Work Text:
Rainsford shot up with a start, clutching the sheets tight. The gentle swaying of the ship reminded him where he was. Whitney lay curled up in the bed beside him, his chestnut hair spilled onto the pillows. Snuggled against his chest was their recently adopted daughter. Whitney's younger sister had died; while it had never been in either of their plans, Rainsford and Whitney agreed they couldn't let the baby fall into foster care.
Swaying slightly, Rainsford made his way to the upper deck. The heavy blackness of the Caribbean was just starting to fade as the sun rose. Rosy pinks and pale orange painting the sky in broad strokes. The sea below turned to the crisp blue it was so well known for. If you looked closely, you could even see a small school of shimmering fish beneath the waves.
The pleasantness of the moment disappeared as Ship-Trap island came into view. A large chateau, barely visible on the horizon, sat in its rough terrain. Sucking in a breath, Rainsford let himself feel the heaviness of the moment. Jumping when a small hand gripped his own. Glancing down, he smiled pleasantly at the sight of Susan rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Why are you up so early, Daddy?" she mumbled, her words slurring slightly.
"I wanted to watch the sunrise, Sweetheart," he responded gently. Neither he nor Whitney wanted to tell their baby girl where they were going or the significance of it. How would one even explain to a child whose only concerns were playing with her dolls and seeing her parents?
"You okay?" Whitney asked gently, pulling his hair up into a ponytail.
"Yeah, I just hope we get there soon." It had been nearly ten years since the major incident on the wretched island. Ten years since he had killed someone. The conversation between Zaroff and himself, still laid heavy on his mind. The way Zaroff's eyes turned cold and empty when he had taken his life. He hunted for a while after that but he became bored too quickly, and it was only then that he understood in full Zaroff's far too truthful words.
Disgustingly he craved to have what Zaroff had, that feeling of satisfaction even in his last moments of life. In the end, Zaroff had won in a sick way. Shaking his head, he rid himself of such thoughts. Instead, focusing on the ever-nearing island.
After he had left the island, he had planned not to return. However, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He discovered it was going to be put up for auction and he had been determined to win it. He would become the rightful owner. Since then, they had spent every summer here. At first, he had thought that staying as far away as possible would help. In the end, he had only ended up with anxiety attacks from the uncertainty of Zaroff's life.
As they fought that night, Rainsford was sure he had killed Zaroff. Shooting three rounds into his head would most certainly kill him but, still, the thought the demon had somehow survived haunted him.
"Daddy, is that the island?" Susan cheered, pointing ecstatically at the island around three hundred yards off.
"Yep! When we get there, what do you wanna do first?" Whitney asked, handing Rainsford a coffee.
"I wanna see my room!" She cheered after a few moments of consideration. Whitney laughed, delighted by her response. Rainsford grinned as they pulled up to the dock, having installed it upon buying the island. Taking Susan's hands, he and Whitney led her off the boat, shouting thank yous at the crew for the ride.
As they headed towards the house, Susan babbled endlessly about everything she wanted to do this summer. Despite being only four, she was surprisingly fluent. As soon as they entered the house, Susan booked it upstairs, squealing in delight. Rolling his eyes, Rainsford led Whitney through the house into the newly child-proofed living room.
"Sanger, are you sure it's a good idea to bring her here?" Whitney asked not for the first time.
"I mean, would you rather have left her with your mother all summer? Last year she came back telling us we're sinners, destined to burn in the eternal flames of hell," Rainsford reminded him flatly.
"Okay, point taken, my mum is in love with Christ," Whitney muttered, irritated.
"Sorry, I get what you mean... it's just I didn't want to leave her behind." Whitney nodded understandingly.
"Sorry for pressing," Whitney murmured, leaning his head on Rainsford's shoulder. Rainsford turned his head, pecking Whitney on his lips. Resting his head onto Whitney, he gently closed his eyes, allowing the rest he hadn't gotten earlier to wash over him.