Omar couldn't remember a time he'd gone a day without worrying. There was always something that sped his heart up a little too much, that made his brain work a little too hard.
If it wasn't something physical, like Kassim doing something stupid or getting into an argument with Aladdin, then it was something psychological.
Like the lingering darkness of a bad dream or the chill of a resurfaced memory.
It wasn't as if he enjoyed worrying, he just… really couldn't help it sometimes.
Kassim said he needed to learn how to relax, but that was easier said than done. He'd grown accustomed to the feeling of his heart raging war in his chest, of his ears ringing and his blood burning through his veins.
But this…
Omar held back a shiver as the distant shadow ducked down an alley.
This was a different kind of worry. This was worse.
This was unadulterated fear.
Two days ago, he'd been in the marketplace with Aladdin—actually purchasing something for once, thank goodness—when he'd seen it.
A ghost from the past.
An echo of another lifetime.
A face that still haunted his dreams every once in a blue moon.
But how? he'd wondered as his heart started picking up speed. How? And why after all these years?
Why here? Why now?
And how did he find me…?
Though only a blur in the crowd, the likeness was uncanny. At least, from what little he'd seen.
Hurrying Al along, Omar had found he couldn't get out of there fast enough.
That had been two days ago and his heart had yet to return to its normal pace. If his biggest fear was about to come true—if it was out there roaming the streets of Agrabah while Omar lay curled asleep at night—then he just… wouldn't go outside anymore.
That had worked for about a day, which is how he'd found himself walking back from the docks late that afternoon with Kassim. The gang hadn't taken well to his sudden compulsion to become a recluse, so he figured going to a more distant location with Kassim would be his best bet.
Or, the best way to avoid the shadows.
He saw them at every corner now, slinking around, taunting him with their presence.
Because any one of those dark shadows could be him.
The warning he and the rest of his fellow slaves had received since before some of them could even walk hung heavy around his neck like a ball and chain.
"And if escape ever crosses your pathetic little minds, know that there is no corner of the earth you can run to, no crevice you can hide in that I won't find you..."
Maybe… A shudder coursed down Omar's frame. Maybe that ominous threat was finally turning into a terrible reality.
Something brushed against his arm and Omar had to bite his tongue to keep a cry of surprise from escaping his throat. What turned out to be an elderly woman making her way through the streets sent him bolting to the side in a desperate scramble to get away.
And in doing so, he smacked right into Kassim.
"Hey! Watch it! Are you trying to make me drop the water?"
But Omar wasn't listening. He saw her, a harmless woman going about her day, yet the blood in his ears continued to rush at speeds that would rival any river.
Because Omar had seen him. He was certain he'd seen—
"Hey… What's going on with you?"
There he was again, a shadow lingering in a doorway across the street, ready to pounce on his prey at any moment.
"Run." Omar could barely hear his own choked whisper over the thumping of his heart. When Kassim didn't move, choosing instead to fix him with a blank stare, Omar gave his arm a sharp tug. "Run!"
Within seconds, Omar's feet were pounding the pavement, his lungs protesting for all their worth against the sudden cardio workout. He could hear Kassim following closely behind, heavy footfalls trusting Omar to lead them to safety.
Only, Omar didn't know where safety was anymore, nor what it felt like…
They both skidded to a stop a good distance—and a few disorienting twists and turns—away, and this time, Kassim almost smacked into Omar.
"What...?" Kassim heaved, fighting for a breath as he risked a glance around the corner. "What was it?"
In other words, What the hell were we running from?
"I..." Licking his lips, Omar shook his head. Despite his brain's best attempts to convince itself of his safety, his body refused to believe it. Only a couple days and he was already starting to forget what it felt like to feel normal, to feel at peace.
Well, as at peace as one could possibly feel while living on the streets.
"I thought I saw someone."
Kassim's brows dipped at this. "Someone? Like… What, a guard or something?"
A shrug seemed the easiest response, especially since breathing was still a chore. And how could he honestly explain the shadows...? The man who wouldn't stop following him? Maybe Kassim would get it, maybe not, but Omar was too tired to delve into all of it right now.
"But," Kassim said, frowning, "we didn't even do anything. I mean, not yet, anyway."
Another shrug. Another shuddering breath. Another frantic glance over his shoulder.
"What's been going on with you these past few days? I mean, you're always sort of paranoid, but lately you've been taking it to the next level."
"It's…" Him. He's coming for me after all these years. He's gonna take me back there and I can't go back to—"... Nothing."
If Kassim believed him, he sure wasn't making the sentiment obvious. "Well, nothing just lost us our bucket of water."
Only then did Omar notice Kassim's empty hands.
Oh…
"Wait, where'd it go?"
"I couldn't exactly run for my life with it. It would've splashed all over the place."
"Well, you didn't have to drop the whole bucket," Omar pointed out, though he was too distracted by his own swirling anxiety to care much about Kassim's reaction.
Or the conflicting glare shot his way—a blend of irritation and concern.
Heaving a sigh, Kassim said with an air of finality, "Come on, we'll just have to go back for it."
Wait…
"Do we have t-to?"
They had just escaped, did they really have to go back?
"I mean, unless you want to die of dehydration."
"Can't we just… Do it another day?" He was running out of excuses now and Omar suddenly wondered if he'd even had any in the first place.
I don't want to go back there because I thought I saw someone from my past who swore he'd come find me if I ever escaped his hell. It could've just been another old lady, but I don't feel like taking that chance.
Omar frowned. No, that definitely wouldn't go down well.
Why…?
Because…
Because Kassim would want to go back and see if he really was there or if Omar was just imagining things. It would turn into a whole big deal of facing fears and clearing the air when all Omar wanted to do was just go home. To get off the streets.
To hide away from him.
Maybe he's not even out there. Maybe it really is just your imagination.
If it was, his mind was painting a pretty vivid picture of his worst nightmare.
Omar's subconscious had always been better at conjuring nightmares than dreams.
Maybe you are just being paranoid.
But maybe he was still out there. Maybe he was about to come around the corner and Omar had less than ten seconds to find an escape route and—
"Omar!" When Kassim's fingers snapped inches from his face, he jolted.
And he hated himself for it.
Hated that look in Kassim's eyes. Hated the way his skin wouldn't stop crawling, like someone was sneaking up behind him with a pair of manacles. Hated how phantom pain burned familiar streaks down his back.
He hadn't thought about the whip in a long time…
"I-I think," he began, arms closing protectively around his chest, "I'll just meet you back at the hideout."
Kassim lifted a brow at this, worry dancing across his features. "You really want to make that long trek back alone?"
No.
"I was on my own before I met you guys," he replied, shrugging. "I think I'll be okay."
"Really?" Kassim gave him a once over. "You don't look like you think you'll be okay. Besides, remember last time?"
Omar shivered. He fought day and night to try not to remember last time. Getting mugged in the streets and then meeting the wrong end of a dagger was not his idea of a good time.
Kassim's sigh was heavier this time, more resigned, yet still worried—and irritated because he didn't know why, Omar could tell by the glint in his eyes.
"Let's just go back, then, and see what the others are up to."
"What about the water?"
Waving a dismissive hand, Kassim tried for a smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll go back for it later or something."
Omar hated that, too, but he couldn't ignore the relief that flooded his veins. If he kept talking, he would probably end up spewing more lame excuses, or convincing himself that he could walk home fine on his own.
Which he absolutely did not want to do.
So, he pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut.
They had only been walking for a few minutes when Kassim, tone overly casual, glanced his way.
"So... You thought you saw someone, huh?"
"It's nothing."
"Yeah, you said that."
"Really, I'm fine."
"You said that, too." Kassim's chuckle was dry and humorless. "You're fine, I'm fine, we're all fine, aren't we?" He shook his head, but didn't say anything else.
Omar wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or guilty.
You're paranoid.
You're paranoid and it's making you crazy.
He didn't mind being paranoid, though. He was used to it by now. He didn't even mind being crazy.
He just didn't want to be right.
He couldn't be right. Being right about the shadows and the phantoms lingering around each corner meant he was right about him.
And that meant Omar could be a mere handful of hours away from getting dragged back to the life that had very nearly killed him more than once.
Sparing a glance at his brother, he kept his lips pursed, forcing himself not to break the silence. At times, being in silence with Kassim was okay, sometimes it was even good, though also rare because he typically preferred conversation to silence—even if he was the only one talking.
Most of the time, however, it… wasn't fun. If Kassim wasn't talking or making it clear that he was enjoying the silence, it meant that he was stewing. It meant he wanted to fix something, to keep pressing for information, to find out what you knew that he didn't know, but he wouldn't. Mostly out of spite, Omar believed, or frustration because he didn't think he'd get a straight answer even if he tried.
Either way, Omar couldn't have been more relieved to arrive at the hideout. Surprisingly enough, Babkak and Aladdin were there, too, looking as though they'd just gotten back.
"I thought you guys were out getting food," Omar commented.
"And I thought you guys were refilling our water," Babkak returned, staring pointedly at Kassim's empty hands.
"I'll go back out for it in a minute." Kassim sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. "After I give my legs a rest."
Aladdin frowned. "Running from the guards again?"
"Nope."
"Then… who?"
Kassim shrugged. "I have no idea. Ask him, he knows."
A nod at Omar had all eyes landing on him, staring expectantly.
"It was nothing." Keep saying that and you just might believe it.
But I doubt they will.
"I'm just paranoid," Omar went on with a glance at Kassim, "like you said."
"You know," his brother replied, "I'd really rather be a nervous wreck because it was someone dangerous or something like that than be ticked off at you for making us run all that way to escape a ghost."
"It wasn't a ghost, it—" Omar sucked in a breath. "It really was nothing, so can't we all just forget about it?"
They hadn't ever talked about it, not really. Besides a short, mostly one-sided conversation he'd had with Kassim in the palace dungeons once, he'd never brought up his past.
And that had been fine.
Diving into that dark rabbit hole would be too painful and lead to too many questions, too many aspects to unpack. It gave Omar chills just thinking about having to explain everything to his friends.
Kassim shook his head. "Even Al said you were being weird like this the other day."
"If something's bothering you," Aladdin chimed in, "you know you can tell us, right?"
"Nothing's. Bothering. Me." And maybe he'd said that with a bit more force, a bit more irritation than necessary, but he needed to get them off his case.
He needed them to stop.
He needed to breathe.
He needed his heart to stop pounding bruises into his chest and his anxiety to stop spiking every time he noticed anyone out in the streets staring at him just a little too long.
On his feet again, Kassim sighed. "And we're still getting nowhere. Well, I'm out. You guys can try to fix whatever's going on here. I'll be back later."
While Babkak and Al were distracted by Kassim's sudden departure, Omar seized his chance and snuck up to the rooftop.
It wasn't as easy to breathe up there as he had thought—had hoped. From that height, he could almost see the whole city…
And he couldn't stop looking, scanning, searching.
If he's even out there, there's no way you could see him from here.
That didn't keep him from straining his eyes, trying to pick out every face in the midday crowd. Trying to see if he was safe.
You should've known this was coming. The tiny voice had been hissing in the back of his mind on and off for the last couple of days, but now it wouldn't seem to leave him alone for more than a minute. You're an escaped slave. You'll never be safe.
Omar shivered despite the heat.
It's about time you accepted that.
Sucking in a breath, he didn't even try to shove the voice away like he usually did. He simply let it reign as he continued to scan the crowd.
No, Omar couldn't see him, or even anyone who looked like him.
But he could see Kassim walking back toward the docks. If their bucket would only still be there, it might help assuage the guilt swirling inside him.
A few years of being a part of the gang—of a brotherhood, a family—still hadn't helped him get better at secrets. As a slave, he'd gotten good at looking after himself, at keeping to himself. Secrets were like currency, precious jewels to be held close and locked up tight.
They weren't a thing one shared or gave freely.
And maybe he was being difficult—Kassim would probably say so—but there were just some habits that never really died, no matter how hard he'd strangled them.
The streets were dark. Darker than usual; the pitch black sky having devoured the moon.
No lamps were lit, no fires illuminated the windows of the houses he passed by…
A shuffle. A scrape.
A brush of wind against the back of his neck.
Omar whirled around, reaching out in the darkness and finding nothing.
"Who's there?"
Nothing.
No one spoke.
No one even breathed.
But he knew someone was there. The way his skin prickled told him so.
It also told him to run and within seconds, his feet were moving at the speed of light.
Yet he wasn't getting anywhere fast.
Omar didn't know if he had stumbled or someone had tripped him. All he knew was that he was eating dust and his mouth felt dry as the Arabian Desert. Pain echoed through his knees, though phantom or real, he couldn't tell.
And he didn't have time to wonder.
Rough hands were pulling him, grabbing at his arm and yanking him up. They clawed at his shoulders, squeezed his neck, twisted his arms behind his back until he couldn't move for fear of them breaking.
A puff of hot air set the hair on the nape of his neck on edge, and then a low voice whispered in his ear.
A voice he knew too well.
A voice that haunted his dreams.
The one voice he feared above all else.
"I told you, there isn't a corner or a crevice in this world you could go where I wouldn't find you." The pressure on Omar's arms increased and a part of him wondered briefly if he would be able to escape somehow if they were to snap clean off.
"And now," the voice sneered, "I've found you."
The hands clutched his vest now, tugging him close until his face was a mere few inches away from his captor, and Omar couldn't remember when that had happened. When his position had changed…
His mind raged at him, screaming for answers. The voice was familiar but the face was a dark shadow. He couldn't make it out, yet he knew—he knew—it couldn't be anyone other than the overseer. The one in control. The cruel man with the whip. The demon who had made Omar's life miserable for more years than he could count.
And now he was going back.
He couldn't go—
—With a sharp gasp, Omar woke up, scrambling until he was sitting up against the wall. And still, he couldn't catch a breath. Chest aching, lungs burning, he fought for air, for even just a small intake of breath.
Just the smallest amount…
His feet were under him seconds later, driving him toward the crumbling gap in the wall on the other side of the room that served as their window to the city. Their "Window to Wonder," as Al liked to call it. The cloth they'd draped over it had already been moved out of the way, but Omar didn't have the time or energy to consider why.
He needed to breathe; needed the fresh night air.
The first deep breath came with a wave of relief and the pressure building in his chest eased. The second was even sweeter, even deeper, and Omar finally began to calm down.
"Still fine?"
Kassim's voice, though soft, sent spikes of panic through Omar and he whipped around, smacking into the wall and nearly falling down in the process.
Steadying himself, he snatched another breath. Calm down, it was just a dream…
A nightmare, more like.
Kassim sat sidelong on the makeshift window ledge, his gaze shifting between Omar and the dark city below.
"No," came Omar's quiet confession.
A nod as Kassim stretched, leaning back against the upright section of the gaping window. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"I thought so." A shrug. "I was gonna wake you up, you know. If it got any worse, but I guess you did that yourself."
Omar didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded, ignoring the tiny whispers in the back of his mind that wished Kassim would've woken him up sooner.
"Uh…" he said after a moment. "So, why are you awake?"
Another shrug. "I dunno. I just am."
The lingering concern in his brother's eyes told Omar otherwise, but he made no comment on that, either. Climbing onto the ledge, he made himself comfortable and joined Kassim in gazing out at the city.
And this silence, he noted with relief…
… This silence was good.
Omar didn't want to talk about it. That was fine, sort of.
Or, it would have to be fine for the time being. There were a lot of things Kassim didn't want to talk about, personally, and he found nothing more frustrating than having an issue pulled out of him by some well-meaning, but annoying, person.
Nor anything so healing, he guess he had to admit that, at least to himself.
He couldn't ignore the fact that the kid had been acting weird lately. Well, he could, but not without feeling the guilt that would inevitably come along with it. The quick glances over his shoulder, the scanning of the crowd that was clearly becoming an obsession, the shivers the wracked the kid's spine whenever anyone—even one of his brothers—brushed up against him.
Sitting in the window, though, and watching Omar fight against the demons of another nightmare had been the worst of it so far.
Kassim had kept giving himself just a few more seconds, silently willing Omar to wake up on his own. Something in the back of his mind had warned him that laying a hand on the kid while he slept would do a lot more harm than good.
So, Kassim had watched and waited.
And talked when Omar needed to.
And stayed silent when Omar needed him to.
And that was fine.
Kassim choked down a scoff. We're all so fine all the time, I wouldn't be surprised if some of us have actually forgotten what that word means.
He stole a glance at Omar, who surveyed the street ahead with eagle eyes.
It had been a few days since the docks, since the nightmare, and nothing had changed. If anything, Omar was getting worse, sinking further into himself—so far, in fact, that Kassim feared they might not be able to pull him back out again.
But he refused help; refused to talk about it.
Your bad habits are rubbing off on him more than you'd thought, I guess.
Omar bumped into him again in an attempt to avoid a stranger with a hood who passed by a little too closely. He clung to Kassim's arm for the briefest of moments, but the touch would burn his skin long after Omar let go.
Just like it always did.
He didn't learn that from me…
The darkened sky overhead matched the black clouds in Kassim's soul. It was more than painful to watch—it was heartbreaking.
And Omar wouldn't let Kassim fix it.
"Funny," he began, trying to ward off the dreaded silence, "it's just been me and you a lot lately."
"Yeah," Omar replied in a tone that desperately wanted to be taken as casual, as normal. Kassim pursed his lips. Nothing about Omar had been normal since last week. "Funny."
"But, and not that I'm complaining, I think we should hurry it up if we want to beat out this storm."
Another glance at the sky played tricks on Kassim's mind. Sure, it was getting late in the day, but the angry clouds overhead made it seem like the sun set long ago. Or been devoured by the approaching bad weather.
"The rain will be good, I think," Omar commented, but he picked up his pace nonetheless.
"Yeah, but not if we get stuck in it. That happened once to me and Al, and let me tell you, it was not fun."
And this didn't look like just rain, Kassim noted as thunder rumbled in the distance. When dry lightning illuminated the sky, he knew it was time to really move.
All around them, people scrambled to finish their tasks and find shelter. At some point, he and Omar had started jogging.
Soon enough, the sky opened up and shed its ugly tears on the unprepared city.
Grabbing Omar's hand—and pointedly ignoring the flinch—Kassim dashed into the nearest building, along with a quarter of the people still left in the street.
Just when he was about to be irritated at the thin layer of rain that had managed to coat his shoulders and face, he noticed where they were.
"Oh, nice. A bar."
Though crowded because of the storm, Kassim couldn't think of a better place to wait out the bad weather.
"Yeah," Omar replied, scanning the thick crowd, "too bad we don't have any money."
On impulse, Kassim padded the pouch on his belt. Empty. "Damn, that's right. Of all the days… Well, we can still sit for a minute."
"Or we could just brave the rain." Omar's suggestion was followed by a shrug, one Kassim brushed away with a scoff.
"Are you kidding? You want to go back out in that?" As if to emphasize his point, the sky let out a sharp clap of thunder.
Omar looked mere seconds from dashing back out into the rain just to get away—away from what, Kassim still couldn't figure…
"Come on." Gently, so as not to provoke another flinch, Kassim guided Omar toward the back of the room where a corner table seemed to be waiting just for them. "If you want to get soaked to the bone, be my guest, but let's at least give it a few minutes first."
Omar nodded, however, Kassim could practically feel the tension building in his thin frame.
"You know," Kassim said after about half a minute of sitting in silence, "this would be a lot better if we had drinks. Hey, think we could get away with trading your hat for something?"
Omar's hands flew up to his head and he cupped them protectively around his fez. "Why don't we trade your hat? It's better than mine, anyway."
"Well, thanks, but nah, I was just kidding." Except he was also half-serious, though willing to drop the idea in favor of another. "Okay, but what if I go up to the counter and see if I can get something on credit? Think that would work? Are you even thirsty? Eh, even if you're not, I could use something to drink. If it's a lady at the bar, I'd probably have a better chance at getting something for credit—or even for free, maybe, but we'll see how it goes. Hey, are you even listening?"
Nothing.
Silence.
A serpent coiled around Kassim's chest and began to squeeze.
Because Omar was staring at nothing again, his dark eyes fixed on something in the crowd. Another ghost.
"Omar?" Kassim snapped his fingers in front of the kid's face, but this time, it did nothing. "Omar!"
A hand on his shoulder wasn't well received and Kassim recoiled halfway through Omar's shudder.
"What?" the kid asked, brows furrowed.
"You zoned out on me. Again. What's that now? Like, six or seven times in the last week? And that's just me. Al says he can't even keep track of all the times you've zoned out on him like that."
Omar's gaze drifted back into the crowd, almost as if pulled by some unseen force. "Sorry."
Swallowing a sigh and the ever-growing urge to facepalm, Kassim got up and stood behind Omar's chair, hunching down until they were somewhat eye level.
"Hey!" Omar yelped, jerking to the side at Kassim's sudden hovering "What are you doing?"
"Trying to see who you're looking at." Kassim pointed over Omar's shoulder. "Is it that guy? Or that girl in the corner?"
"It's nothing."
Kassim rolled his eyes. "Well, it had to have been something, or you wouldn't keep going back to it like—" He snapped his fingers again. "Like that! See? I was talking to you and you looked back over there again! Okay, so who is it? What is it?"
The kid struggled to swallow and Kassim hated the way Omar's chest hitched.
All while his own continued to constrict.
When Omar sucked in a breath, Kassim let himself hope, and when he heaved a long, shaky sigh…
Kassim knew they were on the verge of a breakthrough.
"S-See…" Omar stuttered, leaning back against his chair and closer to Kassim. "S-See that guy over there? The-The one in the hood?" Kassim nodded, only pretending to know which of the many hooded figures the kid was talking about until his eyes finally settled on the right one. "Do… Do you know him?"
Squinting, Kassim tried to make out the man sitting hunched in a corner halfway across the room. "I don't think so, but I can't really see him that well. Do you?"
Omar shivered. "Maybe… but I really hope n-not."
"Okay, we're gonna have to unpack just exactly what that means because I'm so confu—"
"Quick!" Omar swung around so that he was facing the table again. "Sit back down!"
Kassim found himself being shoved back into his seat as the hooded stranger glanced their way.
Biting out a curse, he rubbed his elbow, which had been so rudely smacked against the table in the scuffle. "What? Come on, Omar, who is it?"
Hands clasped together so tight, his knuckles had gone white, Omar just shook his head.
So, Kassim softened both his face and his tone. "Look, do you really want to keep living like this? I mean, what if it's not who you think it is? What if he's just a look-alike and you're worrying about nothing? I can't even tell you how many times I think I see people from my past, but I know there's no way in hell it could actually be them."
"That's because everyone from your past that you don't want to see is dead."
The response was so quiet, so devoid of any emotion other than Omar's lingering anxiety that Kassim had to force himself to let it go.
Let it go, it's not important. It's fine. He didn't… didn't mean anything by it…
But there was one thing that he just couldn't—that he wouldn't—let go.
"All right." Kassim slapped the table. "Give me a name and I'll go see if he's really who you think he is."
Then we can end this once and for all.
In all honesty, the man was probably just a drifter. He obviously hadn't been in town for more than a week, if he truly was the same guy Omar kept seeing in the streets.
The kid's jaw dropped, eyes widening as he stared at Kassim.
"You don't even have to tell me who he is to you or what he did," Kassim pressed on. "Just give me a name and I'll put your worry to rest." Finally.
"But… B-But what if it really is him?"
Kassim gave the best reassuring smile he could muster. "Then I'll gladly book it through the rain with you back to the hideout, but… Come on, don't you wanna know?"
Another shiver, yet this one brought with it the slightest of nods.
With Omar's tight whisper came a breath of fresh air for Kassim's constricted chest—a breath of hope.
The kid had barely finished whispering a name Kassim had never heard before—not that he'd expected to or anything—when Kassim began working his way through the crowd. The lucky ones were drinking, but most of the people were simply waiting out the storm.
And Kassim only had eyes for one of them.
Approaching his target would've been easier with drinks in hand to share, though he had no problem pulling out a chair and making himself at home even without a peace offering.
The man lifted his head, dull eyes glaring daggers from beneath the shade of his hood. Already on edge before Kassim sat down, he now looked seconds away from bolting out the door.
"Hey," Kassim began, flashing a winning smile. "Hassan, right…?"
And just like that, the man relaxed, brows furrowing. "Who? Sorry, I think you got the wrong guy."
Bingo.
"Oh! Sorry, I thought I recognized you from somewhere… but I guess not," Kassim hastily added when the stranger went rigid again.
"Look," he said with a scowl, "I'm not your friend or whoever you're searching for and I don't wanna be. So why don't you just go back to your own business and leave me to mine?"
Still smiling, Kassim put his hands up in surrender. "It was an honest mistake. Sorry for the mix up."
As he stood, the man muttered something he couldn't quite make out, but that didn't matter. Kassim had gotten what he wanted.
"Well?" Omar asked the second Kassim was within earshot. He looked about ready to bolt out the door, too.
Kassim slid back into his chair. "Just a look-a-like. He didn't even know who I was talking about."
I don't even know who I was talking about…
Like a marionette whose strings had just been cut, Omar slumped against the table and the sheer thickness of his relief was almost suffocating.
While he mumbled what sounded vaguely like some sort of prayer of thanks, Kassim found himself staring at the hooded stranger. He understood the pull, now; that inescapable need to know just exactly who the man was and where he came from.
Because damned if he didn't look familiar now that Kassim had gotten a closer look…
"So, all this time," Omar said, choking out a somewhat hysterical laugh, "I've been running from a ghost—from someone who isn't even here. Oh my gosh, you were right, I'm so paranoid!"
The kid said it like it was a good thing, but Kassim was barely listening.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah." Kassim nodded, never taking his eyes from the stranger. "I usually am."
"What?" And there was that twinge of fear again as Omar leaned forward. "What is it?"
"Probably nothing…" Kassim felt his brows begin to carve sharp lines into his forehead. "Just… I don't know, I feel like I've seen him before…"
"Like you said, it's just a look-a-like. Right…? Kassim, right…?"
He wanted to reassure the kid, to tell him it was nothing and that they should go try to get that drink now. But he'd seen that man before, he just couldn't remember where—and it was just about to drive him crazy.
"Remember when we went to visit Babkak's family?" The words were coming out before Kassim even knew what to do with them. If he started talking it out, though, he figured it might come to him—he might be able to put a name to the face.
"Uh, yeah…? Wait!" Omar leaned closer, eyes wide now. "That's not his brother, is it?"
"Oh, hell no," came Kassim's quick response. "No way, but…"
Think, damn it! He wracked his brain until he was sure it would snap clean in half under the strain. Think…
"Yeah?" Omar prompted after a moment, on edge once more.
So much for all that relief.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just paranoid." Kassim forced a chuckle, trying to focus on Omar. Yet, his gaze kept drifting back to the stranger. "I just… Ugh! I remember him from that trip, but I don't know why. I just—" The answer came to him like a punch to the gut and for a brief moment, he couldn't catch a breath.
"What? Kassim, what is it? Who is he?"
"He's…" Kassim blinked, a vain attempt to chase away the ringing in his ears. "He's a wanted poster."
"What?" Omar was on his feet in seconds, but before he could make a break for it, Kassim grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
"Shh! I think we've already drawn enough of his attention as it is. The last thing we want to do is tip him off that we know him."
Omar shivered, Kassim's cue to let go of his arm. It hadn't been who Omar had thought, but that didn't mean the panic of the last week had vanished completely, Kassim realized with a pang.
"Is he a thief? Wait, what if he's a murderer? What if he's some sort of trained assassin who—?"
Kassim pursed his lips. "He is."
"You're joking." Omar shook his head. "Please, tell me you're joking."
Ignoring Omar's panicked protests, Kassim corralled the idea forming in his mind. "All right, here's what we're gonna do—"
"Do? Wh-Why do we have to do anything? Why can't we just sit here and wait for the rain to stop like everyone else? Or b-better yet, let's head out now before something b-bad happens."
"Something bad will happen if we don't do something. Look at all these people." Kassim jerked a thumb at the crowd. "What happens if he gets a little too anxious or a little too paranoid, huh? He's not the kind to kill in self-defense, Omar. He'll do it unprovoked and unexpectedly."
"Maybe he won't. Maybe he's just trying to lay low."
"If that were the case, do you think they'd have sketches of him plastered all over his hometown?" Omar had nothing to say to that, and though he still looked ready to run for it, Kassim could tell the kid was caving.
"Okay… S-So, what are we going to do?"
Waving him closer, Kassim whispered the beginnings of a plan in Omar's ear.
"What if something goes wrong?"
Kassim shrugged. "Then we'll improvise."
"Yeah, in case you haven't noticed… I'm not good at improvising."
"That's all right." Flashing Omar a grin, Kassim got to his feet. "I am."
"Why doesn't that make me feel better?"
Another shrug. "Sounds like a you problem. Remember, just wait for my signal."
Omar gave a small nod, still clearly not convinced, but going along with it anyway.
Forcing himself not to look at the stranger again, Kassim made his way to the bar and leaned across the counter, beckoning the tender to come closer.
And all the while praying this would actually work.
"What can I get you?" came the typical greeting.
Waving him still closer, Kassim kept his voice as low as he possibly could. "Don't look, but the hooded man in the corner is a wanted murderer—maybe even an assassin. Hey! I said, don't look."
The bar keeper's eyes went from wide to narrow within seconds and he stared at Kassim. "How do you know that? Where did you get your information?"
"I saw the wanted poster in another city. Now, I could be lying, but if I'm not and you actually do have a murderer sitting in your tavern, do you really want to be held responsible for that?"
The tender raised a brow. "You think he's going to kill someone?"
"Not if we play this right. First, I'll need two drinks—and I'm afraid they're gonna have to be on the house."
"If this is all just a ruse to get a free drink…"
"Then you can have me arrested instead of him. Now, come on, we're wasting time."
For one stressful moment, Kassim didn't think the man would agree, but soon he found himself with two drinks in hand as he headed over to the corner table for a second time.
"Hello again," he greeted, sitting down before the stranger could object to his presence.
"I thought I made it clear that I wanted to be alone."
"Yeah, but you also look like you could use a drink. It's on me."
Kassim slid one of the drinks across the table, then stole a sip of his own.
Though the man accepted it, he glared at Kassim, dark eyes scrutinizing him from beneath the hood.
"What's your angle?"
"Everyone has one, don't they? Some aren't always as apparent as others," Kassim shrugged. "Maybe I just don't like drinking alone."
"Maybe you should go drink with your friend and leave me be."
"Maybe, but…" Kassim took another drink, fingers tightening around his cup. "You might not be Hassan, but you do look familiar. Are you sure we haven't met?"
The dagger was out and poised before Kassim could register its presence—but he was ready.
"You have five seconds to tell me what you want or you won't be telling anyone anything ever again."
Despite the pounding of his heart, Kassim leaned forward, ignoring the blade that was inches away from his chest and staring the stranger dead in the eyes. "Like I said, everyone's got an angle, something they want. Me? I'm just trying to help my brother. Well, at least, that's how it started. Now, I'm just trying to protect all these people."
Realization dawned in the stranger's eyes half a second too late and he plunged the dagger forward, but not before Kassim splashed his drink in the man's face. Disoriented, the blade missed its mark and Kassim jerked out of the way. He had barely nodded at Omar when his brother sent a chair sailing into the back of the criminal's head.
The blow wasn't strong enough to knock the man out, but Kassim supposed he should've expected that, so he caught the stranger's jaw with an upper left hook. The final blow came in slamming his face down onto the table.
After that, Kassim noted with a heavy sigh, only the man's chest moved—a steady up and down rhythm that proved he was still alive.
Omar fought to catch his breath behind the table and Kassim wasn't sure if the kid was relieved or about to be sick, the pale face could've meant anything, really.
The tavern keeper came over and began calming the crowd, explaining what happened.
And Kassim grabbed the stranger's drink.
"I'm taking this," he told the keeper, downing half the cup at once. "And since we've already done quite a bit, I think my friend and I'll be on our way. Thanks for everything and…" With a glance at the splintered remains of the chair that littered the floor, Kassim shrugged. "Sorry about the mess."
"Wait!" The tavern keeper called as Kassim and Omar headed for the door. "Don't you want to be here when the law arrives? What if there's a reward?"
"As enticing as that sounds, I have a feeling it'd be better for us if we didn't stick around." Kassim gave the man a salute before dashing out into the rain with Omar.
"You know," Omar called over the deluge, soaked and shivering already, "this is what we should've done in the first place!"
"Just keep running!" Kassim shouted back and picked up his pace. "I'm freezing!"
"I thought you were always too hot," came Omar's quip, which earned him a light smack to the shoulder.
But this time, he didn't flinch nearly as hard.
And Kassim supposed that had to count for something.
It had been pure chaos, a whirlwind Omar still couldn't quite wrap his head around. Even hours later; even after the sun had long since been swallowed by the horizon.
The overseer… but then not because he was a stranger… then a murderer—then an assassin.
Not a very good one, really.
His head spun just thinking about it, just trying to comprehend it all. So, he didn't.
Omar stopped his mind from running down another rabbit hole. He… He didn't need to do that anymore. He could finally breathe again; could finally put his worry to rest.
Lying there between his brothers, hair still damp from the rain, he could put the ghosts and the shadows to rest.
"So, who's Hassan?" Kassim's voice startled Omar, though only slightly, and he opened his eyes, glancing to the side.
"We went to bed over an hour ago," he whispered. "How are you still awake? How did you know I was still awake?"
"Just couldn't sleep. There's been a lot of that going around lately."
"Yeah…" Omar took a breath. "Hey, did we really catch a dangerous criminal?"
Kassim gave a soft chuckle, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "You know what? We really did."
Telling Babkak and Aladdin had been more thrilling than Omar thought it would. Then, Kassim had talked to them in low tones while Omar went to dry himself off.
He knew what they were talking about, but he didn't mind. It was okay now. It was all okay and he could finally stop looking over his shoulder.
I'm fine, guys.
I'm really fine this time.
"So, who was he?" Kassim asked again after a moment.
"Who?"
"Hassan." Oh. "Look, you don't have to tell me, and if you don't want to, I promise that'll be the last time I ever ask. Just let me know"
Sucking in a breath, Omar shifted onto his side, arm tucked under his head as he faced Kassim.
"He is… was… m-my…" Kassim was looking intently at him now, waiting with a calm patience Omar couldn't remember seeing on him before. "Uh… My overseer. You know, the one wh-who's in charge of all the—"
"I know," Kassim said quietly. "The one who branded you?"
Throat tight, Omar could only nod.
Kassim hummed and Omar noticed his fist clenching at his side. "After all this time, though, why'd you think he found you? Why now?"
"Because he said he would."
"It's been a handful of years already," Kassim pointed out. "I think if he was going to look for you, he would've done it long before now."
Omar took another breath and realized with a start that he couldn't feel the tension in his chest anymore. "I know. Yeah… I think I know that now."
"Good." Kassim's eyes slipped closed and he took a deep breath of his own, letting it ride back out on a wave of relief. "That's good."
Yeah… He felt a small smile stretch across his face. Yeah… It was good.
It was a crazy day, but it was good.
And it was relieving to know that, yes, he really was safe. He knew that now.
He only hoped he wouldn't forget it.
And he had a feeling, Omar thought as his smile grew, that Kassim wouldn't let him.