Chapter Text
“Larissa Genrette...You should be proud to have her as a mother...”
“If Larissa Genrette is my mom then who’s my dad...?”
“Damn, JJ...Isn’t it obvious?”
Luke’s words echoed in his mind the whole ride to Goat Island, repeating themselves over and over as he motored across the otherwise empty water. It was getting to be way too late for any sensible person to be out here.
JJ’s hands shook as he steered the boat towards the dock, his chest tight with barely contained...panic? He wasn’t really sure what it was he was feeling, but it had been rapidly closing in on him ever since he ran away from the lighthouse. Luke had shouted to “ hold up now and calm down before you do something stupid! ” but JJ wasn’t listening. All he knew was that his whole world had been thrown upside down with one conversation and he needed answers . He needed real, tangible proof before he’d actually let himself believe it.
It couldn’t be true, could it? Luke had lied about so many things over the years, so why should JJ trust him now? Too much didn’t make sense - why would a kook like Larissa Genrette be friends with a low-life drunk like Luke Maybank? Why would Chandler Groff just give up his only kid after losing his wife? Why had Wes waited until he was dead to reveal the truth? He seemed like the kind of old man who’d be desperate to keep family close. It didn’t make sense.
Weathered boots landed on the dock as JJ quickly secured the boat to it, fully on autopilot as he went through the familiar motions. He didn't think to scan his surroundings before sprinting towards the old house.
Cold wind blew right through his t-shirt, chilling his bones further as he crossed over the threshold of the dingy porch. Several tugs on the front door proved it to be locked. He almost knocked, but quickly thought better of it, cursing under his breath as he made his way along the side of the house, instead, eyes darting around in search of another entrance.
Dull light from a lamp shone through a large window, grabbing JJ’s attention. He quickly drew closer, taking in Genrette’s sitting room through the dirty glass before giving the pane some quick tugs in hopes it would pop open. Of course , it was locked from the inside.
JJ ripped his hat off, running shaking fingers through his messy hair as he tried to slow down for a moment and think . That’s what Kie would tell him to do.
The thought of his girlfriend gave him pause, glancing back towards the dock, which was blocked from view by the overgrown trees and brush. Kie would tell him it was stupid to come here alone, wouldn’t she? But then again, she probably would have told him not to run out to find Luke before talking to her first.
His gut twisted with guilt. He had promised Kie that he’d try to be better about talking to her before making rash decisions. Twelve hours was a long time to be trapped in a fish bowl, and while they had joked about spending all of it making out and having sex, he was only a man, and even if he tried to claim otherwise, he couldn’t last that long...So even after their hanky panky, falling asleep, and making out some more when they woke up...There was still time for Kie to lecture him for betting the last of their money, which then turned into a deeper, even more uncomfortable heart-to-heart about how JJ still didn’t open up to her enough. Ultimately it had ended on a good note, with JJ promising to let her in more.
Which he definitely was not doing right now. Shit . Damnit .
The thought of abandoning his current mission and finding the rest of the Pogues briefly flickered into his mind, but was just as quickly discarded. He needed answers, and he was already here...And sure, the treasure hunt was important and everything, but he knew he couldn’t go back to that without knowing if he was really Larissa Genrette’s son.
He dug his phone out of his pocket, quickly dialing Kie. He’d just update her on everything and then keep going. He’d keep his promise, figure all of this out, prove Luke was wrong, and then rejoin his friends. Easy.
The phone rang, and kept ringing, until Kie’s familiar voice came through the speakers.
“Hi this is Kiara - I’m not available right -”
“Nah, nah, nah! Start over - no boring-ass voicemail, you gotta -”
“Jayj, shhh! Anyway, if you’re someone I wanna talk to leave a message -”
“Otherwise get lost!”
The loud beep cut off Kiara’s laughter, and JJ took a deep breath, suddenly unsure what to say.
“Hey Kie, uh - I’m probably doing something stupid right now, so uh - sorry about that - but I’m trying to tell you first, so you can’t be mad... Heh ...Uhm. Too much to say right now. Sorry in advance. Call me back when you can.” He hesitated, imagining how pissed she’d be hearing him say he was already in the process of doing something stupid before calling her. “I love you.” He stopped the message and shoved the phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to again focus on the current task - Get into the house, and find...Something to prove his identity. Yep.
He pulled on the window again, mind whirring with different ideas as he looked around hastily, eyes landing on a big rock on the ground. The teen stared at it for a moment, feeling bad about this solution but also not wanting to take the time to keep looking for another one, or risk getting caught by someone.
Caught by who ? The only people who lived here were Wes, the groundskeeper guy, and Chandler. Wes was dead, the groundskeeper honestly might be willing to help with this, and Chandler...JJ swallowed. Groff was a mystery, one that JJ honestly wasn’t ready to confront face-to-face. Although that would probably have to happen sooner rather than later.
But not yet. Not yet .
This didn’t have to be the way in, though. JJ could go find the groundskeeper and ask to be let in. There was a good chance the man would do it, especially with JJ’s strong persuasion skills. He groaned as he could almost hear Pope scoffing at that. Besides, he didn’t know where the groundskeeper was, and he really had to hurry here before someone found his boat.
Heaving in a deep breath, JJ reached down, grabbing the rock and throwing it against the glass before he could hesitate again.
He grimaced at the sight and sound of the window shattering, glancing around quickly to be sure no one was coming running. After a moment of silence, he looked back to the damage, hastily grabbing his hat and twisting it in his palm for protection before knocking the remaining shards out of the way and into the room.
“Sorry about that, Grandpa...” He muttered without really thinking about it, grimacing again at his own words, mouth snapping shut. All of that had yet to be proven.
JJ gingerly eased himself through the new hole, careful not to scrape against any sharp edges on the way. The sound of crunching glass filled the otherwise silent room as JJ hopped down from the windowsill.
He looked around the space, assessing where to start searching first. It didn’t help that he really wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly. Letters, maybe? A diary?
“Don’t suppose you’ve got my birth certificate laying around somewhere?” He mumbled, taking a few tentative steps towards the middle of the room, heart thundering in his chest as he tried to take in all the information around him.
Two sets of blue eyes met, staring at one another for a long moment before JJ forced himself to look away, a lump growing in his throat. He took a couple deep breaths before glancing back up, feet moving of their own accord as he crossed to the painting of Larissa Genrette.
His hand reached towards it instinctively, and it wasn’t until he noticed the dirt and tiny flecks of blood on his fingers that he flinched away, mere inches from the canvas. It felt wrong to dirty the otherwise pristine painting, one of the few things in the whole horse that looked like it was meticulously cleaned. He hadn’t thought too much about the portrait when he first saw it, apart from briefly thinking it was beautiful.
The same kind of “beautiful” that came to mind when he had watched a mother playing with her young son on the beach once. It was a feeling of admiration mixed with an ugly swell of sadness and jealousy, because he knew he was seeing something that he had never - and would never have himself.
A painful longing twisted inside his heart as he rapidly tore his eyes away from Larissa’s face, unable to keep looking. He stumbled into the couch as he backed away, trying to steady his breathing once again. The painting proved nothing - he was just psyching himself out over nothing .
“Pull yourself together,” JJ whispered, feeling the need to break the silence.
He walked around aimlessly, fists restlessly clenching and unclenching at his sides until he noticed the old desk, immediately jumping into action as he began pulling drawers open, rifling through useless papers, a $20 dollar bill (which he quickly pocketed), some fancy looking cigars, a checkbook, several pens...But nothing about Larissa or her son. Nothing about JJ.
The final drawer wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard JJ yanked on the ornate handle. Was it stuck on something? He tried pulling it open again, but it wouldn’t even move a tiny bit, as if it were locked shut.
Instantly he was feeling all around the desk, frantically searching for a button or something that would unlock the drawer. It wasn’t until he was on his back, laying on the floor beneath the desk, that his fingers traced over a keyhole at the bottom of the drawer.
He leapt up without thinking, knocking his head against the wood. A series of curses quickly followed, but he did his best to ignore the pain as he searched a nearby shelf, grabbing little trinkets and books, quickly shaking them upside down, hoping to find something hidden inside.
Urgency won out over stealth as JJ began dropping each book he inspected, a small pile growing beside him as he tore through the shelf, only pausing when some writing caught his eye.
On the dedication page of an old copy of Peter Pan , neat cursive handwriting had been added. JJ brought the page closer to his face, squinting at the dainty squiggles.
“Fucking cursive...” The teen grumbled, trying to ‘ actually just look at it and read ’ as Kie had told him months ago when she tried to force him to learn.
“To my...” JJ read aloud, shaking his head in annoyance. “bear...No - dear...little Jackson. Uh - what the hell does that say? Oh - This was...always one of my...favorites. I look forward to...to...reading this to you. I hope you know...that you are never lost...or alone.” The lump was back in his throat, eyes watering as he read the final words. “Love, mom.”
He stared at the note for a long moment, the same conflicted, sick feeling that he felt when looking at the painting once again warring inside him. But still...This proved nothing . Why was he letting himself get so emotional over a note that probably had nothing to do with him?
But Luke had seemed so sincere, and there was something about the note that felt so...
His breath came faster as he shook his head, blinking rapidly in an attempt to pull himself back together, raising the book up in the air as he was about to throw it across the room.
Until he looked up and saw that damn painting again, and he just couldn’t do it, arms falling uselessly at his sides, gaze following the book gripped tightly in his hand.
He nearly jumped out of his skin as the white curtains billowed into the room, almost like a ghost floating in. JJ sucked in a breath, eyes flickering around in paranoia, but the only thing moving in here besides him was the breeze through the broken window. It was just the wind.
There was no time to keep hesitating at every little jump scare or stupid note. He was here for answers , and so far he had found none. He fixed the cap on his head, one of his little ticks he did when he was trying to re-center himself, and forced his fingers to re-open Peter Pan, quickly flipping through the pages until he found a little pocket on the inside flap, deftly slipping it open and revealing a little silver key.
JJ practically threw himself to the floor, kneeling in front of the locked drawer and sliding the key into the hidden lock, turning it until he heard a tiny click . The drawer opened easily after that. It was practically empty, only hiding a small stack of papers. He pulled them into his lap, carefully setting Peter Pan on the floor as he leaned against the wall.
The first paper was an article about the Pogues and their discovery of El Dorado. There they all were in the photo, standing in a line with a mixture of real and forced smiles. He tossed the paper to the side - he had already read this.
Next in the pile were photos of JJ, specifically - A zoomed in copy of the same picture from the last article, and then his old yearbook photo from five or something years ago. Both of them had random pen markings on his face, one outlining the curve of his nose, an arrow pointing to his dimple that always appeared when he smirked.
“ Blue eyes, blonde hair ...” He read the scribbled words aloud, growing more uneasy as he slowly moved on to the final paper, an old article which had been cut from the Kildare newspaper.
Once again, Larissa Groff stared at him, but this time it was a real photo, with another picture of a baby boy printed next to it. JJ thought he might throw up as he read.
In a devastating turn of events that has left our community reeling, the recent drowning of Larissa Groff and her infant son has raised suspicions of a possible murder-suicide stemming from postpartum depression. As details continue to emerge the heartbreaking incident has cast a somber shadow over our tight-knit town, prompting reflection and sorrow among residents.
Larissa Groff, a beloved member of our community, was found submerged in the waters of Goat Island alongside her precious baby boy, Jackson, just days ago. Initial reports indicated the pair had tragically drowned while on a boating -
“JJ?”