply, rubbing his face with both hands. "Yeah, you're right. Damn it." He stood up abruptly, grabbing his jacket. "I'll go get him. I can't wait anymore."
Big John nodded approvingly. "Good. Be careful, kid."
Jeremy didn't respond as he grabbed his bike and pedaled into the cool night. The streets were eerily quiet, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore the only noise accompanying him. His mind raced as he made his way to JJ's house, the image of JJ's forced smiles and heavy silence at the police station haunting him.
When he arrived at the Maybank house, the windows were dark except for a faint glow from the living room. Jeremy parked his bike and approached the door cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. He pushed the door open gently, stepping inside to find JJ sprawled on the living room couch.
JJ's head tilted back, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he stared at the ceiling. On the coffee table in front of him was a small, scattered pile of white powder. A single bloodstain marred the carpet, a grim reminder of the events that had unfolded.
"Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy," JJ said with a strange, almost euphoric smile, his voice slurred. He sat up unsteadily and gestured toward him. "Come here. I was just thinkin' about you."
Jeremy froze, his eyes darting between JJ and the cocaine on the table. "What the hell, JJ? Is this what you needed? To get high?" He crossed the room in quick strides, his voice sharp with disappointment. "I thought you said you didn't do hard shit!"
JJ's grin faltered, and he slumped back against the couch, avoiding Jeremy's gaze. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered.
"Like what?" Jeremy demanded, his arms crossed.
"Like I'm disappointing you," JJ said softly, his voice cracking.
Jeremy let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You need to get your shit together, JJ. I'm not letting you fall into this mess. Not now, not ever."
JJ just sighed, kicking off his shoes and curling up on the couch. After a moment, he looked up at Jeremy with a faint pout, his expression oddly childlike. "Play with my hair," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Like you used to do when we were kids."
Jeremy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in JJ's voice. Slowly, he sat down beside him, his hand hesitating before it found its way to JJ's messy blond hair. He ruffled it gently, feeling JJ relax under his touch.
"I'm not okay," JJ admitted after a long silence.
"I know," Jeremy said softly.
"But I will be," JJ said, forcing a shaky smile.
Jeremy's throat tightened. "You think so?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Because I got you." JJ's words were slurred, but the sincerity in his voice made Jeremy's chest ache.
Jeremy managed a sad smile. "Yeah. You got me."
"I love you," JJ said, turning his head to look at Jeremy with glassy, wide eyes.
"I love you too, JJ," Jeremy replied, his voice warm but tinged with sadness.
"No, I mean... I love you," JJ said, his words slow, deliberate. "Like... you're the most important person in my life. Nobody else matters. Just you."
Jeremy froze, his hand stilling in JJ's hair. "JJ, you're high."
JJ shook his head weakly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I mean it. I love you so much it hurts. Here." He placed a trembling hand over his chest. "You're perfect. I don't know how you put up with me, but you do. And I don't wanna ruin you... 'cause I ruin everything I touch."
"JJ..." Jeremy's voice wavered.
JJ looked at him with a hazy, unfocused intensity. "WhenI look at your lips, all I wanna do is kiss you. But I can't. I can't ruin you like that."
Jeremy swallowed hard, his emotions swirling in a storm of confusion and heartbreak. He didn't know what to say, so he just stayed there, his hand gently threading through JJ's hair.
After a long pause, JJ buried his face in Jeremy's stomach, his voice muffled. "Can we stay here tonight? I don't want to go to your house."
"Yeah. Of course," Jeremy whispered, his hand resting on JJ's back. "But let's get you to your room first, okay?"
JJ nodded weakly, and Jeremy helped him up, guiding him down the hallway. When JJ finally collapsed onto his bed, Jeremy turned to leave, but JJ grabbed his hand.
"Don't go," JJ mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Jeremy hesitated before climbing into the bed next to him. JJ immediately wrapped his arms around him, holding on like he was afraid Jeremy might disappear.
"I'm not going anywhere," Jeremy murmured, his voice steady even as his heart ached. "I promise."