A/N: I don't know what I'm doing anymore. This didn't even start out as a plot bunny. It was just a mental tumbleweed that lodged in my brain. 9_9

The urban fantasy part does take a few chapters to kick in.

Daily updates to match the chapters, barring any unforeseen accidents knock on wood.

Also, I totes borrowed Adrian from my friend's epic fic. It is nearing completion. Wait for it. Any similarities between her story and mine were hers first.

Slightly off-topic: I was at AWA last weekend and nabbed a bunch of Vesperia swag. XD Also, I saw an awesome Yuri cosplayer, but I was too much of a socially awkward penguin to do anything more than scurry up to her, ask to take a picture, and say thanks before running away. She was so cool, though, you guys. *_*

Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are borrowed from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

In his dream, the water was warm and a tranquil, crystalline blue. Light filtered down from the full moon that floated impossibly huge on the surface. Slowly, he drifted down, down, down into the depths of the ocean where the light wouldn't reach him. His lungs burned with the need for air until finally he couldn't hold back any longer and opened his mouth to gasp. A cloud of bubbles obscured his vision as the water flowed gently into him, filling him up until he could barely tell where the sea ended and his body began. As he faded into darkness, a hand appeared through the curtain of bubbles, reaching out for him. He was pulled through and caught a glimpse of dark hair and eyes like storm clouds before he woke with a start, sucking in greedy breaths of air as his heart pounded and the pilot announced that they had begun their final descent.

"Oh, Flynn, I was just about to wake you. We're almost there. Are you all right?"

Flynn smiled at Estelle. He'd been friends with her for years and had never met a kinder person. She was a little bit sheltered, a little naïve, but if you needed help, Estelle was the first one there to offer a hand. He'd invited her on this trip for moral support and because he had vague memories of the town they were headed to being what his seven-year-old self hadn't quite recognized as picturesque.

"I'm fine. What about you? Were you able to get any sleep?"

"You shouldn't be worrying about me. You're sure you're okay?"

Estelle was staring at him with more concern than he felt was strictly necessary. She'd almost been more upset for him than he had been upon learning that his grandmother had passed away. He had been sad to hear it of course, but in a distant, almost dutiful sort of way. There hadn't been many chances for him to spend time with Grandma Moira while his dad was alive, and his mother had never been close with her in-laws. With his grandmother's passing, her estate went to her only living relative, which was how Flynn found himself flying south to a small beach town he'd only visited once in his life.

When Flynn was seven, his parents had brought him down to spend the summer with Grandma Moira. It was the last summer he'd had with his dad. Two months after they'd returned from the vacation, his dad's partner on the force had arrived at the door to give them The News, and Flynn's world had broken apart.

When he was being honest with himself, Flynn was more worried that the trip to see the property and meet with the lawyer would be more emotionally taxing due to memories of his dad resurfacing than the vague attachment he felt to his deceased grandmother. That was the reason he hadn't wanted to make the trip alone and, out of all his friends, Estelle was the only one he felt comfortable enough with to bring along.

The plane touched down safely and Flynn and Estelle collected their luggage. Flynn rented a car and they packed their things into the trunk and left the city behind. Estelle acted as navigator on the way to the little town of Driftwood Cove.

Nothing looked familiar as Flynn drove. He had only half expected to be able to pick out a landmark here or there, but the increasingly empty highway and pale vegetation were nearly indistinguishable from the roads back home, differentiated mainly by the heat of the sun that seeped through the windows, sending sweat trickling down his back in defiance of the air conditioning,

As they got closer to the coast, traffic slowly began picking up again and palm trees started cropping up at irregular intervals. Flynn began noticing more billboards than he'd expected and thought maybe some of the on ramps and exits were new, but none of it really rang a bell. Finally, Estelle guided him to their exit, and he pulled off into a bustling city that stretched along the beach and definitely didn't look like the sleepy town he remembered from that one summer, years ago.

"Are you sure this is right? I remember this town being a lot smaller."

"It's been fourteen years, right? It isn't surprising that this place has grown."

They followed Main Street. On the seaward side, they could catch occasional glimpses of the ocean between buildings. The glitter of it left Flynn feeling like he was seven again. He wanted to stop the car and race across the sand into the waves. He'd always loved the ocean, and Driftwood Cove bordered on a very nice bit of it.

The rest of the city sprawled away inland. Shops, restaurants, hotels, and all manner of tourist traps lined the road. People strolled down the street, half of them barefoot and wearing swimsuits, dripping from a recent dip in the ocean. Flynn recognized a diner, an old mom-and-pop general store, and the barbershop with its antique spinning pole. Everything else was new.

Grandma Moira's house was on the outskirts of town. Perched on a small, u-shaped cliff, it was hemmed in on two sides by tiny forests of mimosa trees, azaleas, and hibiscus. To the rear was a small cliff and a path leading down to its own private cove. It had become prime real estate as the city grew, but she'd never given in to the pressure to sell. Aside from taking care of the belongings his grandmother had left behind, Flynn had traveled down to find a buyer for her property.

The house was as he remembered: a slate blue, single story bungalow with a wrap-around whitewashed porch. It had bright purple shutters. He remembered those, specifically. Even as a kid, he'd thought they were really weird.

Inside, the house smelled like sweet grass, salt air, and cedar. The furniture and floors were all old wood, heavy and dark and beginning to accumulate a thin coating of dust. White and pale blue cushions and throws matched the paint on the walls and contributed to the airy feeling of the layout. The curtains were white and sheer and absolutely useless for hide and seek.

Flynn remembered the face from his dream again. He'd made a friend for that summer, a boy about his age. He hadn't thought about him in years, couldn't even remember his name. Suddenly, he felt ashamed. That boy had saved his life, and he'd gone and forgotten his name.

At seven, Flynn had never learned to swim, never been to a pool or a lake or the beach until the summer he spent at his grandmother's house. He'd snuck out the first night and gone down to the shore. It had been amazing at night. The sea sparkled and rushed and roared, and he'd jumped in and out of the water, shrieking in delight. It had been great fun…right up until he went in a little too far and got caught in the undertow. Suddenly, he had found himself being pulled out to sea, choking on the cold, murky water.

He would have drowned if that boy hadn't happened across him and towed him back to shore. He remembered coming to and coughing up seawater as a strange kid sat next to him on the sand, smirking. The boy had made fun of him for his foolishness, enough so that Flynn actually started a fight. They rolled around on the beach, fists flying, until Flynn managed to pin him to the sand. The boy had stared up at him with eyes like storm clouds and demanded that Flynn teach him how to fight. In exchange, he offered to teach Flynn how to swim.

For two and a half months, they'd been inseparable. The boy had shown Flynn all his favorite spots: hidden groves and hard-to-reach coves that no one else ever came to. He ate supper with Flynn's family more often than not, but when Flynn asked to visit his home he'd laughed.

"This whole place is my home," he'd said. "I live wherever I want."

It had been the first time Flynn had encountered homelessness, though he didn't recognize it as such at the time. To him, the boy was to be admired. He was free to go wherever he wanted and do anything he felt like doing. Sometimes though, when Flynn went back to his family and left the boy alone on the beach, he wondered if it was sad to be alone all the time. He asked several times about the boy's parents, but somehow or another, the subject always got changed when that topic came up.

By the time Flynn had to return home at the end of the summer, he had learned how to swim like a fish, how to catch crabs and dig for clams, how to tell when a storm was coming and when the clouds would pass on by. He didn't learn much about the boy who had been his friend that summer, though, and with the upheaval of his life a couple months afterward, he had forgotten all about him until that dream he'd had on the plane. Odd that he'd dream of a playmate whose name he couldn't remember rather than his dad.

It only took half an hour to get settled in. Flynn opened the windows, allowing the sea breeze to blow through the house. They changed into swimsuits and Flynn donned a short-sleeved hoodie. The meeting with the attorney wouldn't be until Monday afternoon. The weekend was theirs, and they headed straight for the beach.

A path had been carved into the cliff from the house down to the shore and Estelle hurried down it eagerly. Flynn followed her, remembering walking the path day after day to reach the little cove. The sand was still incredibly soft. The water was the same murky brown, green, gray; shifting color with depth and light and the unending waves. The foam sparkled. He could taste the salt on the air.

Estelle dashed into the surf, exclaiming at the water's temperature even as she waded deeper. Flynn smiled and followed her in, watching the water swirl around his ankles and feeling the sand being dragged out from underneath his feet by the tide. He'd missed the ocean after he'd left. He'd even chosen a college only a couple hours away from the coast, though the beach up north had been rocky and the waves considerably rougher. It hadn't stopped him from making the drive nearly every other weekend, or from learning to surf.

He was up to his knees in the water when a voice called out from the cliff.

"Careful not to get dragged out by the undertow."

Looking up, he saw a young man sitting on the edge of the cliff, watching them. He wore swim trunks and a tank top, and his dark hair hung nearly to his waist.

"This is private property," Flynn called out cautiously.

"What kind of greeting is that? Don't tell me you forgot me. That is you, isn't it, Flynn?"

The stranger got up and ambled down the path as Flynn gaped incredulously. It couldn't be. There was no way he'd have remembered. As the dark-haired man reached the shore, Flynn got a good look at his face, older but still recognizable. His cocky grin hadn't changed at all.


"You do remember. Had me worried for a minute." He slugged Flynn amiably on the shoulder. "Still remember how to swim?"

Flynn stared. Yuri—how had he forgotten?—had grown up. Of course he'd grown up, but he'd grown up…well…hot. He was just as tall as Flynn, lean and fit, and he carried himself with an easy confidence that shone in his eyes. His features were just delicate enough to be androgynous rather than crossing the line into feminine. His grin morphed into a smirk.

"Close your mouth before a bug flies in."

Automatically, Flynn's jaw snapped shut. "I…. You…. Sorry." He ran a hand through his hair and started over. "How are you?"

"Can't complain. You gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?"

Stunned by the man who stood before him in place of the boy from his memories, Flynn hadn't noticed Estelle move to stand beside him. She stepped forward hurriedly at that, offering a hand for Yuri to shake.

"Pleased to meet you. My name's Estelle. I should tell you though, Flynn and I aren't going out. We're just friends."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed." Yuri's eyes glittered wickedly for a moment before his amusement faded, expression turning somber. "I heard about your grandmother. Sorry."

"Thanks. It's okay, though. I only ever spent time with her that one summer."

"Seems to me that's plenty of time to make a connection with someone."

Blushing, Flynn looked away. Yuri's eyes had been more intense than he was comfortable with.

"So, Yuri, how did you and Flynn meet?"

"He didn't tell you? We used to go skinny dipping together."


Estelle giggled, Yuri snickered, and Flynn eventually gave in and smiled.

"Tell it right, jerk," he said. "Yuri saved my life. I was stupid and went playing in the water at night—even though I couldn't swim—and he pulled me out when the undertow got me."

Horrified, Estelle stared at him open-mouthed. "You went into the ocean without knowing how to swim? Flynn…!"

Her reaction set Yuri to laughing again. "Isn't he the worst? He even beat the crap out of me afterwards for lecturing him about it."

"Flynn! Did you apologize to him?"

"It was years ago." Even as he protested, Flynn knew it was useless.

"You know, Estelle, you're right. He never did apologize." Yuri looked at Flynn expectantly, though his eyes crinkled with the effort of forcing back a smile.


"Okay, I'm sorry!"

"I don't know. That didn't sound very sincere." His voice was thick with repressed laughter. Estelle didn't seem to notice as she frowned at Flynn, waiting for him to apologize properly.


Finally, Yuri's laughter got the better of him and Flynn was spared any further harassment when Estelle realized that Yuri had only been giving him a hard time.

"You're just like you were back then," Yuri said, grinning. "Listen, I've got to get going, but if you two will be in town for a while, come down to the public beach. I work as a lifeguard most days."

"Sure." As he turned to go, Flynn reached out, though he hesitated at the last second and didn't touch his shoulder. "Yuri…it's good to see you again."

"Yeah. You too." He waved and took off back up the cliff.

Flynn watched until he disappeared from sight. Behind him, Estelle giggled.

"I think somebody has a crush."

"I do not have a crush on Yuri. I hadn't even thought of him in years."

"Well, I was talking about him, but if you're going to get defensive about it…."

For a moment, Flynn stared at her, at a loss for words. "…I think you've been reading too many romance novels."

"Oh, come on! You can't tell me you didn't notice the way he looked at you. He even remembered you after all this time." She clasped her hands together over her chest. "That's so—"

"Stop right there, please. I didn't come down here to start a relationship—not that I even believe he's interested," he added when Estelle started to say something. "We're here so I can sell the house. After that, we're going home."

She sighed, but didn't argue. They spent the next hour wading and walking back and forth along the little cove, searching for shells. Somehow, Flynn found himself talking about Yuri, rediscovering his memories as he told Estelle story after story from that summer. He skirted uncomfortably around Yuri's homelessness and absent family, but he had so many other little adventures to relate that Estelle didn't notice.

After a while, they headed back inside, stomachs growling, and changed to ride back into town for lunch. Flynn drove them to the diner he remembered and, feeling pleasantly nostalgic, ordered a chocolate milk and grilled cheese, grinning when Estelle poked fun at him for the childish meal. They spent a few hours exploring the shops that had sprung up all along Main Street and went grocery shopping afterward. Since they would be staying for a few days, Flynn wanted to be able to cook at the house rather than eat out for every meal.

The sun was setting by the time they made it back and got everything put away, but Flynn couldn't help looking out over the ocean every few minutes. He wished he'd brought his board. Surfing would be way better here with the soft sand waiting for him rather than the pebbles and rock chips he was used to. The waves looked amazing. He was itching to get back into the water.

"Do you want to go see him?"

"What?" Estelle's question had taken him by surprise.

"You keep looking outside. I thought maybe you might want to go see Yuri. We could have him over for dinner."

"I…. You think so? We haven't seen each other in years. It might be kind of awkward."

"What are you talking about? You two were fine earlier. There's so much to catch up on." She grabbed his arm, pulling him out the door. "Come on. Let's go get him."

Though the cliff that wrapped around the cove kept it pretty well cut off from the rest of the shoreline, it wasn't a terribly long walk to get to an access path leading to the public beach. Flynn was a little surprised that he even remembered it, and supposed that maybe it was only a matter of time until he could find his way around as easily as he had when he was seven. The beach grass drooped over the path, tickling their legs as they passed, and the coarser, packed dirt soon gave way to fine, white sand.

On the beach, a few scattered groups had already started bonfires. Music was playing, sounding oddly high and tinny as it was forced out of too-small speakers to be carried away on the sea breeze. Further on down, the white tower of a lifeguard post stood out in the last fading rays of sunlight.

As they approached, Flynn and Estelle could see that Yuri was leaning against the base of the tower across from them as a tanned, blond man pressed into his personal space. They were almost to the post before they could hear the conversation.

"Sure you won't reconsider?" the stranger was saying. "I picked up some whipped cream, just for you."

"Oh, well in that case…."



"Come on. I'll buy you that grape pan you wanted."

"Crepe pan, you cretin."

"Even better!"

"Look, Adrien, back off for a few days, all right? Seriously."

Rather than backing off, Adrien leaned forward, pushing Yuri against the whitewashed beam. "Don't be like that. I know you gotta be dying for it by now."

One moment, Flynn was starting forward to do something about the situation, and the next, Yuri had slammed a fist into Adrien's kidney, slipping out of reach as the man doubled over, clutching his side.

"No means no, asshole," Yuri muttered, turning away from him. There was the barest hesitation in his movement when he saw Flynn and Estelle staring at him, obviously close enough to have heard what was going on. He covered up his discomfort with a grin.

"Hey. Didn't expect to see you two again so soon. What's up?"

"We, ah, came to invite you to dinner." Flynn couldn't help glancing over Yuri's shoulder at Adrien. He'd recovered from the hit and was glaring at the three of them.

"Sounds great. I need a dip first, though. Been a long day. If you guys want to head on back, I'll swim around and meet you there."

"All right."

Yuri grinned wider and took off, eagerly dashing into the surf. In moments, he was out of sight among the waves.

Watching him, Estelle giggled. "He really seems to like the water."

"Yuri swims like a fish. He's the one who taught me."

He glanced up, eyeing Adrien as he retreated down the beach. Yuri had taught him how to swim, and he'd taught Yuri how to fight. Thinking about what he'd just seen, about Yuri's apparent homelessness years ago, Flynn wondered if he'd missed important clues about what sort of life his friend led back when he was younger. If he'd noticed and spoken up, could things have been different? There was no use speculating on it at that point, and he and Estelle turned their steps back toward the beach house.

Yuri wasn't at the house when they arrived, so Flynn left Estelle in the kitchen pulling out what they'd need in order to prepare supper, and headed out to the cove. He spotted Yuri easily enough, treading water out where the ocean started to get just deep enough to really swim.

"Come on in, the water's fine!"

"Come on out, I'm going to start dinner," Flynn shouted back, smiling.

"You cook? This I've got to see!" Yuri dove under, surfacing with an exaggerated splash once he was close enough to walk, and sloshed his way onto shore. The tank top he wore clung to him, translucent, and somehow Flynn found it more alluring than the thought of seeing him shirtless. He suddenly needed to look anywhere but at Yuri.

"You'll get chilled dressed like that. I'll loan you a change of clothes."

"Great. Hey…race you back." With no more warning than the flash of a grin, Yuri shot away across the sand.

"No fair!" Laughing, Flynn chased after him, barely a step behind the whole way up.


"The ends justify the means."

"If you hadn't gotten to the path first, I would've won."

"That's 'cause you can't pass anyone on that narrow thing. You'd knock 'em off."

"The ends justify the means."

Flynn was more relieved than he'd expected by the easy way they could banter back and forth, even after so long apart. He pulled out a t-shirt and some khaki shorts for Yuri to swap with his soaked top and swim trunks and left him in the master bedroom to change. Heading for the kitchen to start cooking, he was suddenly and acutely aware that Yuri was going to be wandering around commando in his shorts. The thought stubbornly refused to fade to the back of his mind, particularly as Yuri sauntered into the kitchen, and Flynn had to resist the urge to beat his head against the counter. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so discomfited over such a stupid little thing.

When it became apparent that Yuri was a backseat chef and perfectly willing to curb Flynn's unique approach to seasoning food, Estelle left the boys to it and went to relax in her room with a book until supper was ready. Yuri kept Flynn talking about what he'd been doing over the years until Flynn realized that, aside from mentioning his job earlier that day, Yuri hadn't said anything at all about himself.

"How have things been for you?"

"Not bad. I'm doing the lifeguard thing. It pays okay, but it's not exactly exciting. Most days it keeps me out of the water more often than not."

"Still living wherever you want?" He asked as a joke, thinking surely, surely, with a steady job Yuri would have gotten himself an apartment at least, but there was that slight hesitation in him again, a momentary dimming of his grin and Flynn's heart sank.

"I've got a pretty decent place," he said. "No TV, but I make do."

"You should come stay here," Flynn heard himself saying. "I'll be in town for a few days, at least…."

For a second, Yuri just stared at him before he smiled wider, showing teeth. "Why would I need to stay with you, Flynn? I just told you I've got my own place."

There wasn't anything he could think of to say to that. It had been stupid to offer in the first place. If Yuri really was still homeless, a few days of pity housing weren't going to do him a lot of good in the long run. They finished making dinner quietly, speaking only to ask 'could you pass that?' or 'where can I find this?'

As the delicious smell of pan-seared tuna, buttered potatoes, and sautéed vegetables filled the house, Yuri's good mood returned with Estelle and they set the table together, commiserating about Flynn's ideas on how to spice food. The atmosphere was light and friendly as they ate, but Flynn thought he could sense the tension from earlier roiling under the surface, an emotional undertow that would drag down the friendship he was just rekindling.

It bothered him as he picked at his food. Yes, he'd forgotten about Yuri, but the death of his dad had messed him up pretty bad for a few years. Maybe that was still no excuse for forgetting a friend that had once saved his life, but he'd regretted it once he remembered, and he wanted to make amends. He just wasn't sure how.

"Flynn, quit poking that thing. If you'd wanted the potatoes mashed, you should have said so earlier."

He looked up to see Yuri smirking at him. Was there an edge to the expression, or was he just imagining it? He speared the chunk of potato one last time and ate it.

Since the boys had cooked, Estelle volunteered to do the dishes. They helped her clear the table, then went to sit in the living room. Yuri talked about how the town had changed, for better and for worse, and listed off what remained of his childhood hideaways. It was a short list, and Flynn smiled ruefully as he finished.

"Not much left, is there? I'd been looking forward to revisiting a few of those places."

"'A few' is all you're going to get. The developers took the rest." He sighed. "I guess it's not all bad. We didn't used to need a lifeguard before, and there's a great little cake shop off Main. They do amazing parfaits."

"Estelle would love that. You'll have to show us before we leave."

"How long did you say you were staying?"

"Once I decide on a buyer for the property, we've got to agree on a price, and then I'll need to…well, empty out the house. The furniture will stay, I guess, but the rest of it…. Anyway, we'll be here for however long that all takes. A few days, maybe a week. I'm meeting with the attorney the day after tomorrow to look over the list of people interested. Grandma refused to sell for so long, so I want to at least make sure whoever buys this place won't be building something she wouldn't approve of."

"Hmm. Playing the dutiful grandson? How admirable."

"Well, do you know what she would have wanted me to do?"

"Your grandmother was a sharp woman, Flynn, but we didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. I'm probably the last person she'd want you talking to about this."

"What's that supposed to—" He never got to finish the question. Estelle burst into the room, smiling delightedly.

"Guys! You have to come see this!" Grabbing each of them by the hand, she pulled them to the front door and out into the night.

It was still warm out, despite the darkness and constant breeze, but it was a comfortable warmth. Immediately, Flynn saw what had Estelle so excited. Tiny blue lights danced in and out of the overgrown bushes that loomed on the edge of the small yard. They looked like fairies.

"Fireflies, Flynn! Blue ones! I've only ever seen the green ones. Aren't they pretty?"

"Very pretty," he agreed. Amused by her excitement, he glanced at Yuri and stared.

The moonlight made Yuri's eyes luminous and they glittered with the reflected glow of fireflies that lit up close by. His skin was pale as the fine, white sand of the beach, and the wind whipped his hair around his face. Flynn bit back the urge to call him beautiful and reminded himself to breathe.

"You know, some people around here say that those are the souls of sailors that died at sea." Yuri grinned like a camp counselor telling ghost stories to children, and Estelle leaned forward, eagerly.

"Really? I love hearing about local legends. If you don't mind, can you tell me some of the stories from around here?"

"Sure. Flynn, your grandmother ever tell you about the mermaids?"


"What, really?" Oddly enough, he did seem genuinely surprised.

"I don't think she believed in that sort of thing. Grandma Moira was kind of no-nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense. I can't believe she didn't warn you. Their favorite food is the flesh of a drowning man, after all." He flexed his fingers like claws, grinning, and his teeth shone white in the moonlight.

"I only almost drowned the one time, and after that I learned to swim from the best. I don't think I needed to be warned about fictional creatures of the deep."

"Flynn, stop arguing so he'll tell us about the mermaids!"

Raising his hands in surrender, Flynn kept quiet and listened as Yuri started spinning tales about fanged monstrosities that had more in common with a black widow than a Disney princess. The mermaids Yuri described lured sailors overboard with their beautiful voices in order to pull them under the waves to try to mate with them, drowning the men in the process, then tearing apart the corpses to devour. Yuri didn't skimp on the gruesome details, and the knowing tone he used gave Flynn the shivers.

"You're an incredible storyteller," Estelle said once he'd finished. "Do you know any more?"

"Lots, but they'll have to wait for another time. I ought to be heading back."

"Oh. Can I come see you Monday afternoon, then? I'll be at loose ends for a few hours."

"Sure. You know where to find me."

"I'll walk you back," Flynn offered.

"I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself."

"Part way, then." He thought for a second that he would be refused again, but Yuri shrugged and turned back toward town.

They didn't talk as they picked their way along the shadowy path. Yuri was barefoot, but he still moved swiftly and surely and made very little noise as he went. Flynn was beginning to wonder if he'd upset him again somehow, when Yuri stopped suddenly. They'd reached the place where the path forked, one way leading down to the beach, the other leading to the road into town.

"Thanks for dinner. I'll get your stuff washed and back to you. See you around." He smiled and began walking toward town.

"Goodnight," Flynn called. He hesitated a second before backtracking along the path until he came to a bend where he could just barely see the fork from behind a palm tree. After a moment, his hunch paid off as Yuri turned around and headed down towards the beach. As soon as he was out of sight, Flynn raced back to the beach house, tearing around to the back and flying down to the cove faster even than when he had raced Yuri. He sped across the sand to the cliff side and crouched in the darkness, waiting and watching the waves. Moments later, he spotted Yuri go swimming past, and he bit his lip, having a good idea of where he was headed.

The entirety of the city stretched out to the other side of the beach house. Nothing had been built up in the direction Yuri was heading. The only thing to that side of the cove was a small cave in the rock, only accessible by the ocean. It had to be Yuri's "place." Forget not having a TV, there wouldn't even be electricity or running water.

Grimacing, Flynn stood and started back up to the house. It wasn't his problem. Yuri didn't want to talk about it, he was obviously getting by well enough, and Flynn had no business butting in. It wasn't his problem…but he couldn't help feeling, as he thought about it that night, that maybe it ought to be.