hold me really tight (until the stars look big) - II

Dinner passes by smoothly. One moment there's still tacos on the plates and the next they finished their ice cream.
Julie piles up the dirty plates while Alec goes fetch a bottle of wine for them to 'celebrate' Mica's arrival—or something like that.

'The girls asked if they could come by, by the way,' Marcus tells them while he loads the dirty plates into the dishwasher with Julie. 'I told them I had to run it by you two. They haven't been here since before the house was halfway done. They also want to meet the pretty girl you got the island for.'
'You don't have to run it by me,' Tate says, grinning. 'It's not my island, is it?'
Mica swats him in the chest, face turning red. 'Shut up!' she begs. 'Please don't mention that. It's so... weird.'

Julie grins. "You'll get used to it, believe me." She closes the dishwasher and tilts her head a little. "Tate, Jael's meal is in the oven. Alec and I are going for a dive, so you'll know where we are." 
Alec is already outside, walking towards the floodmark while getting rid of his shirt.

'Can they come, though, miss-I-own-an-island?' Marcus asks, grinning.
Mica grins. 'Definitely not if you're gonna call me that.'

Julie follows Alec, quickly, running towards him and jumping on his back. He wavers a little on his feet, trying to gain his balance, while cursing out loud because Julie is and will always be heavier than she looks like.
"You really need to stop doing that," he groans while taking a few steps towards the floodmark. He doesn't come very far though and sinks on his knees in the sand.
"Why? It's a good exercise," she quips.

'How old are they again?' Mica asks, rubbing her abdomen. She swirls the little bit of water in her glass around like she and Tate used to do with the too-expensive scotch Mason used to buy.
'Twelve, ten and seven,' Marcus prompts, shrugging. 'They're loud, but they really want to see the island.'
Mica grins. 'I like loud. When can you get them here?'

Alec turns his head to steal a kiss from Julie's lips. She lets him, giving him the cutest of smiles, and then quickly gets on her feet. He watches how she throws off the blouse, pulls her hair together in a messy bun and marches towards the water.
He knows it takes a lot of effort for her to be this confident about herself. It's not even a year ago since she had the little accident that gave her the scar on her shoulder, but she totally owned up to it. He's still proud of her.

Jael wakes with a start. She didn't mean to fall asleep, it's not even 8PM yet. 
She gets on her feet and searches for her sketchbook, meaning to put her nightmare on paper. It's only when she has to search her bags she realizes that the book is still with Tate.

Since Marcus' sisters got the week off, Mica agrees to invite them tomorrow. Tate smiles at the two of them, happy that two of the people he cares most about get along well.

Julie takes a quick dive and then gets on her feet, looking back at Alec. He's still sitting in the sand, making no attempt to get up and follow her yet.

After Marcus's family is notified, Mica asks Tate if he can show her around on the island.
'You really shouldn't ask me, I haven't been here in forever. Marcus could show you, though.'

Eventually Alec gets on his feet and walks towards Julie, who is making wild gestures trying to get his ass overthere. "I'm only getting in if we can take a shower together," he says while he holds in at the floodmark, crossing his arms.
"You were the one that wanted to take a dive," Julie calls him out on his bullshit. "Besides, you sneak in anyway."

It's only when Mica walks away with Marcus, smiling happily, that Tate realises he's the only one in the house who can bring Jael's food. Fuck this.

Jael is lounging on the bed, eyes scanning over the pages of one of the books she took from her room in New York. She doesn't really take in anything though, she's too tired, the letters swim before her eyes.
She's lying on her stomach, still too lazy to get dressed. Besides, there's no one to judge her anyway.

Tate enters the room without knocking, plate of reheated tacos in one hand, the other still on the doorknob. 'Dinner,' is all he says when he comes in.

Jael jumps as if she's been stung when she hears the door. The book falls on the floor with a loud bang and with the speed of light she's off the bed, her back turned towards him. "I'm—I'm sorry, I forgot you had to bring dinner," she stammers.

'It's alright,' Tate says, shamelessly ogling her backside. 'Do you want me to—uh—leave? Or I can just—turn around, or something?'

Jael hesitates. "I um—yeah, you could turn around..." Her voice is unstable. "I just—I'm sorry."

Tate shrugs, turns around. 'I'm not looking,' he tells her. 'You can—do your thing.'

Jael grabs sweatpants and a tank top and puts them on quickly. "I'm—I'm decent now." She sits down on the bed, cheeks still flustered, hands still shaking.

'Al—Alright,' Tate stutters, awkwardly. He places the plate on the nightstand. 'Try not to—uhm—to make stains on the bed, I guess?'

Jael nods quickly. 'Do you—um, have my sketchbook…?' She plays with her fingers, tense again now he's there.

Tate nods. 'Yeah, it's in my room. I'll fetch it later.'

'So...' Mica quips. 'Sisters, huh? That any fun?' They're walking along the shore, away from where Julie and Alec were. She's holding her shoes while Marcus was barefoot already, water sloshing over her sand-covered feet.

Jael heaves on a sigh. 'Did you um, look through it…?' Of course he did. Who wouldn't? She still looks at him, very obviously hoping he'll say 'no'.

Tate shrugs. 'I saw some drawings. Not everything.'

'So...' Mica quips. 'Sisters, huh? That any fun?' They're walking along the shore, away from where Julie and Alec were. She's holding her shoes while Marcus was barefoot already, water sloshing over her sand-covered feet.

Jael bites down on her lower lip. 'You weren't supposed to…' she says, silently. 'I like to keep them to myself.' The fact she showed Tate a few, honestly means a lot—she trusts him. But not like that, not like he could just look through the book like it doesn't mean anything at all.

'I don't think you understand the whole hostage thing,' Tate bites, tired and exhausted and just so done with everything. He doesn't want Jael to lecture him on privacy, on looking through her stuff. Not now. Not fucking now. He's tired, and annoyed, and this should've been a surprise for Mica she could enjoy, and it's tainted with Macy and him murdering Tina and her stressing about getting two babies instead of zero, like she planned, and just—no. 'You don't get a say in what I'm supposed to.'

'It's alright,' Marcus laughs. 'They're obnoxious, sometimes, but they are good kids. They've been raised well. My parents were a lot more... ready, with them. Older, more patient, more stable. They did well.'
'They did well with you too,' Mica shrugs, easily. 'I mean, you're a good person, Marcus. Even a blind person could see that.'

Jael's face crumples, her breath's hitching, like she's choking. She looks at him like he just hit her in the face. 'Wh—what…? What the fuck is that supposed to mean…?' Her voice breaks, and even though she tries to fight tears, to not look so fucking weak, she is still crying.

'Nothing,' Tate sighs, turning around. 'Eat your tacos, Jael.' He leaves the room. Fuck him and his stupid mouth.

'I guess, yeah,' Marcus mumbles. Then: 'You're going to be a great parent, Mica. I know you're probably—probably scared, or at least a bit anxious, but it's going to be fine. You're going to be fine.
Mica shrugs. 'I don't know,' she says. 'I mean... I'm twenty-six, single, pregnant and unprepared.'

Jael doesn't have words to call after him. She just stares at him leaving, feeling like all energy is sucked out of her. Hostage. Hostage. Hostage. Hostage. She's so stupid, thinking things would change.

'My mother could probably, um, give you some tips. If you're up for that,' Marcus offers cautiously.
Mica smiles. 'I would like that.'

Julie has left Alec alone with Polar. He and the dog are having the best of times, but since Julie is not really a dog person, she just got inside to prepare five drinks. She's just filling the last glass as Tate comes down the stairs. 'Hey, you, sit,' she says, pointing at the bar. 'I want to talk to you.' She puts down the bottle.

'Why not,' Tate sighs, sitting down. He downs the drink in one go. 'I need something stronger if I'm going to want to survive this.'

Julie shrugs. 'There's vodka somewhere in these cupboards,' she says. 'I can fetch it for you, but you don't wanna be drunk your first night here.' She tilts her head a little. 'How are you holding up?' She bends over, leans her elbows on the bar.

Tate shrugs. 'Macy's dead, my best friend's boyfriend knocked her up with two kids and left her, I got some girl in my best friend's beach house that I may or may not be in love with and there's no way in hell I can act on it... I guess you could say I'm fantastic. How are you holding up, sunshine?'

Julie gives him an unimpressed look. 'You kidding me?' she says, then she straightens and hands him the vodka. She already got the bottle for later tonight. 'It's not about me today, Hale, but I lost a sister too, remember? Maybe you should try to stop acting like you're fine, or it's gonna come and get you eventually, and trust me, speaking from my own experience, you do not want that.' She shrugs, takes a sip from her own fruit cocktail. 'It's been what, four months? Did they get the guy who did it?' She tilts her head a little. 'Marcus only told me so much.'

'What do you want me to do, then?' Tate asks, exasperated. The bottle is heavy in his hands, the vodka burning down his throat. It feels good. 'Do you want me to huddle up in bed and cry because Macy died, hating me? I stopped working to get my life back together, put the Springers in charge of the HH—what else do you want me to do? I can't—I can't just hide and cry, Jules. I have Mica to take care of, I have two little babies to take care of after this, I have Jael, Vicki, god, Vicki's been calling me and I haven't been answering, she hasn't seen me in forever. I don't—I can't just—'

Outside, Marcus shows Mica the small bungalow-ish houses where the other people resided.
'This,' he says, gesturing at the one all the way to the left, 'will be my place soon.'
'Wait, what? I thought you were staying in the house.'
Marcus nods. 'Up until now, I did. It's your house now, though.'

Julie bites down on her lower lip, lets him talk. She's quiet for a while. "You're forgetting yourself, Hale," she says then, softly. "Look, Macy died, and you're angry. I get it. You know how angry I was. I was angry for months. Remember how you met me? I wasn't at all like I am now and you know it. But one day you're going to wake up and it's just gonna be gone. But until that happens, you shouldn't try to fight it, you shouldn't try to ignore the fact that your life is a mess and that you're fucked up. Own up to it. Or maybe find someone you can truly share your shit with, because you can't do this alone."

'Macy was killed by Tim Reynolds,' Tate says, voice flat. 'Tim Reynolds killed my sister.' He takes a sip of the vodka, hands stable, not shaking, not trembling. 'So I killed his.'

Julie chokes on her spit. 'You killed his sister!?' she repeats, breathless. 'That's one way of coping… Damn, Hale…' She's not really surprised, though, for some reason. Macy and Tate were inseparable. Hearing she died was quite a shock, even for Julie, who only met the girl a few times.

'The girl upstairs...' Tate starts, but then shakes his head. Julie will get it, he's sure of that. 'You can't—You can't tell Alec. Or Marcus. Marcus knows... things. But not about—that. He—He—I can't put him and his family in danger.' He shakes his head again.

'It's my house,' Mica repeats, voice clear. 'And I'm telling you: That room is yours. If you don't want to, you can move to this pretty little house. But that room will always be yours. That's not changing just because Tate decided he didn't want this island anymore and gave it to me.'
Marcus nods, shrugs. 'That's not how it went, though,' he points out. 'Tate—Tate never had this island. He bought it for you. It's not something he was done playing with.'

Julie raises her eyebrows. "You're not going to tell me that Jael—that she saw you murder the guy's sister, are you? Holy fuck, Hale, is that the girl who went missing a few months back? Like, she has those rich parents. I remember wanting to call you about her, because it was Honey, and you live there. Damn, you're—she's—you're in love with her? That's really fucked up. Makes sense somehow—I mean, have you seen you? But it's fucked up." She shakes her head, still processing things.

Tate laughs humourlessly. 'I think I am in love with her. She claims she is in love with me.' He raises his eyebrows. 'Ever heard of Stockholm syndrome? Where the hostage confuses positive feelings towards her captor because he isn't treating her too badly with love?'

Julie hesitates. 'You think that's it?' she says, slowly, thinking about the possibility. 'Did you tell her?'

Tate nods slowly. 'Yes, to both. Look, I know there's a possibility that it isn't it, you know. But would you take the risk?'

Julie tilts her head a little. 'I don't know, to be honest. But I've seen the way Jael looked at you back at the dock. I've been meaning to ask you what's it really about.' She shrugs. 'I don't know, maybe you should just go for it. She's not gonna go anywhere anyway, right?'

'That's the thing!' Tate exclaims. The bottle is nearing half empty—Tate knows how to hold his liquor. 'If you want some—something to work out—long term, would you take the risk of doing something that could jeopardise that? Like starting a relationship even though the person you're starting a relationship with may not be completely sane due to the fact that you kidnapped her and her past boyfriends both tried to kill her?' He's sure the words come out slurred, but Julie has known him long enough to understand what he's saying.

'I don't know,' Julie says, in all honesty. 'I don't know, Hale. I don't know. And I don't know either if there's a way to find out if she's really--if she really has Stockholm syndrome. She might have. But it doesn't have to be like that, right?'

'it doesn't have to be,' Tate repeats. 'But the possibility is there. If it were Alec, would you take the risk?'

Julie doesn't hesitate: 'Yes. I think I would. He's everything I live for.' She smiles. 'Besides, have you always had her locked away? Has it always been like this?'

Tate looks at her, disgust apparent on his face. 'You would take the risk that Alec wouldn't really want you, just so you could be happy?'