Gon loves the sound of seagulls in the morning. As much as he likes the quiet that fishing so early in the morning gives him, there's something about being completely alone that sets him on edge. Crashing waves can offer a small illusion of company, but the tangible presence of actual life is reassuring. It's almost uplifting when faced with such a nice day. The sun is shining, the sky is just turning a beautiful light blue that promises a clear day, and the sea is surprisingly calm, so different from the chaos of a few weeks ago.

Zaban's locals said it was the worst storm to hit in the last five years. Only a fourth of the crew Gon set out with survived, and had the ship been any farther out to sea, any further from their destination, there's no doubt they all would be dead.

Of course the sailors would have been in a better position to respond had they been farther away. They thought they were home free, close enough to the goal to celebrate the end of a six month journey a bit early. They were over-confident in their understanding of the sea, and by the time Zaban was aware of their presence and managed to send a rescue team, more than half those who lived passed the initial sinking were dead from cold. More died in hospitals and clinics over the next week. That they even have twenty-five percent left is astounding.

Kurapika calls Gon's survival a miracle. Leorio claims freakish luck. Gon tries not to think about it. He might not remember much, but he knows there was someone out there with him, knows he had them in his arms, and knows they were alive. But Gon was found alone on the beach.

He doesn't like to think about it.

Gon walks as close to the surf as he can without wetting his boots. His fishing rod bumps comfortably against his shoulder, ready at a moment's notice. Debris from the ship is still drifting to shore, and people have been stepping on planks and broken bottles as often as they've stumbled across jewelry or gold. He makes it a point to pick up or fish out whatever garbage he spots on the way to and from his fishing spot.

At this point the majority of trash hovers out in what Gon likes to call the dead zone, the waves never quite manage to budge whatever wreckage gets stuck there. Most of his attention ends up out on the horizon, leaving him to trip over boards or step in glass on more than one occasion.

Though a body is a new one.

Gon narrowly manages to avoid trampling the boy, overbalances into the water, and gasps as the cold sea leaks through his shorts. He scrambles to the unconscious boy's side, quickly assessing state of the boy. He's skin and bones, definitely malnourished, and unconscious.

Possibly dead.

Gon rushes into action. He fumbles towards the stranger's neck, brushes aside the shocking white hair with nervous fingers to get a better read on his pulse, but the instant his hands make contact with skin, the stranger jerks in surprise. He coughs water out of his throat before sucking air greedily into his lungs, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

It seems to take the stranger a couple of moments to figure out exactly where he is, or maybe it simply takes him that long to summon the will to finally process the world around him, but the look of slowly dawning terror in his eyes when he sees Gon kneeling next to him is unexpected.

"Are you okay?" Gon blinks down at him, maintaining eye contact long enough to make the stranger fidget slightly and look away. "Hey, can you hear me? Do you understand me? What's your name?"

"…"

Gon leans forward to hear but backs away almost immediately under the boy's frustrated glare. It's obvious he's trying to talk—Gon can even make out a few short words he's mouthing—but an actual sound seems beyond his ability. Is it a side effect of dehydration? A cut? He doesn't see any damage to the boy's pale throat, but then most of his skin is covered by hair. There's not tell-tale blood on the sand either. Even so internal damage is a possibility. If that's the case he needs to get to a doctor now, but Gon's not going to be able to get him anywhere if the boy's viewing him as an enemy. If he struggles, thinks will only get worse.

So first thing first…establish some trust and calm him down.

Gon keeps a respectful distance, but leans in closer, pointedly turning his ear towards the boy. "I can't hear you," he says, keeping anything out of his voice that could be considered remotely condescending. His tone sounds flat, bordering uncaring, but it seems to avoid upsetting the boy. "Can you tell me your name?"

"…K—"

Whatever other sound the stranger could have made disappears in the sudden shriek of pain that rips itself from his throat, the sheer volume of it surprising Gon. He watches in stunned horror as the boy curls onto his side and digs at his neck, mouth still open in a scream far after his short-lived voice has faded, tearing at it with claw-like nails that seemingly come out of nowhere.

Gon jumps to his feet at the sight of blood, ready to run for help, to take off down the beach in search of someone, anyone, but it's early. Shops aren't even open yet in this part of town. Even if he shouts at the top of his lungs, by the time someone actually responds…

He bends over the boy and grabs his hands. He pulls them away from his neck with all this strength, but Gon miscalculates. The boy's light, dangerously so, and almost lands on his face as Gon accidentally hauls him to his feet. Nearly the instant his feet touch the ground, he collapses under his own weight, choking back another yell as Gon fights him keep upright. He weakly thrashes once, twice, head lolling.

Gon nearly topples over as the stranger passes out, barely managing to keep the other's head from crashing to the ground. Grunting, he folds his arm under the boy's legs and picks him up, cradling him against his chest as he sets down the beach. His house isn't too far. The boy's wounds are easily treatable with a common first aid kit. Gon doubts the boy would take kindly to waking up in a doctor's office, and he has Leorio near by if he needs him anyway. Besides, all the doctors in town have their hands full with injuries sailors. He can handle one hurt person for a little bit.

Now that Gon looks at him, the boy can't be more than fourteen, fifteen tops. Why is he so thin? Gon knows he's not from the ship, and there's no way he could survive at sea so long anyway. Is he one of the homeless from town? That could explain why he's naked. Some of the meaner kids have taken a liking to robbing the homeless, dumping them in some alley once they're done, but there's usually some sign of a struggle. Bruises, cuts, a shoe print or two branded onto the victims side…but this guy is pristine.

More importantly, he's pale. No one in Zaban is pale. The sun's too strong for even the most UV retardant resident to escape a light tan. This guy would have to stay inside all hours of the day to stay this colorless. Is that it? Did he break out of some kind of prison?

Gon glances down at the boy, noting the shallow breathing. First things first, I need to get him help.

The stranger, who Gon has taken to calling K, manages to have a few brief moments of consciousness over the next couple days. Gon's able to get some fresh water down K's throat and dress him in loose shorts during his calmer moments of awareness, but he's still speechless. Food is a no-go too. The one time they attempted to feed him a sliced apple, K's gums started to bleed. Leorio put him on a strict soft-food diet, but even then K won't eat anything. Applesauce, tomato soup, chicken noodle… the few spoonfuls of oatmeal Gon fed the boy before got him a sour look and food spat on his floor. It might be okay now, though, if he bothered to wake up.

"It's the weirdest thing," Leorio says as he packs his bag in preparation to leave. "The first day, his body was about as strong as a china doll. Now…" He throws his hands up, the deflated mattress sagging under the movement, but K doesn't stir. "He's not quite up to par with how strong a kid his age should be, but a little exercise and some food is all he'll need to be good as new. His teeth seem to be lagging though. Solid food should be an option in a few days. Next week at the latest. See ya tomorrow."

"Bye."

Another few days, huh? Gon sighs and gently lowers himself onto the old, rusted cot he'd managed to scrounge up while his houseguest takes the bed. It sinks dangerously underneath him, but it'll do.

That would be another problem once K woke up. Forget helping the boy get back on his feet. Having enough space and food for the two of them is going to stretch Gon's tiny budget to the max.

The shack Gon is staying in barely manages to hold the two of them as is. It was most likely suppose to be some kind of playhouse from Zaban's kids, but the town had apparently given up half way when the building became unstable. Gon gave it a simple fix- a support beam or two inside to make sure the roof didn't cave in- but it was definitely a short-term solution.

Not that I need a long-term one, Gon reminds himself. Kurapika, being the wealthy son of the Kurtas in the north, managed to contract a ship that will take the remaining sailors home in a few weeks. It'll take Gon home. Even if K manages to stay conscious for more than a handful of hours by the time three weeks are up, he'll never be able to take care of himself, and none of the townspeople know the boy.

Once the survivors clear out, inns will have rooms open, but Gon doesn't have much money left to help right now, let alone later. When storm season starts there's no way K'd be able to stay in the shack. Maybe K can find a job to pay for an inn? An apprenticeship? There must be some old master around town, but Gon has the sinking feeling K won't appeal to them. Forget his perfectly smooth hands: K's impossibly pale skin is a dead giveaway he's never worked a day in his life.

Perhaps K's actually a scholar of some kind? Books don't exactly cause scars. It won't do him no good in a small town like this. He'd have to travel alone to some big city, but it's something.

Gon closes his eyes, relaxes his body. No use in thinking about it now. He'll just have to ask.

K wakes up the next day.

It's a gradual process. K's fully aware long before he actually opens his eyes-Gon notices the change in breathing right away but carefully goes about business as usual- and there's a moment he seems to gather himself as he stares at the sunken ceiling. He sighs, running his hands over his face and through his freshly-cut hair, and takes a slow, bracing breath.

Then his head turns slowly to the side, freezing comically when he sees Gon.

Unlike the times before, Gon doesn't spring to action. He stays planted where he is and continues to clean his boots, silently counting down the minutes their staring contest lasts. How long until the other breaks the silence?

...Seven minutes. K's still awake and staring, face blank.

...Fifteen minutes. Gon's boots have been clean for three. He finally sees something start to work its way into the other's face: impatience.

"So, can you talk now?"

"…"

"I'll take that as a no?" Gon prompts.

K gives him what might be a growl, moving his head in an awkward "no." Gon assumes his frustration lies with his damaged body rather than Gon himself, but he knows K's none to happy being limited to the improv sign language Gon's been teaching in his bouts of consciousness.

"…"

"What? Hungry?"

K shakes his head.

"Thirsty?"

"…y…s…" His voice is dry and cracking, painfully broken. It's barely the whisper of a whisper, but it's still progress.

Gon grabs one of the few clean glasses he has and heads to the old sink Leorio managed to hook up to the well outside. The water isn't cold by any means, but it's clean enough.

K stubbornly refuses to let Gon help him drink. He gropes for the cup, nearly knocking it out of Gon's hands, and he fumbles with the smooth glass once Gon lets go. A strange look of awe takes over K's face, and he spends several minutes just running his hands over the glass, turning in over in his hands before he drinks it. By some miracle when he finally takes a starved gulp, most of the water is still in the cup and manages to make it into K's mouth.

When Gon holds his hand back out for the glass, K ignores him. He shifts under the threadbare blanket and takes a deliberate moment to gather himself before pushing himself up on his elbows, his face screwing up in concentration.

Gon shoves him down before K even manages to get his back off the mattress and gets a weak smack in the shoulder for his efforts. "What do you need? Do you want more?" Gon asks. "I'll get it."

K thrusts the cup towards him, agitated, but Gon doesn't take it personally.

They repeat the process five times until K can finally sit up without too much strain. His hands get steadier and steadier with each glass, and he begins to slow down and take sips rather than gulps. Some of the color comes back to his face too, the healthy flush encouraging.

Gon sets K's half-empty glass on the counter when he's finished (who knows how long the well outside will last) and relocates to his cot, grabbing a notebook and pencil he borrowed from Leorio. The doctor's daily checkup isn't due for awhile, so he figures they can relax for awhile. Palm already visited for the day, leaving dinner, so the next half hour'll be his first chance to find out what he can about the boy before Leorio tries to demand answers out of him.

It's odd to see such an animalistic look twisting K's face, the weary distrust. The boy's sleep hadn't been anything close to peaceful, but at least he'd resembled a human being. Now he reminds Gon of a foxbear he once found in a trap as a kid, biting its own arm off out of pure desperation for escape.

The best way to have an animal warm up to you is to gain its trust and show it you mean no harm.

Gon holds out the notebook and pencil to K, feeling hopeful when he doesn't look too confused. "Can you write?"

Hesitantly K takes the notebook. Holding the pencil awkwardly pinched between two fingers, he carefully spells out a shaky "yes." Gon watches as his guest continues, K's eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He mouths words to himself, each separate sound taking multiple chocked tries until he decides on a letter. It takes at least five minutes for him to complete his barely legible sentence, and he almost shoves the notebook back at Gon, anger sapping away any sense of accomplishment he might have felt at his success.

grandpa zeno tat me

…His grandpa taught him? He's definitely not from this country then. Can't be a scholar either. Our country's language is one of the most commonly used.

"Can you tell me your name? Where you're from? Anything?" Gon tries not to sound too eager as he relocates to the bed, careful to keep space between them. At the rate K's writing, Leorio will be here before they know it, and Gon can already see the fatigue settling in. A few base facts will make getting to know him much easier.

Much to his surprise, he gets an answer to his first question quickly. K looks proud of himself when he holds up the notebook, like a child showing off a good test to a parent.

killua

"Ki-llu-a?" K makes a face and shakes his head. "Ki-ll-u-a?"

"…Killua—" K forces out, succumbing to painful hacking coughs.

Gon winces in sympathy, cautiously patting Killua's back. He's not pushed away.

By the time Leorio arrives for the daily check-up, Gon's expanded Killua's written vocabulary from about ten words to twenty, including Gon's name, the basic emotions and questions, and the word "pain." Killua's a fast learner, already able to combine some of the words to make choppy sentences, but his frustration at his limited communication skills has the pencil tip frequently snapping.

"Le-or-e-o," Gon says as the doctor comes in, enunciating his friend's name with enough exaggeration to get a snort of laughter for his efforts. Killua's head snaps around, the distrust Gon had finally gotten rid of returning in an instant, relaxed posture snapping into a hard line of tension.

Maybe he's a soldier of some kind?

The check-up is quick. The two play off each other well, Leorio quickly catching on to his patient's boundaries and Killua struggling too much in response. Anything involving cold metal is avoided and Leorio has to walk around the bed in circles rather fight to make Killua turn around, but Killua lets the doctor poke around without a fight and endure the bed's constant lurches under Leorio's weight. It's a stubborn game of ring around the rosy while Gon looks on.

Leorio jots few quick notes in his journal, then snaps it closed with a grin. "All right! Let's see how your feet are doing."

Killua shakes his head and shoves the doctor away from his body. Gon can already see the resolute set of his jaw and his squared shoulders, the gesture familiar enough by now to make him want to laugh at the losing battle unfolding before him, Leorio's boiling emotions exploding into his characteristic rage.

If Leorio calmed maybe a compromise could've been met in less than five minutes, but Killua was already under his skin, and the doctor's heightened emotions are be as much a disability as a gift in his line of work. The farthest he gets today is a brief glimpse of Killua's feet to show that, no, they are still just as smooth and unblemished as the rest of him and Leorio is not allowed to poke at his feet, okay? And all this is conveyed in hoarse whispers as high as Killua can manage and Gon's ability to understand all the emotions that flicker quick as a flash of light across the other's face.

It can be imagined how long it took to communicate the issue, let alone reach an agreement between both parties.

"Piece of work, this one," Leorio mutters into his bag, shoving his journal deep into the darkest corners in his anger. "Brat. You're gonna have to walk sometime. Wait too long, you won't be able to support your body weight and be stuck with those awful muscle exercises no one likes and just make life harder. And you, Gon!" He aims a weak glare over his glasses. Gon has the decency to look sheepish. "Whose side are you on!? You better at least get him to stretch his legs before the day's out or so help me I'll drag him off that bed myself tomorrow!"

They both know it's an empty threat. Leorio will sooner jump a shark than harm a patient.

"Bye, Leorio!" Gon gets a muffled grumble in response. Leorio peers through the crooked window for one last warning look before he continues on his way. Killua sticks his tongue out in farewell.

Gon sighs, stands, and works the kinks out of his back and arms, nudging Killua with his hip. "Start on your stretches while I make dinner. It'll be ready by the time you're done.

He moves to the kitchen(-slash-dinning room-slash-bedroom) and pulls out Palm's dinner for the day, still wrapped tightly in the pink bandanna she brought it over in. Today's chilled broccoli, mixed rice with veggies, and nearly done mackerel already saturated in sauce. All it'll take to draw out the flavor are a few minutes over a fire.

I'll have to ask Palm tomorrow if she can pack a little extra for Killua. It should be awhile before he can eat a whole meal.

Gon moves outside. He keeps one eye on Killua through the window as he kneels down to light his makeshift fire pit in the front yard. The boy doesn't move and stares blindly into space, not a muscle so much as twitching to clue Gon into his thoughts. One massive question mark that Gon wants to figure out.

Leorio is bad at being subtle. Like really bad. Kurapika likes to compare it to a roaring bear stumbling blindly through a forest of bells. It was made amply clear over the last few days that Leorio wants Gon to drop Killua off at the town's resident doctor, that he doesn't trust the way the teen's body healed so fast, but Gon also knows Killua is a good person. He doesn't deserve to be dropped off in some strange town with no one to help get him back on his feet (literally or figuratively).

Yes, Gon doesn't know a lot about Killua, but then he didn't know a lot about Kurapika or Leorio when he approached them about getting a ride on their ship. But that's the point, right? You'd never make friends if you distrusted every mysterious person you came across, and Gon figures himself a good judge of character. After all, he's been around the world surviving on the kindness of strangers and he's not dead yet.

Besides, sixty minutes later and Killua still doesn't seem like a bad person, if a little moody.

Gon concentrates on dinner, placing each mackerel on the fire with a pleasing sizzle. The sauce Palm used requires careful observation to keep the meat from drying out, but oh, it is worth it. The smell it gives off as it cooks makes Gon's stomach hurt. When he looks up to check on Killua, he finds the boy on leaning precariously over the edge of his bed, peering out with an alter expression at the fish.

"No food for you if you don't do your exercises," Gon yells. The resulting groan makes him smile, the distant sound of seagulls echoing.