Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

“Come on little one …”

The voice was soft and way too close. It was like someone had leaned in reeaal close to whisper something that was only meant for you.

“Open those beautiful little eyes of yours.”

There it was again, that same voice. Warm and lilting like it’d been practising how to soothe you before you had even come to live. You made a confused little chirring sound in response to the voice, and it startled you a little. That was …your voice? Huh.

You wanted to do what she asked of you, you really did. But, your eyelids. They just felt incredibly heavy, heavier than the concept of gravity, in fact. And worse, you weren’t even sure how to open your eyes. Like, where was the switch? The manual? Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of biological tutorial available for you or something?

You furrowed a brow like a baby that was trying to solve quantum physics. Somewhere nearby, a deeper voice let out a quiet laugh. The sound curled around you like warm currents through the water.

“They don’t seem to know how,” the voice said, absolutely grinning about it. You could hear the grin; the voice’s amusement at your struggle was wrapped in the water surrounding you.

A faint clicking sound followed, almost like a scold. Gentle, but amused. Affectionate as well. “Of course not,” the first voice replied. “They’ve only just arrived. Let them take their time.”

You giggled. It was involuntary and a little bit squeaky, a sound that bounced in your chest that felt like a bubble before floating all the way up to the surface. The giggle gave you an odd spark of confidence - or maybe it just jiggled something loose, because suddenly, your eyes decided they were finally willing to cooperate.

Everything was blurry at first. Just …colours and shapes swimming around softly, where you could see. Two faces hovered above you, tinted in hues of bioluminescent light. One of them - the woman - was holding you close. And - wow, she was glowing. Literally. Soft pulses of light danced across her face and arms like a living constellation. You stared, starstruck, and completely unaware that your own eyes were shining right back at her.

You reached out instinctively, a wobbly little limb moving through the water with the grace of a stunned shrimp. The woman cooed again, and this time, you saw it. The way her throat moved with the sound. It was accompanied by a small shiver on her lips and absolute joy in her glowing eyes.

“There’s my beautiful little pearl,” she whispered, leaning her head close to bump her nose gently against yours. Her hair drifted around her like sea grass that was caught in a gentle tide, and of course, you watched it. You watched it like it was the most fascinating thing in the whole entire world. And in a way, it kind of was.

The water around you was cold, but not in a bad way. It didn’t feel like a threat, really more like it knew you. Like it’d been waiting for you. Holding you. Part of you. It wrapped around your limbs with a weird tenderness, giving the impression that it wanted to keep you safe, too.

You gurgled softly, the sound of your own voice once again startling you. Everything was so new to you. Too new. But still, you weren’t scared.

Behind the woman, a man leaned in. His eyes glowed too, twin orbs that could have been distant stars watching from the dark. His voice rumbled like the ocean floor.

“There’s much for you to learn, little one,” he said, keeping his voice low and his tone patient. “But there is time. All the time in the world.”

The woman repositioned herself slightly, her body moving with that same gentle grace. The water followed like it were loyal to only her. “You are safe with us,” she said, the words sounding almost sung like a lullaby. “This place is temporary, yes …but still, it is home. Your haven.”

You blinked slowly, trying to take in more of what you could see. Shapes swayed above you - long, ribbon-like plants drifting with the current. The edges of them were glowing faintly. You reached toward them with your tiny, clawed fingers. Enchanted by the look of them.

Behind your cradle, the man let out a low and bubbling laugh. “Curious already,” he said. And yeah, there was definitely a hint of pride in his voice. “You’ll explore the depths soon enough.”

The woman’s stare didn’t leave you once. There was something infinite in her eyes - not just love, but …hope. Expectation. “But first,” she began, “You must grow strong. And we’ll be here for every single step of the way.”

She pulled you closer. Arms firm and gentle as they wrap around you. The world seemed to quiet around her until all you could hear was the steady and gentle sound of her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. A slow but comforting rhythm. Your eyes began to droop; the effort of simply existing was already catching up to you. You yawned, jaw unhinging just slightly as you melted into her chest.

The darkness soon returned, but it didn’t feel lonely. Just soft, quiet, safe.

“Sleep now, little pearl,” the woman whispered, her voice the last thing you heard as the darkness wrapped around you like a warm tide. “You are safe. You are loved.”

The first few months after you’d been snatched into that dreadful net passed like that. Soft voices during the times you slept. The lights were just far too warm, and a cold-sweet hum of water filtering overhead like a lullaby that was stuck in a loop.

Sometimes you wondered if they’d put you back to sleep. Not literally, probably - but something about the stillness made it feel that way. And you sort of hoped they would. You missed the sound of your myrän’s voice. The song she’d sing when you were sad, her laughter that filled the void when your zerän would go out to hunt. You didn’t want to forget either of them. You couldn’t .

The days bled into each other seamlessly. They were vivid, at first …until all the shapes had begun to smudge together.

You’d learnt the tank had a cycle, sort of. A fake day and fake night, you learnt what ‘day’ was from some chittering small fish that would stare at you and scribble things down on an oddly shaped piece of wood. The cycle was pretty easy to tell by the overhead flow panels that dimmed and brightened, despite you only ever seeing something so bright once. You didn’t need the light to grow; if anything, it was irritating.

The weird scaleless fish were called researchers. They would appear on schedule, sometimes with things they called data pads, and sometimes with soft words and offerings of food or enrichment.

You didn’t talk. Not because you didn’t want to, but because no one here really seemed to expect it out of you. They always spoke to you like they were soothing an animal, or a child that hadn’t learned the shape of language yet.

Maybe in their eyes, that’s what you were.

Sometimes you’d respond, just to mess with them. A click here, a trill there. You’d gotten a reaction once. The dark-haired woman - Dr. Eileen? - she’d gasped like she had witnessed a miracle, and scribbled something fast onto her tablet.

You didn’t do it again.

Your den was small. A hollow in the side wall of the enclosure with synthetic kelp woven like curtains to try and mimic some sort of privacy. Someone had lined the bottom with soft sediment and small, smooth stones. It felt like they were trying to make the place feel cozy.

It wasn’t.

But that wasn’t the worst part, either.

The worst part was how quiet it got when they left. When the lights would dim and silence would finally fall after a day full of buzzing non-fish. You didn’t like the silence. It wasn’t really empty, but it was just full of everything you tried so hard not to think about during the day.

It was worse at night. Because night? Night was when you remembered .

When they’d found you and captured you, it hadn’t been gentle. Of course, given you were already so panicked after what happened with your zerän - their appearance only worsened it all. You still had small scars where the tranquiliser needles had pierced too deep. And even though you tried not to, sometimes your brain played it all back over and over on constant repeat. The panic you felt. The thrashing. The way your lungs were screaming when they pulled you out of the ocean for too long.

And the screaming - gods. Yours? Theirs? It all blurred together.

The tank didn’t feel safe. It felt like they were waiting for something.

And the worst part was how well you’d already started to adapt.

You spent most of your time drifting - quite literally - either looping the perimeter or lurking in your den. Tail curled loosely around your side, arms folded beneath you like dead weight. Sometimes you floated near the top just to hear the hum of machinery from beyond the reinforced glass. It made the place feel less alive. Or, maybe that’s why it did feel alive.

They didn’t let you see their other play toys, either. You could hear them sometimes, on the edge of things. Movement in adjacent tanks, a fink flick against a divider wall, sometimes even breathing.

You’d grown familiar with the breathing.

There was one tank that wheezed.

Not like an animal - well, not really. It was more like the sound of a lung that’d forgotten how to function. A drawn-in rasp that was followed by an even longer exhale.

You didn’t know what lived in that tank. You’d tried pressing close to the vider once, tried angling your head to catch a flicker of shape through the reinforced slit where the walls didn’t quite seal shut. All you caught was movement. Slow. Heaving. Something pale writhing just beyond your view.

It hadn’t wheezed that night. It’d gone still.

Other nights it wasn’t the wheezing tank that disturbed you. It was the whisperers. Not real whispers - not words, but clicking. Repetitive clicking. Syncopated. It was like a language, but broken.

You sometimes heard it through the vent shafts, sometimes from the floors above, and sometimes from nowhere at all.

Personnel didn’t talk about that one. But you heard them speak of others.

You didn’t understand everything they said, mainly because you weren’t supposed to. Most of their words were muffled through glass and water, half-spoken through rebreathers or behind closed doors. But your hearing was sharp. It had to be. It kept you alive before this place.

Searchlights.

That was a name you picked up quickly. You didn’t like it at all.

You never saw it. Once, though, during a low cycle, you thought you felt it. A glare through water that didn’t come from any light you knew. A heatless brightness that skimmed over your skin like it was dissecting you without a single touch.

There was so much more, though.

The personnel had names, classifications, and containment logs. You weren’t always sure which ones were active and which were just myths traded between technicians on night shifts. But, sometimes you caught murmurs through the observation dome when they didn’t think you were listening.

“ I told them not to put it next to 6-Beta. The mimicry’s getting worse - one of the staff swore she heard her mother singing through the wall .”

“ They haven’t logged movement in E-14 in weeks. I think it’s just watching them again. ”

“ Tell Project Lead to avoid contact until after the next moulting phase - last time we lost two containment teams. And a drone. ”

Most of the time, you couldn’t piece the whole story together. Just names. Sounds. And sometimes Panic.

But there was one you did understand. They called it the Choir pit.

That one had a pull.

You’d drifted to the bottom of your tank once, just once , and pressed your claws to the grated floor panel there. And beneath them, you heard it.

Not just one voice, but dozens . Maybe hundreds.

Not screaming or groaning - but singing . A hollow, layered melody that sounded like it was coming from the bottom of time itself. You didn’t recognise the language, but something about it made your bioluminescence flare. Your esca twitched with the flow.

You’d hummed back, just a single note. Barely a vibration.

The Choir Pit went dead silent. They didn’t sing again for days .

Your tank was shocked the next morning. Said it was just a ‘ system reset ’.

You didn’t sing anymore.

“Mama!”

Your voice was muffled by the giant fin you had clamped stubbornly between your jaws, the salty tang of victory strong on your tongue. It was heavy, stupidly so, but you weren’t about to let it go. Not when you’d caught it yourself! Not when Mama was waiting for you back at the den. You kicked your tail harder, determined. A bubbly trill escaped your throat despite the awkward way your jaw was aching.

Behind you, your zerän loomed like a shadow in motion. Carrying an entire shark like it weighed nothing. Typical. Showoff.

“You know,” he called out lazily, his tone amused as he watched you struggle with the fin. “If you drag that thing any slower, it might just wiggle back to life and swim away.”

You let out a garbled huff, muffled by the mouthful of fin. “Mmf not that shmow!” you tried to say, which - let’s be honest - didn’t come across as anything by fish-flavoured nonsense.

Your zerän chuckled. “Of, definitely. At this rate, we’ll be sharing that fin with the crabs before we even get home.”

You shot him a playful glare, narrowing your eyes as you finally dropped the fin into your claws. “I’m just …savouring my victory,” you said primly, chin tilting up as if you hadn’t been gnawing on it like a stubborn pup just two seconds ago.

“Ah, yes. The Great Fin Battle of Today,” he drawled with mock gravity, tail sweeping in a slow arc behind him. “I’ll be sure to carve that into the family history.”

“Jealous because I caught it myself,” you muttered, lips twitching.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Me?” Never. I’m just amazed you didn’t get lost trying to drag that thing back.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips anyway. “It was all part of the plan. You wouldn’t understand.”

His tail nudged your side affectionately, sending you veering slightly in the current. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’m eating your half.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not a chance!”

The banter stayed light as you both swam side by side, your clicks and trills folding between the silences like tiny pieces of home. The den wasn’t far now - just around that next cluster of rock formations.

But then something shifted.

The water was …still. Which was unusual given it’d always been lively and vibrant around the den. There were no fish darting around the rocks, no distant echo of whale songs, not even the telltale brush of soft sand stirred by movement. Just …silence.

And not the good kind.

Your zerän’s strokes slowed. “Where’s your myrän?” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His voice carried a strange edge. One you didn’t like at all.

Your grip on the fin loosened, and it slipped from your claws like seafoam through your fingers. “...Mama?”

No answer.

He surged ahead before you could even catch your breath. You hesitated for just a second before pushing after him, something cold and heavy sinking into your gut. You’d never felt dread like this - not even during your first dive into the deep.

When you entered the nest, the world cracked open.

There was no warmth here. No scent of your myrän’s skin, or the trail of song she always left behind when she moved. The kelp curtains had been torn down from their place, and stones were scattered across the sand floor. Blood, faint and curling through the water like ink clung to every surface in wispy trails.

Then you saw her.

Floating, listless. Wounds carved deep across her sides and belly. Her tail was shredded in places, scales torn from the bone like someone had tried to peel her apart. Her eyes, god her eyes. They used to be so full of light and gentleness, now, they stared at nothing. Just a glassy sort of void.

It didn’t feel real.

“Mama?” you whispered again, barely audible. Like the word might wake her.

It didn’t.

Your zerän didn’t move for a long time. Just, hovered near her. His tail slowly curled beneath him until it touched the sandy floor. His hand trembled as he reached out, brushing her cheek with the barest touch.

“Papa?” you breathed, voice cracking.

Still, no response.

He finally spoke, but it didn’t sound like him. Not quite. “We need to leave. Now.”

“But -” your eyes locked onto her. Her arms weren’t open. She didn’t smile. She didn’t move. “...Mama…”

“I said now.”

The command in his tone left no room for you to argue. His arm looped around your middle, pulling you back and away from her - away from everything you’d ever known. And you fought. You fought with everything you had left in you. Clawed. Screeched. Sobbed - but he didn’t let go.

You cried for her like the water around you had become a fiery blaze. Like if you just screamed hard enough, maybe she’d blink. Maybe she’d breathe. Maybe she’d -

But she didn’t.

And when he finally got you far enough from the den, far enough that you couldn’t swim back, you clung to him like a hatchling. Desperate. Shaking. You buried your face against his chest and begged.

“Please don’t leave too-”

He didn’t answer you with words. Just held you tighter. His face was twisted in a grief so sharp it nearly broke him. And still, you didn’t understand. Not fully. Not then.

You followed him in silence, numb and drifting. You kept darting your eyes back, searching for one last glimpse of the only home you’d ever known. The den was fading into the dark now, and with it, the shape of your myrän’s body blurred until it vanished entirely.

You jolted awake.

If it could be called that. One moment you were screaming her name into a storm of blood and silence - and the next, you were choking on your own breath in the artificial stillness of your tank.

It didn’t feel like waking.

The water around you hummed. Safe, in the way cages are safe. Cold lights flickered overhead in a mechanical rhythm; it didn’t warm your scales or soften your edges. It was just bright enough to keep you from slipping back to sleep.

You were still trembling.

You hated how easily it clung to you - her name, the way she’d looked, the feeling of you zerän’s arms around you, dragging you away while you screamed and screamed and screamed.

You hated even more how vividly your body remembered what your mind couldn’t forget.

A shadow passed by the outer wall. One of the researchers, most likely. You didn’t bother looking up.

They never looked back anyway.

Your gills flared, body rising slowly from where you’d drifted into the sediment. The dream still clung to your mind and thoughts. You could just feel it in your bones.

And the lights were dimming now.

You took note because it wasn’t a part of the usual cycle, and because the low rhythmic pulses only happened during specific times. During transfers.

A hiss bloomed through the water, and you stilled.

You’d been warned in their strange, clinical way. Something about “relocation protocol. ” About “ appropriate long-term accommodations. ” But no one had told you what that meant. Not really.

You hadn’t asked either. It wasn’t like they expected you to understand, and you knew they likely couldn’t understand the way you spoke. Not like they cared if you did.

The water began to drain slowly from your temporary enclosure. Not all the way, just enough to shift the pressure and make your finnacles pop. Reminding you that you weren’t meant to stay in this tank forever. No matter how well-behaved you’d been. No matter how long you’d gone without breaking something.

Movement flickered above.

A panel slid open. Then came the shadows.

Not the researchers this time by the looks of it. These ones wore suits. Bulkier ones. Designed for “ extraction .” You’d seen them once before when they brought in the wheezing thing you only ever heard now from two tanks away.

Your body sank low, instinctively curling back into the corner. Your tail arched over your head in a warning, but you didn’t hiss. You didn’t lunge. Didn’t scream.

You’d already screamed enough for a lifetime.

They didn’t speak to you, they just exchanged some wordless signals. Then came the beams - harsh, searing spotlights that cut through the remaining water and tracked your every twitch. You winced as the current shifted, pulling at you. Herding you forward like livestock.

You dug your claws into the sediment for a moment. Just enough to feel something solid.

And then, you let go. Because fighting never brought her back.

The transfer unit was colder. Not just the water, but everything . The walls. The lights. The air, if you could call it that. It was filtering in through the ceiling vents.

Reinforced pressure barriers. Rotating walls. No fake kelp or smooth stones here. Just slick, seamless metal. You saw your reflection in it for a second. Your reflection was distorted. Elongated. Something monstrous and blurry and not you .

There were no researchers behind the glass now. Only cameras.

You hovered there for a long time. Suspended halfway between the centre of the space and the farthest wall. Tail limp, hands folded like some ancient statue in mourning.

You didn’t cry. There wasn’t enough warmth in the water for tears.

But when you remembered. Gods, did you remember. And this time, when the darkness came, you didn’t try to wake up.

You weren’t sure when the darkness ended.

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it just thinned around the edges enough to let the light bleed through again.

It was the hum that woke you. Not like the old one - the filtered lullaby you’d grown used to. This one was deeper, cleaner than the old one. Almost …softer? Like it was turned down for your sake.

You blinked slowly, light flickering through your second eyelid as your senses adjusted.

New walls. Huh.

Not the ones you were used to, these ones curved. Smooth and wide and strangely open. Someone put thought into it. The light here didn’t stab at your eyes - it pulsed gently. Far dimmer than the ones in your old tank.

Someone had gone through the trouble of calibrating the light for you.

Weird.

The water smelled different, too. Less like chemicals, more like the ocean. Almost like home. Not quite, but it was closer than anything you’d been given since.

And the substrate beneath you wasn’t plain metal. It was …sandy. Not fake, but real sand. Fine and pale, and flecked with darker pieces of shell and sediment. Your claws sank into it like memory.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Just hovered. Listening.

No breathing from other tanks. No voices behind glass. No distant shriek of alarms or buzz of clipboards being passed from one non-fish to the other. Just the low, ambient thrum of machines working to keep you alive.

And then there was movement.

Not loud or heavy, no boots, either. Just a faint rustle that was followed by a warm tone that drifted in through an upper comm speaker.

“ ...Can you hear me? ”

You stilled, eyes darting toward the sound.

The voice was calm, soft in a way that didn’t feel condescending. It didn’t feel rehearsed, either. You couldn’t place the cadence, but it just didn’t sound like the others.

It sounded like someone was talking to you. Not at you, not about you. But to you .

There was a pause for a brief moment.

“ My name is Jules Reymond. Dr. Reymond, if we’re being formal. But I won’t mind if you don’t use that. ”

You slowly floated upright, arms uncoiling from where they’d wrapped tightly around your middle. The lights shifted subtly, not any brighter but just a little warmer. 

“ I’m the new head of your care team, ” she continued, the faint scratch of chair moving audible behind her voice. “ I’ve read through everything they’ve documented. Which, frankly, wasn’t much. But I’d like to do things differently. If you’ll let me. ”

You tilted your head.

Care team . That was a new one. You hadn’t had a care team before. You’d had researchers. Suits. Dart guns. A woman who cried after you mimicked her voice once. But never …this.

“ I don’t know if you’re comfortable with speaking, ” Jules said carefully, “ or if you prefer other forms of communication. But that’s okay! We’ll take things slow. I’ll be here regularly, just to check on things. Your environment. Your health. Your comfort. ”

The word landed oddly in your chest. Comfort . The word didn’t belong in a place like this. It was too soft for the walls it bounced off of.

Another pause. You could hear her adjusting something, maybe a file or a screen. Then she continued, but quieter. “ They didn’t tell me how young you were. ”

Your fins twitched.

“ Or that they relocated you here without a proper introduction. I’m …sorry about that. Truly. You deserved better than being dropped into a high-security vault with no one to speak to. ”

She was quiet for a long time. Letting the words settle.

“ I’ve been assigned to you directly, ” she added. “ Which means no one else touches your files. No one else decides what happens to you, not without going through me first. My job is to keep you safe. ”

You stared at the speaker.

You didn’t trust her. Not yet. But, something about the way she said safe made your chest ache. It didn’t have the same feeling as a wound or the way it felt when you were scared. Just …like something old and hollow had stirred beneath your ribs and blinked groggily at the sound of it.

Not one non-fish had said the word to you like they meant it.

Not since -

You shook the thought loose, biting it clean at the throat before it could unfurl.

She didn’t fill the silence this time. Just let it hang, waiting patiently. Respectfully. You weren’t used to that either. The others always talked over your quiet, always filling the space.

You moved slowly toward the reinforced glass. You let her see you.

Her silhouette stood on the other side - soft-featured, a little tired around the eyes. But not in a brittle way like some of the non-fish have. There was no clipboard in her eyes. No datapad. Just a steaming mug like she was there to stay.

Your claws brushed lightly against the divider. She was so small compared to you.

Jules smiled, a real smile.

Years passed, and you’d settled into your new permanent home. You blinked slowly at the way the light rippled over the top of the tank. It was afternoon, or, at least, what passed for it in the tank. Jules always dimmed the fluorescents when you’d get fussy. Said it gave the place an ‘ early morning ocean fog ’ kind of look. You weren’t too sure what that was supposed to mean, given you were, you know, a deep-sea creature. But, it did have a homely-esque feeling to it. Gave off a similar warmth you remember your myrän used to give.

Your reflection glimmered faintly beneath you, tail coiled into loose loops along the sandbed. It twitched with a lazy flick as you rose through the water, trailing little pockets of bioluminescent shimmer in your wake. Your arms unfurled slowly, stretching out from your body as you broke the surface with a quiet ripple.

The hatch above clicked open.

Your frills flicked at the sound of your name being spoken. Jules’ voice was the same as always - like a towel fresh from the dryer. She didn’t shout. She never needed to. “ You awake in there? ”

You hummed a reply in soft chitter-clicks, then propped your elbows on the cold lip of the tank’s upper edge. Your chin followed, resting heavily between your arms. The metal was cold against your gills, but you didn’t mind.

Dr. Reymond sat just a few feet away on a fold-out stool with wheels that squeaked when she leaned too far to the left. She had a thermos in one hand and a folder in the other. Her expression was split between fondness and something else that looked more tired.

You signed lazily. You smell like coffee. And disappointment.

She snorted. “ You’re not wrong. It’s decaf. And my intern mislabeled all the bloodwork from Wing D. ” She gestured vaguely at the folder, then gave you a crooked smile. “ But I do have something that might interest you. ”

One of your fins twitched in mock alert. You blinked slowly, blinking away the fog of boredom that had been settling over you like pond scum.

“ There’s a new patient coming in today. Another transfer, technically. ” She flipped through a few pages, lips pressing into a line. “ They’re …a bit more complicated than the others. Higher risk. ”

You signed a little slower this time. Leviathan?

“ No. ” Jules shook her head. “ Human. But, not standard. And we don’t know if he’s staying long-term or not, so don’t get too attached. ”

You tilted your head at her, amused. You always say that.

She sighed dramatically, tapping the folder against her knee. “ Well, this time I mean it. His file is sealed, which means even I only got a redacted summary. Something about behaviour correction and a temper. Oh, and a death sentence, so that’s …yeah. They’re still deciding if he’s gonna be under my division or the Warden’s. ”

You clicked thoughtfully. You want him.

Jules gave you a guilty look. “ I want him safe. Like you. ” She reached out and tapped the edge of the tank gently. “ But that might depend on you, too. ”

Your frills fluttered faintly with interest. You want me to play nice.

“ I want you to be …yourself. The soft version. ” She smirked, standing slowly with a stretch. “ Preferably without the bit where you drag people underwater to see if they can hold their breath. ”

You clicked again, softer this time. Something that sounded closer to laughter than defiance. Then you watched her leave the room.

There was something funny about watching Jules try to explain things through the glass. She gestured to you like it made her voice louder, hands cutting through the air like punctuation marks. You liked to pretend you couldn’t understand just to watch her flail. It was a little funny.

Right now, she was going on about something in the north wing. Probably blood work again. You were only half paying attention, chin rested lazily against the angled edge of your lower viewing panel which jutted into the main observation deck like a theater box - a little uncomfortable, but it came in handy.

Your claws tapped slowly against the reinforced glass. Bored.

Then the side doors hissed open. Jules kept talking, seemingly not taking notice.

Two interns wheeled something in, clamped down and braced with security-grade straps. At first, you didn’t care. You’d seen gurneys before. But then you saw him .

He was a non-fish, human - mostly. His proportions, scars, the sheer presence of him made your head tilt just slightly, instinct flickering awake. His hair was messy, dark and uneven in the back like someone tried to cut it and gave up halfway through. There was a muzzle strapped tightly over the lower half of his face. Metal and bolted at the hinge like they thought he might try and bite someone.

His arms were locked behind his back.

He didn’t move much, but his head turned slightly. And that’s when you caught a glimpse at his eyes.

They were sharp. Alert. Not scared, really. Not twitchy like most of the others they brought in. He wasn’t cowering - he was just watching.

Watching Jules. Watching the tank. Watching you.

You blinked once, slow. He didn’t look away.

The interns muttered something and wheeled him out just as quickly as they’d arrived, clearly in on some half-baked prank. Probably thought it would freak Jules out. She turned mid-sentence, mid-gesture, and froze when she saw the gurney disappearing down the hall.

“ Real mature, ” she muttered under her breath, turning back to you. “ Sorry, just a transfer. Ignore it. ”

But you didn’t.

You rested your chin back on your arms, frills flickering faintly. The water shifted around your body like a second skin as your tail curled tighter beneath you. You didn’t know his name. Didn’t know his story. But something about the way he’d looked at you -

You were still thinking about his eyes.

Chapter Text

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

You were dreaming about sand.

White, fine, and warm like the shallow flats your den used to open out onto. That sand didn’t smell like bleach. It smelled like your myran’s skin and dried seaweed and victory, even if your fins were too small back then to do much more than chase little fish.

Then something rapped against the upper observation deck.

Tap tap tap.

You blinked yourself upright, slow and groggy. Unspooling from the curl you’d nested into overnight. The sand underneath you shifted, trailing in soft clouds as you pushed upward, coasting easily toward the ceiling of your tank.

The tapping sounded again, then a wave from a small hand behind the reinforced glass.

Jules.

She gave a sheepish little smile through the pane, steam curling off a thermos in her other hand. Her hair was tied back, messy and hasty like she hadn’t finished her routine - but you decided against commenting on it. Mostly for her sanity. She tilted her head toward the ceiling hatch before she disappeared around the corner, footsteps pattering upward along the spiral stairs that led to the upper deck.

You surfaced a few moments later, breaching the waterline in a low ripple. The hatch hissed open not long after, and a familiar face peeked through.

“Mornin’ big fish,” Jules yawned with a warm grin, crouching near the opening. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” 

You pulled yourself up slightly, arms resting lazily on the lip of the tank. Your eyes were half-lidded, but your bioluminescent markings had already started to flicker into wakefulness. You signed one-handedly.

Dreamed about real sand. You ruined it.

“I’ll bring a jar next time,” she promised dryly, then added a wink. “With actual parasites and sea cucumber poop.”

You chirped at that. She laughed.

Then her tone shifted a little. Still warm, but with that undertone she always carried when she had something important to say.

“I wanted to talk to you about the new experiment.”

That got your attention.

You straightened a little, water dripping off your arms. The human? You signed, expression curious but still unreadable.

“Z-13,” she said, confirming with a nod. “That’s his designation. No name off file that I can see since they’re limiting certain information at the moment, but he answers to it - or just grunts and glares depending on the hour.”

You cocked your head. Violent?

“Not quite,” Jules mused. She pulled her thermos into her lap and swirled it absently before she continued. “He’s hostile, sure. But it’s not exactly uncommon to see in people that had no idea what they were getting themselves into, and I can’t exactly fault him for it. He watches people though, reads ‘em. Tests the boundaries like he’s trying to find their weakness.”

You blinked slowly. Smart.

“Very. Too smart for the muzzle they keep locking him into.” She tapped her temple. “Keeps his mouth shut until he decides it’s time not to. And then, well - he gets creative.”

You signed. How creative.

Jules gave you a look. “He made a joke about flaying his intake officer and feeding him to the filter fish.”

You paused. Then snorted - a ripple of bubbles trailing from your nose. I like him already.

“Don’t,” she groaned. “The last thing I need is two of you scheming.”

You gave her your most innocent expression.

She didn’t buy it.

“Anyway,” she continued, brushing her bangs back. “They moved him temporarily under my supervision this morning. Which means …”

She paused. You blinked.

Less time with me. You signed it without any hurt, just a matter-of-fact twitch at your claws.

Jules softened. “Yeah, probably. He’s an almost full-time case. High alert. His warden wants hourly reports when I’m needed.”

You reached out with one arm and gently tapped her wrist with your knuckle. You’ll miss me too much.

She chuckled, breath puffing against the steam rising from her thermos. “Don’t tempt me to move my desk into your tank.”

You rested your chin on your crossed arms again, tail curling lazily behind you in the water. Your frills fluttered a little with thought, then you signed.

He has pretty eyes.

Jules blinked. “You saw him?”

You shrugged one shoulder. Glass floor, a week ago when those non-fish tried to pull  prank on you. Very pretty eyes.

A beat passed.

Then Jules muttered, half-amused and half-exasperated, “Of course you’re already flirting.”

You chirped again, tongue clicking behind your teeth as you smiled slowly and widely. I’m not flirting. I’m observing.

She gave you a long look. “Uh-huh. I see that look in your eye.” You watched her squint, narrowing her eyes as a way to feign suspicion.

Curious, you signed, coy. Not flirting. Yet.

Jules groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Please don’t try and seduce the new LR-P. I have enough paperwork.”

You rolled your eyes with theatrical grace. You’re no fun.

“I’m the only fun you have,” she shot back.

Fair point.

You tapped the rim of the tank again with your claw, softly this time. Then, signed, Tell me more later?

Jules smiled again, smaller but sincere. “Yeah. I will.”

She didn’t say goodbye; she never did. Just nodded and stood up, ducking her head beneath the hatch again as it hissed shut behind her. One of the personnel who attended your ‘enrichment program’ once said it reminds them of something called the ‘irish goodbye’. When you mentioned it to Jules next, she only snorted and waved the thought off.

The water rippled gently as you sank beneath the surface once more, limbs loose and thoughts drifting.

Z-13, huh?

You wondered what kind of other features he has without the muzzle in the way. Does he have freckled skin?

──────────── ˖ ˖ ˖ ˖ °𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

It’d been three days since that little morning chat at the hatch, and you’d gotten pretty good at ignoring the empty spot Jules left behind when she wasn’t there.

…Mostly.

The facility had a way of sinking into itself when she wasn’t around. The air would get colder, the lights would become a little too still, and people would move like they were background noise in their own movie. You didn’t hate it, quiet had been your constant companion for years. But, now that you had something - someone - to contrast it with, the silence felt …different. Not lonely exactly, just dull.

Still, you had your routine.

A faint tone chimed from the upper walls - feeding time. You floated just low enough to give the illusion of patience. Coils curled neatly with your head tilted like a perfect model of restraint.

They fell for it every time.

The hatch hissed open above, and a long mechanical arm extended downward to drop a large sealed crate. You waited. Waited. Then, with a show of mock boredom, you lunged - teeth cracking at the edge of the container in one sharp move.

The sound of startled radio chatter filtered through the observation deck. 

Someone panicked.

 You preened.

Inside was the usual. Fresh fish, a handful of crustaceans, and something that looked suspiciously like squid jerky. Not your favourite, but edible. You swam lazily in circles as you munched on your food, tail flicking every now and then like a bored cat while you watched the non-fish silhouettes scramble behind the viewing glass.

None of them tried to talk to you. They’d learned. Or, maybe they just didn’t want to look foolish trying to mime at a 198-foot deep-sea creature, even if you had the patience. It was better that way, though. You didn’t sign for anyone but Jules.

That night, she came back to visit you in your tank.

You could tell before she’d even set foot in the room outside the glass. Her footsteps were heavier, less performative than the others.

She passed the lower hall, then came into view through the upper observation pane. Her shoulders were slightly hunched from whatever long day she’d had and was no doubt about to gossip to you about. Her hair was definitely messier than usual. Curls tucked up in a lazy clip, and she was sipping from an ever-present mug like it was her last line of defence against the rest of the world.

It was a change from her thermos, at least.

You drifted upward with a hum in your chest, breaching the surface slowly just as the ceiling hatch unsealed with its usual hiss.

“Hey big fish,” she called gently, voice warm with the only softness you heard from her in the Blacksite. “Sorry I missed feeding earlier. I got pulled into another debrief.”

You clicked your tongue and rested your arms on the chilled lip of the hatch, peering at her through dripping strands of hair. Your glow spots pulsed once, letting her know you were amused.

Jules grinned. “Don’t give me that look. I brought something to make up for it.”

She held up a thick binder, visibly overstuffed with notes and scribbles. You narrowed your eyes.

“Behavioural logs,” she said proudly, tapping the cover like it was her own personal treasure chest. “Guess who just got full clearance on Z-13’s early-phase reports?”

Your brows lifted. A flick of your claws signed a simple reply. You?

She puffed her chest a little, pretending to be smug. “Obviously! Who else here can handle two high-risk cases with charm and grace?”

You chirped dryly.

“I’m ignoring that sarcasm,” Jules sniffed, flipping open a page. “Anyway, I thought you’d be interested. Z-13’s officially under my supervision now, which means I’ll be spending a lot more time with him.”

You rested your chin on your arms, watching her carefully before giving another flick of your fingers. Will you still visit me?

Her eyes softened.

“Of course I will. Hey, come on - don’t make that face. I’m not ditching you for the new guy,” she teased, nudging your knuckle with her hand. “You’re my favourite eldritch horror.”

You exhaled through your nose, a sound stuck between fondness and mock offence. Maybe he’ll like your binder voice too.

Jules let out a sharp laugh, covering her mouth. “You’re awful.”

You only grinned. Or your version of it, anyway - mouth parting slightly with your gills flaring in a pattern she knew as smug. She bumped your claw again before stepping back.

Jules stayed perched on her trusty fold-out stool near your arm as she read aloud from the thin stack of files she had on Z-13 - largely because the text was laughably small for your eyes, and she knew that. Every so often though, her expression would twist with a scowl settling on her face when the details of his case turned sour. She kept pausing and muttering under her breath about how the previous crew had cut corners and how they mishandled Z-13.

Sebastian, she corrected herself eventually.

The name didn’t mean much of anything to you. None of the nonfish names ever really did - even Jules’ if you were being honest. They didn’t carry the same stories as the ones from home, the ones of your nerant’s. You could barely remember them, but you know they’d been different.

Still, having a name to pin to him made your curiosity only grow.

Eventually, Jules closed the cover of the files with a heavy sigh. Standing up to stretch her arms before looking at you.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow with some new recordings. Thought you’d enjoy helping me analyse his movement patterns.”

You flicked your tail in agreement. Then gently signed. You’re happier when you talk about him.

She blinked at you, caught off guard for a second. Then gave a soft and sheepish smile.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “He’s …interesting. Different. But I think you’ll like him too, eventually.”

You didn’t respond to that. You just sank a little deeper into the water and let your eyes half-close. Interesting didn’t always mean good. But Jules had never lied to you, not even once. So, you didn’t argue.

For now, you just listened to her talk. Her voice was low and steady in the quiet hum of the upper chamber, recounting charts and theories and little moments from her day. And even though you didn’t understand all the words, you liked hearing them.

They sounded like home.

──────────── ˖ ˖ ˖ ˖ °𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

The day starts slightly differently than it usually would. Why? Jules warned you some time ago that they’d be switching up your routine a bit, and yesterday had unfortunately been the day for it to take effect.

The hum of drones caught your attention.

It wasn’t loud. And it wasn’t even annoying, really. It was just a faint mechanical buzz that floated about in your tank. You blink your second eyelid open and lazily roll to your side, letting your tail stretch out behind you similar to seaweed unfurling.

A single red light glides into view just outside your den. 

The drone. 

It’s the same one you’d seen yesterday, it’s blinking eye flickering politely like it was asking you for permission. You gave it a slow nod. It bobbed back in acknowledgment and moved closer.

Water quality was first, then vitals.

The pale blue light that flicked across your body to scan you wasn’t nearly as surprising as it had been yesterday. It was checking for any anomalies or fluctuations. Its small robotic arms occasionally tapped on your scales to collect samples, and while you wouldn’t exactly call it pleasant, it’s …fine. Better than the dart guns they used in routines before Jules, anyway.

By the time the little drone is done and zips back through the exit vent, you’re fully awake. You stretch your limbs and tail, both curling in sync, before you drift up to the lowest ledge in your tank, where the light filters in less than the others.

Midday comes quickly.

The airlock door hisses which catches your attention. You tilt your head, peering through the layers of reinforced glass as three non-fish figures step through the walkway and into their diving suits.

Two of them are familiar to you.

The woman with the braid always brings a waterproof deck of comically large cards, but most of them have long since floated away. The other one, a tall man who moves more like an actual swimmer than a soldier, greets you with his usual sign: Hello again, friend. You click your teeth playfully in return.

The third is new. You were able to tell that immediately.

They hesitate at the edge of the platform, eyes flitting between the tank and the others that’d already dove in.

You sink a little lower into the water. Just enough to disappear under the surface without leaving. The new one flinches when you pop up behind them, tail swishing just fast enough to send a ripple across the surface of the water. You chirp softly at them as quietly as you possibly can. You weren’t being threatening, just giving them a little nudge. The other two laugh from the water.

Soon, the three of them are floating beside you. The games are the same - tag, hide and seek, the occasional mock wrestling match that ends with someone clinging to your back as you twist through the tank loops.

You go easy on them. You always do.

You like these games. You like spending time with them. Feeling their joy, their laughter, the way they treat you like someone, not something.

By the time they’re exiting the water at the hatch above, hair soaked with wider grins than the ones they had upon entering your tank, you’re stretched out against one of the sandy platforms. Your fins twitch lazily as the hatch seals behind them.

Afternoon rolls in next.

Jules taps on the glass.

You rise without so much as a second thought, it’s almost instinct by now.

The observation deck door slides open above, and you glide up to meet her as the top hatch unlatches with a faint metallic hiss. She waits just beyond it with a mug in one hand and a tablet in the other, squinting at you through loose strands of hair.

“Afternoon,” she says a little too cheerfully.

You narrow your eyes playfully and float up until you have to pull your elbows up to rest on the cold edge of the opening, claws draped lazily over the rim.

What test today? you sign, one hand bobbing in a circle.

Jules sighs. “Reaction timing, then puzzles.”

You groan. Jules, however, smirks at your ire. “I know, I know. You hate the lever ones.”

Boring. You sign the word with a dramatic flop of your hand, which causes her to laugh softly.

The session goes by in its usual rhythm. Jules gives you a task, you complete it while making as many gestures as possible and she follows with making pretend notes while sipping at her coffee and pretending not to be amused.

But there was something off about her.

She’s still smiling, still tossing commentary your way. But there’s a kind of tightness behind her eyes today. It reminded you of the days when she’d get very little sleep.

You wait until the session ends to sign: What’s wrong?

She pauses. Looks away, then back again. “They want to push the experiment forward.”

You blink.

Wait..

“With Sebastian,” she clarifies, her voice dropping.

The air feels colder somehow, even though the water’s temperature hasn’t changed.

Why?

“Because he won’t talk. Won’t co-operate. They think it’s useless to try and talk to him, so they just want to go forward with it.”

You tap the edge of the hatch. A habit of yours when you’re thinking.

You don’t want them to.

“Of course I don’t.” She shakes her head, rubbing at her temple. “He’s not ready. He’s barely eating and flinches every time someone raises their voice at him.”

What will they do?

“Phase One,” she mutters. “Pain induction. Sensory disruption. The usual.”

You feel something twist in your gut.

Jules exhales before standing. “I’m trying to delay it, but there’s only so much I can do. It’s getting harder to justify as well. They want results.”

You flick your fingers against the rim again.

He’s scared.

Jules meets your eyes, then nods.

“Yeah. He is.”

You tap the glass one last time as she starts to close the hatch.

He’ll trust you. Eventually.

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

Evening falls not long after. Or your tank's version of it.

The upper doors hiss open again, but this time it’s not anyone in a suit. Just a metal chute. You perk up as the familiar scent of brine and movement filters into the tank - feeding time.

A net is released, and a small school of fish darts out like confetti. You hover for a few seconds, watching them scatter.

Then, without warning, you lunge forward. Your body twisting as you give chase, claws slicing through the current with a playful sharpness. You weren’t hungry, not really. But instinct’s a funny thing.

So is boredom.

It’s not until you’ve caught two and let the rest escape that you settle back into the water again, drifting slowly toward your favourite corner.

The lights begin to dim, and a soft hum kicks on overhead. Infrared.

You roll onto your side and let your head rest on one arm, eyes still half open. Your thoughts drift to Z-13.

You know a little. Just enough to keep your curiosity sharp. The upper half of his face, the scar on his nose, the strange sharpness in the greenish blue hue of his eyes. When those personnel had originally come in giggling and hauling him in that chair like he was an animal to sight-see, his hair was a bit of a mess. It reminded you of Jules in a way. Dark brown hair against the sterile lights when they wheeled him past. Broad-shouldered for someone so small, though the jumpsuit made it hard to tell much else. The rest was hidden from view - deliberately, maybe.

He wasn’t eating. Flinching. Refusing to talk. You patch those scraps together into something half-real and half-guesswork. Tracing shapes into the sand with your claw.

You don’t blame him though. If you’d woken up here - small, fragile, no scales, no claws - would you have played along? Would you have obeyed?

You didn’t when they brought you here. And you’re a lot bigger than he is.

You curl your tail lazily, watching the dim light fade further overhead.

Still, it lingers in your chest. The colour of his eyes. The way they hadn’t looked dull, not completely. Not like the other non-fish they’d experimented on before.

You click your teeth quietly. A soft, restless sound.

Part of you hopes they don’t succeed in breaking him. Knowing this place, they were going to go through with the experiment regardless. They’ve already chosen their doll. You still hope he doesn’t break. Because if he does, he’ll just become another shadow in the halls of this horrendous site. Another prisoner for them to torture and profit off of.

But if he doesn’t - maybe there’s something here worth watching.

Maybe someone.

You let the thought linger only a moment longer before your eyelids grow heavy, and the tank goes quiet again.