Chapter Text
Graphic by TemporaryEnthusiasm. <3
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PROLOGUE: Red And Black
Lightning flashed in the inky night, illuminating the choppy waters of Lake Erie as thunder boomed overhead. Breaking the rough surface with a pained cry, webbed hands at last finding purchase on solid ground, a solitary being dragged itself from the lake and onto the shore. Small whimpers escaped from the being as its tail slowly broke apart, transforming into two trembling legs. Its small spines withdrew under its flesh, leaving it feeling more vulnerable than before. Gulping in air through its nose and mouth, its gills rasped weakly and then melded seamlessly into the skin of its neck. Normally this process was quick and painless, undergone many times in its life, but with the deep gashes mercilessly cut into its face and body, it was in agony. The sands were splattered red with blood, rivulets running down the banks and into the dark waters. The being choked back a sob, unheard under the *BOOM!* of thunder, as it curled into itself and remembered
Remembered as a smol puffer, swimming carefree through the currents and eddies of the Chesapeake Bay’s brackish waters, investigating its surrounding creeks and rivers; playing with both freshwater and saltwater species with the uninhibited joy of the young. Gazing upon the differently colored scales of the perch and trout mer with wonder and curiosity; its own flesh in shades of seaweed, its belly the color of clams. Giggling as it puffed up during their games of tag, Sharks and Minnows, and hide-and-seek; feigning indignation when its compatriots complained of not being able to touch the puffer through its spines—but always returning to its deflated form with laughter that bubbled to the surface.
Remembered practicing its letters and its land form—interactions with humans and other land-dwelling creatures were commonplace and unavoidable. Some mer could even shift partially between their land and water forms, sprouting gills or claws as necessary (but it was nowhere near that skilled). All mer who lived in close proximity to terra firma ensured that their young received the best education possible for their success. Its mother had insisted on reading, writing, and speaking ‘English’ fluently; they spoke to each other in the mer tongue only during the quiet hours of the evening, she, counting the tiny pepper spots on its cheeks in between kisses and tickles on their bed of underwater grasses.
Remembered being separated from its mother during a particularly nasty storm, drawn into a strong undertow and struggling in vain as it was pulled further away, its cries unheeded by the impartial and unfeeling currents. Swimming through unknown waters, dark and cold, searching and not finding. Peeking up shyly between boats moored along the docks, a sign proclaimed the puffer to be in the ‘New York Harbor’. Geography, however, was not something it had learned, and a passing river herring with a strange-sounding dialect mistakenly sent it up the Hudson River to a place called ‘Waterford’.
Remembered heading west along what it later learned was the Erie Canal; its journey across hundreds of miles taking many weeks of swimming, of transforming, of scouring land and water for morsels of food, of sneaking over and around the canal locks. So very many canal locks. Weariness set into its bones, and its tail fins drooped in sadness. It knew within its sinking heart that this wasn’t the right way, but it didn’t know where else to go but onward. <Just keep swimming, my little sugar toad> its mother had said. And so it kept on swimming, until its tears were dry and its heart was stone. But still it cried in its sleep.
Remembered reaching a place called ‘Buffalo’, a new body of water called Erie. Learning that in this new home, gone was the mingling and camaraderie that it used to know. Instead, any ‘invasive’ species—especially any mer with ties to saltwater—were treated with careful nonchalance by the native inhabitants of the lake, and outright hostility by the reigning clan of sturgeon mer, the ancient and mysterious Stern Clan. Whispers spoke of another place across the lake, a place where mixed water fish had migrated and made a home for themselves, a place more tolerant and less dangerous for a young puffer. A place called ‘Detroit’. It had swum along the coast, avoiding any and all other mer with care.
Remembered being found among large underwater rocks as it hid from a nearby mer patrol, so close to Detroit, and to safety. <It’s a fucking saltie! Don’t let it get away!—Javert, get the net!—Fucking HURRY, it’s a fucking puffer!—Shit, is it poisonous??—Careful, avoid the spines!> Clawing wildly at its attackers, a lucky swipe that scratched out an eye and left the socket bleeding and empty. Scrambling to get away as hands grabbed from all directions and held it down, pressing it into the soft, sandy bottom. Being kicked and punched through the net until it could no longer struggle, mind dazed and flesh bruised. <Teach it a fucking lesson! Fucking salties think they can do whatever they fucking please!>
Remembered the daggers leaving their sheaths with a *SHNK!*, the blades pressing into its flesh until blood pooled at the tips, the slow, taunting jabs turning into a thousand angry stabs. <FUCK YOU,>— a thin laceration across its chest— <you piece>— a sharp line of fire in its fins —<of>— a deep gouge in its stomach —<SHIT!> Being cut into by the mer whose eye it had clawed out, taking a slow and agonizing revenge while snarling <something to remember me by.> Being spat on as it was finally released from its never ending torment, the patrol being called away by a clan messenger. <Maybe next time you’ll stick to the fucking Seaway, saltie! Don’t let us catch you here again.>
Remembered sobbing as it floated listlessly, endlessly, blood oozing from its wounds. Holding its stomach with a hand, wincing as fingers carefully explored the damage to its special chamber. It could never again take in water or air to protect itself. Never again be able to puff up, giggling all the while, to play Sharks and Minnows. Passing the docks, spying an inlet with a shallow beach. Ignoring the storm raging above, crying for respite.
The being pushed itself up on its arms and legs. Leaving blood-soaked sands in its wake as it pressed into the shore, it dragged its way to the safety of the streets, far from the purview of the mer of Lake Erie. Far from the waters which it had called home. Far from its brothers and sisters in spirit. Far from the memories of its mother, from laughing while being tickled and counting spots on its face and being held safe/warm/loved in a tight embrace. Far from the soothing sounds of mer lullabies that sang of the light of the moon, the warmth of the waves.
As it hoisted itself up on shaky feet, its tears indistinguishable from the warm rain streaming down its face, it resolved to never go near the water again. Its memories of its underwater life would soon be all but forgotten.
/end Prologue (Red And Black)
CHAPTER ONE: At The End Of The Day
Another sunny day in good ol’ Detroit. Gavin rubbed the scar on his nose with a finger as he looked at the growing case log on his computer terminal. Humans, trolls, elves, and other creatures had coexisted since the beginning of time, and fuck if every other species wasn’t just as fucked up as humans. Winters always had a nice lull in casework as many species went into hibernation, but with warmer weather, crime was once again on the rise.
Humans were the same old shit show, of course: petty theft, kidnappings, larceny, murder. Elves, with their lofty attitudes and nobler-than-thou demeanor, tended to get bagged for tax evasion and insurance fraud. Trolls? Trolls were all murder. But out of the myriad of different species that made their home in the Detroit area—pixies, dryads, naga (and Hank even swore he had spotted a unicorn, once)—Gavin didn’t know if the faeries or the mer were worse. (Nah, Gavin knew, but he would get in trouble with Captain Fowler if he opened his mouth again. Especially if Hank or his fucking fish pet were around to hear.)
“Detective Reed.”
Speak of the fucking devil. Gavin studiously ignored the mer 'detective' that had stopped in front of his desk. Maybe, just maybe, if Gavin was veeeeery quiet and didn’t move a muscle, the mer would think he couldn’t hear over his music and go away.
“Detective Reed. I know you can hear me. Your headphones are still dangling around your neck.”
Well, fuck. Gavin looked up at the mer, dubbed 'Connor' because his real name was too fucking long, incomprehensible, and difficult to say by anyone. Gavin had no idea what the fucking mer looked like in his fish form, but he was sure Connor looked just as stupid as he did in his land form. Goofy face: wide brown eyes, soft brown hair. Goofy voice: know-it-all and annoying, tenor clear and bright. Ugh. He had been sent a couple years ago as a representative and liaison from the Stern Clan in Lake Erie, swimming his fishie self in without so much as a 'by your leave', and partnering with Hank to deal with an increasing number of homicides.
Apparently, besides having his 'own training', Connor was a ‘natural’— whatever that meant —and it pissed Gavin off to no end. Gavin wanted nothing to do with him, and hadn’t hesitated to make sure he knew it at any given opportunity. But then Hank apparently grew a fucking soft-spot and a spine (Gavin didn’t know if Hank and Connor were friends, or lovers, or what, and he wasn’t going to touch that question with a ten-foot pole), and Gavin was told to 'shape up or ship out'. So now he played nice… well, nicer than before.
“What.”
“Captain Fowler has requested you join us in the debriefing room by the waterway locks.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. The waterway locks were at the back of the precinct, near the locker rooms. The waterways ran underneath the building, parallel to the sewer system, and gave two-way access for mer and other aquatic species to enter and leave the DPD. A system of lowering and raising the salinity levels of the water in specialized rooms on the lower level made the precinct hospitable enough to host mer and other creatures from water biomes of all different saline levels. Debriefs, witness interviews, hostile interrogations, all were as easy to do for water-based creatures as for land-based creatures. There was a receptionist desk just like at the front of the building, staffed by other mer. Gavin never fucking went there, but he could sometimes hear the hubbub from the locker rooms.
After numerous encounters with Connor that had ended in disciplinary action, Gavin had been sent to sensitivity training. Unsuccessfully. From then on, Captain Fowler simply sighed, added more notes to Gavin’s file, and kept their assignments apart whenever possible. For the captain to request Gavin’s presence in a debriefing room at the water locks meant that Gavin was about to have not-a-very-good-day.
Connor had the gall to clear his throat. “Detective, are you coming?”
Gavin hissed through his teeth. “Shit, YES. Just give me a fucking second. I didn’t know you were going to be leading me by the fucking hand.”
He stood up and shoved his chair under his desk with a good, hard slam. A strained smile crossing the mer's lips, Connor turned towards the hallway to the lower level of the precinct and moved with fluid grace towards the water locks. Gavin stared daggers into Connor’s back as he chewed his lip, following the mer to his certain, inevitable, not-a-very-good-day.
Fucking mer.
—
Following Connor into one of the rooms, the panel outside the door indicating saline levels of 15mg per liter in the pools contained within, Gavin found Captain Fowler and Hank engrossed in discussion at the table with another fucking mer. His heart dropped.
Indistinguishable from humans while on land, Gavin wouldn’t have been able to peg the stranger as a mer—except for one dead giveaway: this mer looked almost exactly like Connor. A little taller and broader, perhaps; eyes as blue and bright as sea-glass, maybe; but he was another fucking asshole from the fucking Clan Stern. It was bad enough when Connor had been assigned to the precinct, but at least he had been partnered with Hank. For this new mer to be here, and for Gavin to be here, could only mean one thing.
“Reed. Glad you could join us.” Fowler eyed Gavin, sizing up the obviously disgruntled detective. “As you’re no doubt aware, Connor’s been a valuable asset at the DPD.”
At the mention of his name, Connor inclined his head slightly and smiled, then moved to take an empty seat next to Hank.
“His brother, also specially trained, has been assigned to us from the Stern Clan to assist with a high profile case. You’ll still take the lead, of course, but from here on out, Nines—?” Fowler looked to the new mer, who nodded confirmation, “will be your partner.”
The mer stood and strode to where the human detective stood, Gavin’s mouth in a twisted frown. He held out his hand for Gavin to shake. Of course the fuckin’ fish already knew human customs. Connor had, too.
“Hello, Detective Reed.” The mer’s pleasant baritone had a warm quality to it, like waves slowly rolling up the shore on a sunny day. Gavin already hated the sound of it. “I am Nines’yl’aniel of Clan Stern. As Captain Fowler indicated, you may call me Nines. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Gavin stared at him. There was no way, no fucking way, that this was going to work. High profile case or not, this mer’s intimidating demeanor was going to stick out like a sore thumb, and scare off all of Gavin’s contacts. Not to mention he was from the Stern Clan—Gavin’s past cases with mer (or any other species unlucky enough to set foot or flipper near Detroit) never ended well when the Sterns were involved. Gavin still didn’t know how Hank and Connor had such a high close rate on their cases.
Sensing his detective’s unwelcoming mood, Fowler broke the awkward silence as Nines put his hand back down at his side. “There have been reported cases of missing mer from around Detroit. The Stern Clan wants our best people on this—”, Nines and Connor each gave a single nod of acknowledgement, as Hank muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
Shooting Hank a glare of warning, Fowler turned back to Gavin and continued “—our best people on this, and that includes you, Reed. The four of you will work together on this. There will be NO issues. Do I make myself clear?” Fowler’s gaze swept briefly around the room before landing back on Gavin.
Struggling to maintain a stoic façade, Gavin grit his teeth and jerked his head in assent. “Crystal, Captain.”
“Good. You’ll start working together tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Gavin kept his eyes averted from his new partner. Leaving him behind to schmooze further, Gavin all but bolted from the room. Fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding at a mile a minute, he stood just outside the doorway. Connor murmured something too quiet for Gavin to hear; Hank laughed. Fowler was apologizing to Nines—Gavin caught “—great detective” and “working through some personal issues.”
Gavin’s face burned. Fowler fucking knew Gavin wanted as little contact with mer as possible, knew Gavin still felt betrayed by his last partner transferring precincts without a word, and knew Gavin didn’t want a new partner—and the captain still didn’t have the fucking decency to talk with him privately before hitting him with a mer-shaped ton of bricks. No, Fowler had decided to blind-side Gavin, and in front of the two people— no, make that now *three* people —he could stand the least in the entire station. Gavin needed to let off some steam, NOW. Striding quickly from the lower levels, his brisk footsteps landing sharp and staccato on the linoleum floor, Gavin went back up to the bullpen to look for Tina.
/end Chapter One (At The End Of The Day)
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Here. Have some bonus fun Merm Connor. <3
Photo source = me.
https://www.tumblr.com/maddsmallow/710467402573430784/this-is-exactly-how-it-happened-right-inspired-by?source=share