Authors note: Here we go, the prologue of the sequel to "Untouchable". There will be a pairing in this, so if you guys have any wishes let me know. Anyway, this starts off two years after the events of "Untouchable". Kai has been in Morocco up until now, and one life changing event forces him to return:)

READ THIS! THE PROLOGUE IS CHANGED SO PLEASE REREAD!

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When it burns

Prologue

"The most tangible of all visible mysteries – fire"

-Leigh Hunt

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Looking back on everything that has happened I will acknowledge that I have changed. For the better or the worse, I am not the same person I used to be. All the same the term different is something relative, which might be why I am still bitter, still angry, still furious.

I suppose I never really gave the future much thought. Not really. Not in the sense that I actually tried to picture my own sense of self in the aftermath of grandfather´s death. I had always imagined the change to be absolute; something infinite and mind blowing.

But no. I was still the same Kai Hiwatari. A tad more independent perhaps, definitely much richer, and I had obtained my ultimate goal; freedom. But still, I was no different. I was not like Rey and Tyson and the others. Simply put; I was not normal. I was what he had wanted me to be.

Two years had passed since that fateful day when the mansion burned down. The day I killed grandfather out of mercy, because he begged me for it. So unlike the grand, vicious and just gesture I had always imagined it would be, his death had instead taken a twisted and complicated turn. Rather than a clean, simple act of retribution it had become something far more complex, which was probably why I couldn´t find it in myself to forget. He had ordered me to kill, and I obeyed, out of mercy…..or merely because he had asked me?

I still hated him, still regarded him with a sense of deep, almost unfathomable loathing. 16 years of my life gone, wasted in that hell hole underneath Balcov Abby. Years upon years upon years; something I would never get back no matter how hard I fought for it. There are some things even the jaguar cannot defeat; time is unfortunately one of them. The Abby would always be a part of who I was, even if I wanted nothing more than too destroy the place.

The electric blue sea was glittering when I looked at it, the foaming waves washing over my bare feet. It was still early in the morning, and I was watching the sun rise, feeling melancholy. I sometimes wondered why I had returned here, to Morocco. Of course, it represented something quite different than the Abby, but it also held memories, some which were tied to grandfather, others that were of a more pleasant nature. Perhaps that was my problem to begin with, that I could´t quite force myself to leave him behind. Even if he was dead I could still feel his presence.

I was so much like him. Both in mind and appearance. We had the same eyes, the same ruthless, analytical intelligence, the same stubborn resolve. And yet we were still so very different, at least that was what I desperately convinced myself to believe. You are in denial, I reminded myself somewhat bitterly. But then again how could I not be, after all that which had happened. Sometimes the truth will tear you apart, unless you chose not acknowledge it.

A crescendo of purple, scarlet and sunflower yellow washed over the sky as I watched, and I got to my feet, leisurely stretching. My surf board was perched precariously in the sand nearby, and I zipped up the wetsuit with practiced ease, inhaling deeply. The refreshing smell of saltwater and crisp morning air helped, and my previously bad mood dissolved in an instant.

My feet sunk into the dense sand as I grabbed the board, running towards the sea with renewed enthusiasm. The beach was completely empty. Only me, the board and the wonderful, treacherous ocean that stretched out before my eyes, vast and everlasting. I splashed out into the water, running as far as I got before getting on the board, quickly making my way further out, towards were the sun was bathing the sea in a thousand hues of orange, red and purple.

This was a routine. Every morning I would be up almost in the middle of the night, run down the cliffs, to this remote place that only I knew about. My place. And then I would sit and brood, patiently waiting for the sun before I grabbed the board and went headfirst into the waves. The sensation was divine. The warm light which engulfed everything, the cool water, not yet warmed up by the sun, and of course the huge, bouldering waves.

They were particularly large this morning, and it was a struggle to get far enough out, a challenge which I loved with all of me. In the brief pause between two of the larger waves I stopped paddling, patiently waiting for the right time as another wave rose up before me. One great wall of deep, blue black water, foaming at the edges. I chose my moment with care, timing it perfectly. In one fluid motion I became one with the board, a powerful surge carrying us forward, wind and salt water thundering in my ears.

I could feel the wave move underneath me, and I followed, effortlessly matching its every move. There was something about surfing which had me utterly enticed, something that kept me from losing interest like I normally did. It was something about living on the edge, about facing the unpredictability, which appealed to me. I could´t quite explain it, and furthermore I did not really feel the need to.

I rode the wave until it died out, and instead go going out once more I paused, lifting the board and exiting the water. A lone figure was standing about 50 meters up the beach, my beach. I knew him, of course I did. He had arrived a few days ago, and he had been following me ever since. We both knew, but I had refused to acknowledge him. I suppose you could call it naivety. Some small part of me had hoped that he would give up and leave. Of course the rational part of me knew that he would do no such thing.

With a sight I slung the board over one shoulder, approaching the small, worn down shed that I had built upon discovering the beach two years ago. I usually kept a few boards in there, just so that I had something to chose from. Soon I might have to build another one. Wind and saltwater spray had taken its toll, and although I always felt oddly satisfied when I looked at the structure I knew that it would´t hold.

I changed into a t´shirt and chopped off, scruffy and worn looking jeans. My favorite pair. I had left my shoes in the car. Feeling the sand against my bare feet was something which pleased me, strangely enough. I grabbed my duffle, carelessly wrapping the wetsuit in a plastic bag and putting it inside. I could dry it properly at home. A slight smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I gazed out at the sea once more. Yes, this was home.

The lone figure was still standing in that exact same spot, and with reserved irritation I straightened up, approaching him. Somehow he looked exactly the same as two years ago. Sure, he was a little bit taller, his hair was shorter, but he still had the same golden eyes, the sharp cat like teeth. He stared at me, insecure but still determined. I felt oddly touched that he had come here. No one had ever sought me out, not like this. Then again Rey was not like everyone else.

"Happy birthday", he said softly, smiling his slow, familiar smile.

It was the 21st of december, ironically enough the day which the amount of time between sunrise and sunset was the shortest. In other words, the darkest day of the year. Symbolically speaking I suppose the coincidence was fitting, although I wash´t particularly happy about this. Another reason while Morocco appealed to me. Here it was at least still sunny and warm.

"Thank you", I offered, reverting my attention elsewhere as the sun finally reached its destination, bathing the entire beach in light as a new day emerged.

"How are you?" Rey wondered, hesitantly looking up at me.

"Good", I stated, meaning it.

Yes, everything considered I was good, just...good.

He nodded, and I turned around, knowing he would follow as I jogged up towards the nearby road. I had parked the car at my usual spot, in the shadow of a cluster of palm trees. Rey whistled softly, trailing his fingers over the smooth, charcoal colored surface. It was an Audi R8, and I had bought it shortly after arriving in Morocco. I shoot him a withering look, which he merely grinned at, before stepping inside, uninvited. A brief flare of annoyance caused me to tense momentarily, before I shook my head, starting the engine. It was not quite the same as my wonderful 458 in New York, but it was good enough.

A cloud of dust hovered in the air behind us as I followed the old, sandy road back towards the city. My place was located about ten kilometers away from Rabat, one of Moroccos larger cities, built in the cliffs by the sea, just above my little secret beach. Normally I would´t take the car, but I needed groceries, so Rey would just have to tag along. Then again he did not seem to mind. We wandered mindlessly through the markets in the Rabat Medina for about an hour. I bought food and a few other necessities, while Rey merely looked about, completely breathless.

"It is magnificent", he stated, obviously in total awe.

"Hn", I responded offhandedly, inwardly pleased.

Somehow I still valued his opinion. Even if I had not seen him in two years it felt as if we had never been apart, and I marveled at this fact, wondering if he felt the same. He still had a crush on me, and although I found this mildly irritating I did not acknowledge it any further.

I payed, before grabbing a net filled with exotic fruit, and Rey watched me with curiosity as I thanked the man, before proceeding to leave. Here I felt relaxed, at ease, more so than what I used to be in New York. Rey being Rey had of course spotted the difference in behavior, and we drove home in silence. From time to time I could feel his eyes on me, but I focused on the road, ignoring him. I knew why he´d come of course. However I wanted him to say it himself. There was a difference there, at least for me.

"It has been two years Kai, what have you been doing?"

He sounded almost accusing, as if I had done something really stupid. Was he actually chastising me? Me? Kai Hiwatari? The idea almost made me laugh, and I glanced briefly at him. I was driving with the top down and the wind almost tore my words away when I spoke.

"Living", I said, voice barely audible, although I knew he heard.

He looked at me for a long time, and as I slowed down the wind subsided, the sun warming our faces as I parked the car. The traditional Moroccan building was built from sandstone, the entire structure constructed with elegantly arching windows and doorways. A few palms and exotic flowers were neatly arranged by the entrance, and I grabbed my purchases, proceeding to go inside.

Rey remained standing by the car, staring.

"Come home Kai", he said, eyes glinting tenderly.

"Just...come home!"...