Work Text:
Once upon a time, there was a siren who fell in love with a human.
Every day, he swam to the nearby shore and sang for him, singing in hopes that he might beckon his human to become a sailor, and follow him to the sea.
Upon hearing his song, the human desperately longed to answer the call, to follow the song that beckoned him into the waves, but life was not so kind.
He was called away to work, to war, and to care for the sick. He raised children orphaned by the war, and trained an apprentice. Once he retired to a tiny cottage by the sea, he was old and tired. He had never learned to sail, and war and age had robbed him of much of his hearing.
He could no longer hear the song that called to him, but the next time the siren returned to the shore, he would not miss his chance. Though he was old and never learned to sail, the siren still loved him, and he loved the siren in return. They embraced, and stole away to the sea together.
And so, they lived happily ever after.
Until, one day...
~☆~
Drift was happy to show Ratchet the wonders of the deep.
So long as Ratchet wore the enchanted necklace Drift had made for him, he could breathe underwater and stay by Drift’s side.
If Ratchet had been a sailor, Drift would have followed him across the oceans, singing for him until the time was right, and playing across the waves; but he had a doctor, not a sailor, and Ratchet’s strength was not that of a rippling young oarsman that Drift would drag beneath the waves and make his thrall.
Drift was happier not to have a thrall, but a true lover.
Ratchet held his hand as they swam through brilliant reefs; when he grew too tired, he hung onto Drift’s shoulders as they rode the currents.
It was a warm summer afternoon when Drift took Ratchet gently by the hand, careful not to further scratch scarred fingers with powerful claws, and guided him to a downed ship in the shallows. It had been overtaken by time, swept over by the ebb and flow of the sands, wood and metal giving way to rust and decay. The rays of sunlight from above twisted and danced across it, filling empty decks with dancing lights and twirling outlines of the ocean above. Seaweed and kelp stretched out across it, billowing upwards in verdant banners that swayed with the current.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Drift asked, releasing Ratchet’s hand to swim in a circle about the deck, the brilliant reds and whites of his scales sparkling in the sun. They created a sharp contrast to his dark skin and the elegant lines of his face, which enraptured Ratchet.
“It is,” Ratchet agreed, though he was watching Drift, rather than the ship. Truly, he only became more enchanted by the siren’s beauty the more he watched him.
“Imagine! A ship like this with you at the helm, and I climb up the side, and I watch you in the light of the lanterns, the ship bathed in moonlight… our very own!” Drift was smiling, a glittering vision in the shifting sun.
Ratchet sank down, sitting on the railing as he watched the flow of Drift’s fins in the water. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t give that to you. You dreamt of the sailor I never became.”
Drift deflated, immediately coiling forward to take Ratchet’s hand in his claw, planting a kiss on the back of his palm. “No, no, I’m far happier having you here with me than I could have ever been chasing you across the waves. There is not a creature in the sea as happy to have their beloved as I am!!”
“All creatures of the sea? So that includes creatures of the depths, hm? And do tell me, what in this ocean is scarier than you, a magical, carnivorous, poisonous beast that lures would-be sailors and poor old doctors into the ocean?”
But unbeknownst to Ratchet, there were indeed dark bubbles from the depths, a bitterness unfurling in rage and malice. While the pair swam and teased one another, basking in their moments together, something rumbled from the trenches. Black wisps of smoke burst forth from undersea vents as hatred opened up an eager eye.
There was a distant sound that echoed through the water, a vibration that hit Drift’s fins and made him tense up, reaching for Ratchet instinctively. “Ratty, we have to go—”
Jealousy.
It arched through the water and reached for Ratchet with barbed tendrils, dark ink and smoke blossoming from beneath, like hell itself opening upon the ocean’s floor.
The water churned, and everything went dark.
~
The water broke over Ratchet’s head, and he gasped for air.
He was not sure how long he had tried to swim, or how hard he swam, or what direction he went. His muscles were screaming with pain, his lungs heaving, his hands and arms struck with cuts, not from their tentacled attackers, but from Drift’s spines and claws, as he struggled to pull the half-dazed form of the siren far enough into the shallows that his upper body could rest in the sand.
He stumbled forward, dragging himself along the beach until his lungs stopped heaving, and the cool evening air no longer made him cough and gag.
In truth, Ratchet had no concept of where he was or how far they'd ended up from Drift’s home, but a beach was a beach, even if it wasn't the same as the chilly shores he was used to. Drift was bleeding, and Ratchet was not going to leave his beloved to die.
Once he had harvested the coir of some fallen coconuts and used one of Drift’s broken spines to seal up the worst wounds, he soaked some discarded fronds and wrapped them around the siren’s wounds. He knew they’d slip away as soon as Drift moved, his wounds healing themselves, but Drift’s magic seemed to only work when he was conscious, and the fronds were more to provide pressure than to actually act as bandages.
Ratchet knew he should go, he should find some safer tide pool to keep Drift in and build a fire, but his body was so sore and beyond exhausted, his limbs trembling as they fought against all attempts at movement. He managed to sit, pulling Drift into his arms.
Breathing hurt.
Everything hurt.
But all he could think of was Drift… feeling the rise and fall of the siren’s breathing, the slick of his scales and smooth dark skin, cool to the touch. They lingered in his mind, evanescent as the last vestiges of the sun painted the edges of the sky red and orange, reflecting the shimmer of his scales against Ratchet’s scarred skin.
He whispered soft pleadings and wishes to his love; the saltwater dripping from his graying hair across his skin chilled him as the waves lapped against his waist, but he paid it no mind, keeping his cheek pressed against Drift’s.
Drift came around bit by bit, until he realized where they were.
He sat up abruptly, shaking off his daze as he saw Ratchet once more, and pulled him into an embrace. He kissed him deeply, savoring their closeness, until the gravity of their narrow escape dawned on him.
“Ratty… I’m so happy you’re alive—wait—where’s our betrothal necklace?”
“What?! I was too busy hauling you ashore to worry about that!” Ratchet huffed. “You’re welcome, by the way, idiot.”
“N-no…” Drift’s voice wavered, with a crackling to it that sounded of distant waves breaking. “I—you, you’ll drown…”
His grip on Ratchet’s arm tightened, claws threatening to dig into the flesh, trembling with sadness and a pang of despair.
Above them, thunder rumbled in the distance and Drift released his grip on Ratchet, letting out a shrill screech. The sky darkened, and around them the water grew choppy as Drift’s wounds began to heal themselves, his eyes glowing with an icy blue as the wind picked up. The ocean answered his rage and mourning as darkness encroached, his fangs bared and fins flared. “No. No! I refuse! I won’t lose you again! You finally came to me! I waited for all those tides and I sang until you returned! I—I—!!”
And just as suddenly as it began, the fury drained from Drift’s face, and he collapsed there at the edge of the surf, bursting into tears. The thunder died out, and the ocean calmed, the outcry fading into memory. Everything that made him fearsome and deadly melted into sorrow.
“I-I know, I know. I don’t own you… I call you my sailor, my doctor, but you had your own life… I must not be so selfish…”
Ratchet shushed him, pulling him into another embrace. “I love you, you idiot. Don’t worry. I have loved you since I first heard your song… I was always going to choose you, from the very beginning…” His words were reduced to mumbles as the world became hazy, and dark splotches filled his vision.
~☆~
For the first time in a long time, Ratchet awoke in bed.
Not his bed, for the sheets were white and tucked tightly over him and there was no sign of the quilts from his cabin. The air smelled lightly of cleaner, but also of the ocean's breeze. White curtains billowed beside him. He knew this room, and, glancing out the window, he knew this city.
He pushed himself upright, assessing his own state. Of course someone had brought him to a hospital.
Footsteps approached, and Ratchet noted how hollow and distant they sounded, now that he wasn’t hearing them through the water. A faint tinnitus left a sustained tone in his ear, and he tried to ignore it. He was almost wobbly now, without water all around him.
“Ratchet! You’re awake!” Red Alert was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You expected me to be dead?” There was no venom to his words, but he enjoyed seeing the way the technician grew flustered at the comment.
“N-no! Not at all! First Aid just thought you’d be out for much longer… Dani found you on the beach, you had a lot of water in your lungs, and you had a fever. There were also signs of… neuromuscular toxin poisoning, and your blood and brain oxygen levels were lower than—well—even seals have more—”
“—Just let me see my chart,” Ratchet interrupted, holding his hand out for the clipboard.
He scanned the chart quickly, searching for anything, any evidence that it wasn't just a dream. He knew this concept; a fool wakes up from his fairytale dream to find himself back in reality, and no, he was not going to take that for an answer!
He refused to believe Drift was a mere dream, even if all he had to prove it were the scrapes on his arms. Drift’s scales and spines left those scratches, and that was enough to reassure him that it was real.
“I’m fine, First Aid’s notes here indicate that my condition is stable and suffered no major internal injuries, am I cleared to go?”
Red Alert opened his mouth to protest.
“I’ll call you if anything worrying comes up, does that help?” It wasn’t a request, and Red Alert wilted beneath Ratchet’s gaze.
“Y-yes, sir. Are you… are you sure you’re alright?”
Ratchet suppressed the urge to sigh. He wasn’t all right, but it wasn’t something he could explain so easily. “I’ll be fine.”
He checked himself out of the hospital, and took the bus out of the city. He returned to his cottage, trying not to dwell on how odd and distant he felt. The air around him felt empty, like the absence of the water was foreign, and everything felt so heavy, but the wind didn’t feel the same as a current.
There were no words for it—the alien feeling of being separated from the sea. He could not describe it, but it was all-encompassing. The air was too crisp, too devoid of salt or brightness. Even his clothes felt strange and wrong, and the cereal he ate for lunch tasteless and devoid of flavor.
Why?
“I must not be so selfish…”
Fuck that.
Ratchet wanted to be selfish. Ratchet wanted Drift, above everything else. He’d waited his entire life to go to the sea, and now his siren returned him to the shore, like a forgotten dream?
That night, he left the windows open to let in the salty air and the sound of the waves.
As he laid back on the pillow, he longed to hear Drift’s song once more. But there was nothing in the distant sound of the waves echoing faintly against the tinnitus that rang in his ears. Sleep eluded him, and the hours dragged on, slow and oppressive, and he ached to feel the vibrations of Drift’s chest and neck against his skin, craving the comfort of the siren’s song.
~☆~
Ratchet was not sure when he finally fell asleep, but he awoke to a pillow wet with salty tears.
He walked down to the beach barefoot, and stood in the ankle-deep water, waves lapping against his calves. Clouds partially obscured the sun, and he stared out at the distant waves. “Drift…”
There was a splash at a nearby tidepool, and Ratchet waded over to it. A crab skittered away underneath some rocks, and the sun shone down from betwixt two clouds to illuminate the water.
There it was. Swirled silver, white and red, shimmering in the light. Drift’s pearl.
Drift’s words echoed in his mind. “This is for you. It’s. Um. It’s intended to be for my conjunx endura: my mate.”
Ratchet snatched it out of the water, gripping it tightly in his closed fist, and whirled around, searching for any evidence of the siren. He dashed out of the water, running as fast as his feet could carry him, and rushed out onto the dock.
“Drift! Come back! Drift!”
All he could hear was the sound of waves around him.
“Drift! Please! At least let me say goodbye!”
A splash, and the fin that broke the waves was a brilliant red, but it wasn’t Drift’s.
The siren approached the dock slowly, a striking red and orange with golden scales that outlined his head and shoulders, with blue eyes that felt like both an empty sky and a violent storm. “Drift’s sailor.”
His voice was a crack of lightning, but also the heat of the sun, a sharp contrast to the cool water. If Ratchet cared about his own safety, he knew he should have been afraid.
“I’m a doctor, actually. Where’s Drift?”
“You found the pearl, right?”
“You aren’t answering my question. Where. Is. Drift?”
The siren’s ear fins twitched, and he lifted his head out of the water. He was smaller than Drift, though just barely, with strong shoulder muscles and wicked claws. “The pearl is yours. Drift didn’t want to steal your life from you. He’d rather give you back to the land than let you drown.”
Ratchet pressed his lips together in irritation, holding the pearl in his fist against his chest. “Why couldn’t he give me this himself?”
“Do you love him? Like, really, truly love him?”
This siren really did like to ignore Ratchet’s questions, but it was better than being left alone on the beach. “What a ridiculous question. Of course I love him. I love him with my whole heart.”
He tilted his head, his frown deepening. “Then you don’t want to know what heartbroken sirens become.”
“Try me.”
“Uh, look, I don’t expect you to know the horrors of the deep—”
“Did I stutter? I’ve been to war. I’ve seen the horrors of the land. Try. Me.”
The siren floundered a moment, biting his own lip with his fang. “Not all of us bond to humans. We choose humans, yes, and lure them to sea. Sometimes they answer our call and we are satisfied, or maybe we find our own lovers. Drift never gave up on you. He never moved on. You two finally had each other, but—”
“You’re avoiding my question,” Ratchet interrupted. “And you’re not acting like he’s dead. I know this isn’t a fairytale, he didn’t turn into seafoam. Now you’re the only thing that can lead me back to him, so tell me. What happened.”
He sank back down, blowing bubbles in the water briefly before pulling his head out of the water once more. “A heartbroken siren… becomes a kraken.”
The silence that followed was louder than the thunder of any tempest.
Jealousy.
It all fell into place, and Ratchet understood. The feelings that arched through the water and consumed him, as the tendrils had attacked them earlier. The monster from the deep, consumed by malice, was once a siren.
“Is that so?” His fist tightened around the pearl. “Is there a way to save him?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Tell me what to do.”
~☆~
The dark clouds that gathered overhead were not any natural storm. They did not follow the wind, instead swirling together over the ocean, brewing a tempest that made the water churn, the waves growing higher as the rumbling thunder grew louder.
“This sure is a tantrum,” Ratchet grumbled under his breath as he pulled the oars into the tiny rowboat. “And an awfully large one for the fool who didn’t stop to ask what I wanted…”
He stood, wobbling in the boat as it struggled against the waves that grew, forming mountains around him, as he watched the whirlpool that formed begin to bubble.
Ratchet clutched Drift’s pearl close to his chest, watching how the ocean opened up before him. His fingers trembled as he brought the pearl, the sacred gift symbolizing their love, to his lips. He could only hope this worked. If it didn’t, well…
Perhaps he was sinking to his death either way.
Taking a long, deep breath, he thought of his wish.
He thought of Drift’s song, of how he longed to answer it for years.
Of Drift’s voice, which was more like water rushing and waves crashing, and the sound of a storm on the horizon.
Of the way Drift was so delicate with him, fangs and claws and spines, powerful muscles and vicious eyes of a predator meant to devour him, that instead, fell in love.
The red siren’s words echoed in his mind, reminding him of what he must do.
“And when you know your wish, picture it clearly in your mind, and don’t let go.”
The pearl did not and entirely did have a taste. It was smooth, perfect in its roundness, and tasted like Drift’s kiss. It tasted of the ocean, of fresh fish, of the metallic tang of blood, of smoke, and of things he could not quite describe. It tasted of sand between his bare toes, and of moonlight reflecting across a still sea. Of venom, of the sunset sky, of squid ink and kelp and rotting wood. Of the fibers of powerful ropes, of the air just after a storm.
Swallowing it only intensified the taste, and Ratchet braced himself.
The sparks that arched across the clouds above were accompanied by immediate thunder, roaring louder, and then came the rain in sweeping sheets, pouring down upon him.
Were he a sailor, perhaps Ratchet would have dove elegantly into the center of the forming whirlpool, but he was not. He jumped in feet first.
The water closed over his head, and Ratchet plunged into inky darkness.
Waves built up to foam-tipped peaks above him, and the storm faded to a rolling mumble above him as he sank into the water. Beneath him lay only the vast expanse of darkness, and above, flickers of lightning dimmed as he sank.
A shrill screech sounded from beneath him, tendrils that emerged from far below, threatening to engulf him. Ratchet stared into the abyss, and forced himself to keep swimming.
What little air was left in his lungs began to burn, and an ache sank into his arms and legs. Ratchet was no stranger to pain, and he reached out, waiting until the tendrils were upon him before intertwining his fingers into an outstretched claw.
Glowing red eyes opened, and Ratchet found himself face to face with the beast himself—
Fangs bared, eyes wide, barbs growing off of his shoulders illuminated by the deadly glow of his eyes, Drift’s fury and shrill screech surrounded him. The dark clouds that filled the water were Drift’s agony and pain, and at their core, despair.
Years waiting beyond the shores, singing and singing, only to wait cycle after cycle for nothing. To finally have Ratchet in his embrace, and let him slip away so easily…
Despite the burn of his muscles, Ratchet reached for him, every strain of his muscles screaming against him, against the weight of the water around him as he pulled Drift into a kiss, hard scales and thick tentacles wrapping around him.
I love you.
This entire time, all I wanted was you. I’ve lived a full life.
All I want now is to stay with you…
The cold dark crept up around them, and Ratchet’s vision was splotchy, despite the red illumination of the water by Drift’s eyes. He poured himself into the kiss, the last bubble of air passing between them.
Ratchet’s grip on Drift’s claw weakened, and he struggled to hold onto him as the ache worsened, and a chill set in. Drift’s eyes blinked, recognition flickering through his entire being, followed by fear, panic, remorse. Violent red faded to blue, malice withering away into nothing as he was overtaken, and he screamed, waves of water pulsing outwards from them.
“Oh, stop it already.” Ratchet grumbled.
Startled, Drift released him, watching as Ratchet slowly reached back up for him, cupping his cheek.
Ratchet was glowing with a faint silver light.
Lines of white and red rippled across his skin, thickening as they grew taut and sturdy. Age spots remained, but they turned to small black spots, and his skin turned to a pale gray, becoming smooth as it morphed into the protective layer for the blubber beneath. It cascaded downwards until it was overtaken by the red and white stripes at his navel, his arms thickening and growing in Drift’s embrace, the lines of red and white framing his face and neck. He was nearly Drift’s size now, and reached forward to pull Drift into another kiss.
Drift hung there in the water, staring at him numbly. “Ratchet?”
Ratchet reached forward, brushing one of the tendrils out of Drift’s face. “Drift. Are you done?”
“I, uh—”
“Are you done? Because if you aren’t, I’m going to leave you here until you are.”
Drift closed his claw around Ratchet’s hand, barbs and monstrous tendrils melting away. “I-I… you’ve always been beautiful, but you’re amazing. You—I didn’t think you would—you only get one wish—why spend it on this? You can’t turn back into a human…”
Long and slow, Ratchet hummed out a soft response—though inaudible to him, he could feel the vibrations, the matching tone echoing from the air in his throat, a clear call through the water: his own version of Drift’s song. “You gave me back to the land without considering that when I said yes, I’d come away to the sea with you, that I meant forever .”
Ratchet released his grip on Drift’s claw to turn in the water, rolling over as his legs were consumed by a massive tail with sweeping white flukes, a long dorsal fin stretching from his back.
Unable to contain his delight, Drift swam around him in a wide circle, trilling out exuberant notes.
They vibrated the water around Ratchet, who could feel their music in the water now, more than ever. It was all around him, just as he wanted. It was more than he’d ever dreamt, and the hum they shared had its own elegant beauty. It was no longer simply Drift’s song, it was their song.
Of course, now Drift felt incredibly silly. “Forever it is, then.”