Chapter Text
Rocky is not a marine biologist.
“How’s the tank?”
“All secure. You have about a half-hour’s worth of oxygen, but I doubt it’ll take that long to get the sample.”
His lovely, wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, highly competent and skilled spouse, Adrian is. Adrian is also a couple inches over six feet in height, and not remotely able to squeeze into the small crevice they discovered earlier in the week. Rocky, who’s of a much shorter stature, can fit. So, he’s in the diving suit to get the sample.
Not like it’s his first rodeo with diving. Nah, Rocky has dunked his head underwater plenty of times over the years of his marriage and career. Hard not to with a spouse as devoted and endeared with sea creatures as his Adrian is. Dives with the two of them are usually for fun, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Well at least he knows what he’s doing, Rocky does plenty of dives for his work, too, but not often with both of them on the same project– You get the point.
Adrian has been working with the Erid Marine Rehabilitation & Research Center for a decade now (and Rocky has had a long-standing contract with them for underwater welding and maintenance), and everyday they continue to work on their passion project of protecting the coastal reefs and aiding in the wellbeing of injured or sick sea creatures. They put so much pressure on their shoulders to help as many of them as they can, and it’s something Rocky has always admired about them. That steadfast determination, that optimistic look to the future, that unyielding hope for something better. He falls for them more and more each and everyday, he swears. And, for how much he loves them, he’s willing to put himself in pretty precarious and ridiculous situations. Such as his current assignment.
Rocky offers a silly salute, before jumping back into the waters below. Despite the sunny afternoon, the water is chilling to the bone.
Adrian smiles, a hand hovering at their brow to block the sun, “Keep an eye out for any irregularities.”
Rocky gives a thumbs up, his equipment in his other hand, and dives down into the sea. This particular reef has become a focal point in Adrian’s research the last month. It’s dying, and they can’t quite figure out why. Most of the marine life has either migrated or died out. The coral gets frailer and sicker with every rotation, so they’re getting desperate for a solution. Adrian spotted a small crevice, a carving out in the side of a short sea cliff at the edge of the reef not long ago, and was getting some odd readings from it. Rocky can much more comfortably squeeze into the opening, and hopefully there’s something of value in there that Adrian can use to continue searching for answers.
He kicks his flippers, pushing his way past greying coral and a few skittering crustaceans. He’s always really liked crabs, shrimp, urchins, the little guys one can usually find in a touch tank. Adrian has a preference for larger sea creatures like sharks, whales, and seals. The whale shark tattoo that curls along their side, up their rib cage and ending at their hip bone is an attestment to that. Rocky has a number of tattoos as well, lining up his arms and back, but his tattoos lean more towards his own passions, like the measuring tool scrawled upon his left forearm. Though he does have the coordinates to his and Adrian’s favorite beach–a little stretch of sand near his hometown–drawn near his collarbone, his one oceanic piece as a dedication to his at-the-time fiancé.
Rocky peers around, but doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary from the pictures Adrian shared with him as they were giving him a debrief on what to look out for.
The edge of the reef, the sea cliff, comes into view. As does the small opening in the side of it. Rocky aims the light attached to his goggles to get a better look. It’s just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, but the interior is bigger once he passes the ring of rocks at the direct entrance. It’s actually a lot deeper than he initially thought. It’s more a tunnel than a crevice, a winding turn pushing him further in. Rocky kicks his way through another tight spot, just barely fitting his shoulders in, and finds himself in a… well, a decent sized cave. He propels himself forward and up, and finds there’s even an air pocket and a shelf of stone untouched by the calm waters. His light illuminates something strange along the edge of the shelf, just barely dipped into the pool.
It’s… a nest. Or something awfully resembling a nest. A bed of kelp, sea grass, and other softer plant life, tucked in a way he has an inkling must be comfy to curl up in. He thinks he even sees the remnants of an old torn sail, the tarp resting over it like a blanket. A few other human made trinkets litter the space, along with discarded shells and fish bones, though some are oddly shaped, like they’ve been altered for a new purpose. There’s a starfish torn open, perhaps half-eaten. Cluttered. Lived in.
Rocky’s heart nearly stops in his chest when it dawns on him. No way. He’s found the nesting grounds of a–
Something snags Rocky’s ankle and pulls him back under the water. He flails in panic, but whatever has a hold of him has a strong grip. It doesn’t stop pulling him down, until Rocky comes face to face with a merman.
He doesn’t have a way to contact Adrian or the crew onboard. There was no reason to, it wasn’t supposed to be anything dangerous or complicated. Merfolk are both.
An equally rare and revered aquatic species amongst humans, even if the relations between the two have been fraught over the centuries. The mutual understanding that humans roamed the land and the mers had the sea, was quickly destroyed as man’s greed and hunger for control grew stronger. Many merfolk have been pushed away from their homes, many learned to adapt to the depths of the sea, away from the prying hands of humans. There’s still so much about mers that humans don’t know, it’s hard to find one isolated from their communities, their pods, let alone one unwilling to attack humans. Mers are predators, after all, the top of their food chain in the deep blue sea.
Rocky’s never seen one in person. He’s not even sure Adrian has.
Pale blue eyes, like a clear day’s sky, stare at him. Golden hair circles the merman’s head. Orange and blue scales are embedded in his skin along the lines of his face, up his neck. Those scales are scattered all over the very-human torso of the mer, but it almost entirely encompasses his forearms and the line at his hip bones that extend into a massive tail. These details are fleeting, momentarily catching his eye, before they settle on the actual danger, which is the mer’s row of sharp teeth. Made to tear scales and flesh, mers have a powerful jaw. It’s their main weapon against their prey. Violent merfolk have been known to rip the throats of humans who dared to encroach on their territory, ignorant people who just swam a little too close.
Rocky has found himself in the heart of a lone mer’s den. Uninvited, trespassing, caught in his trap.
The human freezes, palms up and open in likely a pointless attempt to placate. Eyes wide behind his goggles, he watches the merman circle him, emitting what sounds like clicks and whistles. Merfolk have a completely unknown language to humans, something evolved to travel vast distances in the open water. Few well made recordings fill a data bank that sorely lacks enough for any sort of true comprehension, despite a few mer linguistic enthusiasts’ best attempts.
Rocky flinches when the merman’s claw clinks against the oxygen tank attached to his back, which just startles the merman in turn. He ducks out of Rocky’s light, behind a stalagmite on the cave floor.
He hesitates, his heart racing in his chest. Well, this merman hasn’t attacked him yet. He actually seems mostly… curious, if a bit cautious. Which can’t be blamed, plenty more humans have hurt merfolk than vice versa.
A crazy idea forms in his mind, recalling the collection of both human-made and crafted trinkets this mer has accumulated in his home. Rocky carefully moves, keeping his hands always in view for the mer, who slowly comes out from hiding. He untangles the cord tying a bracelet of seashells to his wrist. It’s not the easiest thing, between the drenched material and his gloves, but he manages with a few muffled swears. He holds out the jewelry towards the merman, using his other hand to first point to himself, then to the bracelet, and lastly to the mer.
His eyes zero in on the offered gift, before a clawed, webbed hand hesitantly takes it. There’s a glint there, something full of curiosity and wonder, as he examines the bracelet. When Rocky gets his attention again, he gestures to where he wore it on his wrist before, and then back to the mer. His message seems to come across, and the merman struggles to encircle the jewelry to his wrist. His brow furrows in concentration, but it’s a difficult task even for a human with more dexterous fingers.
Rocky takes a hold of the ends of the cord, pausing when the merman jolts and freezes, demeanor tense but not irate. His gaze pierces through Rocky, but he thankfully doesn’t bare his teeth in aggression. Just waits and sees what he does. Rocky takes this as permission, and he ties the bracelet to the merman’s wrist, careful not to do it too tight. When he’s done, he shakes his hands as if to say, ‘Ta-da!’ as is habit for him to do. It always gets a smile out of Adrian. The merman chirps, perhaps in thanks, as he holds his arm up to examine the shells along his wrist. The webbing that lines the outer shell of his ears flutters in a way that reminds Rocky of a butterfly’s wings. He hazards a guess it’s a sign of happiness.
This time when the mer circles the human, he feels less nervous. Hard not to when the merman using the powerful tail that takes up the lower half of his body encircles him and sings.
The sound catches him off guard. There are stories that merfolk use songs to communicate with their pods, like whales do. Few have witnessed such a phenomenon, and he’s heard even less encounters of a mer singing to a human. Rocky’s breath stutters in his chest, in awe as the melody hums through the water.
His excitement is cut short when a warning beep reverberates through Rocky’s suit. His oxygen tank is running low. He startles, which in turn sadly halts the merman’s dance. He’s not sure how to explain this, but he tries. Making a bunch of wild gestures to himself, to his tank, to the merman, and to the tunnel entrance of the cave. He blinks at him in turn, which… fair. That probably wasn’t very clear.
However, his attempted miming must make some sort of sense, because something like realization brightens the mer’s expression. He nods, clicking as he urges Rocky towards the cave’s exit. Thank god, he didn’t want to set the creature off or offend him in some way by just ditching. This encounter, it’s… well, frankly it’s monumental in the study of merfolk.
Rocky squeezes his way through the tunnels, and nearly tumbles his way out into open water. Instead of pulling down, a hand around his wrist pulls him up towards the surface now.
Breaching it, he quickly pulls off the breather and his goggles, the sun glinting off the top of the ocean. He gasps in the fresh air, salt on his tongue. A mop of golden waves appears next to him, the mer chirping in question. Rocky severely doubts he can understand him, but he hopes the sentiment still comes across when he grins and says, “I’m good now.”
With a delay he realizes the merman is keeping him above water, webbed hands holding him at the elbows and his tail swishes beneath them in a lazy pattern. His scales shimmer in the sunlight, like golden beacons.
Rocky hears a gasp, a chorus of frantic human voices behind him, and he peers back over his shoulder to see the boat bobbing along the calm waves a couple meters from him and the merman. Adrian is leaning over the railing, their green eyes huge, as they shout, “Rocky! Is that–?!”
He waves to them, hoping to ease the terror flitting across his partner’s face, “I’m okay! I made a friend!”
Adrian sputters, before guiding the crew to bring the boat closer to the pair. A low growl emanates from the merman, and Rocky tries to assure him, “It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. Promise.”
The merman eyes the human-made craft suspiciously, but he seems to hesitate letting Rocky go. He looks back at the creature, noticing a scar that mars his neck, shaped like puncture wounds. He frowns, wondering what happened to this mer, why he’s alone, living in a dying reef.
Adrian practically drags Rocky up and onto the boat once they’re close enough, wrapping him up in their arms, not caring he’s still soaked in salt water, and checking him over for any injuries. He laughs, pulling off some of his gear, “Adrian– Please, mi amor, I’m fine.”
“But–” Their eyes trace back to the merman, who has moved a healthy distance from the humans, but keeps his head above the surface, “How did you–?”
“I don’t know.” He explains, shaking out his hair once he gets the cap of his wetsuit off, “That crevice? It’s a tunnel that leads to a cave, his nest. He’s a reef mer.”
Adrian chokes, even more frantic now, “You went into a mer’s nest? A-A podless mer’s nest?! How are you alive right now?”
Rocky shrugs, “I’m kinda wondering the same thing.”
After divulging most of his baggage, he goes back to the boat’s edge–despite Adrian’s protests–and dips his feet back into the water. The merman hesitantly swims closer at Rocky’s encouragement, but he speaks to Adrian behind him, “He didn’t try to attack me. He seems mostly curious. I even gave him a peace offering.”
Adrian must spot the shells on the mer’s wrist, “Your bracelet? You…” They let out a breath, sounding fondly exasperated, “Honey, you amaze me.”
He grins at that, and once the mer is close enough to reach out to, he offers his hand. The entire crew holds their breath, anticipation welling up amongst them, not a single pair of eyes looking anywhere else.
A webbed hand meets his, scales pressed against his palm. Rocky ponders, tilting his head, “What’s a lone mer doing in a dying reef?” He recalls the brief sweep of the merman’s nest he had done, a thought nagging at the back of his mind. There was something more meticulous about a certain part of the space, coral and bones and handmade tools. Not eaten like he originally suspected, but a dissected starfish. He whirls back towards Adrian, excitement buzzing within him, “Adrian, I think… I think we’re all here for the same reason.”
-
They call it astrophage. “Star-eater.” It originated in a mutation in starfish after a group of them consumed the unknown substance, and it spread fast. Between predators and prey, coral and other invertebrates. A microorganism, previously undetected, grew and ran rampant, practically invincible and almost entirely invisible. It wreaked havoc on this little ecosystem, and if they don’t find a way to eradicate it quickly, it could spread across the entire globe and kill off more and more reefs.
Adrian coined the name after Grace’s discovery.
Oh, right, Grace is the merman Rocky befriended. Communication is spotty and still very much a work in progress, but the couple and the mer have made strides in closing the gap between the two species.
Over several months, they’ve learned a lot about mers that has permanently altered decades of assumptions and foregone conclusions. Obviously it was known that merfolk are an intelligent species that share a great deal of evolutionary similarities to humans, but for a long time they were considered no more than animals. However, Grace blows every previously held notion right out of the water. He’s smart, in a way that kinda terrifies a lot of the people who work directly with the mer. Rocky is, in fact, delighted with this turn of events.
Grace and Adrian, once their awkward initial distrust melted away, get on like a house on fire. The two happily bounce ideas off of one another, and Adrian answers all million-and-a-half of Grace’s questions about humans. In turn, Grace eagerly offers his own knowledge of his merpeople. Well, as much as he can, his personal memory is spotty on occasion, but he seems to improve with each new day. Rocky has a theory it may be linked to some form of trauma regarding his previous pod and that scar on his neck. Regardless, he and Adrian don’t push.
Unfortunately, Grace has an unshakable habit of falling ill, a fact that startled and frightened the couple upon learning. They have a feeling his close proximity with ground zero of the astrophage crisis likely contributes to this, even if Grace makes every possible consideration and care to ensure he doesn’t become infected. Still, one can’t control nature, so Grace often needs looking after. Which means Rocky and Adrian have been practically living out of a boat for over half a year now.
Not that he would ever complain, and Adrian certainly doesn’t mind more time out on the water.
Grace has his upper body perched on the boat ledge, some now soaked but plush towels under his arms, as he chirps a question. The translator installed onto Rocky’s laptop that’s always on standby when Grace is nearby, echoes his sentiment in English with a masculine voice the mer picked out himself, “Close to cure. Will reef be okay?”
Adrian pauses where they were fidgeting with a pen and not making a lot of progress on their crossword book, and frowns down at the merman, “If we can stop the astrophage in time, there’s hope, but…”
Rocky knows what they’re about to say, the words choking them up. Because this reef is all Grace has left. It’s his home, but it will likely take at the very least decades for the reef to restore to its once former glory. Time is of the essence for an ecosystem like this to heal itself, to return to form. Grace… Well, Grace may not live long enough to see that, not with the way his health keeps deteriorating.
Grace nods in understanding, because he does get it, as heartbreaking as the truth is, “Grace will have to find new home.”
Rocky peers back at Adrian, a silent conversation flitting back and forth between them, a habit from years of comfortable and familiar marriage. They’ve talked about this ad nauseam, what will happen to Grace when all is said and done. While this project has taken priority, and the work will certainly not be completed for quite some time, they can’t live like this forever. Grace can’t live like this forever. The best chance for him would be… Well, it would be coming with them. To Erid. Adrian is firm on this stance, but Rocky hesitates. Is that really what’s best for Grace? Away from his home in the sea, in a tank for the rest of his life? Is that really what he would want? Wouldn’t he want to live with his people, his own kind?
Adrian would give him a long, knowing look at his protests. Because they know Rocky, and they know he’s only saying that for what he believes is for the benefit of his friend. Because what Rocky wants shouldn’t matter, not when it concerns Grace’s future.
Rocky ruffles Grace’s hair with a comforting grin, assuring, “You’ll find a new home in no time. And, we’ll help you every step of the way, okay?”
Grace’s eyes fill with tears, another facet of the mer they quickly learned and adapted to. His heart is right on his sleeve, whether that be grief, anger, frustration, or joy. Whenever Rocky encourages him or Adrian praises another breakthrough, it seems inevitable a couple tears will follow. To Grace, even the smallest of sentiments is like a foreign gift, something precious and unbelievable to the merman. It breaks Rocky’s heart every time. What sort of life did he lead before, that easy friendly affection is treated as the utmost greatest treasure, as if Grace fears this will be the last time he will ever have something as nice as that?
The mer wraps his arms around Rocky’s waist as he’s wont to do, and chirps a now familiar tune. Rocky doesn’t mind the hugs. He’s gotten pretty used to saltwater soaking his shorts, and the mer rubbing his cheeks affectionately against Rocky’s own. They have the research to back up that gesture, it’s usually done between members of the same pod. An expression of contentment towards family.
Adrian smiles at the two of them, as the nice moment is disrupted by the two starting a bickering war on which experiment they should prioritize next. They roll their eyes as Rocky yelps his protest about his hair finally being dry, and Grace not caring two fins about that, and splashing his tail towards him in retaliation to whatever offense Rocky may or may not have caused.
All in all, a pretty normal day for the Blip-Aqua crew.
-
Confidentiality and care is essential to their current mission.
In between working to find a solution, Rocky is documenting all they learn about merfolk from Grace’s teachings. It’s a helpful practice, and while it’s not his specialty, his coding skills are nothing to sneeze at, and he thinks he has done an awesome job building a network of information, if he does say so himself. It’ll be essential for Adrian’s continued studies, and for other merfolk scholars. Astrophage also has a decent sized amount of documentation, Grace is constantly updating that one. Of course, the three of them don’t work alone. There are people in the Erid Center who study alongside Adrian, and they’ll call for their help. There are some with more mer expertise in fields the couple aren’t as knowledgeable in, who help when Grace comes down with something severe. Or that time a species of eel Adrian isn’t as familiar with dies from astrophage and they need samples. It’s touch and go, but they are making steady progress.
Sometimes they need extra hands on deck for specialty dives, longer travel, or when a storm blows through. While Rocky and Adrian can reasonably trust that their fellow researchers or Erid co-workers are not going to break ranks and spread classified information pertaining to the project, they have to be more careful with any other help they seek. Running thorough background checks, signed contracts, and lawyers are all sort of necessary to the process. Still, human error is unavoidable and there’s always a chance of something slipping through the cracks.
Rocky believed he would be able to notice if something like that were to happen, but he’s only human, too.
Their team has a limited amount of time to catch the predator they have been searching for, an amoeba that only migrates close enough to shore for safe capture during a brief window. Unfortunately, this brief window is in the midst of a deadly storm season. They had to leave behind their usual boat, Blip-Aqua, for the more robust, Tau Ceti, on their little fishing trip. Grace had insisted on coming with them, despite the distance from the reef they needed to travel.
“Grace will be fine, will stick close to ship.”
Rocky frowned, protesting, “But, if a storm blows through, and you get lost–”
“Will not. Grace will come aboard if need to. Will be fine with storm. Grace can handle self.”
Rocky wasn’t quite convinced, but Grace can be a stubborn little shit when he wants to be, so there was no talking him out of it. Besides, he had a better sense of the sea. They’ll have an easier time finding the predator they’re looking for with Grace as a guide than if they were on their own. Human instruments are impressive, but they still pale in comparison to merfolk’s natural instincts.
The crew ready themselves, eyeing the dark grey clouds above them. No time to waste, Rocky reminds himself. He and Grace exchange thumbs up, before they head into the zone, mission ready.
Rain pelts down on them, instantly soaking through his clothes and plastering his hair to his forehead. Adrian calls out orders to their crew. They left Rocky in charge of the actual collector, a wench that he will need to activate once Grace leads them to their predator. He nearly stumbles, losing his footing for a moment. He grabs onto the railing with an iron grip, steadying himself. He faintly hears a concerned chirp, sees Grace just below him as if he’d been ready to catch him if he went overboard. He calls out, “All good! Stay on task!”
Grace nods, dipping back below the waves to guide the collector.
A flash of lightning blinds him, lighting up the sky followed by a terrifying crack of thunder. The wind howls, the ship creaks, and Adrian hollers above it all, “Rocky! NOW!”
Not needing to be told twice, he slams his hand against the wench to push it into position, and it starts bringing the collector up with a rapid stream of chain. It clangs as it catches, and he leans out to get a grip on the damn thing. However, perhaps Grace had been right to keep an eye on him, because a loose piece of cargo slams into his back and he goes overboard, right into the tumultuous sea.
He pushes frantically against the current with one arm, the other unwilling to let go of the collector. They lose this, they lose their chance at a solution to their crisis, they may permanently lose the reef, they may fail at their mission.
A shriek cuts through his panicked thoughts, something that buzzes in his ears and rattles his skull. He would groan if he could, but his lungs burn keeping what little air he has left in and water out. A pair of arms snake around his waist, and he’d recognize that faint glimmer of shimmering scales anywhere. Grace pulls him to the surface, where Adrian meets them with a cry, “Rocky!”
He throws the collector on board first, which a crewmate secures in its safe compartment below deck. Adrian and the remaining crew pull them both up on board. His spouse immediately wraps them up in their arms, barking an order, “Head for shore! We need to get out of this storm!”
All hands on deck, they steer away from the grey clouds and pouring rain, leaving behind the flashes of lightning. The engines slow as Tau Ceti finally enters calmer waters, a clear night sky twinkling with millions of stars above them. By this rate, they should be back to Grace’s reef by morning.
Adrian presses a kiss to his temple, the two of them having finished drying each other off, “I’m going to check on the collector. Maybe you and Grace try and eat something—”
Grace, who had been pliant and fine laying on the deck for the journey home, suddenly cries out as a net is strung tight around his lithe frame. His claws can do little as his arms are pinned behind his back by one crewmate, Bruce, and another, Trent, attempts to wrassle his tail.
Rocky isn’t usually an act-first-ask-questions-later type, but in this moment he doesn’t hesitate to try taking a swing at the guy pinning down his best friend. He’s stopped by a painful clasp around his wrist, and a leg kicking out his own from under him. The last member of their crew, Mason, easily overpowers him, slamming his face against the deck and pressing a knife to his throat. Adrian freezes, and the man grins, “Yeah, I’d stay put if you wanna get out of this unscathed.”
Grace continues to struggle in vain, frantic and panicked clicking. Rocky can’t quite translate what he’s saying, but he catches the sound Grace chose for his name over and over again.
Rocky grimaces, flexing the arm pinned behind his back, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Mers fetch a high price. You know this. Much more than your little operation could pay us in years.”
Rocky growls, ignoring the pinching pain where the knife lightly digs into his skin, “Do you understand what’s at stake here? If the ocean’s ecosystem crumbles because of astrophage, it’ll ruin the planet! Not just for merfolk, but us, too!”
Mason snarls, slamming him against the deck again, “You think we give a damn? Planet’s going to shit anyway. Might as well make some cash. Right, boys?”
Trent and Bruce laugh, having successfully knocked Grace out. The mer trembles, but doesn’t move. Rocky’s breath stutters, fear coursing through his veins, “Please, please let him go. We’ll pay you, whatever you want, just don’t–!”
The man above him scoffs, “Ya can’t afford that, not in a million years. These guys, though, they have what I’m looking for.”
Adrian gasps, spotting the approaching ship that Rocky can’t see in his position beyond the searchlight aimed at them. They fume, still unwilling to move in fear of their husband’s life, “You heartless piece of shit–”
Rocky can’t help the cry of pain as Mason drives his knife into his shoulder. The man snarls, temper flaring, “Watch it, Adrian. Might go for the heart next.” They pale, fearful eyes trained on their husband. Mason leaves the knife dug into his skin, and gestures to the deck below, “I’ll be nice and let you keep your little science experiment. And maybe I’ll keep your husband alive, if you do as I say. You’re gonna go down there, and you’re gonna stay there until we’re gone. Understood?”
Adrian hesitates, but Rocky cuts in before Mason gets any ideas, “Go, mi amor. Do what he says.”
He gives them a significant look. He doesn’t move his free arm, not with the knife still in his shoulder, but he does tap against the deck twice. Their expression doesn’t give away what they’re thinking, but Rocky has known Adrian for years. He can read them like an open book. He sees their comprehension in the way the corner of their mouth twitches, and they mimic the tap against their thigh as they turn around and take the stairs to below deck.
Mason suddenly twists and pulls his knife out, and Rocky groans into the wet wood beneath his cheek, hissing, “You asshole.”
The man finally gets off of him, but demands, “Hands in the air. Sit up.”
Rocky does what he’s told, despite how much it fucking hurts, but he’s sure that’s part of the point. Mason always gave him a bad vibe, and he curses himself for not doing a further background check on this crew. How they got three black market dealers on board with connections to illegal mer poachers, he is never gonna forgive himself for this. Mason harshly grabs his wrists and cuffs them together. Harshly tugging on it, he spits, “Don’t fucking try anything, or I will drown you both.”
Rocky glances down to Grace’s pale face, a trail of blood pooling from where his nose was smashed onto the deck. After all the trust Grace has put into him, all his promises, and he’s failed him. He told the mer they would help him save his reef, that he will find a new home. Rocky was good at fixing things, that’s what he’s done all his life. Repairing old cars, screwing in new pipes, welding steel, upgrading computers, maintaining tanks, it’s his life’s work. The monumental failure weighs heavy on his shoulders. If he gets Grace killed, if they fail to get the collector to Erid, if he or Adrian can’t make it home… No, he can’t give up. He won’t give up. Not when his best friend and his spouse and their homes and the whole world are on the line.
God, he hopes this crazy plan works.
The poacher’s ship approaches, gently bumps against theirs. Mason shakes hands with someone Rocky doesn’t recognize, but he looks almost stereotypical for an illegal hunter. Wide brimmed hat, pistol holsters, tacky vest, and everything. He pays little attention to their conversation, only tunes back in when the poacher kneels beside Grace with a carving knife, “Hm, not the best I’ve seen.”
Rocky forgets himself when the poacher takes the carving knife and slices away at the scales of Grace’s left forearm. He abruptly charges, only stopped by Bruce and Trent grabbing him by the chest and hair, “Stop! Don’t!”
The two shove him down to his knees, and the poacher chuckles, “Oh? One of the scientists?”
“No, just the lap dog of one of ‘em,” Mason glares, gesturing to the whimpering mer, “He’s bonded with it.”
The poacher’s eyes widen, sick interest gleaming in his eyes, “Oh really? I didn’t know these animals were capable of more than killing humans.”
Rocky hisses, “Shows what you know.” Bruce has a hand against the back of his throat, and his fingers dig into the cut Mason made earlier. He winces, but bites back a cry, “They’re not just animals. You’re murderers.”
The poacher hums thoughtfully, “Perhaps, but it’s just business.” He drags his carving knife again, more scales dropping to the deck. It’s nauseating to watch. He shrugs, “Nothing personal, little siren.”
Rocky’s made up his mind. He’s killing that guy first.
Tau Ceti’s engine suddenly roars to life, rattling with a concerningly loud bang. Everyone on deck loses their footing, shouts of surprise and rage in equal measure. Unfortunately, the ship rushes forward only to crash right into the poacher’s. Bruce and Trent stumble like idiots, knocking into each other, and losing their grasp on Rocky. He falls forward, barely catching himself (and probably tearing his shoulder further, motherfucker that hurts). Mason instantly catches on, howling, “I’m gonna gut that, bitch, I swear to god–”
Rocky tackles him before he can even think of taking a step towards Adrian, who has successfully taken the helm just as he planned. (Who says mutiny-proofing your ship is pointless? He’s so gonna rub it in Adrian’s face later when they get out of this, after they dared to call his ideas to upgrade Tau Ceti overkill.) Mason’s knife goes flying, dropping somewhere across the deck, as the two men wrestle. Rocky fights dirty, biting and scratching and digging his fingers wherever it’ll hurt. His vision’s gone red, righteous fury and adrenaline pumping hard and fast in his veins.
The poacher, likely the smartest of the group, has taken to jump across the gap and back onto his own ship. Despite the earlier crash, neither vessel seems too damaged to fail to stay afloat. He barks an order, “You two dimwits, grab the mer!”
Rocky’s distracted for a moment, panicked eyes finding where Bruce and Trent are attempting to drag Grace’s limp body across the gap. Mason takes advantage of this, grabbing the cuffs still tied to his wrists, twisting them till Rocky’s back hits the deck, and his forearm presses into his throat. He claws at the arm cutting off his air, wheezing, “Grace! Grace!”
The ship rocks again, throwing everyone off balance. Rocky kicks out, his knee jabbing into Mason’s side, hopefully hitting a kidney, and he scrambles out from under him. Mason futilely claws at his leg to stop him, and he kicks back, slamming his foot into his nose with a squelch. He doesn’t stop, and has just enough momentum to slam all his weight into Bruce. It sends the guy sprawling onto the opposite deck, but a leg gets trapped between the hulls of both ships when they slam together again. There’s a sickening crunch and a scream. Rocky whirls on Trent, who has his hands twisted in the net holding Grace captive. He scowls, “It’s a fucking mer, Rocky. We need the money.”
“I don’t care. Let him go.” He glowers, gaze casting about the deck before they land on Mason’s dagger. Said man is crawling towards it, and he stomps down on his hand before he can grab it.
Mason groans, spitting blood, “Fuck you.”
Rocky is about to share the same scathing sentiment when a chilling boom reverberates through the air. A gunshot. The poacher, at the helm of his own ship, aims his pistol at Rocky with a cold glare. The pain registers secondary to the shock to his system. A death rattle shakes in his lungs. Behind him, he hears Adrian scream bloody murder.
Blood seeps into his shirt. He feels dizzy.
There’s a tug at his leg, a shove, and water suddenly rushes around him.
(Trent’s grip on the knife he picks up doesn’t last long, as pain ripples up his arm. He screams, but the teeth sinking into his skin doesn’t let up. A terrifying guttural sound emanates from the suddenly conscious predator. There’s another gunshot, but this one misses, wood from the deck spraying.
Adrian slams the ship against the poacher’s again. Mason finally gets some sense into him, and goes after them, but they had prepared just for that. He goes overboard with a few well placed punches and kicks, and Adrian hopes he’s smart enough to get on his friend’s boat instead of theirs again.
Trent howls in pain as another gunshot rings, missing the mer and instead embedding itself in his thigh. The vengeful creature tears through the net with the use of the fallen knife, and sinks his teeth into the man’s throat. Bruce and the poacher watch in horror as their friend is dragged into the depths with a blood-clotted cry. The smaller vessel turns away then, the battle lost.
Adrian rushes to the railing where their husband was last seen, heart racing and tears stinging their eyes. Their eyes desperately search the dark, inky black waters for any sign, any movement, praying, Please, Grace, Rocky…)
Rocky can’t see. The pain burns, it wrenches and hollows. He can hardly keep his breath, water seeping into his lungs. He chokes, body convulsing, and oh, it all just hurts. The current rushes, bends and bubbles, never-ending.
Something brushes against his face, gentle and warm. A sound, a tune, a melody. It rings in the sea, at home, at peace.
For a final moment of consciousness, he’ll take the comfort of his friend’s song. That’s not such a bad way to go.
-
When Rocky wakes up to bright lights, Adrian’s hand in his, and a scratchy hospital blanket pulled over his legs, he startles in genuine shock that he's still alive.
Adrian jumps at his startling, which just devolves the two into laughter. They press several relieved kisses all over his face, and he’s certainly not complaining about that wake up call.
Gunshot wound to the abdomen? Sucks. Sprained wrist? Sucks, too. Nearly drowning? Sucks, as well. Who’d have thought?
His own health is a secondary concern, and he only gets a full rundown from the doctor later, because he begs Adrian for answers on what happened to Grace first and foremost. They sigh, brushing hair from his forehead with a gentle hand, “He’s okay. He’s recovering at the Erid Center right now.”
Rocky blinks, emotions warring heavily, “You brought him to Erid?”
“Had to. Between his injuries, the fever he came down with, and that poacher scare, it’s the safest place for him.” Adrian purses their lips, further explaining, “He asked to go, Rocky. He knows the risks. He wants to be in Erid.”
“You think he’ll make a full recovery?”
They nod, “I’m overlooking his treatment myself. He will be okay. You’ll be okay, too.”
In the quiet of his hospital room with no one around but his loving spouse, a sob catches in his throat. They don’t say a word, just gently holds him through the waves and waves of tears. The relief, and fear, and guilt, and hope swirling around in his head, it leaves him off-kilter and drained.
Recovery is a long process for both him and Grace, but their work isn’t over yet. With the predator captured in the Tau Ceti collector, Adrian and Grace are able to finally find a cure for the reef’s astrophage crisis. And not a moment too soon, as more reports of astrophage croppings have started to pop up further out along the coast. Adrian works tirelessly with Grace and their lab team to prepare everything, to test and test again that this will help the ecosystems they swore to protect and not hurt them further. It’s steady work, no matter how impatient Grace may be to save his home. Adrian knows what can happen when a seemingly perfect solution is rushed. The consequences of such rash action can be devastating, more so than the initial problem at hand. They won’t make that mistake again, so they’re careful and concise.
Once Rocky’s released from the hospital, he spends a lot of time with Grace. Especially when the mer is frustrated, banging his tail against the tank wall, or morose and curled into a corner, unwilling to eat.
Rocky manages to lift his spirits, pulling him into a game or listening to him teach more about merfolk or offering a shoulder to cry on. He worries still, of course. Grace’s health–while slightly better thanks to a healthy diet, which now includes taumoeba–is still not where it should be. It’s mostly because Grace doesn’t have the space he needs.
The Erid Center is under construction, a project Rocky has personally invested a great deal of time and resources into, to prepare a proper space for Grace. Adrian also makes recommendations for the project, designing all sorts of accommodations for their mer friend. After all, they owe a great deal to his bravery and effort. If astrophage hadn’t been discovered by him, if he hadn’t saved Rocky, if the three of them hadn’t pieced together a solution, who knows what sort of ecological damage would have wrought at the unchecked microorganism, as it spread and tore into every facet of mer and human life. Who knows what Adrian would have done if they had lost hope.
It takes time, and it’s touch and go for a while there. Everyday there’s work to be done, but he’s never been more determined before. Rocky can hardly sleep the night before the big day. He and Adrian are at the center bright and early. They head to their department, prepping the moving team, and Rocky races straight to Grace’s tank. Well, soon to be former tank. Grace chirps in greeting, and Rocky has picked up on his language enough he hardly needs the translator these days, “Rocky!”
He grins, accepting the song and nuzzle that usually accompanies a return from a long stretch of separation, “Hi, Grace. Ready for your new tank?”
“Yes! It’s time go!”
He chuckles, not bothering to correct him, and repeats, “Yes, it’s time go.”
He and Adrian supervise the entire transition, probably hovering a bit more than necessary. Well, okay, Rocky’s hovering. Adrian is remaining professional.
Grace’s new tank is massive. It’s finally plenty of space for the mer to actually swim around, to let his natural instincts run wild. There’s even a man-made cave built into it that he can rebuild his nest in. Rocky went for a dive not long ago and salvaged as much of Grace’s trinkets as he could, in the hopes he’ll feel right at home in this new environment. He painfully hopes it works. He sees the moment this dawns on Grace, as he dove straight for the cave as soon as he was deposited into the waters of his new living space, and pops his head back out a moment later. He spots the shiny look in his eyes that he knows means waterworks. Grace swims up to where he and Adrian stand at the main observation deck, and he presses a hand against the glass to mirror Grace’s. He’s hit with a sense of deja vu, matching grins on their faces.
The viewports, that’s another thing. That was an uncompromising asset in Rocky and Adrian’s designs for the new tank. Yes, they needed to observe Grace as he recovered and settled into his new home. Yes, Grace has been more than open, and even eager, to be observed for any and all trials, tests, and experiments the humans wish to do in order to further advance research into merfolk. Yes, he knew going in that he wasn’t going to have the anonymity he did out in the open sea. Didn’t matter one bit to Rocky, his friend deserves some privacy. So, viewports. There’s a few of them placed at various intervals, with the main one facing the lab, and all of them have shutters that Grace owns the controls for.
His favorite part of the tank, though, and he knows Grace appreciates it from the way he often encircles the top of the tank is the open air ceiling. He has a full view of the sky, not barred from the sun or the stars. It didn’t feel right, caging his friend into a complete, inescapable box, so the open sunroof was the alternative. There’s plenty of space for Rocky and the care team to maneuver on the roof, in case of emergency or, more likely, boredom.
One of his first nights, Rocky and Grace are floating together along the surface. It’s a chilly night, but he doesn’t really care. Not with the view of the stars above them, and Grace’s tail brushing against him once in a while to ensure he’s still afloat. The mer hums a gentle song, the sound of which reverberates through the water in a way a symphony of the greatest musicians in the world can never match in Rocky’s opinion. He smiles, hand in hand with his best friend, whispering, “Welcome home, Grace.”
It’s not perfect, and they’ll make adjustments as Grace thinks of things he may want or need to make his life in his tank more easier and comfortable, but it’s a good start. It’s not always an easy path, sometimes there are bumps in the road (or, you know, a near death experience or two), but the fact Rocky gets to see his best friend everyday, well, that’s the best part.