- Trigger warning for Panic attacks -

The sun had just begun to crest over the ocean's horizon when Bea and JJ arrived at the empty beach. 

Morning light warmed their skin, golden light glinting off the blue sea, leaving Bea's heart thumping against her chest like a battering ram. Even with JJ's hand in hers, his presence a constant reassurance, it couldn't combat that which was haunting her every step. Deep fears were clawing their way up from her stomach and into her throat. 

They were terrors that had been around for longer than she liked to remember, whispered voices and phantom hands on her shoulder, all promising the worst should she so much as step a foot into the waves. 

If those nightmares were darkness, the boy beside her was pure light. 

For all his insecurities and perceived failures, JJ Maybank had a heart of pure gold. It was there for anyone who cared to look. Few gave him a second glance or a second chance, painting him with the same brush as his father. But it was undeserved. Not a selfish bone existed in JJ's body. Every inch of him yearned to provide the care and love he had never received. 

Bea knew how lucky she was to receive his attention, fretted over, and paid attention to no matter what was happening around them. JJ might not have been anyone's priority, but he made sure his friends were always number one in his life. 

Still, it was hard to feel safe even with JJ holding her. Childhood fears were more potent than any buoy of courage JJ could offer. 

She felt JJ's eyes on her as she slipped out of her shorts and t-shirt, dropping them into a pile on top of her flowery orange tote bag. If he was watching the shaking of her hands or the sweat that had begun to pool on her forehead, Bea didn't know. But she was worrying him. That much was clear with just his furrowed brow and pursed lips. 

"Don't look at me like that," Bea muttered, her trembling only worsening as she ran out of things to do. She refused to look at JJ or the water before them, instead setting her eyes firmly on the sandy ground. 

"You don't have to do this," he assured, hands rising to cup Bea's cheeks, "no one will judge you, Bea."

JJ knew Bea, every inch of her had been appraised by his loving hands and roaming eyes, but even he couldn't decipher the darkest part of her mind that housed all which haunted her nights. 

She couldn't explain to him that it wasn't the judgment of others that pushed her to take the first terrifying step but her own. A voice that sounded suspiciously like her own taunted Bea, shaming her for such a stupid fear. Every time Bea felt her legs binding and lungs shrinking when the HMS Pogue turned a corner too fast, or she had to watch her friends face the dangers of the ocean alone, a little piece of her confidence shattered. 

The last straw was watching JJ fly off the boat and into the water. 

But she couldn't explain that to him, not in the way she wanted to. 

JJ had gotten a small taste of her thoughts the morning before, but Bea was too afraid to let him any deeper. Instead, she would end it before it started; there was nothing to share if she was no longer afraid. 

Right?

Bea's gaze flittered to JJ's, eyes squinting against the rising sun and its blinding rays, "I'm not putting this off anymore, JJ. Can we just get this over with?"

Her words came off harsher than she'd like, but they managed to silence any further argument from JJ. Instead, he offered her a small, reconciling smile before taking her hand and guiding the shaking girl toward the water's edge. 

Each step felt heavier than the last, as if Bea was wearing lead-lined shoes that were made to drag her down to the very depths of the sea. She could feel the air in her lungs dissipating, each breath shallower than the last. Bea gripped JJ's hands with renewed strength after each step. He was her only connection to the world away from her fear, a lifeline that would never let go.

As their track down the beach ended, JJ turned so that his back faced the horizon, grabbing Bea's forearms with his hands. His grip was tight but not uncomfortable, and Bea knew it was for her own benefit. 

She fought the urge to flinch as the waves began to lap at her ankles, calm but still enough to trigger memories of dark nights on a riverbank when she was little more than a baby. 

With each flash of memory, Bea tried to look into JJ's eyes. They were so different than the water that had nearly been her grave, shimmering blue where that had been muddy green. Bea imagined she was swimming in those eyes, the pools of electric blue, shallow and welcoming, where the ocean around her was echoing and unknowable.

The water began to deepen around her, rising from Bea's ankles to her knees. Her mind started working in overdrive, trying desperately to catch up on the excess stimuli surrounding her. 

Sand between her toes and salt on her skin, JJ's firm grip on her arms, it all left Bea feeling unsteady. 

Out of instinct, she pulled closer to JJ, her hands snaking up his shoulders. If her clinginess bothered him, the blond boy didn't say a word. He was the picture of calm, whispering words of encouragement to Bea with each shaky step. 

Despite the pounding in her heart and the anxious need to pull at her hair or scratch at her hands, Bea felt the oncoming sensation of pride. She was nearly waist-deep in the water, no longer quivering at each wave that brushed against her hips. 

But it was a short-lived victory. 

A wave, bigger than before, came roaring in their direction. It was by no means a giant, at least not to anyone who felt comfortable in the water, but to Bea, it was akin to a tsunami. Despite only reaching her shoulders, the wall of water was enough to knock Bea off the tightrope she had been carefully crossing. 

Any calm she managed to cultivate was lost, and Bea was thrown again into the worst night of her childhood. Her father's glinting face above her, obscured by darkness and water, the smell of alcohol, like a nauseating perfume, was overpowering. It wasn't JJ holding her anymore. She wasn't swimming in the ocean with the boy she so dearly loved. 

Bea was a little girl again, a child facing death at the hands of someone who was meant to protect her. 

It took her a moment to register that she was screaming, blood-curdling wails that would have sent a shiver down even the stoniest of spines. Bea began to cling to JJ and push away from him in one chaotic moment. Her hands flew out on instinct, eyes shut tightly as if that would make it all disappear. 

How JJ got her out of the water, Bea wasn't sure. All she knew was that between her fits of panic and terror, she went from halfway submerged to being set down gently on the warm sand. 

The ground was solid beneath her body, grains of sand sticking to her wet skin, ripping her from her fear just as much as JJ's voice did, "Bea! Bea, you're safe. I'm here!"

He repeated it over and over again, not stopping until her screaming died down and her flailing stopped. 

Bea opened her eyes, tears flowing freely, as salty as the water she had been sinking below. JJ sat in front of her, his hands shaking violently against the skin of her cheeks. 

All the energy Bea had felt, nervous anticipation and white hot terror, was sapped from her in a thunderous moment. The need to fly or fight was an exhausting one, throwing each and every sense into overdrive. While the world began to come back into view, black tunneled vision giving way to blue skies and pale white clouds, it felt like her tongue had stopped working. Not a word could pass through her lips; Bea could only sink bonelessly into JJ's arms while a sob broke through her tongue-tied mouth. 

Alone on that beach, JJ and Bea sat wrapped in each other's arms, shaking from cold and adrenaline. Nothing could have separated them at that moment, not an earthquake or a hurricane or a tornado; they were bound together by love and circumstance. 

When her crying died down, replaced with small whimpers that tore at JJ's heart, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the truck that had brought them to the beach in the first place. Bea didn't react to the motion, only diving her head deeper into the crook of his neck, unable to gather up any energy or motivation to do anything other than allow herself to be cared for by JJ. 

The world could have come crashing down around them, and Bea wouldn't notice. She was completely and utterly in the hands of JJ. He was her lifeline and her light, and he was slowly becoming her everything. 

Bea could feel herself dissociating as JJ set her on the rough fabric of the car seat, somehow managing to open the door and scoot her towards the passenger side without so much as a missed step. He passed after dropping her off, Bea noticing his careful hesitation out of the corner of her unfocused eyes. Then, in a flash, he disappeared from her periphery, jolting down the beach and returning before she could find the strength to utter a single word. In his hands were all their belongings, which Bea had utterly forgotten about in the moment's chaos. 

If JJ wanted to say anything, he fought the urge and stayed quiet, flickering between worried glances and staring numbly at the road, his fingers beating an anxious tune on the steering wheel. 

The car's engine roared to life beneath them, a comforting rumble hat reassuring Bea that she was safe and on solid land. Each speed bump and pothole soothed the alarm; it meant they were getting farther away from the nightmares she had been forced to relive. 

But not even the comfort of familiar surroundings or JJ's company could fight the feelings that had begun to awaken in Bea. 

Weak. 

It was the only word Bea could use to describe herself. 

She felt resoundingly like a failure, unable to overcome something that had happened so long ago in her childhood. People overcame their youthful fears every day, yet she couldn't so much as look at a body of water without beginning to hyperventilate. 

All Bea wanted was to get over it. 

To be able to go swimming with her friends and look at the sea without being terrified it would engulf her. She wanted to enjoy the summer sun and live her life without the shadow her father cast ever since that starry night in Baton Rouge. 

 When she'd asked JJ for lessons, it felt like the first step had been taken, but Bea didn't expect to take five steps back immediately after. 

JJ. 

He had been perfect. Calm and collected in ways he typically wasn't. The blond boy was there for that first step into the sea, not daring to let go for even a second, and the last thing Bea wanted was for him to feel like he was at fault for her reaction. 

Like so many things in her life, Bea hadn't intended for it to go the way it did. 

She hadn't meant for the panic to overtake her the second a wave got a little too big. It was as if she was a child again, her father's hands like a vice around her shoulders, holding her under without guilt. A bone-deep fear settled in her, and all Bea had the power to do was panic. Her body was not her own, and no conscious thoughts were present save the need to escape and survive. It didn't matter that she was in no real danger. All Bea could do was scream and thrash till JJ got her out of the water. 

As she looked back, slowly recounting the events prior to her sitting in the familiar upholstery of her truck, Bea began to take stock of what exactly had happened. 

She couldn't hear anything when the panic set in. The only sound present was the cacophony of blood rushing in her ears. The pounding of her heart was like a jet engine at full throttle, throwing her balance into disarray. JJ's voice, the one she so loved, was distant, begging her to breathe and promising that all was okay. Flashes of herself weeping in JJ's arms became clearer, no longer hazy with panic. 

Sending a glance in JJ's direction, Bea noticed something else. 

In her panic, Bea had sent a searing scratch at JJ. Two long welts were running down his chest, and all her fear was replaced with disgust. 

Not just for her weakness but for the pain it had caused. 

The one person who had been hurt more than anyone she knew now had a wound of her very own making. Bea's hands had caused him pain, something she swore she'd never do as long as she lived. But the red skin was as clear as day, angry and swollen against his tanned chest and stomach. 

Her mind once again drifted away, trapped in a storm of warring emotions that refused to be silenced. 

JJ stayed silent as he drove back to the Broussard home, keeping a careful eye on Bea while also trying to calm himself from the ordeal. 

Bea's crying, as had the screaming, had waned, but she was clearly somewhere else. Her eyes were glossy and far away as if the real world was far too painful at that moment. She didn't make a sound other than the small gasps for breath that always followed too much crying. They were the worst for JJ; he felt sick each time he heard them. 

Street signs and trees passed them by as Bea's house came into view. Its peeling paint and beds of multicolored flowers were a welcoming sight, worlds away from that beach and the water that called to Bea when her fear was at its strongest. 

It was as if Genevieve Broussard had a sixth sense when it came to her daughter and the boy she had all but adopted. The woman was waiting outside with her arms crossed and a small frown on her face as JJ pulled up in the truck. 

One look at the young boy told Gen all she needed to know, something had gone wrong that morning and not even JJ was able to fix it. 

The second JJ hit the brakes, Genevieve was at the driver's side door, watching as JJ pulled her near catatonic daughter from the car. It was a struggle to move the stiff teenager from her spot on the car seat, but between the two sets of gentle hands, Bea shuffled out of the car. 

There was something sickeningly familiar about her daughter's thousand-yard stare and shaking hands, something Genevieve wished she would never have to see again. The older woman had seen it before in both herself and her daughter, memories of another time when life was crueler, and pain was as common as air. Hugh Decuir had once been the cause of her daughter's glassy eyes and pale skin, but whatever had caused it this time was unknown to the mother. 

Rushing into action, Gen jumped to the other side of her daughter, helping JJ maneuver her unmoving body toward the house, "What happened?" Gen's eyes remained glued on her daughter, but it was JJ who would be forced to answer her. 

"Sh-she wanted to swim, and I..." the words flickered out, and Gen noticed the way JJ's body was handling the stress. There were marks on his chest, red and angry, but the pale wash of his skin and shaking of his hands worried Gen more than anything. 

The two pushed into the house, Genevieve taking the lead and directing the three toward her room on the first floor. It was the easiest to reach. Gen didn't even want to attempt climbing the stairs with Bea between them in her current condition. 

In the time between freeing Bea from the car and sitting her safely on Genevieve's bed, the young woman's eyes had begun to well with salty, hot tears. 

Looking between JJ and Bea, Gen took a deep breath, preparing to handle them like she would two overwhelmed and scared children. She was struck by the sight of them, soaked to the bone and just starting to dry, covered in sand and shaking like leaves in the fall. They were just kids, little more than children who had been forced to grow up too soon, made to face pain that most adults couldn't handle on a good day. 

Gen's first priority was JJ, whose eyes were stuck on Bea's shaking figure, "JJ, you need to take a deep breath."

She gently directed his gaze away from Beatriz, mirroring the soothing breaths she needed him to practice. JJ followed her example, deep inhales and long exhales that left Gen assured he wouldn't pass out in front of her. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as if it was all his fault, "I didn't know what to do, and she started screaming-"

"JJ," Gen repeated, hands softly running over the teen boy's shoulders maternally, "this isn't your fault. Do you understand?"

Her words were firm, with no room for argument in the space between the syllables, but still, JJ managed, "I'm sorry."

His watery apology was enough to urge Gen to bring the boy into her arms. Genevieve could feel drops of water fall onto her robed shoulder. She squeezed him tighter as if it might heal all the pain he was downing in, pulling away so that she could look him in the eye, "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower? I can handle it from here, cher."

JJ didn't argue; instead, he numbly nodded his head, stealing one last look at Bea before dazedly shuffling out of the room. 

The Broussard matriarch closed the door behind him, grabbing a damp washcloth from her bathroom, all the while preparing herself for Beatriz's emotional wreckage. 

While the crying had begun again, reddening Bea's bright eyes so that they swelled angrily, she seemed stuck in her spot. Her body was unwilling to move from the corner of her mother's bed as if it was nailed there. 

"Bea?" Gen urged her daughter, running the cloth over the young girl's face, "Cher, you in there?"

Her lip quivered, consciousness returning to her body with a flood of emotion, "Mama!"

"Oh honey," she cooed, the mother wrapping her child up in her arms. Gen's hands rubbed up and down her back just like she had when Bea needed comfort as a little girl, "You're safe. Ain't no one gonna hurt you, baby."

For a moment, the two sat in strained silence, haunted by the man who had tormented them without end. It seemed neither Gen nor Bea could escape Hugh Decuir and the scars he left, physical or mental. He had been gone in their lives for nearly a decade, yet still, his presence could be felt in the dark corners of the women's nightmares. 

It was Bea who broke the quiet, pulling away from her mother, eyes downcast and watery. 

"God, I feel so stupid," Bea hissed, wiping angrily at her tear-stained cheeks, "I just wanted to stop being afraid, and I can't even do that."

She didn't need to spell it out for her mother to understand what Bea meant; her daughter felt weak, "Don't you start with that, Beatriz Marie!"

"Mama," she was unphased by the warning in her mother's tone, too wrapped up in her own self-loathing to heed the words, "a wave came too close, and I freaked. I'm a coward."

Gen's heart wept; all her daughter had survived just to feel like a coward. 

No one who had gone through what she had was weak or cowardly. A part of Gen felt like a failure; maybe she hadn't reminded Bea of her strength enough times or, in hopes of avoiding her own pain, had ignored what her daughter had been facing alone. Genevieve couldn't heal the past or her own mistakes as a mother, but she could, at that moment, remind Bea of the power they both held within them. They had overcome a monster once before; they could do it again. The strength was hidden, maybe, but it had always been there. 

"You see this baby?" Gen ran a finger down a long, thin scar on her jaw, "I'm sure you remember when I got it. Your father hit me in one of his fits. It started bleeding something fierce, and I thought it would never stop. But it did, and once it healed, it left a scar. I'll always carry it with me, even when all the pain is gone. Baby, what your father did to you left a scar, you may not be able to see it, but it's there. Scars don't just go away, it takes time and patience, and sometimes, they never leave, but they sure as hell do get better. I'm still afraid some days, sometimes I wake up, and that scar starts to hurt, and I think I'm back in that house with that monster. For a moment, I'm more scared than ever, but then I remember that he has no power over us anymore. Bea, healing takes time. You survived something terrible, don't be so quick to write yourself off as a coward. You are not a coward; no one who's lived your life could be."

Despite the strength of her speech, Gen's eyes began to water, her power shrinking away ever so slightly at the mention of such a dark time in her life. Her words were just that, words; they could easily be washed away by the incoming tide. Though she might have wished it, Gen couldn't make Bea listen or believe her; it was all up to her daughter. 

But, to Gen's relief, her words met their mark. 

Bea nodded softly to her mother's caressing touches, looking her deep in the eyes that mirrored her own. The mother and daughter sat in heady silence, their shared experiences a weight neither wanted to bear at that moment, though sharing it lessened the heaviness. 

Like all mothers did when their children were in need, Gen shook off the shroud of her pain, "Now, why don't you go clean up and check on JJ? That poor boy is probably beside himself with worry."

The mention of JJ had the opposite effect than Gen had intended; her daughter seemed to collapse into herself, no longer painted with shades of embarrassment and hatred but guilt. 

"What is it, Bea?" Gen asked, concerned as she took in the sudden change in emotions. 

"I hurt him, Mama," she confessed, little more than a teary whisper, "I didn't even realize it, but I hurt him."

It took a moment for Gen to realize what exactly Bea meant. JJ had looked mostly fine when he arrived, other than the evident panic on his face. But then she remembered the two long, thin welts that she had just barely taken note of. 

"You mean the marks on his chest?"

"Yes!" Bea nearly shouted, frustration welling up in her like the swell out to sea, "I was s-so freaked out, and I scratched him!"

"Shhh," Genevieve hushed her, hands soothing the salty strands of Bea's hair to her head, "it was an accident, and I'm sure JJ knows that. I think those scratches were the last of his worries, baby."

"And what if they weren't?" her anxiety only increased tenfold, not at all swayed by her mother's calm approach, "What if I reminded him of his father?"

"Beatriz," the use of her full name was enough to shock the teen girl from her frenzied state, "in no world do you remind JJ of that man. That boy loves you too much ever to compare you."

Love. 

That word confused and terrified Bea with each syllable, and there her mother was, using it as if it was little more than the time of day. 

She blushed, not even the heat of the moment enough to overpower her reaction to Gen's pointed words, "Mama, don't say that."

"What?" Gen asked incredulously, "That he loves you?" Well, it's true, and if not, then you need to call a doctor 'cause I've been struck blind. And don't think I don't notice how you act around him."

"There's nothing between us, not like that, at least."

"Ha, you kids are too funny," the older woman rose from her seat, holding out a hand to help Bea do the same, "you two are in love. You're just too young and dumb to admit it. Now, go clean your blind butt up and see to that boy upstairs."

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The hike up the stairs to the second floor of her house felt more akin to a march to Bea's inevitable and well-deserved execution. 

Every inch of her body ached fiercely, weighed down by exhaustion and the bone-deep pain that always followed a rush of adrenaline and fear. Each step sent a throbbing bolt of pain up her legs and into her muscles, but none of it hurt as much as the anticipation for what she would find tucked away in her room. 

In the rush of it all, Bea had hardly comprehended JJ's absence, only that one moment he had been there and the next he was gone. She had been too wrapped up in her grief and self-disgust that her vision had tunneled, excluding everything but the sensation of drowning in a raging sea of emotions. 

But he was there, alone and hurting, and Bea worried that she had been the one to cause that. She had hurt him. If her failed attempts at facing the water weren't enough to send her spiraling, the sight of a bleeding JJ would have done it more than thoroughly. 

Bea had never been particularly religious, but at that moment, she understood the meaning of penance. After what she had done, intentional or not, Bea deserved more than just the feeling of her aching muscles and exhausted body. She earned all the pain JJ was experiencing and more, and Bea wished she could take on that which was undoubtedly plaguing him. 

Out of everyone in their friend group, Bea knew better than anyone what JJ faced at home, the abuse and cruelty at the hands of the man who was supposed to love and protect him. She understood it, related to it, and knew that it was a darkness he would always carry with him. The first time Bea saw those markings on the boy she loved, she'd made a silent vow that Bea would never leave a mark on him, never be the cause of such pain and fear. 

With each step, Bea replayed the image of JJ in her head. 

His chest was raw and red, with a set of long scratch marks running down the smooth expanse of skin. It was the same chest she loved to touch with loving hands, caressing and embracing, pressing her cheek onto the tanned skin, yet she had left it bloodied and hurting. 

It wasn't the first time Bea had seen JJ hurt, but it was the first time it had been inflicted by her own hands. 

Bea reached the upstairs landing, taking in the sight of her open door and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom next door. With a shaking fist, Bea reached for the doorknob, unsure if she should open it or leave JJ to his private ministrations. 

But a sound rose above the noise of the shower, a soft and barely audible but present among the melody of water pattering onto the shower tiles. It was a sound Bea hated more than anything, JJ crying. 

The choice was made for her; Bea twisted the doorknob, slipping into the steamy room to find the love of her life. 

Still clothed in his swim trunks, JJ sat on the tiled floor of the shower, heaving heavily as the water ran down and over his uncovered body. His hair was plastered to his face, soaked through by the torrent of water, but he didn't seem to notice or care. The tears were coming too strongly, followed by great gasps for air as if he, too, was downing. 

Bea wasted no time jumping into the shower with him, stepping over the lip of the porcelain and pushing aside the curtain, ignoring the feeling of her clothes getting soaked and her hair becoming weighed down. Instead, she gathered JJ up in her arms, trying to put together all his broken pieces with just her touch, painfully aware that she, too, was all sharp edges and shattered glass. 

Her chest pressed up to his back, and JJ reciprocated the embrace, melting into her grip with an exhausted cry. He had been just as drained by the morning's events, and Bea knew all the ore spots that her panic attack had prodded at. 

JJ prided himself in being her safe space, her knight in shining armor, always ready to slay a dragon, and yet Bea had nearly lost it all, and he had been unable to do anything. It didn't matter that there was nothing for him to do, JJ had a bleeding heart, and none were spared from his deep and abiding need to protect. 

Bea didn't blame him, she never could, but he didn't know that. Even if he did, it was unlikely he would have believed her. 

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispered in his ear, cradling JJ's head in the crook of her neck, over and over like a mantra to the both of them, "It's all gonna be okay."

He gripped her arms tighter, sinking deeper into her damp hold as though it was the only safe place left in the world, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The weepy words brought on a fresh wave of tears for Bea. He sounded so defeated and so broken that her own pain was forgotten as she was faced with JJ's. No words of her own came to mind, none that she thought would be strong enough, and none that she was strong enough to say either. 

Three little words itched at the back of her mind and in every inch of her heart, like a remedy to cure all ills, there to sate the pain they were both wallowing in. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-

Over and over, she wished to say them, followed by a kiss and a promise that it was all going to be okay as long as they were together. 

But they scared Bea more than she was willing to admit. It was more than just a band-aid for a scratch. It was a promise of forever and not something so easily taken back once sent out into the world. Perhaps she wasn't strong enough or just too scared. Not even her mother's words could pull the declaration from her throat. 

Instead, Bea gripped him tighter until her skin turned white from the exertion, but she knew he needed the contact and tried to send all her love to him through the touch that kept them both from falling apart. 

AUTHORS NOTE

Please enjoy this short interlude of pain!

This was originally gonna be a much longe chapter but I decided that this heavy of a chapter deserved to be its own stand-alone piece (don't worry next chapter will be just as evil). Also this was in the words for a long time and I needed to be done with it or I never would have published anything. 

Also, I'm well aware how stupid JJ and Bea look not realizing that they are in fact a married couple and just won't admit it. But I love that about them and I promise it will make the eventual confession all the more satisfying, they are just two traumatized kids who are afraid of commitment because they've only ever been abandoned and abused. 

So...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I promise the next chapter should be up sooner than this one was, especially since I'm starting to feel more motivated. Please comment, vote, message me, just let me know what you think and how you're feeling! 

See you next time <3