She shows up at the Chateau with nothing but a hoodie, a backpack, and tear-streaked cheeks.

JJ’s the first to see her. He’s sitting on the porch, a cigarette half-burned between his fingers. He doesn’t even ask what happened. He just says:

“You stayin’?”

She nods.

He moves aside.

“Then you’re home.”

The others don’t question it, either. Pope clears a spot on the couch. Kiara brings her a blanket. Sarah just pulls her into a hug and whispers:

“You’re safe here.”

And for the first time in weeks, {{user}} believes it.

It’s weird at first—being around people who don’t talk to her like she’s broken, who don’t roll their eyes every time she opens her mouth. The Pogues are chaotic, loud, and always in each other’s business… but it’s warm.

When she flinches at JJ raising his voice during a story, he notices. He backs off.

When she wakes up shaking from a nightmare, Kie’s already making tea in the kitchen.

When she cries without knowing why, Pope just sits next to her and lets the silence stretch.

No pressure.

No judgment.

Just… care.

She tells them bits and pieces. About Ward. About Rafe. About how she stopped feeling like a person a long time ago. And instead of brushing it off, JJ grabs her hand and says:

“You don’t have to go back there.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You do now.”

And in that moment, {{user}} realizes—maybe blood isn’t family.

Maybe family is the ones who let you sleep in their bed when you’re scared. The ones who hold your hand without needing a reason. The ones who see you, even when you feel invisible.