𝗠𝘆 𝗘𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲 ⇉ 𝗝𝗝 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗸

𝘸 𝘩 𝘢 𝘳 𝘧

THEY WERE officially fugitives now — not that they weren't before, adrenaline pumping as they bolt through the crowded Moroccan streets.

It had all began with John B and JJ, swiping a few apples from a market stall.

Sarah and Ari had been beyond grateful, savoring every bite of the pilfered fruit.

Ari especially appreciated it more than anything, her stomach a constant reminder of the life growing inside her.

Even the water bottles Rafe manage to scrounge up were a godsend in the sweltering heat, a brief moment of respite before chaos erupted.

Now, the group was a whirlwind of limbs and frantic energy, a mismatched crew of Pogues and a Kook, all united by their desperate need to escape.

Ari's hand was clenched tightly in JJ's, his own grip reassuringly firm.

He was shouting directions, his voice a mix of urgency and surprisingly accurate knowledge of the labyrinthine alleyways.

Ari didn't dare look back, the fear of capture a cold knot in her stomach.

Being pregnant in a place she didn't know, with laws she didn't understand, was a terrifying prospect.

Each turn was a gamble, each shove past a local a risk.

They were a spectacle, a riot of Southern clothing in a sea of traditional robes and vibrant colors.

They stood out like sore thumbs, their every move a beacon to the pursuing police.

The narrow alleyways twist and turn, a maze of scents and sounds, each footstep echoing their desperation.

They burst out of the alley's mouth and into a bustling square, a sudden explosion of noise and color.

Each gasp for air was a victory, each shaky step a testament to their desperation.

Ari leans heavily against JJ, her lungs burning, and took a long, grateful swig from her water bottle.

Her eyes dart around, cataloging the scene, the people, the escape routes, making sure everyone was accounted for.

But her heart lurched as she realizes someone was missing.

"Rafe." She breathes, her voice thin and reedy.

Letting go of JJ, she scans the square frantically, her eyes searching for that familiar, troubled face.

"Where's Rafe?"

The Pogues turn, their faces a mixture of concern and something colder.

The silence hung heavy, thick with unspoken thoughts.

They were grateful he'd saved Ari, that much was clear, but Rafe was still a liability.

Sarah stares at Ari with a mirroring worry, but even she didn't speak his name aloud.

Ari shook her head, a surge of adrenaline pushing back the exhaustion.

She had to go back.

He was probably lost, disoriented, or worse, already in the hands of the police.

As she turns to rush back into the alley's dark embrace, JJ and Pope both reach out, their hands firm and restraining.

"Ari, we can't go back." Pope says, his voice tight with urgency.

Ari spun around, her eyes flashing with defiance.

"We can't or we won't?" She challenges, pulling her hand free. Her gaze flick between Pope and JJ, a silent plea in her eyes. "He's on his own. I—I have to go back and help him."