vibrant

twenty two; stress relief

Ophelia sits in one of the middle seats of Kiara's subaru, fiddling with her fingers as her mind races. John B sits beside her, with Pope and Jj in the back. Night had fallen, and John B told them what had happened at the airstrip.

Rafe Cameron shot Sheriff Peterkin.

The thought of it sends chills up Ophelia's spine. She never thought he would escalate that badly. Sure, Rafe gets into fights, and lives to antagonize just about anybody, but the thought of him shooting someone seemed far beyond reality.

Then again, at one point finding five hundred million dollars in gold seemed crazy, too.

"John B, what are we doing at the police station?" Jj suddenly asks, snapping Ophelia away from her thoughts, she looks out the window, seeing the building and feeling a frown on her features. Her hear beats a little faster, she isn't a big fan of cops, they make her nervous.

"Somebody's gotta tell them what happened," John B mumbles.

Then, Pope starts a marijuana induced coughing fit, and Ophelia turns to look at him as Jj croons "Easy there, chief. Damn," Then, he leans forward, placing a hand on John B's shoulder, "Alright, I'm just gonna be real with you right now. You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental, just like my old man always told me; You should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."

"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kiara deadpans from the driver's seat.

Ophelia presses her lips into a thin line, "Yeah, J, I don't know how sound his advice is."

Jj puts his head down, nodding slightly, "Fair point," He mutters.

"I agree with Jj," Pope grumbles, holding the end of a blunt, "Fuck the police."

Kiara looks over her shoulder at Pope, "You goin' to the darkside now?"

Ophelia sighs, resting against her seats headrest, she looks over at John B, "We corrupted him," She sadly whispers, and John B gives her a small nod.

"When's the last time the police ever helped us?" Pope asks, irritated.

"Peterkin looked out for me, alright?" John B suddenly snaps, "Tried to, at least. They need to know."

John B slowly opens his door, hopping out. Ophelia sighs to herself, undoing her seatbelt, "I'm going with him," She says, opening her own door, "'Make sure he's alright." With a small 'Okay,' from the three Pogues, Ophelia slams the car door closed, and jogs up to John B, who is hesitating by the stairs.

"Ophelia?" John B wonders, looking down at the blonde as she takes ahold of his arm, rubbing it gently, "What are you doing?"

"I told you," Ophelia shrugs, "We're family. You don't have to do this alone."

John B gives her a weak smile, using his free hand to pat hers before they head up the steps together, "Thank you."

When they step through the doors, John B is visibly tense, and Ophelia keeps her grip on his arm. There's a radio blaring as they enter the station, "Adam, at the clinic. Peterkin's still in the ER." Ophelia and John B share a grim look before they step forward.

"Advise if you need air tran. Copy," The woman at the desk says into a hand piece, earning a "Copy that," from the radio.

"Uh, excuse me?" Ophelia softly says, watching as the woman harshly taps at the device in front of her. She doesn't look up. Ophelia doesn't see a name tag so she just clears her throat.