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Nate knew as soon as the explosion knocked Eliot over the railing of the pier that he only had one option. Eliot was strong swimmer, but not stronger than the turbulent currents under the pier, particularly if he was unconscious. Nate hadn’t been able to tell in the split second it had taken to register him going over.
Even as he was yelling for the rest of the team to get off the burning structure, he was shucking off his shoes and jumping over the railings. He hoped they listened. The rickety structure was going to collapse, with or without another explosion. Getting to Eliot before he got bashed into the pylons was going to be enough of a challenge without having to worry about the rest of the team ending up in the water.
By the time Nate hit the water, his fingernails had hardened into claws, and he used them to tear the rest of his clothes off so he could finish the change. There was something euphoric about settling into his other form. He hadn’t changed since before Sam was born, and it was like finally allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been burning its way through his skin.
There wasn’t time to think about that though. Nate blinked his second eyelid closed, and the murky water sharpened into black and white, the fire above reflecting through the water in bright, washed-out streaks. He had to fight the chaotic currents rushing under the pier to stay still long enough to spot Eliot.
He had already been swept under the pier, probably already been driven into the pylons at least once, and was limp in the water. Nate flicked his tail and pushed into the current, using it to reach Eliot before he could be driven into the pylons again, but he wasn’t able to get them clear of the pier before the next surge. The best he could do was curl around Eliot and turn them so his back hit the pylon instead of Eliot. He was going to be bruised, but it was better than Eliot hitting again.
He pushed hard across the current and surfaced a good four meters from the pier. Eliot started coughing as soon as they broke the surface. The shear relief of it left Nate drifting for a moment, Eliot’s head tipped back against his shoulder and the rip tide pulling them out. There was blood fanning across Eliot’s face from a cut at his temple, and he wasn’t quite conscious, but he was breathing, and for now, that was enough.
Nate cut across the rip to escape it, then brought them into shore, doing his best to keep Eliot’s head above water, although there was no doubt he had breathed in more water by the time they reached the shore.
Changing back was not as easy or simple as the change to had been, but Nate had known it wouldn’t be, known he couldn’t deny his body something it had been craving for so long, then expect it to just let go of it so quickly again. It meant he had to drag Eliot up onto the beach with a tail, which was less than ideal and required more arm strength than he was used to using in either form, but he managed it.
He turned Eliot on his side in the sand as he continued to cough up water. Part of him wanted to leave him here for the team to find and make a break for it before they saw. Eliot was unlikely to remember anything, and Nate was sure he could make something up that would appease them. Then nothing would have to change.
Eliot’s eyes fluttered open, and he shifted fitfully, his whole body shaking with cold and shock.
“Just lie still,” Nate brushed the wet hair from his face with a webbed hand, “you’re alright.”
Eliot blinked up at him, and Nate waited for the reaction, but Eliot just gave an unsurprised “oh” before another coughing fit had him curling back into himself.
Nate let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He couldn’t wait to hear what “distinctive” thing about him had tipped Eliot off to what he was.
Someone yelled his name, and he looked up to see three silhouettes, framed against the light of the burning pier and racing towards them. It was a relief to see them, but Nate couldn’t help the unease as they got closer.
Parker reached them first, too focused on Eliot to pay much attention to Nate. She dropped down in the sand next to them, grabbing Eliot’s shoulder and shaking him in the Parker version of gentleness. Eliot batted at her weakly, but curled closer to her none-the-less. It wasn’t until Nate brushed her hand away when she tried to poke Eliot that she finally looked up at him.
Nate braced himself for fear, or disgust, or any number of negative reactions, but her face lit up like she’d just received a bag of non-sequentially numbered bills.
“You have cool teeth!” she told him brightly.
Nate’s world snapped back into place and all the unease drained out of him.
“Thank you, Parker,” he said drolly, just managing to not run his tongue over the points of his teeth.
“Oh my,” Sophie stopped short as she reached them, and Hardison almost ran into her.
“What is it?” the hacker demanded anxiously, “is Eliot…”
Hardison trailed off, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight of Nate’s tail.
“Nate’s a mermaid,” Parker announced gleefully.
“Do I look like a maid to you?” Nate groused.
“Maybe if you had a feather duster,” Sophie was giving him a look that said they would be having a long, unpleasant conversation later, “and a frilly little French smock.”
“Mermaids are real?” Hardison sputtered.
“Merrow,” Eliot corrected hazily, then curled into another coughing fit.
Nate was never going to hear the end of this from any of them. The fast-approaching sirens were almost a relief.
“Get him out of here,” Nate helped Parker to sit Eliot up, “don’t let him tell you he doesn’t need a hospital. He’s got water in his lungs.”
Hardison ducked down and helped Parker get Eliot to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and the two were quick to get his arms around their shoulders and take his weight.
“What about you?” Sophie gestured towards his tail.
“Changing back takes longer,” Nate made a shooing motion, “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You promise?” Parker demanded, refusing to be dragged in the direction Hardison was trying to usher both her and Eliot, “not like the little mermaid; you won’t turn into sea foam for loving humans?”
“No, not like that,” Nate assured her with an eyeroll, “hurry up and get out of here so I can too.”
“But you promise,” Parker refused to budge, “you’ll catch up later. You won’t disappear.”
“I promise,” Nate snapped, “go already.”
Parker grinned and turned back to help Hardison with Eliot.
“Don’t think I won’t send a trawler after you if I have to,” Sophie threatened, then turned to follow the rest of the team in the direction of the waiting van.
Nate didn’t doubt she would, and that they would find him, but he didn’t have any intention of making them do that. For now though, he pushed back into the water and let the waves carry him back out towards the open sea.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were a mermaid,” Hardison hissed, voice low in a futile attempt to not wake Eliot.
“Merrow,” Eliot mumbled groggily.
Futile because Eliot wasn’t sleeping. Exhausted, still feeling chilly if the truly ridiculous number of blankets piled on him were any indication, and a bit out of it from a not insignificant head injury, but not asleep, at least not at the moment.
“You know, I googled that,” Hardison groused, “just because Nate wears stupid hats all the time doesn’t mean he’s some kind of Irish shape-shifting sea creature.”
Sophie snorted indelicately.
“That’s not…” Eliot started to protest, only to be cut off by Parker, which was probably for the best given how soar his throat sounded.
“You can’t have your hat back,” Parker pulled Nate’s hat down farther on her head; she must have picked it up after he dropped it at the pier, “just in case.”
Eliot moved restlessly in his hospital bed, and Nate, sitting on the edge of it, dropped his hand down to pat the hitter’s wrist. He left his hand there, fingers resting lightly against Eliot’s pulse point.
“You can keep the hat, Parker,” Nate said easily, “it looks good on you.”
Parker beamed at him from the foot of Eliot’s bed.
“It’s a con anyway,” Nate continued dismissively, “someone made it up centuries ago to trick fishermen and it stuck.”
“You really are a merrow,” Hardison deflated, as if the reality of it had finally sunk in.
“Yes, Nate,” Sophie sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair regally, looking for all the world like a queen reigning over her court, “do tell us about being a mythical sea creature.”
Parker leaned forward like a child eager for a bedtime story.
“Well…”
Nate was interrupted by Eliot reaching up with his free hand to try to pull his oxygen cannulas off. Again. Nate caught his hand and lowered it back down to rest on his chest.
“Leave that be for now,” Nate gave his hand a pat.
“I don’t want it,” Eliot shifted, movements agitated and unsure, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, “we should get out of here. It isn’t safe.”
“I’ve got it all taken care of, man,” Hardison reassured him patiently, “we’re safe.”
“Security’s not…” Eliot started to protest.
“We’re security,” Nate let his hand fall back to Eliot’s wrist and left it there, “we’ll check in with the doctor this afternoon and reassess, alright?”
Eliot grumbled, but settled down again.
There was very little chance of Eliot being released before tomorrow. He was responding well to oxygen, and the CT had looked good, but he had been unconscious underwater, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted to take lightly. He was having trouble focusing and keeping track of what was going on around him, and it wasn’t because of the relatively mild pain meds he had been given.
Better to keep him where he could get the care he needed, at least while they could. Nate wasn’t kidding about reassessing. If the situation changed, and they needed to go to ground, they had other resources they could tap into to make sure Eliot still got taken care of. For now, though, this was best.
“Nate,” Parker was looking at him intently, “Sophie said I should pick something besides money that I want for my birthday.”
Nate turned to face her, resigned to whatever was coming.
“I like gold and gems too,” Parker grinned, “shipwrecks have lots of gold and gems.”
Nate gave a long-suffering sigh, and pointedly ignored Sophie suppressing a snicker.
“It wouldn’t even be like stealing,” Parker pressed, “it’s not like anyone really owns it anymore.”
“There are plenty of countries that would disagree with you on that,” Nate said dryly.
“Only if they know we have it,” Parker shrugged, “so can we go diving for treasure for my birthday?”
“You have to commit to a date for your birthday first, sweetheart,” Sophie pointed out, “also, if we’re diving for treasure, there is the platinum reserves Spain dumped into the ocean in the 16th century. Probably not enough to make the expense of an actual expedition worth it, but if you could just swim to it…”
“No,” Nate said firmly, “absolutely not. We are not treasure hunters.”
“But we could be,” Hardison smiled impishly, “we do need alternative revenues streams after all.”
“Not Spain,” Eliot murmured sleepily, “’s guarded.”
“By what? A kraken?” Hardison scoffed, then paused, “wait, there isn’t a kraken, is there?”
“No,” Nate said firmly at the same time that Eliot said “yes.”
He glared at the hitter, who gave him a tired, shit-eating grin.
“It’s not a cephalopod,” Eliot looked far too pleased with the way Hardison started to sputter.
Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to get Hardison near the water again.
“You’re making that up,” Hardison balked, “there aren’t sea monsters.”
“How would you know?” Eliot countered, “you don’t even swim.”
Hardison opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Nate interrupted him.
“What I want to know, is how you knew what I was,” he gave Eliot a curious look.
It would be good for him to know what had tipped Eliot off so he could fix it. The fewer people that could tell what he was, the better. Maggie had known, had seen him change once before they were married, but he hadn’t wanted to split his life between two worlds. He had chosen the land, still chose the land. That remained where the things that mattered to him were.
“You bled all over me when you were shot,” Eliot said, “your blood is different than human blood. It’s distinctive.”
Not something he could do anything about then, although it was interesting to him that Eliot hadn’t bothered to say anything about it sooner. As with all the random and far-reaching knowledge Eliot had, Nate was caught between wanting to know how he knew and feeling it was probably best not to ask.
“That’s just nasty,” Hardison grumbled.
“So we’ll go to South American, and Hardison and I will track down the shipwreck sites,” Parker continued as if she had never been interrupted, “you can search the shipwrecks, and Eliot can help me update my dive certification.”
“Whatever you want, darling,” Eliot yawned.
“Do I get a say in this?” Nate asked.
“Probably not,” Sophie looked thoroughly amused.
“It will be like a family vacation,” Parker grinned, clearly excited by the idea, “you and Sophie keep saying I’m supposed to try normal people things that I haven’t done before.”
Nate knew a lost cause when he heard one. He sat back and listened to Hardison and Parker plan, keeping half an eye on Eliot as he finally drifted off to sleep. Sophie alternated between encouraging the pair with much too much enthusiasm and giving Nate thoughtful side glances. He was grateful she didn’t push for more information. Not yet anyway.
He had told Maggie before he had proposed to her. It had seemed unfair not to. And Sam… Sam had been so young. Nate was never sure he really believed it was more than a fairy story. Maybe if he had lived longer… gotten to be older… who knew what could have happened, what potential had never been unlocked. It hurt to think about, made him want to reach for a bottle and try to forget all the things his son should have been, should have had.
Eliot reached for the cannulas in his sleep, and Nate caught his hand, bringing it back down to his side and holding onto it.
Nate had a future here. Different from the one he had so badly wanted, shaped by different tides, full of unexplored depths and currents, but still good. He was learning to live with that, slow though the process was. It wasn’t the catastrophe he had always thought it would be, having them find out.
If the trade-off for this new future was the occasional treasure hunt, Nate could live with that.
Parker continued to be non-committal about choosing a birthday, but there was a lovely 16th century gold and ruby pendent necklace tucked under the tree for her at Christmas.