kazxraval

[kazxraval]

"That little sod's getting to you." An hour ago, Emre slashed and stabbed his way through an entire crew. Yet doted on this kid. Maybe thinking about his own childhood in comparison to what hand Ali was dealt. Ali, thrust out of the safety of what the world was and thrown into combat on the streets of a dystopian version of Seattle. Dog eat dog, watch your back because someone like Georgie's people might be watching it out too. Maybe Ali's dad liked poetry too. Maybe his mother didn't carry him but it was the only mother he ever knew.

Kaz paused to watch fingers trace up his arm. They left a pleasant sensation behind, Emre's fingertips leaving invisible ink behind .Kaz's voice sank lower while he hung on Emre and consulted the map. "No one ever talks about this. What happened out here, do they? 'Cause we can come and go as we please, hm? Still picking at the carcass." Nothing imbued in the words, merely a fact. "Haven't actually thought about how I'd still be here, you know. If I hadn't ended up on the island."

"Ever know anyone named Marlboro?" He smiled as his hand reached for the prodding elbow. Pain settled over him like a blanket. Once they returned, it'd be more like a blanket heavy with water, weighing him down. For now, Kaz moved for his sake, for Emre's too. "Think one of these pricks has a five year old stale pack of cigs around here?"

The numbers in a long table didn't take much to decipher. Unmade bed, undisciplined. An observation to play again and again in his head. "Untidy bed, untidy mind, huh?" He hummed. "My priya." He brushed Emre's cheek and pinched it in the end. "My pasandeeda." His gaze wrapped all around Emre, affectionately. "I leave my bed unmade after you've been in it. As a reminder."He squinted as if seriously contemplating. "Maybe captain got laid?"

A velvet hammer kept chipping at the whole Georgie thing. Once upon a time, Kaz had the brain to collect information, construct and parse it into something digestible and understandable. Always about others, not so much about himself. His laugh came from the deep end of his throat, as a hand combed dark wavy strands of hair back (dried sea water, dried blood).

His tongue made a soft click as his lips parted. "Emre, I felt things about her I'd never felt about anyone else." Kaz wouldn't say the word out loud, it hadn't been meant for Georgina in years. "When it ended, it really hurt. And I didn't want to feel it anymore." A tenderness, a vulnerability used up, and used against him.

Seconds suspended to examine Emre's expression. "But, can't hang on to that shit." A soft laugh. "It's okay to move on. She's just someone I used to know." Yes, he recalled the recent conversation about people changing. "Haven't you ever felt something that you just, like. You want to forget about? Let go?"

"I'd rather look back on you singing that song into the rock." A more relaxed sound, like a sigh. "At the waterfalls. I look back. I look back all the time." Not indignant and not pissed off, the emotion was one for Emre to excavate.

Now, Georgie. He'd like to bury up to her neck in the cold Pacific sand.

Feroze, Edward, Reyansh. Georgie spat-sprayed a bloody cackle. 'Oh, I'm supposed to give a run down on every person in Seattle?' Georgie squirmed in her seat and then cleared her throat. 'Edward went to prison in California. Reyansh followed to be close to his daddy. Surely Kaz told you his brother was a real kiss ass.'

A more introspective quiet followed by a frozen whisper. 'Feroze's brother.' Her jaw set firm and light eyes burned as they turned on Emre. 'He's little. A boy. But he can do a lot of damage. Especially when he finds out you killed Feroze.'

The name Edward absorbed all the light in the room for Kaz. Actual questions he'd waited ages to find the answer to, about Edward, might be sitting with their back to him (Georgie). "Do you know if he got out of prison?" Probably, with the charges brought against Edward, Kaz doubted his father would've still been in jail, in 2020.

Georgie turned her head towards her shoulder. It wasn't enough to see Kaz. For that, she'd have to completely twist around in her seat. The gesture enough, her tone meditative, careful. 'I wish I could tell you. Priti divorced him, so. I don't think she kept up with Edward after.' She waited, and then asked, 'You still haven't said where you've been. If not in Seattle, where?' Kaz didn't waste a minute. "On the beach. Lazing around, floating in the water."

Emre turned those spotlight eyes on him. Georgie aggressively snapped the map away from Emre. She sighed with a dramatic eye roll, and a snide mutter: 'Places to be, hmph. You're embarrasing.'

The map was given the briefest once over before a sharp nail tapped the paper. 'Here. Fermé has been abandoned for a while. No one guards it. But enough ships pass by too, they can pick up me and Ali.' Kaz immediately approached to rip the map away from Georgina. He slipped into a seat at the helm and proceeded to figure out how the hell to steer towards this word he'd never heard before.

Ali's high-pitched wolf barks someone filtered up to them. Georgie dropped her head back against the chair she was in, a demonstration of exhaustion. Kaz stalled the boat for a moment, then motioned for Emre to follow him just outside the bridge, to speak away from Georgina.

"Don't know if I trust her, but reckon we have no choice. Ali, though..." The sentence trailed, the thought of Urmilla's hand turned to sand in Emre's that time, when Emre refused to let his mother go.

A hand pointed out the dark coastline. No lights, no evidence of life. "The place she mentioned, Fermé? It's somewhere over there. Not too far away. But. You okay with leaving the kid there with her? Because I don't know what else we can do for him. Unless." A dumb thought. "Wonder if two people have ever tried to bring someone back from the outside." Or would the kid end up as molecular spaghetti stretched across time?

As if on cue, Ali's fists pounded his agitation out on metal below in a staccato rhythm. The shout wasn't muffled so much that they couldn't understand. 'I can hear you stupid motherfuckers! You ain't leaving me anywhere! Now, let me OUT!'

Kaz stomped a foot twice and shouted at the deck. "Holy shit, hold your fucking horses you little twat? We're trying to get us all the hell out of here!"

"Can you blame him, though? What sort of life has he had, man." Emre murmured, staring down at Ali. Listening to Kaz's brittle-edged tone of...what? Frustration? Annoyance? Confusion? "Little sod like that shouldn't face daily struggle, he should be kicking a ball about innit."

But of course, Kaz had nothing to yearn for. Emre looked at Ali and remembered his own gloried, nostalgic, safe childhood, something to be cherished and preserved. What did Kaz have, from that age?

Kid's lucky he didn't end up like his brother.

A soft snort of agreement as Emre touched Kaz, fingers sliding along the inside of Kaz's long, heavy arm. Reminding Kaz of humanity, if nothing else. Kaz just killed two men; it was hard to come down from a brutal, bloody high like that. Emre was trained to switch gears, when he had his own baby to mind, back in his London days.

The hatch closed for later (Ali would be fine) and they turned to the maps. Kaz thankfully maintained that contact, arm around Emre like he didn't want them to split again. Emre nestled in easily enough, watching as Kaz translated the maps with his keen discernment, noting patterns and codes in the writing that Emre never could.

"Riddles, that," Emre decided, as Kaz pointed out the words. "Last names, maybe? Could bloody do with a ciggie right about now, if I'm honest." A grin, a gentle elbow against Kaz's side (his bruised ribs, were some cracked? Kaz was surfing on adrenalin but not for long. Emre had to get him home, somehow. Fucking teleports!) Kaz smelled of fresh sweat and salt, making Emre's mouth water. Thirsty, hungry for Kaz even now. "Map was in a binder, all numbers in a long table. This seemed the most useful; we've got to dock somewhere on this map, don't we." A cluck of his tongue, about the Captain's cabin. "Unmade bed; undisciplined, that."

The Georgina question was bound to get Kaz discomfited. But he gave Emre the story willingly, and more of the picture formed. "It's always complicated. I know you don't feel bollocks for her now, but. She still affects you, yeah. She's from your past, of course she does..." Emre tilted his head up, allowing Kaz more scratching space under his chin.

"Bloody hell, you never look back, do you darling." It was the same with Ani, that poor little ghost-creature trailing after Kaz, who Kaz would barely even acknowledge...and then she was gone again. "You've got to, luv; she's here."

And Emre wanted answers. And maybe his reasoning was a little selfish; he was hungry for Kaz, even from Georgina's memories. Georgie was happy to provide tantalizing stories of this man, his man. About poor Ani's memorial, and Kaz in grief.

Emre's feelings split in two. Supremely irrational jealousy of Georgina, for having been in Kaz's life back then, known him back then. Been there with Kaz, when Emre obviously wasn't. (Kaz at seventeen...Emre would've been in Afghanistan.) Emre wanted to know everything; and had to hear it second-hand, in torturous ways for Kaz.

And Emre had the graces to feel bad, seeing how much Kaz hated it, but. Hated what, exactly? The old feelings that Georgie forcibly exposed, or some embarrassment he felt now? Or something else entirely, maybe. Kaz tried to give Emre his past, which Emre was grateful for but...bloody hell, he'd never get this chance again, would he? Actual people, from Kaz's past. If Emre could strangle and wring out every tidbit about Kaz from Georgina's long throat, he would.

Georgie's description of Priti felt so different from the woman that Kaz had described from his childhood. A useless ghost of a woman, who couldn't even pull herself out of her own self-pity, to love her children. Never mind protect. And now, Georgina called her a caretaker, for kids.

"What do you know about Feroze's brother?" Emre squinted at Georgina. "Priti would give the little blighter away for organ shifting, that's how she 'takes care' of bloody kids, then?" He kissed his teeth, dropped his hands from Georgina and took a step back in deliberately showy disgust. "You're both twisted sisters, innit. Cut from the same cloth. And what about Edward? Reyansh? They still about?"

Kaz, slightly bowed, on the borderline of begging for some sense out of this. Something that didn't have Georgina rake him across the coals; and Emre knew he had to tread lightly here.

"We're all fucking tired, sweetheart. Grow up, it's embarrassing you acting like this." Emre smoothed out the map in front of Georgina. "Find us some place to land. We're not here to fucking destroy your trade, don't you worry. We don't - we can't fucking care, yeah? We've got places to be, don't involve your blood profit. We just want off the boat..."

A long look at Kaz over Georgina's head, a meaningful, heavy gaze. Georgina was beyond redemption, this much was clear. And what Emre assured her of her safety once they landed could easily be a lie, if Kaz chose.

If Kaz chose to kill Georgina too.

A banging noise from below deck. And then a small, hoarse (and pissed off) little voice, howling: "Hey!! Hey get me out of here! Help, hello! HEYYYYY!" It was Ali, awake.

[kazxraval]

A trail of bloodied and broken bodies had been scattered behind them. Mostly by Emre. A side of him that Kaz knew existed for a very long time before he witnessed it. The other two played out for Kaz like a scene in a movie. A man understood how to load a spear, pull the trigger, cut the slacked rope gone taut and meant to reel in prey by. Kaz watched it from the safety of a darkened cinema.

But, he did it.

A childish question popped into his head, and something kept him from asking Emre. (Disgrace or disgust?) Thankfully, the chance was stolen by Emre's hot breath on his neck. A sensation that never grew old, a shape shifting feeling able to soothe or entice, provoke or comfort. One arm pulled Emre tighter against him, the other ran a hand through soft velour hair. Then he kissed those knuckles and over the faded blue lines of ink before they were invariably pulled away, again. (Again, and again.)

When reunited later, Emre's reaction to Ali made Kaz frown. Yes, there was a kid Emre doted over once. As well as a towering 6' 4" baby brother. But the sudden attachment to Ali did not make much sense.

"We--." Fuck. "We killed his brother because he brought us here. Not for a nice dinner and drinks either, Emre." Self defense. "Like the little fucker wouldn't bite through our jugulars if given the chance." His mouth opened and made a noise when Emre took his light.

We'll know what to say to him, huh? "I know what to say. Hey, your brother is a douche, tried to kill us first." Low, but not exactly under his breath: "Kid's lucky he hasn't ended up like his brother."

Nothing but astute reconnaissance from Emre. A pivot to stand with Emre and look over the map, with an arm around Emre's shoulders. "So... this ship is definitely part of the organization she works for." Still seemed weird to refer to it as Georgie's operation, and perhaps her role was fairly limited.

"Mm..." He squinted over the map. Traced over crossed out locations with a finger and mulled over words written in other areas. "Maybe... this is where other ships in the fleet are based from. Not all of them work directly out of Seattle, like Georgie. Now, these other locations could be where they slice people up. Take out their organs. Ship them out." Fucking hell, what a depressing thought.

"Or, maybe these were once, I don't know. Little outposts around Seattle? But now they're gone."

He ran a hand over his mouth. "These words don't make a lot of sense. Like, look." He pointed between words on the map. "Marlboro. Fermé. Santiago? Could be some kind of code." The arm around Emre drew him closer. "Where did you find it in the captain's cabin? In a notebook, was it laying out or something?" A pause, a crack of a smile. "Find anything else in there?"

Georgie's name dulled the temporary grin. Kaz separated a little at first, and then completely. He raked through his hair. "She played innocent a lot but she also wasn't the brightest. I didn't care at the time. It's kind of complicated. But yeah, dumb as a rock."

A shrug. "She was into really kinky shit. I was horny. I was fucking 17 years old. Some older woman was into me, so yeah. I did whatever she wanted to get off." An exhale. "She lied constantly. Always tried to make me jealous, or for attention. And I wasn't all that nice to her. It was intense." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't feel anything now, so I don't care about snide remarks. Emre, what do you want to know exactly?" That, he couldn't figure out.

"It was a long time ago." He gently scratched under Emre's chin. "Stupid people aren't my type. You're my type."

Once upstairs again, Emre took the lead and left Kaz to look on. The Sharpie tattoo was revealed, half of it rubbed away with spit and salt water. A breath caught audibly in Georgie's throat, astonished. 'What... then... why in the world would you draw that on yourself?'

Cold fingers rested on the top of Emre's wrist. Her smile stretched thin and purple at the corners. 'Kaz won't kill me.' Her fingers walked weakly up Emre's chest with a smirk. 'But tell me how pretty and clever I am again.'

A spark of recognition formed between her brows as two fine lines. 'I was told he went missing.' Already quiet, Georgie's entire body stilled. 'That's what your family said, your friends.' "I did," replied Kaz. "Still missing." 'They didn't have a memorial for you Kaz, like they did for Ani.' Her head turned up to Emre. 'Did he tell you what happened at his sister's memorial? We hadn't seen each other in a year. I went anyway. At the end, he saw me in the very back of the place. He ran right to me. Right into my arms--'

Kaz slapped a hand on the bench he'd been sat on. "For fuck's sake, stop with this!" He bolted up out of his seat but didn't approach. "You go on and on and on, and no one gives a shit! So shut the fuck up!"

She studied Kaz's face for a long moment before her attention moved to Emre. The tension in her eyebrows unfurled. Georgie spread her legs, and one foot ran along Emre's calf. She reached for one of his hands to drag high on the inside of her thigh. 'Quid pro quo, uh huh. Got it. Kaz, you gonna let him do this?'

He thought the map would come up. Now, Kaz wasn't sure what Emre had in mind. As Emre tickled Georgie's side, she laughed and arched, bent to keep his hand away as her eyes tried to find Kaz's. While Kaz's gaze was more set on Emre. Then--

Tell me about Priti.

'Tell you about,' a smack of Georgie's dry lips, 'Priti. Okaaaay.' Followed by a confused laugh. The hinge of his jaw cranked tight. What the hell was going on. Suddenly he felt compelled to walk right off the edge of the boat.

'Priti never liked me. She never liked anyone, uhm.' Georgie trailed off for a moment. 'We all have to rely on people now that we may not want to, to survive. You're... kind of forced to work with others, you know.' She looked to them both, as if they understood. 'Priti brought me in on this. She only takes care of the kids. Looks after the ones who lose their parents, or the ones who will be transferred out. Like Feroze's brother.'

As Emre questioned her, Kaz went to the captain's console to fume, and to ensure the boat sailed on without running aground like the other ship. He tried to make sense as to why Emre would ask about Priti, but eventually he interrupted. "I don't give a fuck about Priti."

And with the thought he and Emre would be yanked back to the island at any given time (or did something happen to the damn teleporters, what if they're trapped in Seattle?), decisions needed to be made. First, on Ali. "Emre, show her the map. We need to know where we can take Ali first. Once we know he's safe, we can talk about letting you go." A pause. "Please, Emre."

Georgie's bruised lips pursed as she regarded them both with heavy lids. 'I'm very tired,' she said in a meek voice, although no one had asked. A hand jutted out towards Emre. 'I don't know everything, but I will try. Let me see this map.'

"I can go haul her arse if you like," Emre retorted, with a degree of fond humour. Trying to downplay things - that was Emre's go-to. He did it with Iyaz (not that Iyaz ever saw Emre bloody and murderous like this), and he could see a new sort of tension on Kaz, a specific sort of shock that came with murder, brutality. No one was prepared to kill, not even Emre, not even the hundredth time he did. But the first few times...it was particularly damning.

But Kaz was Kaz. Brilliant, adaptive, quick-witted. Adjustable...(so adjustable, with his long, well-oiled limbs and incredible flexibility...when he wanted to be flexible. Whether for pleasure, or survival). He mustered quickly, made a silly crack of his own about umbrellas in the rain. Emre hummed his approval, taking a brief, sweet moment to press his face into Kaz's neck. Perfect fit there. A huff or two of hot "okay. Okay." on Kaz's slick skin, as Kaz made promises and pressed plush, bruised lips against his knuckles.

Then they split apart, again.

Emre was swift and cautious, but in the bowels of the fishing boat it was dark. Thin lights on the corridors mostly, the cabins were bare-bones. Everything reeked of smoke, sweat, and fish, but it was surprisingly clean. Easy to search, and find things of interest. Below him, he could hear the thrum of the engine and an anchor being cranked. The shush of water, no longer slopping and slapping; Kaz had gotten them moving!

Emre met no one else as he crept through and checked the rooms down the stern; on his return, Kaz appeared and motioned him closer. The torch shone below in a storage hatch - "Ali!" Emre exclaimed loudly, as if he'd found his own long-lost cousin.

"Oh bloody hell! The poor little thing," Emre clucked, clearly wanting to reach for him. But regret and guilt held Emre back, as he thought about Feroze. He kissed his teeth, glad to see Ali react to Kaz's light, but fretting as well. "Poor bugger. We killed his brother, man."

A hum, and then Emre took Kaz's torch, crouching to put it in Ali's arms. Emre then closed the hatch, sealing Ali away. "We'll leave him there for now. We'll know what to say to him then, yeah? But he deserves a light when he wakes up."

Standing up, Emre looked up at Kaz. "I found storage, medical tubs with labels but nothing inside. Another of them operating tables, but not used. A list of numbers and names on clipboards...island names? People names? I'm not sure. And this -" Emre showed Kaz a map of the Seattle, one of Puget Sound, with places marked off and words written neatly on certain spots. "What d'you make of these? It was in the Captain's cabin."

They were on their way, Kaz had gotten Georgina to behave (for her own sake, if nothing else) but Emre knew they couldn't stay down here for too long. Still, in this relative secret, liminal space between out there and up there, Emre caught Kaz's arm, and asked. "Oi. What's the story with you and Georgina? Really, what happened. I'm tired of all her snide remarks about you, and I don't understand it. You say she's not bright, but. I don't believe it. I don't believe stupid people are your type, luv..." Emre eyed him, with a cheeky half-squint. "Unless."

Emre waited for Kaz's response, however it came, he heeded and didn't let go of Kaz's arm. Until Georgina's high-pitched calls for Kaz took their attention and Emre climbed back up to reach her, ready for anything. Fortunately, they still seemed to be sailing, and Georgina just wanted Kaz's attention on her. "What'dja find?" she asked sweetly to Kaz, eyes barely open, but following Kaz's pace.

"Oh, you won't believe what we've found. Would she, Kaz," Emre snorted, as if holding back a huge, smug secret. He whistled through his teeth for her attention. "Oi, luv. I've got something to show you, too..." He raised his wrist to her, then used his thumb to smudge the Sharpie's tattoo on his skin. "See that? I was never marked. All your efforts to get me under the knife for nothing, yeah? Now your pet doctor's dead, your men are dead, Feroze - " Emre kissed his teeth, slightly annoyed at himself. " - dead too. It's just you, and us, sweetheart."

He looked out at the water, then back at Georgina. "Now Kazzy here wants to leave you for dead, he's got no use for you; but I'm a nice bloke, aren't I. Saved you, innit. I think you're useful...and well pretty. And clever as all out. Girl didn't even blink when she found you, did she, Kaz? Bloody Kaz Raval, disappeared for years, show up looking still as gorg as you remember - and you just treat it like it's been a few weeks absence, what. Do you even know where he's been, all this time? Do you know anything? Hey. Bet you're clever enough to know Latin, too - quid pro quo, you know that?" Emre looked proud, as if the term was novel to him.

He leaned in close to Georgie, and tickled her side. "Means you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. Yeah? I don't want to have to let Kaz kill you, and you don't want to die anytime soon, I reckon. So -" Emre resisted the urge to glance at Kaz first before he asked, for permission, or approval. He kept his gaze on Georgina; and his fingers as well, rested on her hip. "Tell me about Priti. Really, Georgina. Tell me everything you know about Kaz's mum."

[kazxraval]

UNDERSTANDING KAZEM [disclaimer: I might've gotten things wrong for Kaz skdfjshdf. WE CAN DISCUSS!! The lends/borrows clothes part cracks me up the most bc I can see Emre lending Kaz clothes (if Kaz would even want to wear it LOLLLL) but Emre wouldn't borrow Kazzy's clothes and would Kaz even lend them in a non-emergency....? 🤣🤣🤣)

[kazxraval]

AVAN JOGIA as LEON KENNEDY Resident Evil: Welcome To Racoon City (2021)

[kazxraval]

Kaz felt confident he knew all of Emre's grins. Many prompted a most affectionate question: what is this fucker thinking? Others started a blazing fire in him, one that sparked low and radiated all throughout. Several were meant to be kissed off Emre's face. Twisty, bittersweet ones made Kaz want to grasp a shoulder, a hand, and look away. One in particular lived rent-free in Kaz's mind (an amused disbelief with a matching shake of the head).

This grin he knew too. Allow it, calm, everything is alright. Fair enough.

Somehow, Kaz kept the back and forth with Ginger Frank. Until his gaze connected to Emre's. Later, he'd wonder how Emre counted on Kaz to not hesitate and fire the speargun. Because even as he avoided being kicked and tripped by a semi-conscious Georgie, Kaz wasn't sure himself. (Perhaps it wasn't as much of a mystery as Kaz thought too.)

Sounds were muffled below the fast beat of his own heart, an enraged drum beat in his ears. Should he be worried more over how loud and rapid his heart raced, or by the silent squeeze of the trigger?

As soon as his hands touched Emre, ambient noise returned to pummel him. The discordant rock-and-slam of the other boat, still lodged on whatever it had initially struck. Gurgling, gagging, twitching limbs, and the scrape of a spear tip all played into a symphony of dying men on the floor of the deck feet away from them.

Emre's remark brought on a hideous recollection. Static postcard images of Emre, a true crime scene In the blue glow of the teleporters. About as lifeless on the ground as Frank. I'm alright. And already jumping to the next step. Not a minute to spare.

"Maybe I can figure it out." How to keep this new boat afloat. A big maybe, yet no other option appeared. He paused to watch and feel the soft scratch of Emre's beard in his palm with the kiss. Then, Emre flashed knives, like teeth in all those grins he memorized.

But, Georgie. An immediate frown was his response. The entire trip, Kaz fought through war zones to reach Emre. Every time he caught up, had a square inch of peace, he was shoved into battle again. "She don't know how--" he fumed, "I'm telling you." Not the worst logic, and Kaz was still surprised she made it so far. He started to look back to the other boat, but stopped as he caught sight of the dead crewman in his peripheral. "Why do you keep making me haul her ass around?"

Emre's hand flattened to Kaz's chest. Kaz's heart still ran wild and currently pounded in his throat too. He covered the hand with his own, with fingers curled under Emre's. Silver beads of rain began to sprinkle into Emre's hair from above. No fat drops, but he kind of wish there had been. The heaviest rain was what was needed to wash all the hell away. "Don't need a brolly when it's only drizzling," with a small and tired smile. Brolly, for Emre's amusement.

The latest idea worst than the last. "You want me to just wait on the fucking bridge while you're alone down there?" Not likely. He huffed in annoyance. "If you're not back up here in five minutes, I will come get you." Emre's knuckles were covered in dirt and blood, but Kaz kissed them anyway.

Hauling Georgie over to the new boat and cutting loose from the old one certainly burned more than the pledged five minutes. The blonde was propped up in what was presumed to be Frank's old chair at the helm-- rotted, split vinyl, the swivel of the seat squealed angrily with every half circle turn. He recognized an old fish finder set up on the dash and tapped it. "Is this how they avoided the reef, when your boat ran into it?"

Georgie's eyes remained closed as her grin spread. A lower giggle registered, and she slurred in a sarcastic tone, 'You're soooo smart.'

Kaz grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. Georgie's head flopped and bobbed with little control. "I didn't want to bring you on board. He did. Least you can do is help!"

'... but you did. You didn't leave me. Guess that friend of yours knows.' Her lips smacked and eyes cracked open. She sighed in resignation and pointed to a few lights on a control panel. Georgie walked him through the steps needed to raise the anchor and re-engage the engine, while the pair sniped back and forth. Kaz turned to study Georgie. She held on by a thread somehow, battered and seriously injured. "Georgina. What's below deck. What're they carrying on the ship."

She smiled again, eyelids fluttered in a fight to stay open, flyaways from her frazzled blonde braid peeled off her sticky-blood-and-sweat covered neck. 'Find out for yourself.'

Georgie covered a thick cough with her arm and began to get the boat moving. Kaz carefully crept below deck. At the bottom he paused to listen. Silence. Where was Emre?? Furious, he began to search. One hatch in the floor led to another, lower hold. Narrow but deep, perhaps originally meant to store fishing gear.

Kaz was looking down into the space when Emre finally appeared. He motioned Em over with a wave. "I found this." Kaz swept the beam of a flashlight below. Curled up on the steel floor below was a sleeping Ali. At least Kaz hoped Ali only slept. "Fuck. They might've..." he stopped himself, edited the blunt words that were about to come out of his mouth, as Emre seemed fond of the little shit.

"Maybe they doped him up or something." Like a child given sea sickness tablets to sleep on a short ferry ride. There wasn't any sign of blood on his clothes, bandages anywhere underneath. Just that same damn tatt they noticed earlier. "I can check his pulse." Instead, Kaz turned the light directly on Ali's face. After several long moments, his features contorted, and the boy whined in annoyance. Kaz's brows tensed. "Look. He's fine, isn't he. Gotta fumigate the place to get rid of the kid."

"What else did you find down here?"

"Soon, man," Emre replied with a wicked grin, so Kaz wasn't too bothered. The man was dealing with enough; Emre certainly didn't want to add to his already long list. From getting the tar beaten out of him, to now being responsible for a woman who, from Emre's understanding, had once loomed large and starry in Kaz's youthful eyes.

Now barely spared a glance, by Kaz. How cold Kaz Raval could become. How this man, who's pretty words 'Gonna have to claim you again...' could warm Emre now, from tip to toe. Kaz was not a fickle man; at least Emre believed, about matters of his heart. What family might've lived there, now carved out with a knife. How much his young, tender heart might've bled for Georgina, now cauterized into scars Kaz wouldn't even acknowledge. How profoundly Kaz could cut people off, people he might've once tried to love.

It was unnerving for someone like Emre, who didn't know how to give up on his messy, often ruinous relationships. The both of them, responsible for now being alone (either deliberately or through circumstance)...now together. Yeah, definitely soon.

Kaz's tone as he volleyed with Ginger could easily be interpreted any which way; and Emre could imagine his stony-faced expression paired with it. A frothy, greedy little thrill in Emre, because he got to hear a different sort of Kaz, got to bask in a myriad of faceted expressions that lit up or reddened those gorgeous features. Kaz's private looks - perfect distraction to think about, as Emre's hands moved in efficient death.

Georgina to her credit (Emre thought) made some final attempt at chaos, knowing her time was ending at the hands of a very special man. A man that she remembered still, had staying power in her brain after all these years. Emre couldn't even fault her, but his instincts took over. Kaz, the wildcard, the unpredictable.

Emre heard the spear gun. Or rather, he registered the milliseconds of a terrible woosh of the spear gun; a crack-squelch of Ginger's head now punctuated by dark red and a metal tip. "Oh fuck," Emre exhaled, staring as Ginger didn't register his fate at first. (The head felt no pain? There's no pain receptors in the brain? Folktales that spun around the nightclub tables of gangsters and roadmans, weird tales). By the time he fell, Emre looked up to find Kaz hopping over the rail, long legs easily finding purchase.

A face like smooth marble, as Kaz rounded on a cringing deckhand. "Kaz wait no -" Emre started, but the whoosh-kthunk to the throat (so precise! Oh Kaz...) ended the man's life without a second thought.

"Kaz..." Emre whispered, pushing himself up to standing. Only for Kaz to turn and face him, with the most gentle of looks, large eyes turned softest brown under that rain-patter of blood-spray across Kaz's features. The most concerned fingers slid around the back of Emre's head, checking, petting. Questions asked. Emre felt like he was in a strange dream, suddenly. One where blood and violence - things he associated with hatred, necessity, cold, cruel desperation - now blended with the sweetest kindness towards him. Towards him, genuine attention meant for Emre. Him and Kaz, creating something terrifyingly new here. Did Kaz feel it too, Emre wondered.

"I'm alright, I've been through worse," he said, smirking even when Kaz's fingers brushed over the scars of a baseball bat to Emre's head, many months ago. He nodded to the throated crewman. "But we still don't got no mandem who knows how to sail this thing. Might be more below decks."

Emre nodded, gathered his thoughts. When it came to killing, violence, it was never over. Once it started, it just kept going and going and fucking going... Emre wanted to be home. Home with Kaz, clean and scrubbed after a hot, painful shower together. He shook his head to clear it.

"Right. I'll go down - I'm alright," he assured Kaz, holding Kaz's wrist. Kissing a calloused palm that smelled like steel and blood. "Better off than you, trust. Still got my little friends to help," he lifted the knives. "You cut us loose, and bring Georgina on board, yeah? We can't leave her to die, Kaz. And besides," Emre offered a better incentive, so Kaz wouldn't grumble.

"Might be she knows how to sail a boat? Seems everyone in your old city is reliant on sailing, innit. She'd be stupid to not bother learning, herself. She can get us back to the mainland - she'd be saving herself too." Feroze was as good as dead, if not already. Poor sodding bastard had no idea at the start of his day when he'd found Emre and Kaz at the finance building, that his fate would end here.

Emre pressed his hand on Kaz's chest. He could feel Kaz's heartbeat, a pounding sound that seemed to match the waves around them. Suddenly, rain started to fall. Emre looked up, shook his head. "This fucking place. Just like London, innit."

Another nod. "You take our Georgina to the bridge, I'll go below and...see what's there." Emre was thinking the same as Kaz: what kind of cargo would he find on this pirate ship? Memories flooded Emre's mind: dark cabins in port ships, sea containers full of crying, sweat and perfume, different languages... these ones would have a special tattoo on their wrists.

If they found more 'cargo', what on earth were Kaz and Emre to do with them? Emre shook his head to clear his mind again, like a dog. Questions for later. "I'll be careful, I promise. As long as you're careful too."

As Emre stepped back, he could feel the floor slick, his boots skidding slightly. Whether that was from blood or rain, Emre couldn't tell in the dark. Kaz did this. And Emre had asked him to.

Soon.

[kazxraval]

Brows weighed heavily with a question already marked as having a delayed answer. Kaz asked anyway. "Soon, what?" For the most part, Kaz felt close to Emre. Closer than anyone in the course of years on a rocky island.

This was not to be confused with being able to predict this gorgeous, tantalizing man's every move. Or to know what went through Emre's head at any given moment. Aside from a few instances of detonation, of being hit by shrapnel, Kaz thought he understood much between them.

Maybe too, Kaz was exhausted. And for once, he didn't want to make the trek out to the grotto. Maybe unhindered, unbroken sleep would come to him in the low ceiling confines of Emre's room in the dorms. They'd both wake up at the same time. Not too early, not late (either being more average for Kaz). With splashes of sun across their bare skin, two bodies intertwined into one strand of pure gold.

In terms of suspicions over what Georgie could've done, yeah. Perhaps in her state, not likely. But not impossible. No longer was a full catalogue in his head of Georgie's sins. More like vague outlines of unwanted, unsightly stains left behind. Enough to insinuate what Kaz had mostly forgotten. He only frowned at her, and even that was unfocused. Disinterested.

The only indication a limp Feroze still clung to life came from the gurgle of air and blood forced out of his throat when his body was draped over the railing. Feroze, reduced to a wet towel slung over a towel rack. Kaz pulled the body over, heavy with trauma from the drop to the deck, and secured him with Georgina. Kaz smiled a little wider. "Ink on your stomach says you're mine. Gonna have to claim you again, when the marker washes off."

Emre called out to the boat, and a chill swept through his chest. As though a door had been left open and he was now exposed to the elements. The remark heard about the fish jumping into the boat didn't make him feel great either. Ginger's sooty-toothed smile demanded Kaz maintain his stoney expression. Because what was Kaz Raval good at? Giving away nothing.

'More of a steal than a deal, hey?' Followed by a phlegmy laugh which boiled over into a choking, hacking cough. "Sounds like you're on death's door. So we'll have a little mercy."

He took 'captain' with a nod (when would he ever be called it again?) And Kaz kept up the frivolous talk to distract, to mask Emre's slink around the lower deck. Until Georgie ratted them out with her shout to Frank. Kaz felt the air leave his own lungs at the sight of Emre literally lifted and slammed against the ship's railing. Hands flung upwards to his head, his eyes stung. "Emre!" All the bullshitting dropped, because it no longer mattered.

What Emre said without words didn't take a whole lot to decipher. Big brown eyes as neon signs for Kaz to read. The phantom twist of Emre's palm against his returned, to the spot it was only minutes ago, soon, yeah?

Georgina sat behind him, tied to a dead or dying Feroze, kicked her small feet out at Kaz with all the energy she could muster. "Should've made sure you couldn't open your damn mouth," he growled over a shoulder at her. But too late. He thought of a time with his father, his brother, and a shotgun. How he imagined it might feel to pull the trigger.

Kaz stepped away from a squealing Georgie and brought the speargun up and aimed at the big back of a melon-sized head, hair the color of bricks. The boats were too close for the whistling of the spear to carry. In fact, no sound was heard. Or, perhaps Kaz's ears shut out all ambient noise.

Just us, me and Emre. All that mattered. Saving their asses, getting out of there.

Now, what Kaz saw... He quickly cut the rope that attached the gun to the metal spear, which had lodged itself through Frank's skull. A full inch of the sharp tip visible on Emre's end as it peeked out of the man's forehead.

Frank turned slow towards Emre's direction. Shaky fingers tapped across his head. 'What happened,' he whispered low in disbelief. 'Something happened, something hit me, didn't it?' No blood yet, but his words turned into a string of garbled noises.

Kaz reloaded and climbed to the rail, to make a jump over to the ship tied up with Georgie's sinking one. Kaz stepped over Frank, who'd fallen, and stalked towards the crew member closest to Emre. The one who held his palms up in surrender. Kaz took a breath and fired again, this second spear pierced through the base of the crewman's throat with a more dramatic red mist exploding. They stumbled forward, both hands clutched at his neck, eyes strained wide in a silent plea at Emre. Kaz stared briefly. Had he done that? And then shoved the bleeding boatman out of Emre's way.

Kaz swung the speargun back again over a shoulder. He wiped blood away from an eye and then reached for Emre. "You okay??" The most important part, especially after seeing Emre crashed about the deck. "You got everyone?" The thought of any additional cargo made him ill. "Because we need to cut loose of Georgie's boat and get the fuck out of here."

His hands cradled Emre's head, fingers deep through curls to feel for injury. "You hear me? I'm gonna go get us loose." A glance over to Georgie, who squirmed in her binds but lost a lot of steam. Along with Feroze. Who, well. Was Feroze. Kaz took stock of their surroundings. "There's bodies everywhere, Emre."

"No, Kaz listen -" Emre began to say, because he had known Kaz for what? Three years now. Three years. Sometimes with Kaz, it seemed like forever. Laying under some dark, starry night, breath mingling, skin flush and irresistible against each other. Other times though, it felt like a few months, at most. Kaz was like the ocean - tide in, crashing and tumbling you in its ferocity; and then tide far, far out. But this wasn't the time or place to have a good sit-down, a cuppa tea, and a proper chat. Emre just turned his hand in Kaz's, gave it a squeeze. "Soon. Yeah?"

Back to work, no time to think. Emre was starting to realize that most of his adult life centred around that mantra: no time to think, or talk, or process. Back to work. Work first. To protect Iyaz, or to survive. To keep Kaz and him alive. It should be different, but Emre wasn't sure how to fix that, not yet. Soon.

He nodded at Kaz, about Georgina possibly sending out a distress call before destroying the comms. "She could've, yeah." Georgina was too woozy to be responsive though. The ruse about two injured when they'd hit...whatever they'd hit, sounded feasible. Even in the night light, Kaz himself was starting to look as bad as he probably felt. Delicate purplish bruises forming under his exhausted dark eyes and firm jawline, swelling on his tender, down-turned lips. Kaz looking like he didn't even register his pain. Looking that way. Feeling was an entirely different matter.

Emre went to fetch Feroze, but Kaz paused him. With actual worry. "I know, darling. It's half-arsed, and poorly planned, but. I've never been much of a planner, not like that." Emre pushed a smirk onto his face, irreverent and brutish. "And you, my luv - I reckon you've gotten yourself out of far stickier situations than this. Clever fox, our Kaz." He fetched and hauled Feroze up to Kaz, stating with some surprise, "Feroze - he's still alive? Here -" Emre slumped Feroze over the railing with a grunt. Feroze burbled, and groaned.

His grin got wider, wolfish when Kaz dived back to his usual flippancy, a hefty, manly grab of himself that made Emre give a low whistle for. Rewarded with a brief, warm kiss, the sharp tang of blood staining Kaz's lips. "That organ's all mine," he said, with a tap on his own chest. "Got ink right here that says so."

The Sharpie drawing on his wrist still miraculously remained. Who knew something so off-the-cuff could end up so important to these Seattle freaks.

Emre slid down into the shadows between the nav lights, once the other boat pulled up. He could hear Kaz talking - that crisp monotone working to his advantage. Brilliant, beautiful man, easy talker when he needed to me. Emre could listen to Kaz read from a technical manual and find him captivating; he could only imagine how the other crew took to Kaz's stoic confidence, from a handsome face so bruised and bashed.

From his position, Emre could see the other crew on their deck, but not Kaz and his broken menagerie of the enemy. Were these people also the enemy? Emre had to find out.

He looked at his wrist, and got an idea.

"Oi!" Emre shouted from the deck below, to catch their attention before anyone could notice that Feroze was barely conscious and Georgina wasn't far behind. He shot his wrist up, pointing to the 'tattoo'. Bismillah. "Help me! They've got me marked up for market! I'll come with you - just leave them all behind, please. Please!"

The ginger - the Captain, Emre assume, got a spotlight on him, and Emre blinked helplessly, hoping the blood spatter just looked like wetness, hoping they'd be distracted by the tattoo. Hoping greed prevailed in this lawless place. Some bustle from above.

"Carl, Pete - help our new guest onboard," Ginger ordered, and two men came to their lower deck, to toss a rope ladder over to Emre. Ginger called out to Kaz, a bit more smugly. "Not often the fish willingly jump to another ship, eh Captain?" Ginger thought Kaz was the Captain, which made Emre a little hot (what didn't). Ginger tilted to look behind Kaz, wiggle his fingers in a mocking wave. "Thanks Georgina. So, if you all don't got anything else for a trade, then I think we'll be on our way..."

Emre clambered across to the other boat, with Carl and Pete hauling him on-board. And Emre thanking them, with an intimate knife slid into the soft flutter of one's neck, up into the head. A cry from the other before Emre dispatched him too - and only hoped that Kaz's stalling above them was distraction enough that Ginger didn't hear.

But Emre wasn't banking on Georgina - the woman just didn't know how to stay down! He heard her screech over Kaz - "He's killing your men, Frank!!"

Fuck. Advantage lost, cheers Georgie. More clamour from Ginger's deck, and Emre tried to get up there as quick as possible, only to be hauled up by a bruiser of a bloke, right off his feet. Dashed against the railing of the upper deck, hard enough to get winded. But Emre didn't know how to stay down when blood surged in his ears, and all he saw was pure, blinding white. All he wanted, was violence.

A scrabble on the deck - three against one. Emre had knives but the others had weapons too. But Emre had a secret weapon because Kaz was also there, only a few metres apart - and with clear aim.

"Kaz -!!" Emre yelped, a split-second where he locked with Kaz's eyes from across two boats. A look that only lasted a second or two before Emre backed up. Ginger's back to Kaz,

(A split-second for Emre to get a needle of panic down his spine: he was asking Kaz to kill. He was asking Kaz to kill, again. Was this the person he wanted Kaz to become? As warped as him, taking the lives of others?)

Emre shouted again. "Now!"

[kazxraval]

Everyone's changed. His head bobbled a little before he looked down at the knuckles on his skin. A pointless denial died as a small and disagreeable sound in his throat. Instead, a hand cupped over Emre's knuckles. Only a few seconds granted to inspect those eyes, ones he'd swam reverently through before, as well as Emre's current expression. "You have." Yes, the man with blood on his collar was the one who'd changed, Kaz's opinion.

Kaz cracked a smile, with fingers playing across Emre's swan neck. "It's nice to want something. Isn't it? We can look forward to it." As thought his simple desire to fuck would send them spinning through the fabric of time to the island again. The trip to Seattle was such a disaster, maybe the delay returning home was just another part of the dumpster fire.

If things felt unsettled to Emre, to Kaz it was a reality that he paid no mind to. Wouldn't matter much. All he really needed was to get back to the island.

Emre smartly tended to the disabled boat, with an attempt at the dead radio, and ultimately turned the vessel into a beacon before it could sink beneath the water. While Kaz's brawl with Georgie was asshort-lived as her ability to fight. When he subdued her sharp claws and bites, he handed over the knife she nicked him with to Emre. Fucking hell, Kaz! "It's alright." Well, Georgie wasn't necessarily, but that wasn't so important.

Emre brought the situation into a keen focus. No rafts. No... dolphins. "Think it's a random boat? What if she somehow got a message out to her contacts." The radio on the ship had been checked. "Did it look like someone fucked with the radio?" Was it possible she reached her connection first, and then damaged the equipment?

Kaz held on to Emre's smile for a minute. His gaze didn't go over the railing but out to the lights fast approaching. "You want us to pirate a ship?" A payment. Bargaining chips. Georgie groaned, groggy. Either the injured boat they were on or Feroze echoed their pain in the background too, although Kaz could barely tell the difference between the them.

"What if we told them that Feroze and Georgie were hurt when the boat wrecked? And we ask them for help." Of course, whatever ruse Emre decided worked best would be the one they'd go with.

"Fuck, Emre. I don't know about this one. Don't like it." His head hurt, the muscles in his neck killed him. Every bone in his body felt the weight of the entire trip. "I don't like you going into this blind either." There weren't a lot of options.

"Yeah. Yeah. Grab Feroze. Actually -- if you can bring him up here. I can help you too. May be easier for the other boat to see them both, yeah?" Just outside the bridge, he deposited Georgie but kept alert in case she faked it again. "And I can try to get some of the crew on board the lower deck." Maybe. It was the shakiest plan ever dreamed up. In his experience, best to prepare to jump on opportunities instead.

He tipped his head towards the strap of the spear gun, with the weapon thrown over a shoulder again. "Yeah. I'm good. I don't understand how you're gonna get onboard though. Without anyone noticing." He flashed a small smile. "Stealthy bastard, I know. I shouldn't even ask, hm?"

Why wouldn't they want yours? Kaz took a pause to look at Emre. "I have no idea" After a quick scan from Emre's wrist back up to his face again, "Other than that stupid tattoo having a meaning we don't know about." And then he began to wonder. "Why don't they want me?" His tone impartial. "What are you trying to say." A beat. "Got one prime organ over here." He grabbed himself to illustrate the touch of bleak humor.

They made a quick sweep below deck, to check the current damage and for anything else that might assist them. When it was time for Emre to prepare, Kaz kissed him quick. Then he waited. Feroze, in plain view, was going no where. And Georgie. Never would've guessed it would come to Kaz using her to bargain with. But, he'd never met anyone like Emre either.

As the other ship drew nearer, Kaz waved it down. Indicated where the similarly sized boat should pull up alongside the broken one. Noted five people were in view on deck. None of them looked particularly friendly. "Careful, we've hit something," Kaz called out. "We're taking on water, but slowly." Fuck if Kaz knew the exact details, but he winged it.

A short but gruff looking white guy with a shock of unruly ginger hair stepped forward, the apparent spokesman for the crew. His eyes scanned the boat, and then Kaz. 'We can see that.' His squint hardened momentarily. 'Your boat clipped the edge of a reef. How the hell did you possibly do that?'

"Equipment failure," Kaz bullshitted. "I'm looking to get some help. Hoping we can cut a deal." How would he know when Emre made it on board. Why the hell did he agree to letting Emre do that?

Kaz was an expert at maintaining a flat expression in the worst of times. But he stayed alert. Hoped to see a sign of Emre in his peripheral. Would the men who stood behind their 'captain' suddenly go wide-eyed as Emre snapped their necks or dragged a knife across their throats?

'A deal?' The captain repeated. 'By the looks of your boat, you better talk fast.'

The organ trafficker story didn't seem to go well with Kaz, and Emre wasn't quite sure why. But then, Emre didn't know this Georgina the way Kaz did. Something didn't add up for Kaz; but Emre pointed out, "It's been years, man. Decades. And this new world order as well...everyone's changed, haven't they." Emre's knuckles made a crescent along Kaz's arm to signify: including you.

How thrilling, to blurt whimsical things and see Kaz's eyes minutely flare white and bright. A smile on his lips that Emre decided was just for him, only for him. Words returned so smooth and clever, Emre could've dropped trou right there, if there weren't the silly little matter of surviving. Emre tilted his head back and groaned, long and throaty. "Fucking teleports! Why isn't it pulling us back yet. Fuck you make me so hot at the most inappropriate times, you know that? You bastard."

Not that it was even good to just zip back home. Nothing was resolved, nothing tidily wrapped in a neat package for Kaz! Everything - from brief, confounding glimpse of Priti in the city, to Georgina's organ trafficking - it was all so fucking messy and raw. And Kaz here, grimly cauterising every new bleeding as they sprung. How much more of this could he handle with his usual brand of stoic dismissal? His capacity seemed unending. It wasn't even taking it in stride; Kaz had a knack for rendering these titular people from his past - Priti, Georgina - completely irrelevant.

Like nothing hurt him. Like they couldn't hurt him.

But Kaz was human, and his capacity to love...Emre had witnessed and felt that first hand. Kaz's capacity of feel was immense, a maelstrom, one Emre was eager to get swept away in.

Kaz brought Emre back to current, with a pitiless lecture at Feroze. "Sometimes you scare me, my luv," Emre gently murmured, stroking Kaz's back again as they moved past Feroze's chilling position. (A position that Emre had put him in but...in Emre's mind, that was different. Not scary per se, just essential.)

They got to Georgina, and she confirmed before Emre could. He dashed to the captain to inspect but. Damn. Emre had intended to just incapacitate the man, but he'd botched it, and the wanker bled out. Emre keenly listened to Kaz and Georgina yelling at each other. Unbothered by the row, but trying to understand their twisted past, how it had fermented over the years, and bubbled open now.

Emre slid over to the console, grunting in frustration that the radio was somehow destroyed. He found switches for the navigational lights and flicked them on, knowing that it might attract whomever was coming for them; but counting on it now. Stranded out here in the water in a sinking, smoking, screaming yacht, it seemed like their best chance. More fighting, more violence; Emre could manage, and Kaz? Kaz would throw himself into the fray without question, when he'd already been so poorly beaten. What choice did they have, though.

Didn't it always boil down to that in the end?

A roar from behind Emre, and he turned in time to see Georgina free of her binds, leaping at Kaz. The struggle was tight and difficult for Emre to get a hand in - every time he tried to grab a fistful of Georgina's hair, she flipped aside. But Kaz solved it with his trusty fucking spear-gun - metal met flesh, and Georgina was down for the count. Kaz up on his feet in a flash, hauling Georgina up like a sack of potatoes. "Fucking hell, Kaz! Fuck! Fuck..."

Emre was shaking his head again at all of Kaz's questions. "No man. No life rafts. If we jump in the water, we won't survive." The water was freezing cold when Emre fell in, he could just imagine it now. "No dolphins coming for us this time. Kaz - " Emre turned to look at him. "Whoever's coming for us, their boat is our best chance, yeah?

Emre nodded to Georgina's deadweight. "And she's our bargaining chip. Fucking hell, someone in this fucking wasteland has got to hold some value to the others...! No offense, darling." A smile returned, but nothing felt as warm and melty-sweet, as Kaz's smile to him; nothing. "I'm sure Seattle was lovely. I would've loved to take the Urmilla tour."

It seemed there were boat lights in the distance, coming closer. Emre looked over the railing at Feroze. "Do you reckon he might have any value too? I'll fetch him."

Emre started down the ladder, his knives tucked into his waistband, A glance up at Kaz. "Still got your spear, yeah? When the other boat gets close, you greet them with Georgina and Feroze, stall them? I'll try and get on the boat and...." Emre licked his lips, thinking about Georgina's threats. They were coming for Emre, she said. Why not for Kaz's youthful organs too? What did Georgina know about Kaz? Or did she just want to keep Kaz for herself, like a prize or a pet?

"Well. They're not good people, are they? If they want my guts, I'll hand them their own." Ad then, Emre couldn't help but point out: "Why wouldn't they want yours?"

[kazxraval]

The distress in seeing Emre spattered in red faded with the matter of fact confirmation: it's not mine. Kaz leaned his cheek to Emre's palm, eyes closed briefly. "Nah. Knew you'd come for me. You always do." A quick and innocent grin followed. But the name of the game was to survive. Keep going. No matter how heavy his arms wrapped around Emre felt. No matter how much his head swam out of time with the sway of the ship. He'd keep moving until he simply collapsed. Kaz grew quiet, mainly from exhaustion and in an attempt to conserve the little energy left. No one came for them yet, and it did seem as though most of the crew was incapacitated. He smiled as Emre chattered, weary as hell but otherwise kept upright by Emre's voice as they displayed their weapons.

The organ trafficking froze Kaz. He blinked. "You're joking." Difficult to believe in so many ways, especially Georgina's involvement. But the next words from Emre were the most remarkable. An foreign emotion pinged from the top of his spine to the bottom, and back up again. Something unnameable, but knowable. Cautious, and delirious. Perhaps he was dreaming, even. Fingertips glided across Emre's shirt, over his left pec. Kaz could trace the name tattooed there if he wanted. Tired, but not enough to keep an affectionate smile off his face. "I wouldn't ever let them have it." Shelving crashing down on them was terrible timing, again. "I'm fine," Kaz assured when he was back on his feet, a hand on Emre's shoulder for balance. "You?" As had not gone unnoticed the valiant effort taken to absorb some of the chaos of the ship's violent reaction and spare Kaz. "Don't want you getting hurt either, okay?"

A finger drew over a long tear-like streak of dried blood that ran down Emre's cheek as he filled Kaz in on more. No guns. The condition of Feroze, the captain, where Georgie was. The quickest route to take once out of the supply room.

"You've got everything covered," he admired with a pat and soft scratch to Emre's side. "One thing is wrong though. She's not my Georgina." The final word. No one would touch him. Wonderfully grand promises. "No one will get near you either. Not again." Desperately Kaz wanted to know about the doctor, but soon.

They silently crept along the tilted deck. Kaz dared to catch a glimpse of 'broken' Feroze-- contorted into an almost geometric shape, a particularly wide pool of blood as a velvet red pillow beneath his head. Slow, out of time breaths rattled audibly from Feroze's throat. It was Kaz's turn to touch Emre's back, with a gentle whisper. "Look at that dumb fuck." A pause. "When all he had to do in the beginning was leave us alone. We're just daytrippers, yeah. He really fucked himself."

Up the stairs and on the bridge of the ship, a captain had bled out on the floor. Georgie was secured, as Emre said. Kaz doublechecked with him, as if suspicious of Georgina: "This where you left her? She hasn't moved?" He called out over the loud roar of an motor that idled too high. 'Uhm no, I haven't moved.' Georgie used her smallest, most feline voice. Eyes watery with a quivering lower lip. 'How could I even do anything like this? Seriously. Look at me! Kaz...'

"Well then WHO started the god damn engine, hm?" He yelled heavily, arm jutting out towards the wide window that looked out to the ocean. Kaz rushed around the slippery pile of the dead captain on the floor.

Kaz surveyed the control panel and attempted to shut off the engine. "Guess the ship hit a sandbar, sailing on its own. Em, you see anything ahead? How you think the engine was turned on, from up here yeah?" Kaz considered the array of buttons and displays on the console in front of him.

'I tried,' Georgie cast pleading green eyes up at Kaz and tugged on her bindings. 'Listen to me, okay? For real! I can tell you where we need to go. Not back to the island or anything. But really help you two get out of here. Like I was trying to do in the first place. Because believe me. More are coming. They are coming for him--' Emre '--especially, that's who they were promised.'

Kaz ground a throttle handle down in an attempt to shut off the engine and end the ear-splitting sound. Outside, the wind caught dark puffs of smoke from burning oil and blew it all through an open window.

Kaz stalked over and hunched down in front of Georgie. The strap of the speargun was slung out of the way and over his back. "You tried to kill us both, Georgina! You were gonna-gonna-- harvest his fucking organs???" An echo in the background of panic, to think that could've been Emre's fate. "Can't even imagine what the hell you were gonna do to me!"

His lip curled contemptuous and mocking. "I knew you lied back then. All the time. You thought I was a fool. Some dumb kid. And you know, maybe I was? Because I knew, Georgie. I knew you lied all the fucking time to me. And I thought maybe, maybe if I show I care she'll actually tell me the truth one day. She'll trust me enough to stop lying her ass off to me!"

Georgie's red lips pinched tight in the middle. As though she held her own tongue from lashing out. Her shoulders tensed, her hands balled into little fists, tight enough that her sharpened nails likely left imprints on the palms.

Her gaze shifted between the men. 'You're both stupid! HE took out the one guy who understood how to pilot this ship!' Georgie clearly fumed a few long seconds over Emre. Perhaps seeing whatever trade she'd made for him vanish in front of her eyes, Kaz thought.

'Then, there's you Kaz.' A few giggles turned into a string of them, and then a louder laugh. 'Thinking with your dick gets you in trouble every time. Like it did with us. So, uhm.' Her eyes darted between Emre and Kaz, maybe towards the door over their shoulders. Or maybe it was a split second of decision, a moment of distraction.

The ruse of any restraints on Georgie dropped. Evidently, she'd somehow freed herself in Emre's absence, and on their arrival made sure the men thought she was still bound. But no more. She slapped Kaz hard and then lunged at him. A clawing beastly blur of a struggle began. Georgie lashed out at Kaz with the glint of a blade in her hand. A hand shot out to grip her throat while the other fought to knock the knife away. Her piecing scream rang out. Kaz's own caught-off-guard shout from somewhere low in his gut.

He swung the speargun forward to clock her in the face with the handle of the weapon. Georgie's head snapped back and she wilted from the strike with a groan. Fast. Effective enough to see her melt in a puddle of a daze, her attack temporarily thwarted. Georgie murmured and babbled in coherently, the lids of her eyes weighted heavy by the smash to her head.

"This bitch should join Feroze, yeah?" He questioned Emre even as he already scooped Georgie up in his arms. "Come on. Did you see any life rafts or anything? Any way to get out of here? Back to land. What do you think?"

Could be because he was bleeding, felt like shit. Was about to do serious damage to someone he once never dreamed of harming. A rare thought, a bloom in a garden at night: What if they were stuck there? Like Iyaz? "We could hide. If people are really coming for you. As long as we can paddle to one of the smaller islands or the shore, we could hide."

He headed to the door with a lump of Georgie in his arms. He smiled with a rush of air through his teeth. "All I wanted to do was show you where your mum worked. What a fucking disaster."

"It's not mine," Emre replied, but the same couldn't be said for the blood and bruises staining Kaz's heavy frame. A glorious sight at first, but now Emre took an actual assessment when it was clear Kaz could still mobilize. But for how long? And how much pain was Kaz holding inside himself? Cracked ribs, possibly even some internal bruising. Maybe even bleeding. Kaz needed the medical attention, and Emre wasn't a doctor.

"Oi, 'never', really? You cheeky sod," he said with a soft, adoring half-grin. He cupped Kaz's face, wanting nothing more than to kiss the other. But Emre was sticky with sweat and other people's blood; a proper snog would have to wait, tempting as it was.

First things first. Breaking the ziptie with one of the guard's knives was easy enough, but Emre nuzzled against the whisper of Kaz's lips by his ear, the wet warmth of something more than breath. The kind of blood Emre wanted on him, as their beards shirred together, rubbing like greeting cats. Kaz told his story, and Emre grunted. "I heard you below deck, didn't I. Reckoned if you was alive enough to have a row with Georgie, I'd take out the crew first, yeah? I think I got...most of them." But Emre couldn't be sure. There might still be some of Georgina's men lurking about.

Kaz freed (all Emre wanted to do was kiss those raw wrists) and in search of a weapon. He found a fucking speargun and Emre gave an appreciative whistle at the sight of his man, wielding the weapon with a glee only Kaz would feel. The thrill of utter chaos, Kaz in full control. "Ooh hoo, look at him. My action hero, what! What," Emre softly barked.

Emre displayed the two bloody hunting knives he'd liberated from the guards from the OR, one gripped in each hand. "Fucking organ trafficker, our Georgina. She left me to donate with some fucked-up doctor on Whidbey." A fierce grin up at Kaz. "They didn't realize my heart already belongs to someone, innit."

The ship listed suddenly, like a car taking a sharp turn. The yacht moved one way, contents went the other way. This time, unbolted shelving tilted onto Kaz and Emre. He turned his shoulder to take the brunt of the weight, a sharp pain he ignored. Bracing himself to push it back into place with a loud groan. "You alright? You alright?" Emre fussed in sudden terror, reaching to help Kaz back standing. Taking time now to inspect Kaz physically for all the damage those bastards inflicted on him. "Those fucking pricks..."

The rage swelled in Emre's throat again at the memory of Kaz getting beat down. "No one's got firearms - might've run out of bullets, I reckon. One bloke had a taser on him though. I broke Feroze and threw him to the lower deck. Captain is incapacitated. Georgie's up in the captain's cabin with him...I secured her too, but...." Maybe she got loose. Or maybe one of her crew found her. Emre cursed under his breath; he should've been more thorough - but finding Kaz, here and alive and tucked into the supply closet was a joyful distraction.

He nodded, agreeing with Kaz's plan, effective and succinct as it was. "I wanted you to get the final word, with your Georgina," Emre let Kaz lead, but heightened his own alertness. We, I mean. Emre smiled, resting a hand briefly on the small of Kaz's back, fingers toying with the bumps of a long, elegant spine.

"There's a stairwell to the left, it'll take us up to the top deck, the captain's cabin and the steering, yeah? It's where I left Georgina. She better still fucking be there. Not letting you out of my sight, yeah? You handle Georgina, and I won't let anything or anyone fucking touch you."

[kazxraval]

The relative silence on the ship felt like some kind of trap. For all the racket Kaz made, no footsteps slapped across the deck. No search parties roared and shouted for a piece of anyone. Thankfully. Without any real way to protect himself, the current injuries Kaz carried would be easy to attack and disable. Next time, would he wake again in the moldy old bedroom on a boat? Or not at all.

Kaz comforted with a simple idea: it meant Emre possibly stalked through the ship. Not as a roadman. As a soldier? A form Emre gave shape to as they talked in the grotto. A shadow Kaz knew of but never saw before. Not fully. Perhaps seen in bits and pieces. Parts of a whole that changed everything.

In the supply room, Kaz used the sharp edge of a desk to try and escape the zip tie around his wrists. When the light under the crack of the door broke up to reveal movement on the other side, he stopped sawing and reached for the first thing his restricted hands found.

The door was flung open. Blurred vision instantly sharpened. Pain in his side forgotten enough for his lungs to expand with an excited breath. Tongue nudged at the open crack in his upper lip, which had an irresistible taste of metallic bruises. At first, he croaked: "You're okay?" A reasonable question as Emre was covered in blood. A veritable Jackson Pollock of blood splatter on his shirt, the left side of his face and neck. Sunny freckles and moles had bright crimson counterparts. Thicker stray stripes of red across the belly, a pool of the stuff near his shirt collar. Dried patches of blood heavier around the wrists and faded up to the elbows. Once he knew Emre was indeed uninjured, the blood became rubies lavished adoringly on a Mughal prince. "Thought you'd never find me." An audible exhale, a smile brighter than any he'd felt in a long, long time. Favorite. Beautiful one, the only one. "Get me out of this," he whispered and held out his wrists, the skin cut up and rubbed raw with the zip tie still harshly cinched. "This fucking thing is tough as hell to take off."

"They had me in a room downstairs but I got out. If I didn't find you, I was gonna turn the boat around. Go back for you." He ducked to rest a cheek against Emre's as he waited to have his hands freed. "What did they do to you." Quiet enough to hear the brush of their beards together, and his lips left a wet dab of blood on Emre's earlobe as Kaz whispered again. "Did you kill them all?"

Once Emre freed his hands, he went back to items on the shelf. Kaz had been able to snap open a case, and now he removed what was inside. "It's a speargun." Never held one before, and it felt sleeker and light than imagined. "Fucking wild, hm? Can't believe people fish with this shit. Cheating, isn't it." A spear was pulled from the case and Kaz figured out how to load it into the barrel. "Still got the axe?" They didn't have a ton of time to rummage through the place. Kaz quickly scanned higher on the shelf. "There's some big, ugly looking hooks up here. A chain, a winch that could knock someone's head off..."

Kaz opened his mouth for more ideas but the boat tipped unexpectedly. A loud thunk! rattled the bones of the ship. He grabbed onto the shelf in front of him to stabilize, as he also tried to give Emre a hand. However, the ship rocked and Kaz was knocked against another shelf that rained its contents down on top of him.

Kaz looked to the ceiling above. "What are those stupid fuckers doing." Didn't take a captain to determine the ship's engine had shut down. (Or manually shut down?) A bare light in the room flickered before extinguishing. "The engine." Kaz pushed away a few boxes and heavier canvas bags of supplies that dropped on him. He planned out the best and least painful way to get back up on his feet.

"Really need to get out of here. We can see who's left. Maybe start the engine again on our own, get back to land." Kaz moved to the door, an indication he wanted to lead the way. "Anything else I should worry about on the other side of this door?" A beat. "We, I mean."

As Emre waited for the boat to set sail, he couldn't help thinking about Georgina's supposed last words to him: wish you'd gone to dinner now, don't you.

Maybe true, but also Emre suspected there likely was no 'dinner'. Kaz seemed about as hateful towards this Georgina as he was towards his parents; but Georgina claimed to love Kaz - something his parents likely never did. Or never in a way that Kaz could believe. Could Kaz have once...believed in Georgie's care?

So Georgina was likely a big liar, and possibly even betrayed Kaz. Or hurt Kaz irreparably, which was bad enough. It made bile rise in Emre's throat to think he'd almost done to same to Kaz too. One more to add in a long trail of betrayals if Emre hadn't done everything he could to repair things. And for Kaz to even allow Emre a chance to repair...with this new context, it took Emre's breath away.

Feroze on the walkie talkie. Time to set sail, and Feroze mentioned something about 'cargo'. Couldn't find 'Taylor'. An urgency to set sail, and it seemed Georgie agreed.

An engine rumbled - so it had enough petrol left in Seattle to motor the thing, interesting. Fuel had to be precious though. Georgina and her 2IC were not setting sail on a luxury yacht for fun. Georgina wanted to get to her destination in style, to impress. But...were they headed to the mainland, or further out to sea?

Regardless, this all meant that Kaz was definitely on-board.

Feroze headed up to the bridge, leaving a guard patrolling the bow. Zaid heafd a ruckus below deck. A constant, if slightly erratic - BOOF. BAFF - something constantly slamming into a barrier. The muffled sound of Georgina's high-pitched voice, petulant and annoyed.

And then - a heavy roar that uncoiled a sudden liquid-heat deep in Emre's belly. The confirmation, the forcefulness of a man who could never give up. Not when it was important. Not when it was...

...Emre smiled. A length of thin silk boat-rope around the guard's neck made for silent disposal. He could go down to save Kaz now, but Emre wanted to do better.

He swung up to the bridge deck and easily located the Captain, having set course and just popping to his cabin. Giving Emre the perfect opportunity to apprehend the poor bugger, leave him bleeding on the floor and bleating for help. Emre ducked behind the door when Feroze entered the cabin with true shock at the sight of the Captain. Emre's teeth-whistle made Feroze spin and to his credit, stared at Emre like he was seeing a ghost.

Emre was on Feroze, knife hilt connecting with Feroze's temple, bearing forward so the younger man slipped in the Captain's blood and fell. Emre hauled him back up, knife at his throat. "Call your girlfriend," Emre demanded. "Tell her there's a problem she's got to deal with." That would buy Kaz some more time. "Do as I say or you're next, Feroze. Tired of your games, tired of you."

"You'll pay for this," Feroze sneered, after he obeyed Emre's order. Still trying to look derisive and smug. Up-close, Emre realized he didn't look a damn thing like Kaz. "You and your butt-buddy, I don't get why he's so -"

Emre didn't let Feroze finish. Kaz wouldn't have, was Emre's reasoning. Kaz, for once, didn't seem to care about getting answers here, only getting out. Run, escape, run. Emre was in-tune with this now, finally.

Georgina's arrival to the bridge was almost anti-climactic. Emre didn't give her time to scream, just knocked her out, leaving her tied on the bridge for now.

"Don't move, I'll be back for you," Emre told the Captain, shutting his cabin door after dragging Feroze's unconscious body out, throwing it over the side as well. Feroze didn't make it into the water; he landed on the lower deck, arm at an odd angle. Oops. Emre hopped back down to the bridge deck, just in time to see someone duck behind a small door.

Another guard? Or - Emre poised his knife, then flung the door open to find -

"Kaz." my darling, meri pyaar, my Kaz, mine. Emre couldn't help his sudden, bloody grin. A tight, screaming thrill bolting through him, at the sight. Kaz looking more dishevelled than his carelessly breezy look, angling his body in tense holds that betrayed the brutal beating he'd just survived. Ribs likely cracked. Fingers crooked. Blood staining his nose and cheek, split lip, a swollen eye, bruises mapping his body.

He was beautiful.

A nod to Kaz's choice of weapon. "What you gonna do with that then, my love?"

[kazxraval]

The beating was enough to knock him loopy. Restrained, nothing to see with the bag over his head, and no way to fight back. Fitting, he supposed, that his past returned to do the damage.

The present stood in the room too. A wild and beautiful wilderness named Emre. Worth the try to get out of there. To get Emre out of there, regardless if Emre would always be able to handle himself. Superior to Kaz, who had been conditioned to throw a punch but also to take one. Which he did (or more precisely, a kick to the head). He lost consciousness.

--

Georgie's march ground to a halt. Her hand lifted to near her head, but stayed far from the wet hock that began to dribble from the start of her braid to the skin of her neck. Feroze, as if waiting for the chance, swept in to slam a fist into Emre's stomach.

Fucking organ shifter! A tart smile twisted to face Emre. She sing-songed. 'Wishing you'd gone to dinner now, don't you.'

--

Kaz woke onboard another ship, this one lean and large. Designed for fancy floating parties and overnights around the San Juan islands. His pulse pounded in his temples and he uttered a disappointed fuck. Hands lifted to cradle the ache in his head, but the wrists were zip tied together.

Though not his feet, and he stood with a groan. Kaz found himself in a small room somewhere mid-deck, perhaps once a bedroom. A few slams of the shoulder into the locked door racked his bones with additional pain.

Vision was watery, blurry from pain in his head. He squinted to look out one of the windows. The boat swayed but had not pulled away from the island yet. As Kaz studied the dark scene outside, something dropped in front of the window and made a big splash into the water. He smiled.

The window was examined for escape. Same with the zip tie, as Kaz worked to yank his wrists apart hard enough to snap the binding.

Footsteps were heard on deck. Heavy and directionless, quick and frantic. Feroze's walkie-talkie fired off outside the door, muffled by distance and walls (warnings of missing crew members, an urgency to set sail). The engine engaged, and the ship began its calm slide away from the dock and towards the horizon.

Georgie knocked on the door anxiously. 'Kaz, Kaz, there's something I need to--' "Where is he?" He rammed his body at the door, and the hinges yelped under the impact. A deep bellow, after he'd thrown himself once more at the door. "WHERE. IS. HE! Where is he!"

She jumped away from the violent smack on the door and subsequent twisting of the door handle from the inside, her mouth open soundlessly. Stunned for a few seconds. Georgie shouted back to be heard. 'Stop it. STOP IT! Kaz! Feroze talked to your mother. She said you're dead. You're supposed to be dead!'

He paused with a panted breath. "I am dead, Georgina. She's right. Now fucking let me out of here."

Georgie stepped cautiously closer. 'You're so angry. You'll hurt me.' She shook her head, voice residing in the higher, most innocent register. 'When all I want to do is help. I said it back there, in the restaurant. I was trying to help, Kaz. I really was.'

Kaz's voice fell lower into his chest, silk-smooth and with a subtle smile. "I only ever hurt you when you begged me to. When it felt good, for both of us." A quick glance at the window, where the island retreated rapidly. Shit. Further away from Emre, he thought.

Or was he, how the hell could he know where Emre was? One of Georgie's skills was to lie. With compulsion, to stand by the highest and most unbelievable piles of bullshit and swear how sweetly it smelled. "Georgie. Open the door." Sudden calm carried through his words. "Because you know I'll break it down if I have to. And if he's hurt at all, I will come for you."

There was a shout down to Georgie, which Kaz couldn't hear too clear (Georgina! Captain's cabin please, we've got a problem!). Anger flooded her expression-- for Kaz's warning or the unexpected interruption, or both. Georgie stalked off with only a glare Kaz couldn't see. Once her footsteps faded, he set about using himself again to knock the door lock out of the frame.

Kaz creeped as fast and as stealthy as possible down the cramped corridors of the boat. While internally, all he wanted to do was scream: EMRE! Weirdly, he also began to notice that the cautious sneaking around wasn't entirely necessary. Few voices were now heard, and he began to wonder if he was on a ghost ship.

On deck, he crouched along a railing, out of sight. Whidbey behind them, course set for the north. A small life raft was attached to the side, but useless compared to the large vessel and crew aboard. Kaz imagined a plummet off the side and into the water, but he'd freeze before making it to land. And then what?

He thought of something black and wide that fell into the water from above. Emre. His heart registered before his brain. Emre was onboard, he had to be. As he heard someone approach, Kaz dove into a supply closet to find a weapon.

Ah. So Georgina did feel some type of possessiveness about Kaz, it seemed. Even after more than a decade - after what, 15, 16 years now? She wanted to be in charge of Kaz. She even acquired a lookalike in that Feroze bloke - young and strong and a proper prick.

Priti still didn't like her? Why did that matter? Emre couldn't imagine Kaz bringing this Georgina woman home to meet the parents. And sadly, Emre couldn't imagine Kaz's parents giving a fuck one way or another, about who did what to Kaz outside their so-called home. But was there some long-standing beef there, and Kaz was some kind of odd lynchpin holding this rivalry together? Estranged mum vs crazy girlfriend?

Good for her. Kaz's comment couldn't be more dry and lacking in feeling than a hot desert sun.

In their brief, perhaps foolish moment of respite, Kaz took time to explain geography to Emre - who knew the locations but couldn't mentally place them on any American map. Emre smiled, unable to help himself as Kaz slid easily from education to tease. Maybe Emre was also thinking about Iyaz at the moment, maybe not. Because he murmured without thinking, "I love you, so much."

Kaz insisted that Georgie wasn't the mastermind behind all of this, and another theory sprouted in Emre's mind - not about versus and more about necessity. That same connection through a missing son, a disappeared (ex?)boyfriend. Emre nodded about the health thing, taking note. "We'll sort it after we escape. Maybe I should wash the bloody thing off, yeah."

Escape turned out unfeasible. And then Kaz got punished for it, it sent Emre into a panicked if somewhat impotent rage. All he cared about was seeing Kaz alive. He knew Kaz likely took beatings, many beatings, especially after learning there was no safe place, not even a home. He knew Kaz had the survival capabilities that could probably evade a nuclear bomb. But Emre needed to see and make sure.

Georgina promising she did care about him. She cared so much, she hurt him. The thought stuck in Emre's throat like a razor, watching Kaz getting hauled up, barely conscious. A bloody hood on his head. Emre's attention sharp as he fell silent, let himself be pinned, and watched only Kaz. Georgie helpfully pointed to Kaz's destination. They were to be separated; despite Georgina's complaints about them wasting time, this was her plan all along. Fuck her, then.

Kaz so barely conscious, he had to be carried out - but he was carried, like precious cargo destined to a boat. Emre bobbed along between the guards, ignoring Georgina's questions but suddenly realizing where this was all headed. He gobbed blood and saliva at the back of Georgina's head. "If you're gonna do it, then do it. I don't have to tell you fuck all, slag."

And there it was: what Emre belatedly realized, seconds before they got to the kitchen. "Fucking organ shifter!" Emre could see the doctor - a dead-eyed balding man preparing a needle - and Georgie making her grand exit. The medical tools prepared, restraining straps on the exam table and dental chair.

And Emre realized something else, too: in his 4, 5 years on the island, he'd gone soft. Relaxed and reshaped his mind and muscles towards farming, not hunting. Adjusted his scruples to fit a society that cared about him - as a human being, if not a friend. A wild animal domesticated, gone docile. A part of his brain he'd put to a gentle sleep suddenly woke up, acrid and sour. And it blanketed the rest of his conscience with a floury white blanket.

The guards only needed two seconds to let go of one arm to strap him in. That was all Emre needed when he slammed his forehead into one guard's nose, and snatched a scalpel off the table. A smooth arc to slice the other guard - right across his eyes. Emre slid off the table, snatching a screaming guard's knife from his utility belt (similar to the one Parker apparently had and wore everywhere??? how????) and booted the eyeless man to one side for now, twisting to stab the broken-nose one in the neck, jerking it back out in a spray of blood. Helping himself to that guard's knife, he turned to the doctor.

"I'm just a doctor!" the man pleaded, his trembling hands up; and those were his last words.

---

It was late evening when Emre reached the boat, thankfully still there. Emre knew he only had minutes, but he hadn't seen anyone on his path from the kitchen to the dock. Good - no alarms raised. They'd all assumed Emre was a done deal, death under a scalpel with barely a whimper. He wasn't even sure if they'd loaded Kaz onto the boat yet...and maybe Georgina was fibbing about that anyway? Emre made his way up a gangplank, slicing the throat of another guard and lobbing the body into the water. The bodyarmour made it sink.

No firearms on anyone, which was interesting. Maybe they'd run out of bullets. He crouched on the deck and waited, watching the dock and banking on two options. Either Kaz would be carried by on land to some other destination - but Emre didn't think Georgina would bother trying to trick Emre. She didn't think much of him, beyond potential for organ farming. She just wanted Emre to see Kaz leaving.

Other option, was that Kaz was already on the boat, and it was just a matter of time before they set sail. On the open water, navigating between these tall-treed, misty, dark islands, then Emre would strike. If they were transporting Kaz somewhere, Emre did want to know where; but he wanted Kaz more.

And given everything she said and Kaz's obstinate impression of her, Emre felt sure: where ever Kaz was, Georgie would be with him. And Emre would save her for last.

[kazxraval]

Green eyes narrowed on Emre's challenge over differences between Ali and Kaz. Some kind of realization set in the tightness around her mouth. 'I don't need you to tell me about Kaz, thanks,' she said, short and to the point. Georgie then sighed dramatically and whined, 'Feroze! WHAT in the world is this man talking about! How long do I have to stand here before you fill me in?'

Feroze sounded just as put out. 'Ali was in one of the buildings he knows he shouldn't be. As usual. These jerks chased him down. Priti was already out looking for him.'

As if on cue, Georgie turned to Kaz to see his fists clenched. 'Priti still doesn't like me.' A closed mouth giggle. 'Ali lost his mother when the world ended. Priti has taken care of him ever since.' Kaz replied, "Good for her."

Emre's chat about the Wild West was somehow taken more seriously than it needed to be. Kaz tried to commit to memory Emre in profile at the window. "Wild West was more Arizona, New Mexico. Colorado. Didn't know you cared about that shit." His tone slipped to a playful drawl. "Should we get you a cowboy hat before we go?" His gaze dipped with slight guilty. Originally, it was Iyaz leaving for the States, wasn't it?

"Feroze doesn't have one. Can't tell about Georgie." No skin revealed with the sleeves pulled down on her sweat shirt. "But." The most compelling part. "Georgie's like, in charge of this. Some fucking way. Which doesn't make any sense to me. She's not like that. Got a pea brain on that one."

"The health thing? I'm telling you. It means something. Serious."

Proper finessed, innit. Kaz grinned. "Don't you think I know it by now?"

They were each surrounded by a hodgepodge of military gear and DIY apocalyptic protection. This movable barrier of people tore the ax from Emre. His arms weren't restricted but his chest met with hands which shoved and palms that pushed back. An offensive to and fro.

Crumpled into a ball on the ground, black sack over his head, Kaz thought he heard Emre. Hoped so, even if he did not have the right to the hope. Then, worry: run, Emre. Just run. Everything hurt, even thinking about moving hurt, let alone opening his mouth. The most assuring thought: Emre wouldn't stupidly hang around.

Georgie watched Emre go from pacing to a pose. 'I do care about him. That's why I'm doing this for him. I tried to help you both.' Her head shook slightly, voice lowered in the dainty lace covered tone she'd used on and off. 'We don't have a lot of time, and you two wasted it.'

The 'troops' filled in the gaps around Emre. Two moved even closer to pat him down before grappling with his arms and bringing them behind his back to secure.

Georgie turned away with a wave of her hand at the same time. Kaz was hoisted to his feet. Most of the men stepped out of the way for Emre to see, while a few remained to hold either man. Kaz slumped and supported by a few guards. His head, covered by a black bag, lolled forward lifelessly. There was blood around the collar and front of his shirt.

'There he is!' Georgie shouted with a pleased smile as she lifted Kaz's limp arm to wave at Emre. 'Say bye! He's going on the boat out there.' She pointed through one of the dining room's windows at a vessel docked at the pier outside. Georgie dropped Kaz's arm and took a few steps away, and the group of people around Kaz lifted him up to carry off.

Georgie spun around towards a dark corridor that ran along side the restaurant's kitchen. Emre was forced by her guards to follow. 'Now! Tell me a little about your medical history. Any major surgeries before everything went to hell? Or recent illnesses?' A pause, and her braid swung as she looked back to smile gleefully. 'Everything intact? Have all your teeth? Wait, how old are you anyway? Older than Kaz, right?'

They wound through the industrial kitchen. Not entirely empty, a few people inside lifted their heads over whisking and stirring to stare blankly at Emre. 'So. Tell me. Why do you have the tattoo but Kaz doesn't? I don't understand. No way you've been in Seattle long enough to get the ink. I would've known.'

A pause at a door on the far side of the kitchen. Georgie rose on her toes to peer at her reflection in a glass porthole. She smiled, stiff and static. Turned her head this way and that, seemed to be admire the bright true red lipstick she wore.

Then she pulled the door open. A makeshift doctor's office had been established inside. Complete with exam table, a dental chair with a white-hot light on adjustable arm attached. A sterile gown neatly folded. A scale in the corner. 'Be a good boy for the doctor and we'll get you a lolly afterwards. K? K. See you soon.' The guards hustled Emre to the threshold of the room as Georgie whirled around to walk off.

Emre figured Georgie simply had a retort - she was pretty, she likely had plenty of retorts for fresh-mouthed blokes. But a glance at Kaz, that near-imperceptible crease between his eyebrows like he wasn't expecting George's seemingly off-hand remark about Emre's health. Well, it had been years of separation between them, perhaps this Georgie had changed. Kaz certainly had, hadn't he?

Georgie's response about Ali answered some things. Feroze worked for Georgie, but Ali seemed to be a bit more of a free element. Reminding Georgie of Kaz - so a somewhat unpredictable free element.

"So why'd we find the kid in the vents of a building? And planning to scarper straight to his mum." He nodded sideways towards Kaz. There was no point trying to keep that part secret, in Emre's opinion. Both Priti and this Georgie in Seattle, both seemingly leaders of some sort. Either Georgie and Priti knew each other's situations, or this would be a surprise. But it wasn't exactly information either Emre or Kaz held any secrecy for. Especially given how little interest Kaz had in his mum. "Don't much sound like Kaz to me, that."

Without Georgie and her goons, Emre shrugged, looking out a window. "I've never been to America, luv. I mean - not before world ended. It's all new to me, innit. Don't look much like wild west though. But these girls and their gangs - deffo make me think it."

He grunted in assent, when Kaz traced the drawn tattoo on his wrist, stepping in closer so his voice dropped, only for Kaz. "Me, and Ali. I didn't see one on Feroze, did you? Did Georgie have one, or a different tat?" Emre bit back a question about who Georgina even was to Kaz. Better to focus on the tattoos.

"I don't understand. I can't figure any of it out. Whatever codes and gang marks they've got here, it's all new to me." And Emre thought: if Kaz couldn't figure it out, Emre hardly stood a chance. A pat and a tease, and Emre smirked. "Nothing good ever comes from letting white girls ride your dick, man. Get proper finessed, innit."

Their escape attempt ended up being a test, Emre realized in frustration. A 'watch-and-see' what they'd do, once supposedly 'alone'. Georgina couldn't be surprised that they attempted to escape, but it seemed Kaz's insults to her intelligence made her more vengeful than she'd originally advertised. Under all her frippery and winsome acting, she wasn't pleased; and Emre tensed. Watched her brush her white-blonde hair against Kaz's cheek like he was nothing more than property.

"No - Kaz -" Emre startled when the men moved swiftly, like it was planned to surround them both so efficiently. How much of this did Georgie have planned? Kaz insulted her intelligence, and yet it felt to Emre like they were just being toyed with, a girl and her dollies. When the sick wet smacks started, of objects hitting flesh, Kaz's unabated yells of pain started - noises coming from a man who could silently take multiple punches and smile in toothy bloodiness - Emre's eyes widened in true fear.

"KAZ!" Emre yelled, and flung himself towards the circle of men surrounding him; but it was a wall in a penalty shot - there was no getting through. Emre managed to affix the axe into one guard's ribs, but all he got was a grunt - were they in riot gear, or vests? - and Emre's arm was wrenched back, the axe twisted away. But they didn't beat him, not like they were doing to Kaz. So Emre launched himself, again and again towards the guards, getting pushed back into the circle again and again.

Until the scuffle stopped, and Emre paused too. He heard nothing. Silence. Not even huffing pants, or moans. "No - no - NO! If you damaged him, I'll kill you. If you did anything to him, I'll fucking KILL YOU, you fucking coward cow! I thought you cared for him, why you allowing this?! WHAT! What the fuck do you want!" Emre howled and paced in the circle, glaring at each of the guards. "Fuck you, I'm not telling you anything until you let me see him."

One concession. His axe was already taken away, but Emre finally planted his feet, raised his arms out. "Search me, if you got to. I've got fucking nothing, alright. I want to see him, now. NOW!"

[kazxraval]

Emre made a polite promise but it lacked conviction. And they had a means to contact Urmilla in the present, despite the connection being so tenuous. Kaz wanted to fight back, supply reasons why these places still had significance. How different this was compared to viewing a childhood home through the lens of an adult. But Kaz stayed silent.

Of all the accents for Emre to choose, the off-kilter Southern accent made him hiss with laughter. "Heard about those southern desi gangs running chai across state lines and that." Feroze had also become another piece of equipment in the boat, like an extra oar. "Hey, try not to get distracted by dolphins again as we come up on the island, yeah?"

On Whidbey, Georgie made a circling examination of Emre. When he proffered a suggestive remark, Georgie answered objectively. 'You look healthy enough.' Kaz frowned. What in the world did she mean by that? Georgie finally locked eyes with Emre when someone else was mentioned. 'Ali? The kid?' Georgie audibly took a breath, with a brighter smile and tilt of her blonde head. 'My guess is, he has even less of an opinion of you. Sorry' An amused huff, attention still on Emre. Georgie simpered. 'Is Ali your little emotional support puppy? Huh? Huh?' She pointed an immaculately long and polished nail at Kaz (considering this was a post-apocalyptic world, somehow Georgie found the means to a manicure). 'Don't let him fool you, the kid reminds me of him sometimes.'

After all those years, Georgie came marching through a mine field in order to set Kaz off. The burst of energy and rippled release through the muscles felt good. Emre gave no brrrap! or those particular finger pops without snapping, the ones Kaz had grown to look forward to. To expect. Instead, Emre froze over on the spot. Why? Kaz wondered.

When Georgie smoothed it all away with her defenders and left Kaz and Emre alone, the unexpected continued. "The Wild West?" His brows screwed up tight to study Emre for a moment. "Not exactly." A fleeting grin. "Since when do you care about the Wild West?" Then Kaz took Emre's wrist to trace over the 'tattoo'. "Something about this, Emre. Everything changed when she saw this on your wrist." Kaz gave Emre's cheek a soft, affectionate pat, one that matched his smile. "Sorry stud, she's interested in your tattoo, not your dick."

Emre already had an exit plan. Because of course he did, as reliable as ever. Kaz admired the grip on the axe handle. "Got it. Whack them, run. I'm right behind you." The small knife Kaz carried would come in handy after all. Not as savage as Emre's axe, but enough to debilitate as necessary. They moved silent and in sync towards the door, and Kaz followed Emre's lead with a hand on his shoulder too.

And then Georgie interrupted. Kaz used to love that voice. Smooth as marble. Naturally deeper, but Georgie had the tendency to speak in a higher pitch when she was needy, wanted something, especially Kaz's attention. A baby voice that now grated on every nerve Kaz had.

He turned to look behind them-- and then around. "They can see us," Kaz whispered. Yet they couldn't see Georgie, or anyone else. "This is a bit dramatic for you, Georgina," he shouted. "You always thought you were so clever. But you weren't. Still aren't." A beat. "But gotta say, you were the best at sabotaging yourself."

It was Kaz's refusal to comment on the way Georgie used his father against him, which truly didn't interest Kaz so much. The doors popped wide, and Georgie's stage act continued. He glanced over his shoulder at Emre before his eyes burned a hole through Georgie. "So did you."

'That's the nicest thing you've said so far, Kazzy.' Her eyes shone with emotion, lower lip bitten to stop a quiver. Georgie's 'private militia', or whatever they represented, invaded the room. Rings of people with weapons pointed at them swelled around Kaz. And did the same with Emre, all keeping a distance.

'I told you both to listen to me,' A bratty verbal eye roll, and irritated squeak of hmph! 'And Feroze, why on earth would you let someone in here with an axe? Sheesh!'

'Kaz, you say I sabotage myself? Pot, kettle, black, baby.' She brushed the tail end of her braid across Kaz's cheek before positioning herself between the two groups of guards. With a gesture of Georgie's hand, the sounds of a scuffle came from the circle Kaz was surrounded by. Emre wouldn't be able to see through the taller ones (soz Em). But Emre would be able to hear Kaz's very muffled and frantic screams.

He wouldn't be able to see Georgie either, and had to rely on hearing her. 'How good of friends are you two anyway, Axe Man?' A bubbly, squeak of a laugh rose up. 'Because I don't remember Kaz having a lot of friends? Other than me, uhhh actually the friends...' She trailed off for a moment before a louder return.

'So, I wonder if you'll want to see this?' Another giggle. 'FIRST!! I need you to put the axe on the floor okay? Let them check you for other weapons.' A thud, and low groan from Kaz before he went quiet. 'Maybe now you'll tell me your name.'

"We will," Emre decided to promise, about Urmilla-tourism. But from the bits and pieces that mum and Kaz gave Emre, he knew mum left Seattle around the time Kaz had disappeared to the island. That was over 15 years ago. Things had changed. Mum's office taken by other workers, her flat lived in my other tenants. Emre promised Kaz, but the truth was he didn't think they'd ever do it.

And even if they did get there, did it really matter? Emre was fascinated by Kaz's idea of nostalgia. It was like a man deeply alien to sentimental feelings of the past, gamely trying to reconstruct sentiment but for Emre's sake. It was both heartbreakingly touching, and devastatingly sad. "Once I re-visited the brownstone I grew up in, when I was in my twenties. It wasn't the same."

It was an offhand question that Emre might later claim was due to the wet cold (and maybe the dolphin-sighting) but. Regardless, being on the receiving end of one of Kaz's more brilliant, stunningly genuine smiles, was enough to warm an entire planet. No words exchanged but Emre was happily blinded, warm in his chest if no where else.

A riff instead, and Emre couldn't help shooting back in an egregious American accent (more Southern than PNW), "Carn't escape thee gang life, bro. That thar's hard-wirerrrd in you."

Feroze looked at them like they were insane, but Emre had stopped noticing Feroze by now.

And then they were faced with Miss Ballion. Georgina Ballion, as Kaz called her. Kaz's own tone turned...not exactly peevish, but had a familiarity in a way Emre hadn't heard on the island before; closest, was with Tamyra. Georgina Ballion knew another Kaz, the pre-island Kaz. The Kaz of myth and legend, never to be recaptured, from what Emre had derived from Kaz. Those old glory days.

Georgina seemed to switch tactics, and Emre loosely held onto his tattooed wrist. They were being inspected; but this time Emre didn't have to just stare ahead, like an animal for sale. He watched Georgina watching him, and flicked his chin towards her. A quiet, low, "Like what you see, love?"

Georgie, a petname. But Kaz called her 'Georgina', fullname. Emre knew enough about exes to fill in some gaps here. Feroze supplied his opinion, which was a good one. Emre thrived when he was underestimated.

"What about Ali?" Emre asked Georgia, not bothering to provide his own name. He rather liked just being known as 'Kaz's friend'. "He might have a different opinion from his brother innit."

Georgie sprung into a sing-song set of somewhat ineffectual accusations, but not even Emre expected what happened next. His only reaction was to freeze, as still as he could, watching as Kaz effortlessly flipped a heavy wooden dining table. A reaction, which might've been exactly what this Miss Ballion wanted from her ex-man. The anger booming from Kaz, made Emre remember the last time Kaz had shouted at him. It was genuinely terrifying, that voice. The enunciation, the power behind every word, the echo that boomed off the ceiling. Feroze in the other room definitely heard him.

As did, it seemed, a bevy of footsoldiers. It confirmed to Emre his original doubt - of course people were on-guard on Whidbey Island. But instead of Priti, it was Georgina Ballion. That made two prominent people who Kaz knew. What the hell was going on here? A question Kaz himself repeated aloud.

Emre braced in minute ways, but Georgie called off her attack dogs, made another attempt to ingratiate herself to Kaz (who was an expert at unresponsiveness. Georgie should've known better...or did she?), Plans for dinner and drinks of all things. Everything would be explained. She seemed willing to talk; but of course Georgie's idea of 'dinner' might be feeding them to pigs, alive, bit by bit. She seemed like a nutter, albeit playing to her strengths. He wouldn't underestimate her either.

With the guards guarding exit points from the outside, it felt like he and Kaz were truly alone. Kaz coming in with the strategic outlook, and Emre just frowned in thought, looking around until he finally met Kaz's eyes.

"Is this like a western? The Yank 'Wild West'? Is this where it all would've happened in history? Oh my days..." Emre murmured wondrously to himself. Seattle was full of the most unexpected things. Then, he straightened up and nodded. He wouldn't make the same mistake he'd done, about Priti. "Fuck yeah we get out of here. Only three of them dogs left by the left exit, that's our best bet to whack 'em and run."

Emre was insanely curious what Georgie had to explain. Even Kaz revealed a bit of his own curiousity, in his angry demand. But the priority of freeing Kaz from his past, took precedence.

Emre hefted his axe (they hadn't disarmed him. He should've known by that, but he was too overcome with trying to get Kaz out) and shifted towards the left exit, treading lightly. A peek outside, where he counted three heads, facing out. A look to Kaz to get ready. And then -

"Oooooooh Kazzy." Georgie's voice seemed to blast through the rafters above, weirdly all-encompassing. A trick of sound, nothing else; but enough to make Emre freeze again. "You think I don't know you, after all this time? I knew your father too, my babyboy. He liked flipping tables whenever he didn't get his way..." Her voice turned petulant again and Emre could almost imagine Georgie pouting, bottom lip jutted out. "He also liked beating up on unsuspecting people, you big ol' meanie."

The main doors flung open again, and Georgie looked stern, like a disapproving teacher. "Ah ah. Any more of that bad behaviour, and I'll have to cancel dinner. Maybe I'll just get Feroze to tie you both up, the way you guys did to him. It was sooooooo.....effective." She lowered her eyelids, gave a little sadistic shudder of delight to match her red-lipped smile. She held her own wrists together, palms outward. "You always liked a good tie-up, didn't you."

[kazxraval]

Motoring along through the sound had not been on the agenda. Kaz had been on boats. Most of his experience with the back and forth ferries. A few times with friends back in the day. But he'd never steered one through the sound himself.

If Feroze wasn't squirming around on the floor and muttering from behind a sock, it'd be tranquil. Relaxing. They could haul an outboard motor to the island. But it would eat up gas. Those and other thoughts hung in thick clouds over his head as they cut through water so deep it looked like ink.

Kaz felt the chill of their legs pressed together as the wind whistled over them. Emre must be freezing, he thought. So Kaz pushed the boat heavier in the direction of the island. Which was well off the route of the initial destination: Urmilla's Seattle. "I wanted us to go by your mother's place too," Kaz said. A continuation of his own thoughts, not necessarily heard and also not needing to be either.

Am I the most beautiful thing?

Caught off guard. The phrase uttered low but the power of the words like an amp cranked to 11 pounding at his chest, he felt each syllable. His gaze paused to study Emre huddled in the other bastard's hoodie. The tip of the nose with the same cold red flush as Kaz's must've had, and he smiled wide. Yes. YES! The most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on... and fucking Feroze ruined the moment with his nattering bullshit. Kaz had to tell him. Once they were off that leaky little boat and alone. He'd hang an arm around Emre's neck and grab his face with the other hand, turn his mouth into a hard kiss. And say yes, you're the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing to me.

When it was said Kaz would make a good roadman, the reply mimicking Emre's accent. "Fink I'd be bloody brilliant, better than you mate." Emre felt the weight of a small axe in his palm and seemed content. The same hand later took that weight and kept it at Kaz's back while they walked to the old restaurant on Whidbey.

Miss Ballion. Kaz had dreamed of the day someone said the name and his heart didn't lurch with painful memories. Today was that day. The space in his chest filled with so much more. Miss Ballion only a small curiosity now.

Of course, no way to convey it all to Emre in the moment, unfortunately. Not in those sparse few seconds where they locked eyes.

'My. Mum? I don't.' Staggered, almost a squeak of a voice. "I don't know where my mum is.' Georgie had never been the brightest bulb.

Kaz exhaled, exasperated. "It's a yo momma-- come on, Georgina."

A petulant scoff to Kaz, and then she covered her mouth. Fingernails coated in bubblegum pink, paint chipped. More than a few arm's lengths from Emre, she looked him over slowly as she walked in a safe circle around, to investigate every angle of with some kind of mental magnifying glass. Not a rake of attraction or even curiosity. More a cataloguing-- of what was not known.

After a minute, her hand dropped. She shined a beaming, deeply dimpled grin at Emre. 'Oh. I'm soooo sorry, gosh. I'm Georgie! I'm sure he's told you all about me. Us.' Mascara'ed lashed batted once. 'Feroze, what do you think?'

'I think they're two of the biggest morons I've ever met.' Irritated, Feroze lifted his tied together hands that connected to a lead, which then attached to rope around his waist. 'Otherwise, I can't do jack shit over here until you help me out.'

Georgie snapped fingers and pointed to a set of closed doors. 'Wait for us,' and Feroze complied by shuffling off to disappear, still tied. Her smile broke as she arrived to stand in front of Kaz again, so large and filled to the brim with happiness her eyes were almost entirely squinted shut. She spoke quietly on another excited bounce on her toes, their difference in height glaring. 'You did that to him. You tied him up! I know it was you, I can tell bu--'

Kaz stepped to a nearby table to upturn it, the clatter of the table top as it landed on its married chairs momentarily deafening. "The hell is going on here, Georgie! Huh?" Kaz snapped angrily, his voice reverberated from the highest eaves of the dining area. Georgie yelped and covered her ears as she cowered in place (but didn't leave his side). "Why the fuck are we even here??"

The thunderous noise and shouting attracted a flood into the room. Emre was flanked by several people in varying clothes to withstand the weather (jeans, fatigues, layers) but faceless behind gaiters and balaclavas. As they approached Kaz with nothing but force in their eyes, Georgie stepped in between. 'It's okay! It's okay." Her palms up to plead. 'He doesn't understand. Please! Let me talk to him. Give us a minute. He won't hurt me. Oh, and his friend is the guest of honor tonight.' She stole a quick look at Emre's 'tattoo', and then at him. 'If I ask your name, you're not going to say your mum again, are you?'

The tension lifted as the muscle in the room settled around the perimeter to keep a watchful eye. She stepped in to Kaz and stood on her toes again, this time to rest a hand on his cheek. Except he caught her wrist. Georgie's fingers curled into her palm and she sank to her heels with an irritated exhale.

'Fine, be that way. But I never stopped caring about you.' A pause. 'You remember how it was. How we were, together.' Kaz cast a blank glance out the nearest window. Georgie bit her lip, nothing but innocence and light flowing back. Helpful, concerned. 'I won't let anything happen to you. Or your friend. I'll tell you everything over dinner.' With her overly friendly veneer in place once more, she smiled at Emre. 'I'll give you two a few minutes. What's your favorite drink? I'll make sure you have it before our meal.' Georgie's laugh sounded airy, almost haughty as she tossed her twisted hair over a shoulder and led the others out of the room. The absence of asking Kaz the same question a noticeable insinuation. They were alone for what Kaz assumed to be a very brief moment. He stared at Emre for a few seconds and then moved in close to whisper. "All those people who came in here, Emre. I counted maybe ten, twelve of them." He rested a hand on Emre's shoulder. "She said she'd tell me what's going on in when we get in there." Kaz nodded to the door everyone had disappeared behind, where he assumed 'dinner' would be held.

"Dunno what all this guest of honor shit is. I saw her look at your wrist." A breath. "Should we try to get the fuck out of here?"

'You’re a beautiful thing, Emre Akbar.'

Things got quiet, almost serene once they settled into the boat. Feroze silenced finally with a sock in his mouth (how Feroze didn't gag, Emre didn't know. He hated that feeling. He'd hated it), his noise reduced to a scruffy struggle on the boat's floor. The hum of the motor engine blended into the sound of lapping water around them, islands with tall dark trees that shot straight up, cloaked in mist. It made Emre peaceful, bundled in Feroze's jumper that Kaz so thoughtfully stole from Feroze to drape around him. Teeth still chattering slightly, but Emre was okay, and he told Kaz as much. Kaz a little worse for the wear in Emre's opinion, but he'd never let it show.

Kaz expressed no understanding, between himself and Feroze, and Emre stared at his sullen resting face. Kaz could pin and tighten his features so taut into blankness; but when they slackened, those same features could be come so soft, plush and deceptively winsome. The warmest brown eyes, the suede of his skin, the flush plump lips...then Emre glanced over at Feroze glaring daggers at them. He shook his head. "Yeah. Never mind, darling."

Emre slid in closer, thigh leaning into Kaz's longer one. Kaz cut a hazy figure against the dark water and darker islands, rimed with white mist. No shadows on him; the sun had disappeared behind clouds, but it was still bright enough. Kaz grew up here, Emre thought. Kaz used to belong here. For as much as Kaz would hate on the island, bitter and mournful of what he'd lost (in his own Kazzy way), this wasn't what Kaz came back for, was it. He didn't want to relive his glory days in this 'Pacific Northwest'.

But it was quite beautiful.

"Am I the most beautiful thing?" Emre asked Kaz quietly. But by then Feroze managed to spit out the sock, and was back to mockery. To which Kaz snapped back - a tailgating (stern-gating?) threat that Feroze should take seriously, in Emre's opinion.

It twisted something in Emre's heart, to hear Kaz - Kaz! - get almost sentimental about the lost cutlass. Kaz might not define it that way, but Emre knew yearning well. Emre squeezed Kaz's hand on his knee, and nodded his chin towards Feroze. "I've got new weapons now, don't I. Upgrades. You'd have made a top bloody roadman, you would. Bloody hell, the brutality on my mans."

Emre still searched the duffel where Kaz directed, and tugged out a small hand axe. He hefted it in a hand; it looked good for small jobs, like chopping rope. Good enough. Emre stood over Feroze, as Kaz snapped more orders at the younger man. "Cheers, mate."

The smirk Feroze gave was meant to be unnerving and it worked; Emre looked away, out towards the island itself. Taking in the woods, the paths, the black-wood and glass buildings. Evidence of a ferry landing and streets now overgrown. A tourist's haven, Emre guessed.

'She' was waiting, and Emre frowned slightly to himself. How could Priti have gotten to Whidbey island quicker than them? Was there another route, had Feroze given them the long tour, stalling for Priti to arrive? He glanced at Kaz hauling and securing the boat, whose expression was built from steel, making his short laugh like a grinder cutting into metal - acidic, dangerous.

Emre said nothing, not then. As they walked, he rested his hand between Kaz's shoulderblades, his fingerpads pressing along the knobs of Kaz's spine. Just until they reached the restaurant, then Emre's hand dropped. He didn't know what to believe from Feroze. He found it hard to believe Priti - or anyone - would be here, alone and waiting. Emre was determined not express anything, not until Kaz had a chance to see his mother up close.

'Miss Ballion' didn't sound right though, nor did Kaz's repetition of the name. Like it was familiar, but not in the expected way.

"Kaz...?" Emre asked, but he didn't expect any clarification, not yet. He fell completely silent at the sight of a small blonde girl...no, a woman. Emre squinted when she spun to face them, trying to discern her age. Her pet name for Kaz pealed out like country church bells in the dark dining hall, pitched like a cricket ball to the stomach for Emre. A pure, high sound, eager and joyful, cupped between her small hands and paired with diamond-precision tears in her big round eyes. Emre stared at her in open disbelief, not understanding a bit of this. This ageless child-woman...and Kaz?

The cotton candy facade dropped and Miss Ballion looked her age. Still Hollywood pretty, but certainly no longer an ingenue. For a hot, burning second, Emre thought she was referring to 'KAZ' sprawled boldly on his stomach. But he quickly realized she meant the Sharpie imitation of the tattoo.

A glance from Feroze to Kaz, orange sunset illuminating them both as they bookended Emre. And Emre then responded for himself, with the only answer he could think of. "Your mum." A kiss of his teeth. "Who the fuck are you then? Miss Ballion?"

[kazxraval]

Nothing felt better than the deliciously unbearable sensation of Emre’s teeth on his skin. Kaz fed off it. Emre’s moan echoed in every corner of Kaz’s body, like a physical touch that bounced around to claim I belong here. And here. This is mine too. A gorgeous breathy sound out of someone who once kept Kaz at a 'no homo' arm's length.

Now, Emre never stopped him.

This was returned, this feeling. Can’t lose you at the airport. Kaz couldn’t help but smile. Genuinely so funny. So weird it was clever. Something not to be left on a never-ending carousel, not to be lost. Haunch– he’d likely never hear Emre utter the word again. Slick fingers along Kaz’s thigh turned him on even through fabric. Made him think how well they fit together without clothes in the way, which also threatened to make him hard. 

A hand scrunched the back waistband of Emre’s shorts. Kaz also grabbed for the fingers on his thigh to give a thankful but urgent squeeze. TIme was short. One last sip of this, this jovial fucking around. A final look at the eyes on him before they peeled themselves apart. “You’re a beautiful thing, Emre Akbar.”

At the dock, on the boat– Kaz continued unaware of his place on a slide under someone’s meticulous microscope (some he fancied, someone not Feroze). The focus fell on keeping a broader eye on the impromptu trip. As wide as the sound their boat navigated through. 

His heart rose into a constricted and dry throat as he willed the boat engine to get him faster to Emre. Strangely, Emre sat higher in the water and didn’t drift off course much. Eh? Either way, he looked cold but intact, which was all Kaz cared about. With Feroze sufficiently restrained, Emre was hauled into the boat again. Kaz immediately cradled his face to look Emre over. “Don’t worry about me.” He huffed. “That water’s deep, it's freezing fucking cold. Thought I lost you for a second.” Despite the binds, Kaz wormed Feroze’s hoodie off to wrap around Emre’s wet shoulders. Feroze protested with a steady string of insults, so much that Kaz ripped a shoe off the man, tossed it overboard, and stuffed a grimy socks in the guy’s mouth. 

The boat was fired up and they were off again. Kaz kept a hand on the rudder while his other urged at Emre’s knee to scoot closer. “Why they… what?” He shouted over the loud brrr of the engine. His head shook slowly, utter confusion in his frowned expression. “No, I. What the fuck am I supposed to see, Em?” 

And no, he didn’t expect Emre to drop them off and circle the car around the block, so to speak. A choice was given, even if Kaz realistically wanted to expect he wouldn’t be marching Feroze around on the island on his own. He looked at the wet slap on a stomach and wondered if the ocean water had scrubbed away his autograph from earlier.

Every brand of Emre’s kisses were appreciated. This one felt unexpected, exciting. Proud, proof of something, maybe. Kaz matched it, hard and stark. Wet and salted from a water rescue, but a warm little fire between their mouths still.

Feroze balked similarly to Ali earlier. ‘Please. Spare me.’ His eyes squinted as he turned his head away. ‘Get a room, don't force your... I don't want to see that.’ 

“Want a room with a view of the ocean floor? Gonna hang you off the back and drag you behind the boat if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

There was a shift in Kaz, the set of his growled jaw slacked suddenly. A glance cast behind them, as if the knife floated on top of the water like driftwood and all he had to do was swing the boat around. Grab it out of the water, as he did Emre. “Oh,” with a soft pause, a plaintive: “I’m sorry. You’ve had the cutlass since we met.” His mind set about ways to replace it as the boat slowed, the shore in sight. As an afterthought, he replied, “Yeah. This is it, we’re here.” 

Emre climbed on Feroze, who tried furiously to buck them off. ‘Hey!’ he writhed on the floor of the boat like a fish out of water and still on the hook. And then with snark, ‘Oh, you want to kiss me now too, is that the deal? Get the fuck off me!’  Kaz watched in silence for a moment before a blink. “I’ve got a camp knife." He pointed to something close to Emre. "Down there with the lifejackets, looks like he’s got a bag stashed.” A small duffel bag, army green with gold zippers and snaps. 

The engine was cut and the waves pushed the boat closer to a bank of trees and rocks. Kaz sank down towards Feroze to grab a handful of hair, a handle to turn their captive on his back. “Where do we need to go? Don’t try to set us up either. You do, and you’re gonna get my knife,” Kaz dragged a finger across Feroze’s neck. “Understand?” 

‘I get it, I get it! Yes, yeah. I’m not fucking dumb’ A grumble before a half smile, his attention turned to Emre. A smile that unfurled fuller, wolfish. Either to indicate the dumb one was Emre. Or perhaps with knowledge of what was to come.

‘The old restaurant over on the piers, you know it? Fish and oyster place that's right on the water. Used to be real fancy.' He waited for a nod from Kaz. 'She’s there.’ Feroze's gaze finally moved from Emre to Kaz. ‘She just wants to talk to you. That’s all. Says you know each other.'

A wry laugh from Kaz. Galled, got his hackles up. He poured the peeved energy into grabbing up his backpack. "Yeah." The bitch. "She knows me." A rope was slung over a shoulder, to use in pulling the boat closer in, and then anchoring it for departure. "I know where the piers are. You'll show us how to get there without a welcoming party coming out for us. Got it?"

Once on shore and a debrief on the route from Feroze, the three began a trek through the evergreens. Kaz glanced over to Emre with a thought-- wouldn't it be funny to be teleported out of there then? Poor old Feroze left standing there, hands tied and clueless.

At the piers, the old restaurant stood out among the other smaller buildings. The only two story one with any type of design in the middle of tiny boxes and rectangular structures. This place looked more like a stately old mansion on a hill, only the back end was supported over the water. The type of place people went to celebrate special occasions like anniversaries and birthdays.

While the wooden facade showed wear from sea and wind, the inside remained the same. Polished tables lacked their white clothes, some fixtures missing, but overall maintained as if prepared for a party of 15 to show up that evening for a reservation.

The walk carefully, to keep their footfalls mostly silent. Eyes darted into the corners of rooms and up stairwells. Feroze abruptly broke the quiet with a loud bray. 'I said no one is in here! Just her! She's not out to get anyone. God, you two. How'd you make it this far anyway?' He shook his head but then nodded towards an opening into the back dining area.

He shouted louder. 'Miss Ballion! He's here!'

"Ballion?" Kaz whispered, with a certain perturbed disbelief on his face. Kaz had just stepped through a tall archway into the dining hall. Floor to ceiling windows lined the room, with a view of a sun he hadn't realized was setting over the water. For a brief second, Kaz saw her doubled-- a reflection in a pane and then the real version.

As she turned to see him, a long blonde braid swung off her shoulder. The petite white woman was older than all of them. Only up close would the grey mixed in the blonde be noticed, as well as the thin lines around the eyes, between the eyes, and on the forehead. A youthful smile belied her exact age.

Kazzy!' Breathless, almost with a childish whine. She rose on her toes for a moment, but mostly appeared restrained. The woman's hands unclasped to press at her cheeks and she blinked tears away. 'I knew it was you. The way they described you.'

I knew it!' An audible exhale, shaky but evidently excited. She started towards Kaz but after a few steps, abruptly stopped. It was as though she'd only then realized the presence of others in the room. With a cross look on her face, the higher pitch in the voice fell away and deepened, like the adult version of the woman stepped in. 'Feroze. Who is this?' She pointed to the Sharpie-tattoo and addressed Emre herself. 'Who gave you the mark?'

And electric charge cartwheeled up Emre's spine, like he'd never felt before. Emre loved everything about sex, the build-up and the payoff. But hearing Kaz utter his desire, so plain and obscene, ignited Emre's fantasies to exactly this scenario. It was unlike anything he'd felt before meeting this gorgeous, unstoppable man.

"Kaz, fuck," Emre whispered incoherently, because his legs were already aching, and his mouth already biting Kaz's jaw, filling it with soft flesh, soft hair, strong tendons. A soft moan to reverberate into Kaz's bones, because it was all Emre needed. Complete symbiosis.

A snicker, as Emre considered Kaz's markup ideas. "You'll be written all over me, won't you. And I can't lose you in the airport either, can I. Gonna get my full name and address, wrapped around this haunch." Emre tickled his fingers up Kaz's long thigh, teasing on the inside.

A fun thrill, imagining all this. Just encasing each other in proprietary graffiti, a blatant show for themselves, and anyone else. Maybe it was true, then. Maybe, what if, perhaps Emre didn't feel that urge anymore, that FOMO to fuck anyone else. Maybe Kaz felt the same, maybe not.

Regardless, thoughts for another time.

Because Emre was somewhat caught up in the uncanny valley of Feroze. The way he delivered his chatter, especially, that distinct dull tone that Emre had thought exclusive to Kaz. But Feroze used it too, effortless like their type was genetically coded this way. Emre didn't want to jump to any mortifying conclusions just yet but. But if Emre had to fuck anyone other than Kaz, maybe it would be Feroze. Like fucking a discounted brand.

At the dock, it was much easier to gaze at Kaz. Everything about Kaz spoke familiarity, like the difference between distinguishing a real person and some CGI imitation. All was not well with Kaz, but Emre had seen this before - with little Ani's ghost. Almost like Kaz had turned himself into a ghost as well.

Holding his hand to get on the boat was an excuse to feel Kaz - alive, warm-blooded, firm flesh - and to further boast (to Emre's own inner demons) how good it felt to hold another man's hand like this. Kaz might not have liked it, but he was grudgingly conceded, and Emre adored him all the more for allowing it.

Emre didn't have a plan. He worked on his own instincts, heeding the tour guide about things called inlets and temperate rainforests and coniferous trees. Names of bays and towns that held some relevance to Kaz. Emre wished he could just look at Kaz through the boat ride, but bided his time instead.

He had this all in hand, when he jumped Feroze. The body pinned under Emre that was an uncomfortable, poorly made replication. But at least Feroze was cowed and ready to spill, and Kaz had control of the boat.

Until the bloody dolphins.

A momentary, perhaps childish distraction that earned Emre a boot to his chest. He stumbled right overboard, landing heavily on the thick, slick body of a dolphin and sliding right off. The wind knocked out of Emre; he wheezed scrabbling in the water. Sinking slightly but miraculously buoyed by a dolphin slipping underneath him.

The boat trundled on without him, and Emre gasped, "Kaz - Kaz!" but his throat was too hoarse, too rimed to be loud. The second dolphin seemed to take off after the boat, and through bleary eyes, Emre could see the little craft slowly turn around, back to him. It could be Kaz steering it, or it could be Feroze. The shape of the only man standing, was chillingly difficult to discern which one, until Kaz's features overwrote the rest.

Emre was dragged back onboard; when he turned to look back at the water, the dolphins had disappeared. Emre inhaled, flipping sopping hair back from his forehead as he surveyed the trussed up Feroze squirming on the boat's floor.

"You're bruised," Emre murmured to Kaz, perhaps inappropriately concerned in front of Feroze, but he didn't care about that. "Little bastard clocked you, ey?"

They'd trade Feroze on Whidbey Island. There had to be a reason. Emre agreed with all of it. "Why'd they send him after you," he added, then spat phlegm and sea water over the side of the boat. "Him, after you. Look at him, man. You see it too, right?" Yeah, Feroze would definitely make good trade.

As for the reason... "Bruv if you think I'm dropping you and little mans off on Whidbey and taking my sorry arse back to the mainland, then you've already forgotten what you've written down, yeah?" Emre patted his own stomach. An impulsive, rough kiss on Kaz's long mouth, before he turned to look at the approaching inlet. "That Whidbey, then? Fucking hell...I lost my cutlass in the water." Emre still had his backpack with some sundries, but no weapon.

He straddled Feroze, to search the young man for anything hidden. Emre asked Kaz, "What've you got?" They had to be prepared for whatever was waiting for them.

[kazxraval]

"All of it is your fault," Kaz concluded like a fact which didn't require too much explaining. "Trying to concentrate but oh, the things I'd do to you on those desks over there. Get those legs resting on my shoulders." With a salacious open-mouthed smile and hands on his chest. "Like I'm being edged into oblivion over here. I see what this is about."

Beyond careless as it was, Kaz couldn't resist. Just like he couldn't resist the sudden jump in his groin that matched the twitch of muscle under the marker's tip. "Property of-- goes on your ass." Brain turned into mush as they goofed, and yet his thoughts rang so clearly about Emre.

Not much time passed before they moved hurriedly on the downtown streets with walking companions they never asked for. Calling Ali a bitch snapped one of Feroze's smiles on Emre. More predatory than friendly. 'He speaks, ah?' The smile turned stagnant with Emre's retort. A comeback swam in Feroze's eyes, regarding tiny dicks no doubt. All he returned was a dull, "Funny."

On the waterfront, they paused. Kaz felt Emre's eyes on him. Probably because he dreamed about those eyes, searched for them around the island, sometimes waited for the lids to open and shine on after a long sleep. Knew better than to invest too much in them and yet wanted to, chose to.

A blink, a thin tug at the edge of his mouth. A match strike millisecond of tightness between the brows. The eardrum bursting blast of the walkie-talkies interrupted his thoughts. The teleporters kept them secure. Protected, if in a far off way, or even a falsely determined manner. In the middle of all the boats and as they allowed themselves to be led, the island could pull them right back in an instant. That was how Kaz explained to his own mind why he kept going. Emre reached out a hand that Kaz frowned at (what the fuck, he didn't need help??). He accepted anyway. And it dawned on him that Emre knew absolutely nothing that was going on in his head then. But when could he say anything?

Feroze took the sight in, as his eyes lingered on the two together for a few seconds more. Then a broad and practiced smile. 'I will make sure to point out everything you need to see, Emre,' he said in English, before adding in Gujarati: 'Friend.'

The man played the game he designed. A syrupy fabrication of a personal guide as they navigated through Puget Sound. Feroze pointed to the shores that sandwiched the boat. To mountains, to inlets, to the natural beauty around them.

Kaz wasn't prepared for Emre to spring up, a wild Jack-in-the-Box on attack. Feroze didn't look prepared either. As Emre held them down, Feroze's face twisted into one of unexpected anger, of spite caught off guard. Kaz jumped to the rudder to take control, as Emre said. A few seconds of a pause. What the hell was on Whidbey? But then he began to steer the little boat into the slosh of a wave and towards the easterly shoreline.

Meanwhile, spittle flew from Feroze's gritted teeth. Puffed and strained, a constant squirm under Emre as he seemed to impatiently wait his turn to speak, to answer.

Before Feroze could lay it all out, Emre straightened up to look out at the water. "Emre?" Kaz asked?

Is that dolphins?

Feroze took advantage of Emre's astonishment to snap up and around. He leaned back into the side of the boat and kicked Emre overboard with two feet.

"Emre!"

Then, he launched himself towards Kaz. With no hands on the rudder, the engine cut off. A see-sawing began between the two men in the boat as it rocked in the ocean directionless. Ferzoe gained ground with a punch that knocked Kaz back, and leapt on top to hold him down. Kaz fought to push back, hands firmly choked on Feroze's neck. The sudden spurred fighting continued and the harder they tried to take each other down, the more the boat rolled with the threat of tipping over.

"Emre!!" A dull clunk of Feroze's head sounded as it hit the floor of the boat. He wasn't completely out of it. But dazed enough for Kaz to grab one of the ropes used to tether the craft at a pier. Quickly, he flipped Feroze over and began to wrap and knot the guy's hands together.

And then Kaz stood up and shouted. "Emre! I'm coming for you, okay?" He didn't pass Feroze curled up on the bottom of the boat without a swift kick to the ribs. Kaz hopped over to the engine to restart it and turn around to get Emre out of the water.

Once Emre was in the boat again, Kaz seemed to know the direction to go. "You know what we're trading on Whidbey? Him." He nodded to Feroze. A pause. "There has to be a reason. There's gotta be, you know." Why else had all this happened in the first place? Why was it so important to know their names and get them there? "And I want you to come with me."

Kaz's fingers, lean and strong against Emre's pressure points. For a hot second, he wished they were back home, and not just for safety's sake (and since when was Emre so concerned about his own safety?) but just for a dark, soft moment with Kaz. Holed up in his silly little dormitory pod, or luxuriating under the stars in Kaz's spacious grotto. Kaz's fingers working pressure points, slow and measured, encouraging in all the ways that Emre --

Focus! For fuck's sake you horny twat. Focus.

"How is your fine and smackable arse my fault," Emre pretended to be offended. "Maybe work on being less peng." A grunt of agreement as Kaz pointed out that quiet was key for escape. And the rush of bubbly, hot-blooded pleasure that washed through Emre, not just as Kaz swiftly recreated the tattoo on Emre with ease, but Kaz's look. A look so addictive to Emre, because Kaz had used it before, many times. Admiration. Respect. Fondness.

Emre was so caught up in his sweetly knotted thoughts, he only protested belatedly as Kaz swiftly made cold-marker strokes on his belly. Raising his t-shirt, it was an easy - and thrilling - read. "Might as well just write 'property of' while you're at it!" Emre half-yelled, barely able to contain his boyish glee. He suppressed his own mouth against Kaz's, fervent nuzzles and secret laughs, so giddy that he barely processed that Kaz chose not to brand himself, which Emre (in his right mind) would've protested to. What even was this? Emre had always differentiated between 'work' and 'play'. Kaz was scribbling over that firm line as easily as he scribbled on Emre himself.

Fortunately, Emre oh-so helpfully botched their escalation with chat of Priti. And Kaz returned to his tightly contained slate, cool and impenetrable. Emre could feel the frizzle of frustration surrounding Kaz like hot static; but they'd have to address that later.

The escape. As they walked out of the parking lot, Emre turned to glance up at the third floor windows of the sky scraper, trying to discern if anyone got through Kaz and Emre's barricade. Anyone peering out at them now. No shouting or hailing to Feroze. But did Emre spot movement? Someone just watching from the window, but letting Kaz and Emre stroll away into whatever fucking trap this fucking mini-Kaz had planned?

Gujarati was used; and sleek, clever Kaz denied Emre's understanding. In truth, it was rough; Emre had to translate and he caught more implications than direct meanings.

Ali, all childish absurdity, made a pantomime of what he'd spied from his little ceiling nest. Emre took a swipe at Ali. "Tum chutiya ho," he spat, and yet. And yet. Something about Ali taking the piss out of them, the fake-hugging and brazen imitations. That was what Emre sounded like, with Kaz? All kissies and 'luvs'. And Emre realized that despite Ali's silly act, he wasn't feeling humiliated. It wasn't shameful to be spied on. Fucking hell; it wasn't shameful at all.

Emre scoffed suddenly, smirking. "Little pervert, give you a bit of wanking material for you tonight ey? Careful you don't rub out that already tiny dick." He met Feroze's eyes, and then gave him a cheeky, antagonistic wink. As if the 'pervert' comment was aimed at him, and not his little brother.

Ali ran and took all the fun out of it, but for the better. Emre needed to concentrate, as they stepped out to the water. Crumbled docks and a bustling, thriving marketplace of sorts. Emre was fascinated at the sheer amount of boats, and people. Feroze returned to the role of friendly tour guide; and Emre couldn't even switch to another language, to whisper to Kaz. Who knew what else Feroze spoke.

But he did look up at Kaz, to gauge the other man's response, any reaction to the change in his hometown. Kaz was always a hard read, but Emre felt like he knew some of the subtle, minute tics, by now.

The walkie-talkie was unnerving. The mention of a whole other island they had to apparently sail to, was equally unnerving. The fact that Feroze didn't demand Emre disarm, made it clear that Feroze was perfectly comfortable, had nothing to fear from them. And then using their names - calling them by fucking name. Sure, the information could've been provided by Ali the little spy, but. Emre hated it, hated this fake friendliness. He knew Kaz did too; he didn't have to guess at that.

He wondered though, why Kaz was going along with all of this. The rage Kaz had imparted on Ali when it was just the kid, now tempered to a tense compliance with Feroze. All after seeing Priti. Was there a morbid, angry curiousity in Kaz, after all? Or was this some form of protection? If Emre had attacked Feroze and Ali in the streets, maybe there were other spies, watching. Waiting for Kaz and Emre to harm the brothers.

So, onto the boat. Kaz was a strong swimmer, and Emre got his practice on the island for the last three years. Emre climbed in, helped Kaz (made a show of reaching for Kaz, in fact. A showy show of physical contact between them, fuck everyone else). "A tour would be lovely, mate," Emre said, settling in.

They got out into the water, and once Emre believed the other boats were far enough away from their little motorboat, he lurched over to Feroze, pinned him against the ship's stern. "Kaz! Grab the rudder."

Emre gave Feroze a hard shake to disorient him. "It's fine, yeah? Wave caught the boat a bit, but Kazzy'll get us back on track to Whiddey-whatev Island. And you can start the tour by telling me what the fuck is going on, ey? There's no trade, is there. Look at us - we didn't come with any bloody trade. So who the fuck do you work for, hm? Tell me her name, and I won't slit your throat and throw you overboard, you smarmy little prick. I'm tired of your game...your...bloody hell."

Emre looked over the lip of the boat, out into the water. Two thick, blue-grey bodies breached the water, dorsal fins high and shiny as one beast blew water out its blowhole. The other circled around the first, and poked a long-beaked face out of the water. A laughing chitter, as if to greet Feroze's boat.

"Is that. Is that dolphins?" Emre demanded, voice cracking in a high-pitched wonder and amazement.

[kazxraval]

Ziplines and other entries into buildings of only a few floors not necessary. "Yeah. Smart thinking." Fingers ran through an unruly patch of Emre's curls and for a split second Kaz smiled. "When we get down to the street, we should look for other shortcuts they've added to this place." They-- whoever utilized the tallest buildings and still called Seattle home.

Kaz laughed, short and gruff. "Distract? You're the one distracting, grabbing my ass every five seconds." Clearly Kaz didn't mind. "Yeah, I figure you'll have an easy time getting through this window. I don't want to knock out more of the glass to get through. In case they--" he hooked a thumb back to the doors --"got people waiting down on the ground. Don't want them to hear anything but until we're out and hauling ass outta here. And think I found another one I can use."

Kaz watched Emre searched through his backpack with a furrowed brow. "Uhm. Could be a gang? Maybe there are more people here than we think, and it's a way to keep up with who aligns with who? Dunno." His expression relaxed into one of marvel when the Sharpie appeared. Kaz's heart ran fast in his chest. A different smile appeared, longer lasting. Fuzzy around the corners like the admiration he felt then. No, a fondness, one that buzzed around his brain before it washed down his spine.

"You're brilliant. You know that?" Kaz turned Emre's wrist up and held it. He took the cap of the Sharpie off with his teeth and spat it out. Kaz began to draw what he remembered of the pattern over Emre's already blue inked skin. Diligently, quickly he drew. At the end, he bent down and lifted Emre's shirt, and before a sound could be made he wrote 'KAZ' in big fast letters on Emre's belly, with a small 'x' beneath. "There," and Kaz looked pleased with himself. Cap retrieved, and the Sharpie went into his own backpack. "If we end up needing it, I'll do my own."

Let's go there. Sealed between them, close enough to nudge noses and try yo bury into each other's skin, with an affection not known before and not one Kaz was willing to give up any time soon. The spell was broken when Kaz had to explain Priti. He didn't hate her so much as he resented the unwillingness to only give him the coldest part of herself. To explain it to someone who enshrined their parents behind the clearest glass, even as Urmilla's past was murky as hell, was too difficult then.

Why couldn't Emre just get it? Breathe it in like a long hookah drag, hold it in his lungs, let it settle? The heat in Kaz's ears and around his neck temporarily kept him from hearing anything. Emre reaching for a wrist extinguished some of the fire. Kaz stayed quiet. They needed to move. Avoid Priti, not waste the time to talk about her. And he couldn't help but crack a smile as they parted. You bring out the murder in mums, my luv.

Kaz did not anticipate a smooth departure. Ali's mouth held a mean little line. Feroze strolled along too casual, too airy. He felt how close Emre stuck to him, and if Kaz could will the teleporter to take them back, he would.

Kaz always thought Emre easily talked to others, but it bothered to hear the chat with Ali. The little boy verbally thumbed his nose back.

You know what I'm saying? The skin on the back of his neck prickled. "I know," Kaz returned in Gujarati. Ali's staccato giggle pinged around the street they moved down. Kaz gave the kid his deepest frown as Ali doubled over to laugh, continuing to walk.

'Your friend. He does not speak it?' Feroze continued, walking next to Ali and shooting another look over his shoulder.

Kaz again answered in Gujarati without a look to Emre. Some tug in his gut said to lie. "He does not. Why do you ask this question?"

Ali halted a step to force Emre to either run into him from behind or skid to a halt to prevent a crash. The childish laugh that followed almost sent Kaz through the roof. Ali turned to Feroze, and brought the conversation back to English. 'I told you what I saw!' Ali wrapped his arms around himself. The thin boy began to wiggle around, his eyes closed, his lips pursed with a few wet kissing sounds. A child's attempt to harrass. 'Course luv. Luv. My luv.' An overacted (and poorly delivered) imitation of Emre's accent. 'K-I-S-S-I-'

Feroze pulled Ali over mid-chime by the sleeve of his shirt, and then locked an arm tighter around the kid's shoulders. He slowed to a stop. 'You are being a very rude boy. Ali. This is not funny, tell them you're sorry.'

They were near the waterfront now, where a long line of buildings stretched out. What used to be open air markets and shops, with a glimpse in between of the ocean. Ali's face contorted into something stormy, and his brown eyes burned with a new type of contempt at everyone, but particularly Feroze. 'I won't say it!' Ali yelled as he spiraled out of Feroze's hold, almost tearing his shirt. His feet slapped heavy as he darted between two buildings towards the water.

Feroze gave them a plasticine smile. 'Kids,' was his shrug of a comment, as though Ali's tantrum was an every day occurrence, not to be bothered by. 'You want to trade, right? Come, let me show you what you need to do.'

The man led them between the same buildings Ali dashed through. On the other side, the view opened to the port they spied earlier when up on the roof. A variety of boats were docked at piers, while more floated further out in the water.

Feroze pulled a walkie talkie from a rucksack. He opened a channel and spoke. 'I've got two who want to trade. Permission to bring them over.' Static erupted from the device. Seconds passed. A loud buh-leep and a garbled voice asked for a name. Once Feroze provided his, the person on the other end gave an ok.

'This is us,' Feroze led them over to a small fishing boat, presumably the way to get to where they were going. 'Trades happen on Whidbey Island. Ever been, Kaz?'

Kaz. They hadn't given Feroze their names, had they? "Probably. When I was a kid. How do you know my name?"

He climbed on board and cranked the engine. Another congenial smile. 'Ali told me. He heard you two talking. Kids are nosy, aren't they?' Feroze looked between them. 'Come on. You're going to like what you find out there. You won't be disappointed. Say, Emre. Ever been to Seattle before? We don't have a long trip but I can point out some things along the way.'

"Seems the mechanisms all centralized, erm. Localized? Around here -" Emre poked his head out of the broken window carefully, trying to look around outside to find more around the buildings, but without much success. Still, he stuck to his theory - maybe because it was true, and maybe because he wanted to placate his agitated Kaz, who seemed pissed for his oversight. "I reckon all these clever little lifts and ziplines is only in this skyscraper area, yeah. None where we was teleported to." A simple reason for that: "Shorter buildings."

Emre nodded with a quick smile of agreement at Kaz, adding, "Slick if it works." A confident nod as Kaz envisioned Emre on the building's ledge outside. "Sure I can. Just don't distract me with any of your wiggling or looks, yeah. Pull a stiffy on that ledge and it'd push me right off. What - you got a different way to reaching the pulley yourself?" Maybe the broken window was too risky for Kaz's longer build.

He mentioned the tattoo and Emre frowned, rubbing at his own wrist. "Might just be a tattoo. You reckon it's something more. A gang tat or that? Here - " Emre unsaddled his backpack, rummaging around until he found a sharpie. He pressed it into Kaz's hand. "Keep that, try recreating the tat, yeah? Might come in handy." If it worked. Fake tattoos on themselves, drawn with a Sharpie. Would anyone here fall for that, if they were inspected? "All we've got to do is survive."

Emre had no intention of splitting up, but sometimes needs must. Still - Kaz's firm refusal of even considering the possibility was just...Emre sighed. Not exhale, not huffed. But truly sighed, like a lovestruck kid. "My darling," Emre demurred under the cushiony warmth of Kaz's kiss to his hand. An additional feral nuzzle between them, as Emre squeezed Kaz's hand. "Yeah. If we can get to the courthouses, right? Let's go there." A snorty laugh. "Never thought I'd voluntarily go to courthouses."

The soft warmth gave way to cold marble, possessing Kaz from his opaque, implacable gaze (one that looked through Emre, like Kaz was eon's away, boring fiery holes into memories and wishing they'd burn the present-day alive) to the way his entire frame seemed to still. Not stiffen, not freeze. But still. It was frightening, the immediacy of this reaction at the shock of seeing, of all people, Kaz's mother. And she was no hapless survivor or moaning victim. Apparently Priti was now some kind of leader, shouting to her people, taking head of the charge.

But that wasn't the point, was it? Emre realized that to Kaz, it didn't matter if Priti had transformed or even was alive. She was the opposition and even Kaz's irrepressible curiousity couldn't compete with that level of pain. Perhaps not an enemy; that might validate Priti's existence in Kaz's periphery too much. Give her too much importance. It was still hard to understand for Emre; but in a way that it simply broke his heart, to see this. Another missed opportunity; similar to Kaz's inexorable unwillingness to engage with the ghost of dear little Ani. But Emre remembered what Melody had whispered to him, before she disappeared forever. 'You don't have to understand or even agree, babes. You've just got to love him."

Emre remembered that he could do this, too. He'd done it for Iyaz, after Iyaz came out. Took Emre a good year to adjust, let some control over his brother go. But Emre did, and Iyaz forgave him for it. He wouldn't make Kaz wait a year.

"You never had a mother," Emre said, with a slight kiss of his teeth. He grasped for Kaz again, hands wrapped around Kaz's cool wrist. "Yeah. You're right. That woman innt nothing. We'll go and you'll never have to see her again, yeah. And she don't got no right to ever see you. Fuck her."

Granted, the revenge could've been sweet, Emre liked to imagine. Priti's face gawping, to see her magnificent eldest, so strong and healthy and perfect, and perfectly fine without her. If she was to be hated, then she should suffer for missing out on Kaz. But Emre liked petty types of spite and revenge a bit more than Kaz. He'd mention it to Kaz, but later when things weren't this tightly wound and escape more imperative.

Emre stayed quiet, mulling over the possibility of Priti being so hideously cruel, to let someone kill her own son. Granted, look what happened when Urmilla reunited with Kaz, only a few months back. Literally Kaz was almost killed, right in front of her. "You bring out the murder in mums, my luv," Emre called out to Kaz, who exited his own way, as Emre exited through the window.

Traveling outside the building was less difficult than Emre expected. He was too old for this shit but...it was pretty fun too. Reliving his youth and all. Emre hopped down and reached to Kaz in the loading bay, but Kaz already got him first, to warn him to hush. Emre peered down the overgrown street and saw...what looked like he could be Kaz's little cousin, really. Emre blinked, looking up at Kaz to see if he thought the same thing. Granted, Kaz's face was at resting default - giving away as much as a blank sheet of paper at the sight of the two kids.

'Whoa, hey. Hi.'

Fucking hell, they even sounded the same. Well, Kaz was generally less pleasant, but that was just Kaz. Who responded to Feroze's rather leading question - a hint or a trap? Emre couldn't tell, but he kept his eyes on Ali. Little Ali, who Emre and Kaz had beaten up. It felt a little shameful now; two grown men whaling on a little screaming boy. And now the boy was silent, obedient to Feroze's squeezing hand on his scrawny shoulder.

"What about your mummy, Ali?" Emre couldn't help but ask, sticking as close to Kaz as possible as they followed. His one hand hovered near Kaz's, like he wanted to hold hands but didn't just yet. His cutlass on his belt harness, ready to pull by his other hand. Emre eyed around them, searching deliberately now for shadows and peering faces in this strange city. "You was crying for her, not your elder. How'd you get down here so fast?"

'Why do you talk like that?' Ali piped up, his squint at Emre both judgey and insouciant. 'You sound dumb.'

'Hey, be good,' Feroze chided Ali, but in Gujarati. He glanced over his shoulder at Emre, but lingered more on Kaz. 'You know what I'm saying?'

[kazxraval]

The action rose through the building like mercury in a thermometer. Hot kisses in the middle before the fever pushed into more dangerous territory on the rooftop. Interactions with strangers outside the island typically ended poorly, and Kaz needed to keep them guarded. They were not from Seattle or part of the apocalyptic landscape. They did not have the same mark as the kid did, nor did they know if they were at a disadvantage because of it. 

Kaz mistakenly assumed Emre knew the reason why they needed to bolt rather than hunker down in the building. (As for the kid, Kaz wondered what her connection might be to him. And if leaving the child in a crumpled stain on the concrete below would hurt her.) Regardless– the two found a balance. He’d be worried if they no longer could. 

The exits were blocked to slow down any search parties that were sent their way. Emre made keen observations. Kaz paused. When they landed in the city, he’d only looked up to make sure no one had a visible eye or weapon trained on them. “I didn’t notice anything. Fuck, didn’t even see the zipline between these buildings either. You’re right though. They’ve got to have more than one way up here.” A faster way, and thankfully Emre brought it up.

Kaz intently watched as Emre examined their surroundings, including out the window. He tried to return the slap to the ass that made him feel so good, but something caught Emre’s eye. He stepped so quick that Kaz managed just to swipe at the side of a hip. “What is it?” Kaz craned out to see the edge of the building and another pulley system that lead down to the ground. “It’s slick, hm?” His head turned up to see where it attached, like a lean tendon insertion point on a bone. Or was the vertical pulley the connective tissue between the bones of the city and the muscle who ran it? 

The partially broken window was closest to the edge of the building. Not a lot of room to get through, to reach the ledge. But it did have some structural design outside of it to hang on to. A bigger opening might be found around the corner, but would mean they’d have to spend much more time crawling around the outside of a tall building to get to it. 

“It’s not parkour but can you get your cute little ass out that window? And climb around like fucking Spiderman?” They didn’t have a lot of options. “Emre… the tattoo? On the kid. Looked like leopard spots or something. What d’ya think about it? I’ve never seen anything that looked like it.”

At another spot in the sprawling office space, Kaz stood quiet while Emre soaked up the old courthouse. Regarded it wordlessly. Whatever feelings felt weren't shared. Kaz clasped the hand on his chest and brought it up to kiss at a knuckle. But then he frowned. “We’re not going to get split up, Emre.” Illogical. Em might even say barmy. Kaz spoke it into existence: they wouldn’t need to meet in the building. His brows relaxed as he rephrased. “We can go there, if you want to see it.” 

There was more of a plan for getting out of the building than for what came out of his mouth. Old family secrets that had been shoved into the furthest unreachable corners of himself were now exposed to this man (among other things). But he expected a little understanding over seeing a woman he purposefully cut completely out of his life. 

Would she recognize him? As much as her shape and shadow was packed by an inherited apathy, he’d fucking hope so? Kaz tensed. “Is she my mother.” Was she a mother, a better way to state it. Don't sound like the woman you'd described to me… those words burrowed well under the skin. 

Kaz could do no more in the moment than grit his teeth. Because footsteps outside made him duck behind a column. Then, the shake of a door that wouldn’t budge in its frame, a grunt of a frustrated shoulder that tried to push the door open. A buzzed electronic blip of a walkie talkie activated and mumbled voices. Clodding feet that faded away as they continued to move up the stairwell. 

The time frame to leave the building had just been slashed from hours to minutes. Kaz searched for a wider opening in a window with more urgency. And tried not snap at Emre. Would she kill him? “I’m not a part of it anymore. Not a part of her. Never was to begin with.” He angrily tugged on a poorly nailed 2x4 over another window. As imagined, Kaz would have to take the long way around to the pulley.

"She might stand there and let someone kill me, I dunno." Kaz wanted to hurl the piece of wood, but chose to set it down gently. 

His chin lifted. “I can climb out on this side." So used to taking the long way round, he didn't mind. While the smaller opening closest to the pully was fit for Emre. "We’ll meet in the middle. Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

The wind whipped around the building, colder than on the ground and with a harsher slant to it. The finally made it down to the loading dock, with Kaz having taken longer to navigate his way there.

They weren't in the loading area long before Kaz reached for Emre, to gain his attention. "It's that fucking kid again. With someone else." Sure enough, the kid already pointed them out to the man who walked with them.

'Whoa, hey. Hi.' Tall, brown, fabulous head of hair and well-groomed beard. Possibly a chest rug that would make someone envious? He held up his hands. 'I'm Feroze. This is my little brother, Ali.' Ali's little features twisted and squinted, a mockery of a minor threat, but he kept his mouth quiet.

'He said two guys got onto him and... honestly, he's not supposed to be in that building. For obvious reasons. It's falling apart, too many places to get hurt.' Feroze placed a hand on little Ali and squeezed.

'So, I know you two have to be lost. The market is that way.' Feroze pointed in the direction he came from. 'On the waterfront. That's where all the goods are traded.' The man paused as his gaze jumped between Kaz and Emre to read them. 'That is why you're here, right?'

Kaz cast a quick look to Emre. "Yeah. Guess we got mixed up. Take us there?"

Kaz heard a tease, and who was Emre to dissuade him when Kaz shot back like that, a soft susurrus between a delightful curve of his lips? Emre instinctively bared his own teeth back, the familiarity of banter a beacon between them.

Which led (inevitably) to more teasing, heated and fleshy this time. A husky 'ah' of pleasure when Kaz's fingers tightened in Emre's hair, the heady, impractical temptation to get his clothes off, feel more skin, do more things that forgot the world around them. "Good. You should always be hungry around me, yeah."

How did an entire city become a distraction, while the man with Emre was his primary focus? But the city did distract, alarming and heightened enough to pack away any horny needs until later. And there would be a later; Emre's desire didn't fade, it was just penned back.

For now it was up the stairs after a wriggly little, then the somewhat terrifying sight of the boats clustered in the bay, like they were ready to invade. Then people on the other rooftop - people who pitched Kaz into an even heightened alarm. Emre could feel it, palpable but pinned tight to Kaz, as they raced down the stairwell again.

"Leave the little bugger," Emre huffed, slightly surprised by Kaz's vivid description of the kid's possible death at their hands. Kaz had once said he'd never killed before, hadn't he? Not deliberately, perhaps. Not with intent. And Emre would change that; Emre had promised Kaz. He would make sure, Kaz got a opportunity to kill. But not now, not with a child being Kaz's first.

Multiple points assuaged Emre's thoughts as they scampered down. The tattoo on the boy's wrist, clearly a stick-and-poke style (it's not rocket science...) making a deliberate design. 'Gang-tagging' was Emre's immediate assumption; easy physical codes to mark people along some grouping or hierarchy.

And the shouts from the other rooftop. It wasn't English. It was a woman, too. The mother of the boy? What could possibly be so jarring to Kaz, that he wanted to rabbit immediately?

They paused, three floors from the ground floor, and Emre nodded at Kaz's suggestion. Wait out the night; they could do that. They brought enough supplies and they were smart. Once they were inside the office space, Emre dragged some old furniture over to the stairwell exit door, a makeshift blockade and/or alarm system should anyone try to alight on their floor.

He listened and frowned at another piece of the puzzle. "Stay off the streets...easy way to travel from one building to another, with the lifts out of service. But zip lines can only go down or across innit. What if they wanted to go up?" Did these people slog up stairwells every time, or did they fashion together some quicker way to ascend the skyscrapers?

And the boats in the bay, how were they connected? Perhaps some people - like the kid - chose to stay off the streets for a reason other than convenience. What if they were in the middle of some ongoing gang-style beef, between building-hoppers and boat people?

Emre and Kaz had teleported on the streets, walked to this building along the ruined ashphalt. They hadn't encountered anything on the trip here, but...? Nah. Emre would've known if they were being watched, or followed from their arrival. Kaz would too, most likely. No; their arrival had gone unnoticed and it was the child who caused the ruckus.

Kaz's warm, steady hand in Emre's pulled him out of his thoughts, to look around. Kaz guided them to the edge, peering out over the loading dock. Emre scanned the area, then tilted out the busted window too, to check along the side of the building itself.

A huffing snort of amusement. Emre twisted his hand in Kaz's to smack Kaz's arse. "You can keep my knees well-oiled bruv, but my parkour days are long over. But mate - check over there--" Emre pointed to the corner edge of the building, where it looked like another pulley system was assembled on the outer face of the building. Only instead of horizontal like the zipline, it was vertical. "I reckon that's their version of a lift, yeah. We can crawl out onto the ledge and get to it, we can lower down to the loading dock and fuck off. No jumping needed."

The window they were looking out of was already broken; it would create noise to break it further, but maybe they could squirm out onto the building ledge....

Kaz bundled Emre to another aspect, pointing out one particular building. The precision Kaz used to describe it made Emre pay attention, waiting for Kaz dropped the reason. "Mum's...office." Emre repeated, leaning heavily into Kaz. Who remained as strong and unbreakable as that tall building in the distance. Emre stared at it silently for a moment, then looked up at Kaz, hand on Kaz's chest. "Right. We escape now; and if we get split up, that'll be our meet-up spot, yeah? Mum's office."

Kaz split from Emre to find a better way out than the poorly broken window; Emre remained there a bit longer, trying to imagine his mum in that random building. But he couldn't. Nothing about it felt remarkable. Nothing related back to Urmilla, for Emre. He started to say, "Kaz--"

And then Kaz dropped another reason, this time for running. Emre's throat went dry. "Your mum," he whispered back, staring at Kaz, who continued to rove between the desks and columns. "Your mum?? Would...would she recognize you? Would she know who you was? Kaz -" Emre hustled between the debris to reach Kaz, hold him in place. "That why you want to run? You - but you can't. You can't run. It's your mum innit. She was shouting in Gujarati, innit, shouting orders. Don't sound like the woman you'd described to me, when she was with Edward. Kaz, she's alive, she survived. Fucking hell, she's alive. If you're sure it's your mum, why the fuck are we running from her?"

Voices in the stairwell now, echoing too much to make out what was being said, but clearly it was orders and reports. The stairwell door rattled, shoved a little bit; but Emre's little blockade held for now. Of course it wouldn't take a genius to realize the blockade was man-made. The hunters would return.

Emre returned to the busted window, looking over to the loading dock, the parking lot beyond, the ledge outside leading to the pulley system. "We squeeze out here, shimmy down that pulley to the lot, and we be gone. If that's what you want. But if that's your mum, if you're sure then...do we really have to run? She..." Emre hated thinking it, but had to ask. "If - if she found you, you think she would kill you?"