the perfect girl → outer banks ₁

[ 045 ] worldly possessions.

THE PERFECT GIRL.

chapter forty-five, worldly possessions.
[ season two, episode seven ]

TWO DAYS AFTER THE EXPLOSION, RORY SITS MOTIONLESS ON HER BED, STARING AT NOTHING. The world outside continues its relentless rhythm, marsh water lapping against weathered wooden pylons, seagulls crying overhead in an endless search for sustenance, life stubbornly moving forward. But inside her bedroom, with its wooden walls and collection of seashells lining the windowsill, time stands suspended in amber, frozen in the moment that changed everything.

JJ hovers in the doorway, his tall frame tense with helpless concern. His usually bright blue eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, dark circles beneath them testament to the sleepless nights he's spent watching over her. His blonde hair is disheveled, shirt wrinkled from being worn too long. He hasn't left her side since that day on the dock, staying awake with her throughout the night, bringing her food she barely touches, talking quietly even when she doesn't respond, his steady presence the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

Today, he clutches a small black flash drive in his hand, his knuckles white with apprehension. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to approach, how to deliver what might be another devastating blow. His throat feels tight with worry, a constant companion these last forty-eight hours.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping into the room with the caution of someone approaching a wounded animal. His voice is gentle but strained, betraying the tension he's carrying. "Shoupe just dropped this off." He holds up the flash drive, the small device seeming impossibly heavy in his palm. "The SBI found it in Dylan's office safe." He hesitates, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. "It has your name on it."

Rory's gaze shifts slowly toward him, taking a moment to focus as if emerging from deep water. Her fingers pick absently at a loose thread on her sleep shorts, the repetitive motion seemingly the only thing she can manage. Her voice, when it finally comes, sounds rusty from disuse, like a door hinge long neglected. "What is it?"

"I don't know." JJ moves closer, his footsteps measured on the creaking floorboards. He sits beside her on the bed, careful to maintain a small space between them, respecting the invisible bubble of grief surrounding her. The mattress dips under his weight, and the familiar scent of sea salt that always clings to him fills the space between them. He's learned when to touch her and when not to, reading her body language with the precision of someone who's spent years navigating another's trauma. His eyes never leave her face, searching for any sign that she might break. "We don't have to watch it if you don't want to."

Rory stares at the flash drive, a small black rectangle containing who knows what final cruelty from the man who raised her. Her breathing quickens, the familiar tightness returning to her chest, a vise closing around her lungs. She can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips, in her temples, thundering too fast. "I can't— I don't think I can—"

"Hey, hey." JJ's hand hovers near hers, not quite touching, the warmth of his skin radiating in the small space between them. His eyes, the color of the summer ocean, are fierce with protective intensity, the muscle in his jaw working as he tries to keep his own emotions in check. "I'm right here. Whatever it is, we face it together. Or we throw it in the ocean. Your choice, baby."

He continues, his voice dropping lower, intimate in the quiet room. "You don't owe him anything, Rory. Not your time, not your attention, and definitely not your pain. That man—" JJ pauses, struggling to contain the anger that flashes across his face. "Dylan was a master manipulator. He knew exactly how to make you doubt yourself, how to make you feel like you needed his approval to breathe." His hands clench and unclench at his sides, a physical manifestation of his barely contained rage. "He doesn't get to control you anymore, not even from the grave."