Unsure by yemihikari

Unsuur could count on one hand the number of individuals who knew his secret.

Number one—Justice knew because he was the one to take Unsuur in. Number two—Trudy knew because nothing happened in Sandrock without the mayor's knowledge. Number three—Captain knew as Unsuur told the third member of the Civil Corps everything; as a cat, Captain was unlikely to spill the beans. Number four—Logan knew as Logan was his secret. Number five—Haru also knew, as he was a part of Logan's gang.

--just as Unsuur once belonged to that same gang.

The truth--

If anyone asked, even guessed the truth, Unsuur wouldn't lie about it. Yet he said nothing, letting it hang over his head like a dark cloud that brought rain that soaked into the hot desert sands rather than replenishing Martle's Oasis, which Sandrock so needed to survive. And sometimes, he thought particular residents didn't like him as they had their suspensions regarding him, such as the Blue Moon Saloon—Owen owner.

"Owen's shipment of supplies is a bit late," Justice said, catching Unsuur's attention.

"Do you want me to ride out to see what is going on?"

"Owen will be going with you."

Unsuur stared, but there was no going against Justice's order.

Instead, Unsuur headed out to his horse, carefully brushing the coat down before saddling up. He patted the side of his horse before placing his boot in the stirrup. The saddle creaked slightly, straining against his weight as Unsuur swung himself up. Fingers twisted around the reigns as his heels lightly pressed into the horse's side, urging the beast forward down the main street, straight to the Blue Moon Saloon where Owen waited for him.

"Oh. Hi Unsuur," Owen said.

Unsuur wondered if Owen would have preferred his childhood friend Justice instead.

Owen patted the side of his horse. "Rented a horse from Cooper for this trip."

"Aye," Unsuur said, watching Owen swing up into the saddle, the leather creaking as the saddle took Owen's weight. Unsuur turned his head before clicking his reins and pushing his heels into the horse's sides so they could start moving forward. The horse moved at first with a smooth gate, but as the beast picked up speed—from the smooth trot to a faster-paced canter to gallop, yet as the horse moved, Unsuur felt the beat increase.

And he said nothing.

After all, he wasn't a conversationalist and preferred taking in the way the horse moved and the scenery that flashed by as they followed the tracks in search of the supply train.

"Wanna bet it was Logan?" Owen, however, was a conversationalist and Unsuur thought that was an excellent reason for Owen to own the saloon.

Unsuur shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to discuss Logan of all people. A shudder ran down his spine at almost the wrong time, causing him to almost not rise with the beat of the horse's gait. Nor was he the betting kind of person.

"He's caused a lot of trouble around Sandrock," Owen continued, his voice thrumming as the horses continued along the way. The shod feet of the horses hit with a dull thud into the sands of the desert as they continued following the train tracks out.

Unsuur, of course, didn't respond—he wasn't the conversationalist type, at least not usually. He'd willingly chat with Captain, the cat member of the Civil Corps, any day of the week.

Owen, on the other hand, was the conversationalist type. "It all started with him and Haru blowing up that building in Sandrock, right?"

Unsuur shrugged his shoulders, watching as they passed some Rockyenaroll on by. He remembered once seeing an old-world movie someone managed to salvage with these vast, amazing yellow cats. Only there was this one with a scar on its face that ran around with a bunch of Rockyenaroll minions causing trouble the Rockyenaroll just outside of Sandrock always did.

Owen overlooked the Rockyenaroll that saw them. "Wasn't really expecting for him to go and do that, though, but I guess this dessert can turn you mad like that?"

"What?" Unsuur turned his head. The Rockyenaroll were chasing them, their tongues lolling out of their heads as saliva dripped. Or at least Unsuur knew saliva dripped out of their mouths as he'd been close to a Rockyenaroll before. He continued rising with the steady beat of the gallop. "You weren't expecting it?"

Owen startled, the smile he usually sent the way of others missing. "We were childhood friends, him, me, and Justice. Didn't he tell you.?"

"No. Justice didn't tell me," Unsuur said as the Rockeynaroll started to disappear, unable to keep up with the horses. Unsuur could still feel the steady beat of the gallop underneath him, and he felt at home in the saddle.

"I see."

Out in the desert, one of the lizards that passed as a ball cactus startled and skittered across the sand, leaving a small trail of dust rising. Unsuur frowned. "You don't have to make small talk with me."

"Why not? I do it with everybody," Owen said.

"I know you don't like me," Unsuur said.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because you avoid me. And you're always bothered when you see me." Unsuur said, wondering how far they would have to follow the train tracks to find the missing train with the supplies.

"Ah. Was I that obvious?"

"I notice a lot of things. Words I'm not so good at. Noticing things, though," Unsuur frowned, wishing his horse could go faster.

"I don't hate you, Unsuur."

"Uh-huh," Unsuur dug his heels in even more, but the horse Owen rode managed to keep pace.

"It's Logan that I hate," Owen said.

Usnuur's eyes widened, and his hands pulled back on the reigns. His horse skidded to a stop, dust rising as Owen shot past on the horse he rode.

But then Owen reigned his horse in, turning to look at him. The look on his face made Unsuur look away as it made him feel uncomfortable. "Hey. What's wrong, Unsuur? Why did you slow down?"

Unsuur said nothing and urged his horse forward at a steady trot, but something in his head told Unsuur that Owen wouldn't have said what he did if he didn't know, and he preferred being able to count the number of people on the one hand. He passed Owen by, saying, "No wonder you hate me."

The conversation, he knew, was sure to become awkward, but as he turned the bend in the track, the missing train came into sight. Unsuur sat up straight in the saddle, taking in the way the train lay on its side rather than on the tracks as it should be, not a passenger or conductor in sight. He urged his horse into a canter and headed for the engine where sand from the most recent sandstorm had pulled up. He glared at the train despite knowing glaring at the train wouldn't answer their problem.

"What do you think happened here?" Owen said, making Unsuur almost jump out of the saddle. "And for your information, I don't hate you."

Unsuur let out a sigh, dismounting his horse with ease before tying the reigns to the front of the train and leaving his horse in the shade. Ignoring Owen, he started forward, dragging his fingers along the train, frustrated at what he saw. "We need to go back to the beginning to figure this out."

Except for the direction they headed in wasn't the beginning of the train. Owen let out a deep breath. "Did you hear me?"

Unsuur heard him but didn't acknowledge him. He didn't even know how to respond to everyday conversations, and this one made him feel uncomfortable. And he didn't want to say that. He instead examined the damage, taking in the lack of people there as he approached the part of the train supplies for the Blue Moon Saloon would be located. There was a definite stench. He covered his nose. "Your supplies are dead."

Owen approached. "The perishable ones, that is. I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Unsuur."

"I don't." He'd not intended to make a joke. He tilted his head up to the side of the compartment, thinking. "That's not good for you, is it?"

"It's going to be a problem until I can be reimbursed for my loss, but given I'd not received the product in decent condition, I will be reimbursed. No need to worry about that."

Which was more conversation that Unsuur felt inclined to participate in. He sighed and jumped, reaching for the top of the compartment so he might pull himself up and investigate from above.

And that turned out to be a mistake.

The hot metal burned his fingers as his gloves didn't cover them. He let out a hiss and didn't let go, instead reaching up with his other hand to pull himself up.

"Unsuur!" Owen had other ideas. The bigger man wrapped his arms around Unsuur's waist and pulled, making him let go. They toppled backward, landing in the sand behind them.

And they stayed there longer than Unsuur wanted, his brain not registering what just happened. But then he pulled away, going to lean against the top of the train in the shade. He stared, unsure of what to say.

"Owen sighed, walking over and sitting down beside him. He opened the bag at his side with one hand while holding out his other, indicating Unsuur should give him his hand. Unsuur didn't move. "That was stupid, you know."

"And?"

"Give me your hand so I can bandage it, Unsuur. The train's been baking in the sun, you know, but you almost baked your other hand as well."

Unsuur reluctantly held out his hand.

"Look. I get that you don't like me."

Unsuur flinched as Owen started wrapping his fingers. "Hold on. You're the one who hates me?"

"And why's that?"

"Because, as you've obviously figured out, I was a member of Logan's gang," Unsuur said, then muttered. "And I was in a relationship with Logan."

Owen's grip on his hand tightened.

"See? You hate me."

"Logan, did he break your heart or something?" Owen said, his tone of voice making Unsuur want to pull away.

"How should I know? The only thing I remember of my past is being in his gang and being close to him. And my given name, of course. But for your information, I don't side with him. That caused—issues," Unsuur said, unsure how he felt getting it off his chest.

"I remember when I was little," Owen said as he finished bandaging Unsuur's hand. "My ma took my baby brother away 'cause she hated life out here in Sandrock."

Unsuur frowned, not liking that Owen was bragging about being able to remember his past, but said nothing.

"Okay. Let's start at the beginning," Owen said. "What is your name?"

Unsuur turned his head and saw Owen holding his hand out in a greeting. In confusion, he lifted his hand only to look down, remembering he'd burnt that hand and couldn't shake hands. "Unsuur, sir."

Owen reached out with both hands, past the burnt hand, and gently grasped Unsuur's arm at the wrist, and he shook Unsuur's hand, so to speak. "My name's Owen, and I'm your older brother."

Unsuur stiffened, then glanced up, confused.

"I told you. I remembered my ma taking my baby brother away when he was little, but I didn't forget his name. Or what he looked like from the pictures ma sent back. And I remember him writing about coming out before disappearing. So, as I said, Unsuur, I don't hate you."

There was a mess of feelings in the pit of Unsuur's stomach. He opened his mouth to say something.

A gunshot interrupted whatever he was going to say.