Outer Banks s02e08: JJ reluctantly helps his abusive father leave the island for good.
“What is the plan? What is this?”
“Listen to me. Listen to me, okay? I need to get into the marina at the Island Club. There’s a boat there he can take. You got the sticker on your truck. Twenty minutes, that’s all I need…—The cops are after him! If I do this now, maybe I will never have to do it again.”
Anyone want a short JJ Maybank fic? I wrote a snippet that works as a standalone whump piece...
This isn't a prompt from anything in particular -- it's not one of the games I've done. But @woudsohfiv wanted JJ hurt -- but awake. I started in my head with the line "It's not that bad" and came up with this:
"It's not that bad," JJ says.
John B stares at him, gaping. He struggles to find the words; he struggles to move. Shit, he can't even think right now.
"I swear," JJ says again, swallowing convulsively as his body shakes. "It's really fine."
But there's blood.
There's a lot of blood.
It's running down JJ's arm, coating the entire thing red. The liquid -- thick and sticky -- drips from JJ's fingertips and it's already forming a puddle on the ground on the porch of the Chateau. He can't see the source -- but. JJ's left hand is sloppily holding his bicep, in some vain attempt to stem the blood.
It's not working.
At all.
"I just--" JJ starts, faltering a little. He blinks fast a few times, taking a shaky breath as the last of the color seems to drain from his face. "I just need to sit down."
That's an understatement -- clearly.
Because JJ makes it approximately another second.
Before his eyes roll up and his knees crumple. He goes down hard; he goes down fast. It's all John B can do to lunge through the threshold of the door and catching him before they both hit the porch with a thud.
"JJ?" he says, voice tight as he calls for his best friend. "JJ!"
He twists, trying to shift his body so he can see what's going on. He ends up on his ass, JJ sprawled on top of him. His limbs are long and heavy, both blood coated hands splayed at his sides. John B can feel the blood as it drips on him now, JJ's head lolling against his chest.
Somehow, his eyes are open.
"JJ?" he says, reaching down and tilting his face toward him. "What the hell?"
JJ blinks slower now, like it's taking all his effort to stay away. Now that JJ's hand is gone, John B can see the source. It's a gash -- deep and jagged -- cutting across JJ's upper arm. It's shredded what's left of his t-shirt, and it doesn't take more than a cursory glance to see how far down it's gone. Straight to the bone.
"Just put some pressure on it," JJ slurs, like that's going to fix it. "Just got to -- slow the bleeding--"
JJ's eyelids start to flutter, and John B curses. "You're bleeding out, J," he says, heart starting to pound as he shifts again, getting his body out from under JJ's. He lowers JJ's head, cushioning it until it's on the ground. He cups JJ's face for a second. "What happened?"
JJ's eyes are open -- but the blue is too glassy. He looks at John B, but it's not clear if he actually sees him, even as he tries to answer. "Just an accident," he says, the words barely strung together. "He didn't mean it."
His gaze drifts off for a second, and John B feels the anger coil in his gut. "Your dad?" he asks.
JJ hums a little, exhaling heavily as he seems to let his body go limp. "It was an accident," he mumbles. "I just -- got in the way. I should know better. When he's drinking--"
There are a thousand possibilities, and each one is shit. There's no explanation that somehow makes this palatable.
That Luke would do this to JJ.
And then just let him go.
It's just like JJ to lick his wounds in private.
Even if those wounds involved bleeding to death.
"Shit," he says, reaching down to put pressure on the arm. He's working with gravity -- and his full faculties -- so his grip is stronger than JJ's, and he's able to pinch it off with some force. Enough for JJ to shudder, trying to pull away with a whine. "This is really bad, J."
JJ shakes his head, his whole body heaving as he tries to take the next breath. "It's fine," he says, the words barely coherent. "I just -- need to stop the bleeding."
He can feel it, the pulse of the blood against his hands. It's like a piece of gum to stem a dam. It's not enough; it won't hold. The blood keeps pooling on the ground, soaking into the wood boards.
"Did you walk here like this?" he asks, nothing short of incredulous. He sees the trail of blood up the steps and across the floor. A bloody smudge on the door. "J?"
JJ's gaze wanders to him again, like it may take all he has to focus. "No, I took my bike," he says, looking away like he can't quite remember. "I needed to -- get out of there. Fast."
He can't imagine JJ was in any condition to ride.
But then, if JJ had walked, he would have bled out on the side of the road.
If John B doesn't do something, he may still bleed out now.
"JJ, we need to call an ambulance," he says, because he can't think of anything else. "This cut something. Something deep."
"No," he protests, making a weak attempt to push himself up. "I'm okay. Just keep pressure on it."
The words falter, even as he says them, and his energy flags before he can even get all the way up. His eyes go unfocused for a moment, and John B has to do <i>something</i>. JJ's bleeding to death; he can't just sit here and watch him die. JJ came here for a reason.
That's what he tells himself.
JJ came <i>here</i>. He trusts John B to get him through this.
No matter what.
"Okay," he says, letting out a breath as he collects himself. He reaches down with one hand, shifting to undo his belt. It's not easy -- working with one hand -- but he undoes the latch and yanks it free.
On the ground, JJ watches him dully. "I like you, B," he slurs. "But not like that."
"Shut up," he hisses. "And give me a sec."
He has to brace himself, prepare himself -- for what comes next. The tourniquet is the only option left, the only way that they'll keep the blood in check. But he'll need both hands to apply it.
Which means, he has to let go.
For a second, he has to let JJ bleed.
It might be too much, but it's their only chance. It's JJ's only chance.
He looks at him. "This is going to hurt," he says. "But I swear, JJ. I've got you. Okay?"
JJ looks back at him. No more bravado.
Just fear.
He looks young; he looks so young.
For all John B wants to hold on, he knows the only option is to let go.
To save JJ.
He has no choice.
For JJ.
He lets go, swallowing hard as he doesn't look at the blood that comes pouring out in fresh waves. JJ goes strangely lax for a moment, like he can feel the life drain out of him, and John B's fingers are numb as he snakes the belt around JJ's upper arm. He finds the spot above the injury, struggling to loop the belt through the buckle.
He pulls tight.
At the pressure, JJ gasps -- crying out weakly as his body bucks. John B doesn't stop, but he latches it off -- yanking it taut and securing it with all he has. JJ is sobbing now, trying to curl away from the pain, but John B holds him down -- looking, watching.
There's still blood everywhere. It's like a damn crime scene.
But the wound itself has stopped bleeding.
He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment.
The tourniquet has worked.
The relief is real.
The relief is also short-lived.
Because a tourniquet is a short-term solution. A stopgap.
"Okay," he says, forcing himself to swallow. His grapples in his pocket for his phone. His fingers are shaking as he pulls it out as JJ rolls his head toward his arm.
"What'd you do?" he asks weakly.
He pulls up the emergency number, his fingers leaving blood streaks on the screen. "Stopping the bleeding."
JJ blinks at it dumbly.
"It'll buy you time," he says, connecting the call.
JJ's brow furrows deeply, breathing still staggered as he gasps for oxygen between his pale lips. "For what?"
"A hospital," John B says. "And a blood transfusion, probably."
JJ makes a sound of protest -- but John B ignores it as a voice answers on the other end of the line. "911, what's your emergency."
"My friend," John B says, bringing his attention around. "He's got a cut on his arm and it's bleeding -- a lot."
"Have you tried applying pressure?" the voice asks.
"You don't understand," John B says. "I think he severed something. I applied a tourniquet but--"
"What's your location?"
He supplies the address. He answers the questions about JJ's age and condition. He tells the operator about the nature of the injury and no, he doesn't know how it happened.
"Help will be there soon," the voice promises.
He looks down, still surprised to find JJ looking up at him. His eyes are a little vacant now, the puffs of air coming through his mouth starting to grow weaker. John B can't help it; he drops the phone, using both his hands to cup JJ's face again.
"Help's coming, J," he promises. "You're going to be okay."
JJ's mouth moves, but words don't come out. His brow furrows again -- a weak, strained motion. "Help's coming?" he asks.
It's a sure sign of how weak JJ is -- how bad this is -- that he doesn't fight. That he doesn't resist, that he doesn't put up any resistance. He looks at John B like he trusts him, he looks at John B like he's his whole damn world. All he's got left.
Maybe all he's ever had.
John B smiles, the motion cracking across his face in a way that he feels, deep in his soul. There are tears in his eyes that he won't cry for JJ's sake as he keeps his touch steady. "It's not that bad," he says, echoing JJ's promise from the start. "I'm here now. You're here now."
JJ looks at him like he believes everything. Every last word as his body gives way.
"I'm fine," he echoes softly, like it's the one true thing either of them has left.
It's not that bad -- together.
They're fine -- together.
They just have to keep it together for a few more years until they're adults. They just have to survive a little bit longer until they get to call the shots. They just have to stem the flow -- from Luke's abuse, from Big John's absence, from an island that would chew them up and spit them out. They just have to keep on the pressure, and stay awake.
Before they make it to the other side.
"I swear," John B says, almost choking on the sob in his chest even as he hears the sirens coming up the road. "It's really fine."
Two times JJ is hugged by his verbally and physically abusive father (and we can see the absolute mess of emotions all over his face during the hugs) and one time JJ sets boundaries and refuses.
Outer Banks, 1x10 The Phantom
Outer Banks, 2x08 The Cross
Outer Banks, 4x05 Albatross
(I'm so proud of JJ for asserting his boundaries here!)
You know what's the funniest part? Is that I actually thought he was coming back for me. But no, he just wanted to get rid of me.
And now Pope's a fugitive. Welcome to the club, bro.
And we have nothing now. We lost everything and it's all my fault.
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