Chapter Text
“Abdul…”
At the mention of the name, the world seemed to stop on its axis.
The lush green life of the island, once swaying gently with the wind that tickled alabaster skin, was now still. It was almost like they were waiting—watching.
Jean-Pierre Polnareff, still battered and bloodied from the fight with Cameo and his Stand Judgement, looked at the man before him, emotions that even he couldn’t understand flashing in his ocean blue eyes. He could hear the crunch of the other man’s boots stepping on soft earth as he approached him—carefully, like he was approaching a frightened animal—smile as bright as Magician’s Red’s fire.
“Mohammad,”Polnareff murmured, still with disbelief from the sight before him. The man that he thought had died saving his pitiful life was before him, had seemingly risen from his grave to save him once again.
“How? Back in India,” Polnareff felt a lump in his throat at that, but he willed himself to continue. “I’m sure Hol Horse’s bullet hit your…” He gestured vaguely at Abdul’s head. Abdul looked at him with a softness that matched his appearance, a kind of warmth that shined through his honey eyes.
“Yes, I did get shot,” He began, lifting a hand to the cloth that covered his forehead to reveal a deep scar.
“Right here, on the forehead. But at that moment, J. Geil stabbed me and I fell backwards, so I was not fatally wounded.” He finished, tapping the scar twice.
Polnareff was silent for a moment, looking away from the scar. Perhaps he was trying to wrap his head around the idea, as his lips pursed in thought. He looked up at Abdul after a while, nonexistent eyebrows furrowing and bottom lip quivering. His eyes were heavy with tears that threatened to spill onto pale and bruised cheeks.
Abdul barely had time to process anything when Polnareff slammed into him, embracing him tightly with enough force to knock the air out of the other man.
“I’m so glad…” Polnareff said softly, staining Abdul’s robe with his tears. “Mohammad, that you’re alive…” He sniffed, resting his head on the other man’s shoulders.
Abdul was quick to reciprocate the hug, wrapping his hands around the other’s wide shoulders, giving one an assuring squeeze.
“Yes, I am.”
They simply stood there in each other’s embrace until Polnareff’s sniffles went quiet, and all that could be heard was the night breeze—along with the occasional cricket. Polnareff shifted away from Abdul’s hold, breaking the hug to rub at the redness underneath his eyes.
“Sorry,” Polnareff was smiling fondly, moving his hand away. “I—We missed you.” His face morphed into an expression of giddiness in a blink of an eye. He grabbed at Abdul’s wrist before he tugged him along.
“We have to tell them! They’ll be so stoked!” Polnareff was on the verge of running out of excitement.
“What about your wounds?” Abdul quirked an eyebrow, almost tripping over.
Polnareff waved him off, grinning ear to ear. “We can get to that later. C’mon!”
Abdul let a out a grin as he was dragged along in a random direction.
He hasn’t changed in the slightest.
***
On the other side of the island, Three figures waited impatiently.
“Where has he gone? I hope he’s alright.” Kakyoin questioned, the tap of his foot on the sand was hard to not notice.
“I’m sure Polnareff’s fine. Perhaps he went to take a piss?” Joseph inquired, sitting a not-so-comfortable rock near by.
Jotaro lifted his sleeve to glance at his watch. It was around 9 p.m., yet not a sign of the man could be seen. “He better be here, or else I’m beating hi-“
As if on cue, they could hear heavy rustling and footsteps behind them, accompanied by a loud “Hey!”
“You’ll never believe it!” Polnareff emerged from the foliage, hands waving at the trio.
“Guess who I ran into while out and about!”
“Polnareff!” Joseph started, mouth agape. “We were worried about you!”
Kakyoin stared at the gaping wound on the other man’s shoulder. “Where did those injuries come from?”
Jotaro scoffed, “Good grief, did you run into some kind of enemy?”
“My wounds are nothing compared to my news!” Polnareff giggled as he gestured his arms in a presenting manner, Abdul emerging from the foliage right after. “That sly bastard Abdul is still alive! Isn’t that great!” Polnareff exclaimed behind the other, awaiting a reaction out of the three.
To his surprise, everyone went about their business, as if it was some other day. Joseph walked over to pick up a brown sack that laid on the sand, completely ignoring Polnareff. “Well… We should probably get going. The submarine isn’t going to drive itself!”
He let out a noise of shock, watching as Abdul walked over to help them pick up the rest of their luggage, while talking to each member so casually.
Too casually.
Polnareff lowered his arms, his face twisted in confusion.
Were they not happy to see their fellow crusader alive?
Did they not care?
“Submarine? Wh-what’s going on? Why are you all acting like nothing has changed?” Polnareff questioned, before shifting towards the rest of the gang.
Joseph stopped to turn to Polnareff. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. When I said I would take it upon myself to bury Abdul in India, I may have lied.” He said, like it was so simple.
“What?” Polnareff breathed, taking a step back.
“When I was shot by Hol Horse back in India, Mr. Joestar and Jotaro tended to the wound on my head.” Abdul spoke, as if his explanation would lessen the confusion.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Polnareff furrowed his eyebrows, overcome with emotion.
“It was imperative to keep Abdul’s recovery a secret from the enemy,” It was Kakyoin who spoke. “So, I suggested to-“
“Do you think I’m stupid?! That I would just shout to the whole world that Abdul was alive?!” Polnareff’s face was ravaged with rage, red hot tears burned his eyes, voice thick with anger. He balled his fists at his sides until his knuckles were white.
“Polnareff,” Joseph tried, but the other wouldn’t hear it.
“I can’t believe you all would do this. To me. After everything we’ve been through. Do I mean so little to you?!” Tears were streaming down reddened cheeks; he lost composure by the second.
“Don’t you trust me?!”
Abdul caught a glimpse of Polnareff staring with angry eyes. Even though he was a fortune-teller, he didn’t need his cards to know that it was directed towards him. He felt a pang in his chest; the emotion however, he couldn’t quite place.
Abdul lost his train of thought when he heard a laugh, loud and humorless. “Of course you don’t—None of you do.” He said, voice low but simmering with anger.
Polnareff spat at the ground before he kicked the sand in their direction.
With that, he walked away.
***
Everything fell silent.
The kind of silence that swallowed one whole. Not even the sounds of the gentle waves kissing the beach could lessen the tension that was thick in the air.
Abdul gave a quick glance at everyone of the remaining group, each contemplating quietly on what had happened (even Jotaro, which came as a surprise.).
They made a mistake.
He made a mistake.
Abdul began to walk in the direction Polnareff left, eyeing the slightly faded prints of the Frenchman’s boots on the golden sand. The rest said nothing. They knew it was for the best.
It didn’t take long before he caught sight of the hurting man, mindlessly making his way around the island shore.
“Polnareff.” He called out to the other, yet there was no response. He either couldn’t hear, or he was deliberately ignoring him. Abdul believed in the latter. He came up behind the other man.
“Jean-Pierre,” He called out again, placing his hand on the other’s shoulder.
Polnareff recoiled away from the touch, as if struck by Magician’s Red’s flames, shoving Abdul back.
“Ne me touche pas!” Polnareff hissed, his face turning to look back at him.
Now that Polnareff’s face was on full display, Abdul was utterly speechless. His alabaster skin was caked in his own blood that began to dry, his eyes, once filled with life, were red and defeated, his lips parted to make way for labored breaths.
A man that had known, yet completely lost himself.
“Leave me alone!” He shouted, desperate for Abdul to leave.
“Jean, please listen,” Abdul started. “I deeply apologize for our actions, but you have to know our rea-“
“To l'enfer with your reasons! To hell with your apologies! To hell with all of you!” Fresh tears streamed down his face.
“Don’t you know what you’ve put me through when you died back in India?! The nights I have spent w-wallowing in my own tears—the nights I have spent with the knowledge that you were six feet under, and your blood was on my hands!”
Abdul parted his lips to object, but was immediately cut off.
“I was grieving,” Polnareff attempted to stifle a sob that threatened to climb up his throat, to no avail. “A-and for what? For someone who isn’t even dead? For someone I gave my trust to, yet couldn’t even bother to give it in return?” He jabbed a finger to Abdul’s chest, heaving audibly.
Abdul remained quiet, only his breath audible. He looked to Polnareff’s eyes, searching. His eyes, blue of every dancing sky and still oceans, held a lifetime of struggle that could never be put into words.
He wasn’t angry.
He was hurting.
“Jean…I…” Abdul paused, thinking of the right words to say. “It wasn’t our intention to hurt you, but intent means nothing as the damage has already been done,” Polnareff was silent, tears streaked down his worn and tired visage, teeth gritted.
“But we care about your-“
“Enough with the lies!” Polnareff shouted, enraged.
“If you, any of you, cared—believed in me—we wouldn’t be here!” He gestured the island.
His face fell, lips forming a frown, eyes distant.
Polnareff raised his hand to his forehead, lightheaded. “I was so stupid… It was all just a part of the journey, in the end.” Polnareff turned his back to him. “I have nothing more to say to you. Go back to your father, unless he was another lie. ” He muttered, before starting to walk away.
Abdul silently listened to receding footsteps on the sand, his head spinning with emotion to be offended by the last statement.
“Polnareff!”
The two men spun around, only to see Joseph marching his way towards the two.
“I know we may have wronged you, but we have to get to the submarine now! We have wasted too much time already!” Joseph ordered, impatient.
Polnareff sneered, hairless brows furrowing and anger anew.
“I would rather drown.”
Joseph sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It was clear that Polnareff wasn’t going to budge anytime soon. Stubborn bastard.
“I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice,”
Abdul’s eyes widened, realizing what the older man was about to do.
“Mr. Joestar, wait-“
“Hermit Purple!”
Suddenly, bright purple vines shot out of Joseph’s arm, littered with spikes, and wrapped around Polnareff in a blink of an eye, binding his arms and chest.
“What the-“ He thrashed around as he was dragged along the beach, shouting French profanities left and right. He was too weak to summon his stand. Jotaro and Kakyoin trailed behind the trio wordlessly.
Soon the submarine, in its huge, yellow and orange glory, came into vision. Not one of the crusaders took the time to take in this marvel of engineering, too occupied in other matters to do so.
They dragged him through the entrance before Hermit Purple plopped him on the cold metal floor. Polnareff shakily righted himself, swatting away any hands trying to assist him. He glanced at the rest of the group; his face simmered with helpless anger. He stomped in the other direction, click of heels on the hard metal sounding further away with each step until he could no longer be heard.