A strong wind blows through his hair, making it fall in front of his face, covering his eyes, like it was supposed to. He had grown it out like that. Been told to grow it out like that.
There is a city on the nearing horizon. A port. Sean doesn't know what port. He doesn't know what city. He could read his ticket, if he chose, but he had had so few choices in the last few weeks that he decided not to. As far as freedom went, and, as far as his diminishing freedom went, his bad choices were still his choices.
He had chosen to start smoking at fourteen and, at fifteen, he had chosen to give it up. Mainly due to the prodding of his few friends – friends who cared about him more than he could ever understand, more than they could vocalise. There had been whispered goodbyes in the middle of the night, and countless kisses that Sean will, simultaneously, try to pretend never happened, and never forget.
A siren sounds somewhere on the boat. Sean wonders if he should be worried, but his associate isn't, so he decides not to be.
His associate had introduced himself as Jack, Sean doubts that that is his name. The man's passport identified him as James Sawyer. Then again, Sean's own passport, recently forged and currently stowed away in his inner coat pocket, gives his name as John Sawyer, nephew to James. Uncle and nephew visiting relatives in America from France.
Sean still doesn't understand why they couldn't have flown from Austria. He supposes it's the same reason that his mother stayed behind for another week. He has spent time away from her before. Countless Christmases have passed without so much as a glimpse of her. Entire summers have been spent with only scant phone calls. But this was different. Very different.
He is in a whole other country. A whole new continent. And without a single friend to be found.
Jack stares out at the approaching country. Sean wonders if he has ever been to America before. He certainly knew what he was doing in smuggling them here. Then, he remembers that he doesn't care about this man. And he stops.
"This is a strange world, my friend, very different from ours," Jack says, sombrely, as though expressing great wisdom.
Sean tells himself that he doesn't care about this man, but he begins to hate him ever so slightly anyway. Obviously, this was a strange new world. For them both, possibly, but Sean want to scream at the word 'ours'.
"Yours," he longs to scream. "Your world, my world is European country-side and hours spent in an overheated van." His world is his friends, and their acquaintances, and long hours spent skipping school to go on adventures. His world is hours spent studying at someone's house, trying to make up for, to hide, all those skipped classes, while an oblivious parent compliments their dutifulness. Sean and his friends would always share a secret smile at that. They were certainly studious, but they were equally invested in their own little games.
His world is wesen and human. His first girlfriend is a fierce Fuchsbau. His first boyfriend is a beautiful human. Kehrseit-Schlich-Kennen or not, they both know all about each other's adventures.
His world is spoken in German, French, Latin, Russian – every language of his home, spoken stutteringly, but still understood. His world is not this country of English. His world is his home.
In his world, he is not a foreigner, he is not an immigrant. In his world, he does not have to pretend to be a native. He does not have to pretend. He is loved, and he knows, even if he does not understand. He is accepted.
In Jack's world, he is a half-breed. A rare wesen. A half-Zauberbiest. A Bastard Royal. A weak weapon. A valuable asset. He does not belong in this world. It is not 'theirs'. It is his.
But, no matter what Jack's says, it is the one that Sean is going to have to live in from now on. He knows that. Just like he knows that he will never see his friends again.
He is going to be alone forever now. He is never going to belong anywhere.
All because his step-mother got jealous. He hopes that she chokes on her acid-spitting tongue. Part of him wishes that his mother would just kill her, but part of him doesn't. He would never see his mother again. And he doesn't want that.
"Why so quiet, nephew?" Jack asks.
Sean only glares at the man. He has kept even tempered enough that Sean has no idea what kind of wesen the man is. He is almost jealous. He can only just smell the hint of something 'other' on the man that he knows that he is not dealing with a human. He is not dealing with another Zauberbiest either, he knows. Half, or otherwise. His fellows are all greedy and power-hungry. His mother wouldn't trust him to any of them, they would sooner betray her and kill him in his sleep.
He hasn't slept much the entire boat journey. He crammed himself into a corner and brandished the pocket knife that had been pressed into his hand before he left his home for good. It hadn't been given to him by his mother.
"You must remember to speak English now that we are in America," Jack says. "It will improve your English immensely for your schooling," he continues, as though he really were Sean's uncle, and he really cared. And they that they will return to Austria at some point soon.
"Where will be going once we arrive?" Sean asks, in English. "Uncle," he adds, after a minute. He assumes that most non-native English speakers still refer to family members in their native language, but Jack is not his uncle. Jack is not his family. His family is an ocean away, and he will never see them again.
Jack rolls his shoulders in a move that is not a shrug. It is not an answer. Sean wonders if Jack knows. He wonders if they will be safe once they leave the boat. He wonders if they are going to die.
He wonders that a lot.
"Some friends will be meeting us at the port," Jack says, after too long a pause.
"Have we met these friends before?" He asks. He means; have you met these friends before? He wants to ask if they might die but he doesn't. He isn't sure if he wants the answer.
He isn't sure what he would think if the answer is 'yes'.
He has faced death countless times in his life. At the hands of strangers, at the hands of acquaintances, at the hands of friends. He is almost used to it.
He has not overcome any fear of death, he has never been afraid of it. Another thing that marks him as not belonging to this world.
Another siren blares overhead.
"Get your things," Jack orders. "We will need to leave soon."
Sean doesn't move for a long moment. He lets the wind continue to cut through the air, chilling him. He lets it continue to mess with his too-long hair. He decides that, if they survive, he will cut it soon. He decides to ignore Jack for a moment longer, even as a few too interested looking men approach them. His bad choices were still his choices, and he had so little freedom as it is.
They survive the boat journey, but Jack is still dead by the time his mother arrives in America.
By then, Sean is certain that he will never belong in this world, but he has figured out how to survive it. It will be a long time before he does much more than that.
He never loses the pocket knife.
Sean survives, alone, in this strange, new world for a week. He never quite stops being alone. Not for a long time.