𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

０００．

He'd left a part of himself in Nassau.

When he'd thought he was finally going to snap, when he'd begged his father to help him, to do something -- anything -- to fix him. He hadn't cared that the cops were there, watching as he unraveled. He hadn't cared about the gold, or his sister, or the sheriff he'd shot when all of this began.

He had just cared about his dad, standing there stern and frustrated as Rafe lost his fucking mind.

And when Ward had gripped his face too hard, forcing him to shut up and demanding that he be a man, Rafe left a part of himself there. The part that wanted to be better. The part that was going to be better.

And all that was left was the worst of him. He was beyond saving.

But he could still make Ward proud. That hadn't been lost, not yet. It wouldn't be. He would make good on his promises, even though he hated them, hated himself for making them. He would prove to Ward that he was worth it, that he could still be the son that Ward had always wanted.

Man up, Ward had snapped at him.

"Man up," Rafe repeated under his breath as he paced the deck of The Coastal Venture. "Man the fuck up."

He could feel it again, that lack of control that nearly swallowed him whole in Nassau. It'd been creeping up on him for days, reaching out for him, ever since he'd let his sister and her friends go. Ever since he'd dropped the gun and watched as they sailed off with all of the information that could damn his family.

He didn't know why he'd done it.

He could have killed Sarah, killed everybody on that boat, and he would be safe. Him, and Ward, and Wheezie. Even Rose. They'd all be safe on that island off of Guadeloupe while the only people who could ever threaten that rotted at the bottom of the ocean.

But he'd looked at his little sister, staring at him desperately from the stalled lifeboat, and he couldn't pull the trigger.

Rafe told himself it was because his dad would never forgive him if he was the reason their family wasn't whole. That's all Ward had wanted -- for their family to be together, permanently, without any Pogue boyfriends or treasure hunts ruining it. That's why he couldn't pull the trigger, Rafe promised himself.

But part of him knew that it was just because she was his sister. His little sister, who he was supposed to protect, who he failed by letting her get wrapped up in all of that bullshit from the Cut. Not because of what Ward would think, not because of what Ward wanted. Just because she was his sister, and the part of himself that he'd left in Nassau had loved her in spite of everything.

And now, as the ship neared the little island that their father had promised would be a haven, he realized that he'd put it all at risk. All of it, ruined because he'd let the guilt and the sentimentality and the memories eat at him until he couldn't think straight.

Not that he could think straight anyway. Not anymore.

But for a moment, as his pacing stilled and he stared at their island, there was clarity. Or something like it.

Rafe would fix his mistakes. He would help his family settle down, whether it had to be on the island or somewhere else. And then he'd find Sarah, wherever she'd escaped to, because he owed his father that much. And once they were whole, once Ward could stand to look Rafe in the eye again, he'd earn his father's respect back.

Things would be good again. He'd fix all of it. All of it.

He'd man up.