Behind the psycho || Rafe Cameron x Reader || OBX fanfic

twenty-eight

I was hauling myself up the stairs, my thighs burning. My breath caught as I finally got to the top and saw a dozen people pulling at a rope, a corner of the shiny cross coming into view. What the hell happened?

But as soon as I saw him, I raced. The sun was hurting my face, but it didn't stop the tears from escaping my eyes. I wasn't sure why I was crying -- maybe because I was relieved that Rafe was fine. Or afraid of what he had done with that gun in his hand. Or dreading the fact that I didn't want to know.

He turned to me before I curved my arms around him. I knew he wasn't hurt, but the possibility had bit at me. I felt him let out a deep breath before cupping his hand behind my neck tightly. He still hadn't let go of the gun, and yet it didn't bother me -- not in the way it should've...

"It's not over," he whispered the unspoken truth. 

Rafe pulled away and looked over to the water. I followed his gaze and watched as a small smudge of black got smaller and smaller. I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen. So I guess it's true what they say -- a Pogue never dies. 

I felt suddenly at ease and watched the sparkling waves of the ocean dance. I imagined drawing the ocean as a kid, and the colourful fishes and mermaids I had drawn. The way I was so sure that Ariel had been real and Eric was a prince and the good guys always win and Ursula had lost. 

Maybe Rafe had won a battle, but the war was still not over. And even then, perhaps he will win the war, but is he the good guy? Does he deserve it?

I looked back at Rafe and remembered a quote from a book I had once read: "There is no such thing as bad people, for we are all people who do bad things." 

And she was right.

"What do you think happens next?" he said, still turned to the water. His hair was nearly blonde under the bright sun and reminded me of years ago when it was exactly this colour before it grew darker.

"Whatever needs to happen, will happen," I said honestly. He looked at me nervously. "But what happens next is up to you." 

* * * * *

Rafe*

My heart was pounding as I stood in front of a door. I had never felt this afraid of my father in my whole life. Before I could walk away, I twisted the knob and went in.

Instead of seeing him sitting on a chair with a glass of brandy, I saw him bruised, on a sickbed. Bandages wrapped around his forehead, and a giant gash on his cheek. 

"Hey, Dad," I said and sat on the bed next to him. He looked at me with weak eyes as I bit my nail. The more I waited, the more the guilt tripped in. My father was hurt because of them -- and I didn't have the guts to end it. "You're gonna be fine," I licked my lips. "It's gonna be all good, alright?" He only grunted in reply and it only made everything worse. I clenched my jaw, "I got the cross...a-and the gold," I waved my hand. "We got everything." I tried smiling with pride. Ward looked at me with glassy eyes before turning to the window, only the sky in view. I knew what he was thinking. And even though I wanted to ignore it, it was impossible. My smile vanished.

It was always impossible for him to put everything that we had accomplished together above my sister. It was old news now, but the pain hadn't changed. "We'll find her," I forced through my teeth. "I'll bring her back. I promise." Now, he looked at me -- a small glint of hope glittered in his eyes. "It'll be just like you wanted." A sudden rush of courage came through me. "While you're down, I'll step up." He nodded. I squeezed his hand. "I'll be a better man, Dad. I swear I'll--" I took a breath, "I'll get her back," I added quietly, "for you."