what now? | outerbanks

• forty-nine •

Sarah

    I wake to the scent of something warm and spiced drifting through the air and the low hum of voices murmuring nearby. My body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering ache in my stomach. I blink slowly, the dim light of Noel's safehouse coming into focus.
    John B. is beside me, his hand resting protectively over mine where it lies on my stomach. His eyes are closed, his head tilted back against the couch, but I can tell by the tension in his jaw and the shadows in his face that he hasn't really slept.
    I shift slightly, wincing at the dull pain that radiates through my abdomen. Immediately, John B. stirs, his grip on my hand tightening as his eyes snap open.
    "Hey," he says softly, his voice coarse with exhaustion. I can tell he's tired and sore, but he pays himself no attention. "How are you feeling?"
    I swallow, trying to push past the lingering discomfort. "Better." It's not entirely true, but it's close enough.
    His brows knit together, clearly not convinced, but before he can press further, Cleo appears in the doorway, carrying a plate of food and a steaming cup of tea.
    "You need to eat," she says, setting them down on the small table beside me. "No arguments."
    I sigh, but I don't argue. I take the cup, the warmth seeping into my fingers, and bring it to my lips. The tea is rich and slightly sweet, laced with something floral that soothes my throat.
    Across the room, Pope is hunched over a map, deep in conversation. JJ is cleaning his knife with slow, deliberate movements, his expression unusually serious.
    "What's going on?" I ask, setting my cup down.
    John B. glances toward them, then back at me. "They're trying to figure out where those guys came from."
    Cleo crosses her arms. "We know they're looking for the Siren's Tear. But what we don't know is how much they know—or how close they are to finding it."
    A shiver runs down my spine. This was always a risk. We knew from Eli Pritchard that we weren't the only ones searching for the treasure, but the fact that they found us so quickly means they have more information than we think.
"I mean, it has to be Eli, right?" I propose, sitting up some more. "How else could they have known to look for us?"
There's a beat of silence, and then Cleo scorns out, "That son of a bitch!"
    JJ leans forward, tapping his knife against the map. "We need to move soon. We've got a lead on where the wreck should be, but if those guys are after it too, we're on a clock."
    Pope nods, rolling his injured shoulder with a grimace. "Noel says there are some old records at a library near the docks. They might tell us exactly where the ship sank."
    John B. glances at me, his expression unreadable. I know what he's thinking. We were barely able to get out of the market in one piece; if we go back out there, we could be walking straight into another fight.
    "I can do this," I say before he can voice his concerns.
    His jaw tightens. "Sarah—"
    "I know my limits." I sit up straighter, ignoring the way my body protests. "But we can't afford to waste time. If I stay here, I'm just going to be worrying about all of you out there without me."
    He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I just don't want you to push yourself."
    I soften, reaching for his hand. "I won't. I promise."
    Cleo nods approvingly. "Then let's move."
    John B. looks at me one more time, searching my face for any sign of hesitation. When he finds none, he sighs, squeezing my hand before standing.

JJ

I roll my neck, wincing at the tightness in my shoulders as my hands work diligently to clean my knife. Everyone is already up, planning and arguing slightly like always. And then there's Kiara.
She's sitting against an open window, her baked skin bathed in early sunlight. I can't help but notice how quiet she is—quiet in a way I never see her. Her hair is a mess from sleep, falling in tangled waves over her shoulder, and her arms are wrapped around her knees. I watch her for a second, debating whether to say something or not, but before I can, she glances over like she feels me looking.
"You okay?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods, but there's something guarded in her expression, like she's not saying everything she wants to. "Yeah. You?"
I shrug, which is a mistake because my whole back protests. "Been worse." I push up from my seat and cross over to her, sitting down with my legs stretched out in front of me. She doesn't say anything, but when I nudge my knee against hers, she doesn't pull away. There's a silent understanding between us, one more intimate than I've ever felt.
The silence between us is different than usual—not awkward, just... heavier. We've been through hell before, but this time it feels different. Maybe it's because of Sarah. Maybe it's because of how close we came to losing this whole thing. Maybe it's just because we're getting older and shit is starting to stick with us more.
"You should eat," I say after a beat.
Kiara huffs out a small laugh. "You sound like my mom."
I let out a playfully pained groan, clutching my heart. "Take that back!" Her head leans back in laughter, the sound of her sweet giggles filling my ears.
Even in her laughter, though, there's something soft in her eyes. She reaches over, fingers brushing against my wrist for just a second before she pulls back. It's small, but it's enough.
"Alright," Noel calls from across the room, pulling all of us out of our own heads. "If you're all done with your bickering, it's time to move."
We don't waste time. Bags are slung over shoulders, weapons checked, the plan running through all of our heads. We're still sore, still recovering, but the journey doesn't stop just because we got knocked down.
As we step back out into the streets of Kingston, the sun already beating down on us, Kiara falls into step beside me. She doesn't say anything, but her arm brushes mine as we walk, like she's making sure I'm still there. I don't move away. Instead, I link our fingers together and bring her hand to my lips, kissing it softly.
We slip back into the streets, and the city is already awake around us. The morning sun settles on my skin in a thick, sticky layer. Here, the sun feels ten times closer to Earth than it does in the Outer Banks.
    John B. walks ahead, his arm wrapped protectively around Sarah as he leads us through the back alleys and side streets like he's been doing this his whole life. Maybe it's a genetics thing. No one talks much; our minds are mostly focused on yesterday and all of the dangerous almosts.
It's two hours or so before we make it back to the dock and boat, and the exhaustion—though determined—shows through all of us. Back on the boat, Sarah immediately sits Pope down, rummaging through a bag of medical supplies, looking for whatever can help. I sit nearby, just watching.
"This is gonna sting," she warns, bracing him for impact. She counts to three, but pours the disinfecting liquid on two, before she's finished counting so he's not expecting it. Pope hisses at the feeling, and his face pulls into a tight wince.
"Shit!"
"I know, I'm sorry. We have to clean it, though." I know how scared Sarah is to become a mom—we can all see it—but in some ways, she already is one. She finishes cleaning up his shoulder and then wraps it neat and tight in bandages.
    "How's it feel?" Cleo asks, sitting next to the short-haired boy and giving his hand a squeeze.
    Pope's face twitches, and I can tell he almost lies, but then he realizes there's no use. "Hurts like hell," he admits.
    "Good. Means you're still alive."
    John B. walks down from the helm and guides Sarah to sit down, handing her a bottle of water and some medicine.
    "So," Kiara says, folding her arms. "What do we do now?"
"Noel said we should check at the library first. Make sure our maps line up with the ones there," I suggest, combing a sore hand through my hair.
"Ditto. We're going after this thing," Cleo huffs, taking a big gulp of water.
Pope winces like the words physically hurt. "Even after what just happened?"
"Especially after what just happened." Kiara's eyes are sharp, determined. "They wouldn't be after us if we're not close. That means we don't stop."
Sarah sighs but nods, and that's it. Decision made.
"First," Cleo starts, pointing a sharp but somewhat playful look at Sarah, "it's our turn to take care of Mama Bear."
"What? I'm fine." Sarah smiles a sheepish smile, but her exhaustion and slight pain seep through the browns of her eyes. I raise my eyebrows at her, telling her we all know she's faking, and she rolls her eyes in surrender. "I don't think anything's wrong. I'm just sore, that's all."
"Are you sure?" John B. asks her, massaging his hands down her back. Pope doesn't look too convinced either.
"Yeah, with your abruption and all, this could be pretty dangerous," he says. Sarah sighs in frustration, gliding a hand along her stomach, and I think I might even see the slightest trace of tears in her eyes.
    "I don't know how to convince you guys, but I'm going to be alright. I've been feeling her move all day, and, believe me, I'd know if something was wrong. I know myself, and I know my body—more now than ever." Her voice is raised a little now, her passion palpable. "I'll sit out when I have to, but for now, I'm in. No question."
    I watch her for a second before shaking my head. "You're insane, but I trust you."
    "Good—because no isn't an answer for me."