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It was beginning to become a pattern. In the daytime, Chip felt much better than he usually did. Fantastic, even. The aching emptiness in his chest had been replaced with a fullness that he couldn’t quite describe. More than just a replacement, the eternally beating heart had filled an emotional hole that he had scarcely remembered was hurting until the pain suddenly disappeared. As if the corruption of the black sea were melting away bit by bit with every beat of the heart. His heart.
Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, Chip would sneak his hand under his jacket just to feel the rapid thumping of his heart against his fingertips. A reminder that he was no longer undead. As a child, Chip had heard undeath described in the form of horrifying monstrosities that sought to seek the vitality from living beings in hopes of creating more of their kind. In hindsight, he realized those stories were more warnings for his bad behaviour than anything. If the tellers of those stories had any indication of what existence was like for those of the undead, they surely wouldn’t have told stories as terrifying as that to children.
Undeath was the feeling of waiting. Knowing that something is meant to happen, but for one reason or another, it never comes to pass. It was restlessness beyond a simple solution, the kind that seeped into your bones and kept you awake at night no matter how many times you tried to shut your eyes. Like an illness, it seized your body and forced you to feel yourself slowly wither from the inside out. The knowledge of your death was more parasitic than any disease and twice as infectious. Not only did you yourself have to come to terms with your own demise, so did everyone else around you, and they would not let you forget it for even a second. Their stares seemed like the only things you could feel anymore and their whispers the only thoughts spiraling through your clouded mind.
Even something as simple as thinking was obscured by a fog that gripped your brain, slowing every thought that managed to form from the grey flesh that rotted inside your skull.
But those days were over. The beating of his heart was the one indication that Chip was alive again. Perhaps it was even so magical that it would heal whatever damage undeath had done to his body. The inky tattoos that spiraled across his skin wasn’t the best indicator of a full recovery, but he had to hope. After all, his co-captains no longer looked at him with as much pity as before. In the Black Sea, Chip had to remind himself not to look into others’ eyes or else he would see the pity in their gazes. In the beginning, the attention had been welcome, but once the reality of his death set in, their pity only made him angrier.
In the daytime, everything felt fine. But at night, surrounded by nothing but his own thoughts, Chip began to feel strange sensations. At first, it started with a looming sense of nervousness that lingered over him when he was alone. At times, Chip would become intimately aware of the beating of his heart and found his focus being drawn to the rhythm rather than anything in front of him. Then the pain began. Small pangs of sharp pain in his chest made him quickly check his pulse just to make sure it was still beating. Sometimes it would be a single jab, other times it would come back again and again. He found himself being drawn to feel his pulse whenever he noticed the beating, checking for any irregularities. Just because it was magic didn’t mean it couldn’t have any other issues.
The nervousness slowly became a routine. It would set in by the time the sun went down and make him acutely aware of the sensation of the heart beating. Eventually, after a while of focusing on the rhythm, the sharp pains would start across his chest. Chip knew it was probably just his body overreacting to the foreign object. Sometimes the pain wouldn’t even be able to locate what side his heart was on and would hurt his right side instead. But no matter how much logic he used, his brain couldn’t be convinced that everything was fine.
That night, Chip lay awake on his hammock, staring up at the ceiling. They had been out of the black sea for some time now and it felt like everything had gone back to normal. Jay’s snores echoed through the cabin and, every now and then, a bubble popped on the surface of the water in Gillion’s barrel. But nothing was as loud as the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Something was wrong.
Despite laying there for what felt like hours, the inconsistent pains hadn’t stopped no matter how many deep breaths he’d taken. His heartbeat also felt off, as if it were timed wrong, and far too slow for his liking. That couldn’t be normal. Thoughts flooded Chip’s mind and overpowered any logical conclusion he could’ve made with pure anxiety alone. What if his heart was slowing down? At this rate, his heart could stop for good. Maybe the eternally beating heart was just another trick from Niklaus, a final attempt to give the pirates false hope before ripping it away from them. What if it stopped entirely? Maybe his luck had finally run out and he would die completely this time.
What was true death like? Chip didn’t want to find out. The more he thought, the faster he felt his chest rise and fall, and the faster his heartbeat went. If he just kept the heart rate up, then surely it wouldn’t stop. His own hyperventilation joined the sleeping breaths of his co-captains as Chip tried to keep his heart beating. Stopping would certainly mean death. He had to keep the heart beating.
Suddenly, an idea came to him: If he just exercised a bit, that would keep the heart rate up much better than breathing quickly could. Chip pushed down against the hammock to sit up, hunched over his legs as his weakened muscles tried to get him upright. As he went to straighten his back it felt as if a knife had been shoved between his ribs. Chip hissed through his teeth at the pain, unable to stop as his breaths became faster and faster with panic. Oh Gods, this was really it. The heart had stopped.
His fingers flew to the side of his neck, pushing into the flesh to try to feel for a pulse, but nothing. Absolutely nothing. It felt as if all the blood drained from his body, every coherent thought he had washed away with nothing but pure panic taking its place. He couldn’t feel his pulse. He couldn’t feel his pulse. He was going to die, again, and it would be in the middle of the night while everyone else slept. There was no one awake to help him. No one to save him. He’d die for real and there was no one to stop it.
Chip nearly fell out of his bed as a hand flailed out to grab the rim of Gillion’s bucket. Jay was across the room, and Chip knew he couldn’t walk right now, but Gillion was sleeping right next to him. The triton could also heal better than anyone else he knew. Gillion would know what to do.
“Gill,” Chip whispered, trying to keep his panicked voice low for fear of waking Jay. When that didn’t wake him, he dunked his hand into the barrel, tapping the top of Gillion’s head with urgency. Immediately the triton sprang up, looking around for the threat.
“Huh? What? Are we being attacked?” Gillion announced as if he were trying to wake up the entire ship along with him.
“No!” Chip hissed. Every deep breath caused another fresh stab of pain. He was starting to become lightheaded. The room around him spun and it was all he could do to keep his hands on the rim of Gillion’s barrel. “Gill. Gill, I think the heart stopped.”
Gillion’s face paled as he leaned down, placing two fingers to the side of Chip’s neck and applying pressure. His skin felt like ice and cool seawater dripped from his fingers down his neck, making Chip shiver. After a few moments, Gillion pulled his fingers away and shook his head. “Nope, still freakishly fast as always,” he assured.
The blood rushed back into Chip when he heard that. So he wasn’t dying after all. The panicked look on Gillion’s face had been replaced with gentle concern now as he looked down at the man. “Are you alright, Chip? Did you have another nightmare?”
“N-No, I just- I dunno, I couldn’t feel my pulse,” he said honestly. After that scare, he didn’t have the energy to lie right now. Not to his co-captain.
“Well, for future reference, it is right here.”
Gillion’s hand closed around Chip’s and brought the man’s fingers to his own neck. He placed two of Chip’s fingers right next to his windpipe and applied pressure so he could feel the heartbeat for himself.
“Yeah, I know how to feel my pulse,” Chip said, brushing Gillion’s hand away. “I just- Could you, like, do some magic seeing shit on my heart to see if there’s anything wrong with it?”
“Chip. To my knowledge, you are perfectly healthy,” Gillion said. There was more than gentleness in his eyes now. It was transforming into full-blown concern and perhaps even a dash of that old pity from the Black Sea. Chip looked down.
“I don’t care, okay? Something’s wrong. Can you do it or not?” he snapped. Without another word, Gillion nodded his head and complied. Something teal began lighting up in the center of the triton’s palm and, from it, water, until his entire hand was coated in it. Unlike before, Gillion’s hand was warm as it pressed against Chip’s heart and began glowing even stronger. The water began to move, swirling around his hand in droplets and streams before getting sucked underneath his palm. The glow dissipated, leaving Chip with a fresh sensation that spread through his body like the first breath on a cold winter morning.
“There. Any disease or illness you have should be cured now,” Gillion told and yet Chip could still feel that sharp pang in his chest. It wasn’t as sharp as before and he could take a deep breath now, but it was still there, as inconsistent and worrying as always.
“I-I don’t think it worked. You gotta do it again,” Chip explained. He met Gillion’s eyes with a silent plea. The pity in Gill’s eyes deepened, his vibrant blue eyes becoming as dark as the open ocean as he dropped his gaze.
“Chip. . . There is nothing wrong with you,” Gillion assured. “If there was, I would have fixed it.”
“But you didn’t!” Chip cried. “There’s this, like, sharp pain in my chest and I can feel my heart beating and I’m dizzy and-”
“I do not think that can be solved with my magic,” Gillion said. He got out of the barrel now, dripping seawater down onto the floorboards of the captain’s quarters as he stood in front of Chip. “I can only heal physical ailments, not mental ones. There is no disease doing this, Chip. It is just you”
That couldn’t be right. He had been feeling this for literal days on end, it couldn’t be in his head. The palpitations, the nervousness, the pain. It had to be something wrong with him, right? But if there had been, Gillion would have healed it already.
“No, that can’t be right. This has been happening for days, Gill. There has to be something wrong,” Chip said
Gillion shook his head. Despite his wetness, the triton made himself at home on the edge of Chip’s hammock. “I know this is a bit hard to believe, but sometimes, your body can feel things that aren’t actually there,” Gillion explained. “Like a phantom pain.”
He’d heard of phantom pain before. Some of the pirates Chip sailed with as a child experienced phantom pain of limbs that had been replaced years ago. The pirates talked of pain that came out of nowhere and only seemed to linger as long as they were focused on the lost limb. Chip had never experienced anything like that, even after his original heart was stolen. All he’d felt was an emptiness that increased by the day. Never pain.
“It’s just your mind trying to protect you. Sometimes it hurts you instead of helping. That’s probably what it’s doing right now,” Gillion said.
It certainly didn’t feel like that’s what was happening. It felt like his heart was going to give out at any moment. Every now and then, another sharp pang went through his chest that made him all too aware of the sensation of the heartbeat. Sure, it had lessened when he had been focusing on Gill, but that couldn’t be all there was to it.
“Are you sure?” Chip asked. He hated how small his voice sounded right now. Like he was a scared little kid all over again.
“Positive,” Gillion told, flashing Chip an encouraging smile. “Actually, I heard somewhere that putting pressure on your chest can actually help stuff like this.”
That sounded the opposite of helpful right now. In fact, it sounded like a fast track to make the heart finally give out. But Gillion could always heal him if any damage happened to the heart, so Chip thought it was worth a try. “Alright. Do I just put, like, a barrel on my chest or-?”
His thought was cut short as Gillion moved closer to him. Chip felt heat rise in his cheeks when the triton leaned towards him and for a moment he felt his mind fill with thoughts completely unrelated to his health. This close, he could see the subtle flecks of gold laced into Gillion’s iris that shimmered in the moonlight. Their faces met for a brief moment, inches apart, before Gillion’s head came to rest on Chip’s shoulder. The triton had laid himself fully over Chip like a blanket.
“Uh, Gill? What are you doing?” Chip questioned.
“I’m putting pressure on your chest,” Gillion answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Okay, yeah, but why not just grab a box or somethin’?” Chip asked.
“A box would be too heavy. This is much safer,” Gillion replied. From this angle, Chip couldn’t see Gillion’s eyes, but from the tone of his voice he knew the triton was being completely serious. He wasn’t sure if that aggravated him more or less.
The moisture on Gillion’s skin slid across his own, dampening any clothing he was wearing and making it stick to his body uncomfortably. The scent of salt and fish surrounded him. But he had to admit, despite the water, the pressure did feel nice. It felt as if his body were being pressed back into shape. The sharp pain in his chest dulled to a barely-noticeable ache and the palpitations that had once caused him panic now felt normal.
Pressed together like this, he could feel Gillion’s heart beating right along with his own. It was much slower, of course, but it was there. Strong and sure just like its owner. Chip felt his eyes slip closed as he focused his attention on the steady rhythm of Gillion’s heart. Neither one spoke, creating a comfortable silence in the cabin that brought the quieter sounds back into focus. The whisper of the waves outside, Jay’s gentle snoring, and now Gillion’s hushed breathing.
Whatever anxiety Chip had been feeling was pressed out of him by the comforting weight of Gillion laying on top of him. There was someone else here with him, he wasn’t alone. Even if the heart did manage to stop, Gillion would be able to feel it immediately and would heal him before it did any real damage. He was safe.
After a while, Gillion asked, “Feeling any better?”
“Actually, yeah,” Chip replied. He hadn’t realized just how touch-starved he’d been until he felt Gillion lay down. This alone was enough to give him a pleasant buzz of comfort.
“That is good to hear,” Gillion said. Chip could feel Gillion smile against his shoulder and it prompted him to smile as well. “Please do not be afraid to wake me up like this again.”
“Nah, I don’t wanna bother you too much with this shit,” Chip dismissed. Now that he knew it was all in his head, there was no reason to involve anyone else. It wasn’t like he was going to die over it or anything even if that’s what it felt like.
He felt Gillion shift, pushing down against the hammock to raise himself up over Chip. Their eyes locked, Gillion’s as steady as a windless sea as he glared down at the man. “Chip, I would literally die for you. Don’t ever say you’re bothering me.”
Gillion wouldn’t lie about something like that, but that amount of commitment made Chip uncomfortable. Sure, he’d do the same for the triton, but having that level of reciprocation made him feel unworthy of such care.
Now that he was staring straight up at Gillion, Chip realized how uncomfortably close their faces were. The long strands of Gillion’s undone hair streamed down like a curtain, blocking out the moonlight from hitting his face. It made his eyes look even darker and obscured any hint of the gold flecks from before. There was something in his eyes that unnerved Chip. Maybe it was the closeness, but it felt a little too intimate. It was a rich sentiment, coming from the situation they were in, but there was more than just determination in Gillion’s eyes. They held a commitment that mirrored the look the triton had when talking about his oath. He’d only seen this look given to what Gillion cherished most and now it was being directed at him.
“You said it yourself, it’s all in my head,” Chip said. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Don’t say that,” Gillion demanded. “It does matter, Chip. It matters because it’s hurting you. If you need something, just say you need it. I don’t care how stupid you think it is.”
Once again, Chip felt the heart beat against his chest, but this time it felt different. It was much faster than before and thumped in a steady rhythm, not motivated by any sort of anxiety. In the absence of Gillion’s heartbeat it was the only thing steadying Chip as his gaze remained locked with the triton’s. He swallowed, trying to conjure a thought for a moment before speaking. “Could you lay on me again?”
Gillion smiled. It was small, but within it was a fondness that Chip could not describe. The triton slowly settled himself back down and let out a sigh against Chip’s neck. The steady beat of Gillion’s heart returned and nestled itself right next to the irregular beating of Chip’s. He let out a long breath just to feel the sensation of Gillion’s body weighing him down.
Chip didn’t realize he fell asleep until the cabin around him became suddenly filled with daylight. He blinked, looking around to see that Jay had apparently gotten up before them. His eyes traveled down and he nearly jumped when he saw the teal skin of the triton still laying on top of him. Gillion’s tail had curled into the hammock at this point and his limbs had splayed out to fully cover the man underneath him. There was no way Chip could have gotten up without waking Gillion so he didn’t. He closed his eyes again, fading back into a comfortable sleep.
Every now and then, in the days ahead, Chip would go up to Gillion and ask the man to feel his pulse for him to make sure it was still beating. Every time, Gillion gave him that fond smile and told him it was alright. The pressurized sleeping arrangements had started as an occasional occurrence but quickly escalated to an every night situation when Gillion had started having nightmares of his own.
Chip had never slept better.