Work Text:
His house is eerily quiet when Eddie arrives. He has a fortnight until he’s expected back at port, his captain the type to forgo worrying about staying in one place for too long. His reputation alone generally keeps the crew out of trouble, especially here, where many of them have come up with a makeshift home.
His boots make the loose floorboards creek with every step. He can’t shake the feeling of wrongness. It’s dark. Only a small collection of scattered candles lighting the way through the small place. He heads to the only other room in the house shared between himself, his wife, and their baby.
He finds Shannon as he expected, eyes sullen, sitting on their cot. She doesn’t react to his presence. The sense of dread that’s been weighing on him since stepping off the ship sends another rush through his veins.
“What happened?” He asks her. They stopped bothering with reunions a long time ago. He sweeps his eyes around the room, lands on the bassinet where his son should be sleeping, and goes as cold as the sea. “Where is Christopher?”
“He’s gone,” Shannon answers quietly.
“He’s gone,” Eddie repeats. He can’t be– Eddie’s eyes begin to brim with tears. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
She gestures loosely towards the bassinet for seemingly no reason. “He was taken. He’s missing.”
All the air that had built up in Eddie’s chest in those few moments suddenly releases. He’s met with a strange sense of relief despite the still present problem. His child isn’t gone. Just… “Missing.”
“Yes, Eddie,” she says sharply. “I took him to the beach, I turned around for one moment, and he was gone. There wasn’t a soul around, not even footprints in the sand.”
“When,” he hesitates, dreading the answer. The answer that means life or death for a baby, only a handful of months old. “How long has he been–?”
“Ten days.” She doesn’t look at him. She hasn’t looked at him a single time. It makes him feel sick, like he’s drunk too much of Chimney’s horribly diluted grog on a long sea day. “I would have written you, if you felt inclined to ever inform your wife of your ports.”
“Shannon,” Eddie sighs, sick of this same argument they repeat time and time again, of constantly explaining that oftentimes, he is not made aware of the specifics of their journeys, and even if he was he couldn’t share their course with her. None of the crew can, lest they risk being intercepted if an enemy discovers it. It’s useless to continue. “Which part of the beach?”
She finally turns her eyes towards him. He can see small flecks of resentment. “Near the Inn. With the beautiful flowers growing along the rocks. I wanted him to see it.”
“You took him there? You’ve heard the stories.”
“That’s all they are, Eddie, just stories.” She shifts on the cot, reaching hands out to graze along his hips. He takes a step back. “Tales to keep the children inside.”
Eddie shakes his head and tightens the strings on his tunic, thankful for his not undressing the moment he entered the house. On the ship, they’re more than just tales. He leaves Shannon without a word and begins to retrace his steps back to port. He knows she follows him up to the door, can feel her presence at his back, but she does not wish him farewell.
–
The Wayward Flame is a large, looming presence at the port. One that sends unease, but curiosity through every town, because while Captain Nash and his crew are known to be the best, most ruthless on the sea, they have never brought trouble to townspeople.
Eddie climbs on board silently. It’s likely that the ship will be mostly empty, the majority of the crew either visiting family or lovers, or drowning themselves in liquor at the pub. There will be only one, low ranked man aboard, ensuring no thievery. Unfortunately for him, Eddie knows exactly how to avoid him.
He collects the supplies he needs in a lightweight satchel, food, blades, a sword he slides through his thick belt, a long stretch of cloth for bandages or swaddling. He heaves everything onto his back, then makes work of untying the wherry. If he doesn’t make it back before the men are called back to port, they could surely charm another sailor into offering his row boat.
“Diaz,” a voice practically booms in the still quiet of the night. Eddie freezes and drops the rope he’s holding. Only then does he notice the lantern light.
“Captain.”
The man’s reputation is mostly only that – a reputation. A way to keep smaller boats and unskilled thieves from even considering attack. He has never been unkind to his crew. Even so, being caught stealing from a pirate captain is enough to send a shiver down your spine no matter which ship you’re on.
“You aren’t needed back for thirteen more days,” Captain Nash speaks calmly, “I thought you would spend it with your wife and child.”
“Aye,” Eddie says. He turns around to face his captain. “My son has been taken.”
“I see. You’re going to look for him alone?”
“I have reason to believe he’s been brought to the grotto.” Captain Nash doesn’t seem inclined to stop him, so Eddie returns to the ropes of the small boat. Even if he’s punished for this, he doesn’t have much to lose. “I have to go.”
“No man has ever come back from there,” Captain Nash says, “You know that, Eddie.”
The use of his given name forces him to turn his attention back to the man towering over him. “I know. But I have to try. And if somehow he’s still– It’s my son.”
Captain Nash considers him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then finally, he holds the lantern that must have come from his chamber out to Eddie and says, “Let’s be on our way, then.”
“I couldn’t possibly ask you to–”
“You’re not.” He releases the rest of the rope from the boat and steps inside. “You’ll need someone to row, so you can hold your son. I’ll take you to the cave’s entrance, but I will not follow. I’ll give you one full cycle of the day to return.”
–
They’ve all heard about what lurks in the grotto. Why children are told to never go near the part of the beach nearest. Every family in the port town has a story of a loved one who was lost to the creatures.
“They’ll lure you in, make you trust them, then they’ll attack,” Captain Nash explains while Eddie takes a turn rowing, “No one knows quite what is it, if it’s a song like the tales say, or if it’s magic, but they have a way of making you vulnerable, lowering your guard and dampening your senses.”
Eddie’s Abuelo used to tell him about his friend in the boatyard who was lured in while working late one night. How the only thing that washed up on shore a month later was his rusted wedding ring. Abuelo believed he was eaten in the water. Every part of him.
“It feels like lust, or sometimes even pure love.”
“I have a wife,” Eddie says foolishly.
Captain Nash levels him with a hard stare. “Many loyal men have made the same mistake.”
Eddie’s not like most loyal men, he thinks. His eyes have never wandered, not even for her. He cares for her, he can even encourage himself to desire her. They have a son, after all. But he knows what he does feel for her is not lust, and definitely not the love that is to be expected from him.
If he can’t even be made to love his own wife, he certainly can’t be fooled by siren song.
Eddie may just be entirely unfeeling.
“Well, Captain,” Eddie dares to admit the secret that has been slowly gnawing away at him for as long as he can remember, “If I can be seduced at all, it would be news to me.”
The man only hums, gestures for the oars, and takes over rowing. Except, Eddie can see a response through his eyes, not quite pity, but something else.
When they reach the cave’s entrance, the captain repeats his instructions. One day. They undo the small canoe they tied to the back of the wherry. It’s old and in need of mending, but it will get Eddie where he needs to go. He climbs in, takes the satchel Captain Nash passes to him, and steels himself.
Eddie Diaz could very well die tonight.
“I expect you to be there when we leave this port,” his captain says, “You’re one of my best.”
“Aye,” Eddie nods. He purses his lips, holding back any emotion he might feel about his potential demise. Then, with a firm shake of their hands, Eddie pushes off and begins his journey through the rock.
The lantern stays lit at the front of the canoe, candlelight dimly guiding his way forward. It bounces streams of golden off of the water and onto the walls of the cave and the moss that grows inside. It’s almost a beautiful sight.
The vegetation starts to grow thicker as he continues, the water beneath him darkens. He jumps at the first sight of a shadow in the depth, although more than likely just a fish.
Unnaturally bright flowers begin to paint the walls, vines hang from above, and suddenly Eddie feels gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck. Something tries to compel him, something he wouldn’t be able to describe to anyone who asked, but it becomes clear to him that it is the lure.
The lure that is supposed to feel like lust, longing, love, but to Eddie only feels like dread. It feels unsavory, feels like the first bite into a rotten fruit. He can’t help but smile, for the dreadful part of himself that he can’t understand may just save his life.
The feeling increases tenfold, like they’re trying harder, growing frustrated.
He hears it before he sees anything, the rushing of water altering him to reach for his blade only seconds before a woman rises from the water, baring her teeth. The movement sloshes water into the canoe and makes Eddie stumble in his perch. She reaches a clawed hand forward in attack, but Eddie slashes her wrist before she’s able to touch him.
She jolts back into the water, bringing clouds of red blood with her.
He wonders if they’ve ever encountered someone like him before. Immune to their tactics. They may not know how to fight off a man who cannot be pulled into the water willingly. Eddie may just have an advantage.
He’s deep in their territory now. He scans every sandbank and ridge for signs of Christopher, but they cover their tracks well.
Eddie pauses under a small opening in the cave system, the light from the moon shining through. He needs to give his muscles a break and take small sips from his waterskin. One hand stays on his blade and he focuses hard on listening for movement in the water. He’s gotten further than he thought without much trouble.
“Psst,” a whisper suddenly draws his attention. Eddie snaps his head towards the sound, gripping his blade more intently.
There, he sees a face just barely peeking out above the water. The siren isn’t moving towards him, isn’t preparing to attack, just watching, almost studying. Before he can think any better of it, Eddie encourages the canoe closer.
The siren sinks further down into the water, as if scared of Eddie’s sudden movement, but doesn’t stay hidden for long. The lantern light reflects ripples onto blue eyes, a smattering of small orange and black scales on a strong neck, drying curly hair, and a face that is distinctly male.
In no tale has a siren ever been male.
Then, Eddie feels a pull deep in his gut. Not physically, but nothing like the lure from the other sirens. This one does not remind him of bile rising in his throat, it is something else entirely. Something he’s never experienced before.
“You’re looking for the baby,” the man whispers, “Aren’t you?”
Those words make Eddie’s hackles rise. He adjusts his grip on his blade in a way that catches the siren’s attention. “You have him? Are you the one who took him?”
“No.” He looks so earnest that Eddie struggles to distrust him. “But I’ve seen him. He looks like you.”
“He looks like his mother.” He turns the blade in his hand, daring the siren to lie to him.
“No,” he repeats, “You’re both serious.”
A voice rings in the back of his head, his Abuela telling him during his last stay in the port town, “Don’t frown so much, Edmundo, the poor child will be as serious as you.”
“Where is he?” Eddie demands. He leans over the canoe, as close to the siren as he can get without falling into the water, and points his blade at him. “Tell me where Christopher is or so help me, you’ll never see the stars again.”
The siren visibly gulps, but he doesn’t seem afraid. He looks nothing like the one who attacked him, and he’s nothing like what any of the tales describe them as. He almost looks kind.
“I can show you,” he says, “I can bring you there.”
“Why should I trust you?” Eddie presses the blade closer. That pull in his gut tells him to trust the siren, but he can’t listen to it. It must be his lure, it must just feel different than the others. “You’re tricking me right now, aren’t you? Trying to get me to follow you into the water.”
“This is no place for a baby,” he answers, “He shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”
He seems so genuine. It’s almost intoxicating.
“Then stop your lure,” Eddie spits, “I can feel it, you know.”
The siren has the gall to look surprised, eyes widening, then mouth breaking into a smile. He doesn’t have the same sharp teeth as the other woman, just slightly longer canines. “I’m not using my lure, pirate.” He cocks his head. “Whatever you’re feeling is completely natural.”
“Liar.” There’s no reasonable explanation for the tugging in Eddie’s gut, the dangerous desire to trust the siren, to get closer to him, to touch.
The siren narrows his eyes, looking through his lashes, and suddenly Eddie feels overcome. His body flushes white hot, his throat feels tight, he suddenly wants nothing more than to climb into the water and latch onto the siren in front of him. He sheathes his blade.
The voice in the back of his head screams at him not to, but his body starts to move regardless. Right as he’s lifting a foot onto the side of the canoe, it’s like a tether snaps and he’s back to normal.
“It would feel like that,” the siren says, then his voice grows quieter, more honest, “I don’t like doing that.”
Eddie looks at him for a long moment, breathing heavy. He’s terrified. The tug in his gut returns, and the implications of it make him feel queasy. He’s never felt like this ever before.
The chances of him finding Christopher by himself are low. There’s no guarantee he can even get to him by boat. Even if the siren is tricking him, Eddie is fast enough to fight back if needed.
He trusts his gut.
“Show me,” Eddie whispers, finally.
“You’ll need to get in the water. You can’t get anywhere that matters in that boat.”
Eddie watches him for tells, but he can’t catch any. He reluctantly toes off his boots, removes his socks, and his overcoat. He ties the canoe off on a nearby rock and prays that it will be here when, if he returns. He pockets the things he needs most. Then he sinks into the cold water.
It’s less brisk than the open sea, but it still bites at him. He’s so close to the siren now, he can see the freckles on his shoulders and a pink splotch above his eyebrow.
He has to tear his eyes away.
“Follow me,” the siren says, then begins swimming towards a smaller offshoot of the cave, away from the moonlight. It’s shallow enough for Eddie to wade through the water for now, only up to right above his waist, and the siren moves slowly enough for him to follow easily.
They don’t speak, and all Eddie can see is the back of the siren’s head, the expanse of his back, and the muscles that move beneath it.
He gets glimpses of the siren’s tail as it appears above the water, the same orange and black that trails up to his neck. It’s mesmerizingly beautiful.
Only when they meet a dead end, does Eddie reach for his blade again.
The siren turns around in the water and Eddie takes a cautious step backwards.
“Can you hold your breath?” He asks. Eddie loosens his grip on his blade as he notices the way the water has risen around him. They have to swim.
He nods, and the siren ducks down into the water. Eddie takes a deep breath, sends out another prayer, and dives.
The saltwater stings his eyes, but he’s able to squint and see the siren in front of him. The orange of his tail glistens in the water, catching a light source that doesn’t exist. It helps Eddie not to lose him in the winding cave.
Eddie’s never believed in magic, but it’s hard not to when the proof is right in front of him. He knows better.
The siren looks over his shoulder, points up, and swims towards the roof of the cave. Eddie follows suit, head suddenly breaking into a pocket of air. He sucks it in like a dying man. Although he’s a good swimmer – life on a boat will do that to you – the cold water makes his lungs feel tighter.
“You okay?” The siren asks, concerned gaze turned on him.
“Yeah,” Eddie replies, panting. Naively, he thinks, if this siren wanted to kill him, it would have been very easy to drown him by now.
Then, they’re going back under.
When they reach a fork in the path, the siren pauses. He reaches a hand backwards to stop Eddie, fingers brushing his clothed chest. Up ahead, he can faintly make out the image of two other sirens slowly making their way past.
The first goes down a tunnel without a single glance towards the other bodies in the water.
The other begins to pass, then glances in their direction. The siren uses the hand near Eddie’s chest to move him further behind, putting himself in between Eddie and the other siren. Almost immediately, Eddie feels her attempt at a lure. It’s laced with the same sense of dread and acrid taste in his mouth. Nothing like the siren in front of him.
She rushes towards them, teeth bared, but Eddie’s siren blocks her from reaching him with arms around her waist. He pushes her backwards and bares his own teeth. She takes this as a challenge, however, and snaps her jaws at him. Then, in the blink of an eye, she’s coming over his shoulder and digging her claws into Eddie’s shoulder.
The siren moves quickly, ripping her away and throwing her against the wall of rock. The drag of her claws through Eddie’s thin clothing is painful enough to make him instinctively cry out. He only has one short moment to think, this is where I die, before water is rushing into his mouth and he’s lost his air.
He doesn’t see what happens to the female siren, but she doesn’t finish her job.
Eddie’s nostrils burn from where the saltwater has flooded his senses. His lungs protest. He chokes and coughs, but it does no good when it only sucks in more water.
All he can see are the wide, terrified blue eyes of the siren as he grabs Eddie by the head with both hands. He’s here to watch me die.
Suddenly, the siren places his lips over Eddie’s in the mimic of a kiss. Eddie feels a thick rush of heat course through his body, then the unmistakable feeling of air. It’s as though his head is above water. He closes his eyes and sinks into the feeling, drawing in as much as he can take. The siren’s grip on his skull relaxes slightly as Eddie breathes him in.
Right as Eddie moves to readjust, to take more, the siren pulls away and replaces his lips with a hand over Eddie’s mouth, trapping the air inside. He hesitates a moment, as if he’s contemplating leaning back in, but instead he slowly removes his hand to ensure that Eddie keeps the air inside by himself, takes his hand, and begins to swim, pulling Eddie behind him in order to move them through the caves faster.
Eddie lets himself be guided. He just saved my life.
He is going to owe a debt to a siren for the rest of his life. Double, if he makes it out of here with his son.
Most people would find fear in that thought. But, as Eddie allows himself to be pulled, he watches the ripples of the siren’s scales, the movements of his back, the way the water combs through his hair, and feels a strange peace with it.
They emerge from the water in a beautiful grotto. Vines hang from the ceiling, flowers adorn the walls, trinkets and treasures that surely must have been stolen from poor sailors and pirates line the rocks. A small collection of candles light the area. It’s fascinating to see how similar sirens and humans really are.
Eddie tips his head back and breathes deep, barely containing a laugh. He should be dead. There’s no reason he should be alive right now, but he is. The siren stares at him with those bright blue eyes and smiles with pink lips that look like they’ve been kissed. They have.
Eddie feels the tug in his gut again. The one that isn’t a lure, that’s just his own body trying to tell him something.
He laughs again. The men on his ship would call him mad. He finds himself floating closer to the siren, resting his hands on his shoulders to steady himself. The siren watches him with a dumbfounded smile on his face.
“I’m Eddie.”
“You can call me Buck,” the siren, Buck, replies. He snakes his fingers gently around one of Eddie’s wrists.
“Thank you for saving my life, Buck,” Eddie says.
“I don’t want you to die,” Buck whispers, “I know that’s– I know what I am. I know what everyone else does to your kind, but…” He tightens his grip around Eddie’s wrist. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”
“You are different.” Eddie’s fingers brush his neck, he feels the patches of scales that dot across his skin. Buck shivers underneath him. “The rest of them… I don’t feel anything. But with you…”
“I’m not doing anything to affect you, I swear–”
“Not on purpose,” Eddie murmurs. He doesn’t recognize himself. He’s never felt so honest before.
The siren blushes. As if Eddie has an effect on him. “Come on,” he says, then swims backwards, taking Eddie with him for a few moments before turning and returning to guiding him as they originally were.
They come upon a wall of the grotto that is completely covered in vines of leaves. Buck stops in front of it.
“You weren’t supposed to be able to get this far,” he explains, “So it’s not well guarded.”
It’s like he can anticipate Eddie’s thoughts before he even drafts them himself.
Buck pulls back a curtain of vines and reveals a smaller cave that rests high enough to avoid the water. Inside is a plush bed of moss, more trinkets and candles, and, “Christopher.”
Sleeping, breathing, unharmed, entirely content. He’s dirty and it looks as though his clothes were once damp, but he’s there.
Eddie moves as fast as he can through the water and pulls himself up into the space. He has to stay on his knees and bend his neck so as to not bash his head on the rock above. He scoops up his son as gently as possible, mindful of the weapons strewn along his clothes, and fights back tears.
Christopher blinks up at him sleepily.
“Hi there,” Eddie says softly, “I’m here, you’re safe now.”
Eddie glances over his shoulder and sees Buck watching him, his own eyes appearing watery. Buck gives him a small smile, then says, “We should go. Someone is going to take notice soon.”
Eddie shifts Christopher more securely in his arms, the cloth he brought in an absent thought of wrapping him around Eddie’s body useless now that it’s soaking wet. He lowers himself slowly back into the water. He’s used to the cold at this point.
He begins to follow Buck again, back the way they came, except, “Wait, there has to be another way. He can’t hold his breath.”
Buck’s eyebrows furrow, he looks around the grotto as if there would be something there for him, then trains his blue eyes on Eddie again.
“Can you trust me?”
Every instinct. Every trained part of Eddie tells him no. No man can trust a siren. No pirate can trust a man. But even in the middle of siren territory, dark caves that he doesn’t know his way around, with a vulnerable infant in his arms, he has never felt more safe.
“I do,” Eddie tells him.
Buck rises further out of the water, droplets running down his chest that Eddie traces the paths of, then holds out his hands. “I can protect him, like I did you.”
Eddie clutches Christopher closer to his chest, his heart jumping at the idea of handing him over again. But this is Buck.
He passes his son over to him.
“Will you hold onto me?” Buck asks. Eddie nods and looks for a spot to wrap his hands around. Buck’s arms are full of Christopher, but he turns his back to Eddie and he slides an arm around the siren’s waist. “Deep breath.”
Eddie breathes, and then they’re underwater again, swimming through the channels faster than Eddie ever could on his own. It’s exhilarating.
He can’t see Christopher from where his cheek is made to rest against Buck’s back, but he can only pray that the siren didn’t lie. He finds that he’s not too worried about that idea.
They don’t need to stop in the middle for Eddie to breathe, they only resurface when they reach where he tied off his canoe. Remarkably still where he left it. It all feels too good to be true.
He still takes deep, gulping breaths of air, forehead resting against Buck’s back, savoring the feeling of it filling his lungs. It will be a long time before he goes swimming again. Then, Christopher giggles.
Eddie detaches from the siren and wades around to his front where Buck and his son are smiling at each other, Buck trailing a finger down his tiny cheek. Eddie almost feels bad taking him away.
“Here,” Buck says, shifting Christopher into Eddie’s arms. He kisses him on the cheek and then lifts him into the canoe, laying him down on the wood. He turns back to Buck. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, “Get in.”
Eddie climbs into the canoe himself and watches as Buck pushes the end, guiding him out. Eddie’s dripping wet and shivering slightly from the cold, so he sheds his wet tunic and pulls his overcoat on. The siren’s eyes catch on Eddie’s bare chest.
“How can I ever repay you?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It is,” Eddie says, “You saved us both. You didn’t have to help me, you could have killed me yourself, but you didn’t.”
“I told you,” Buck gazes up at him from the water, “I don’t want to be like the rest of my kind.”
Eddie hums. They move the rest of the way in silence until the opening of the cave comes into view and Eddie can see the start of the sunrise.
He feels a strange, misplaced sense of sadness to be leaving.
“My captain should be waiting,” Eddie tells him. Buck sinks his chin into the water, effectively hiding himself behind the canoe out of sight from Captain Nash. “I hope you’re not punished for this.”
“I can handle it,” Buck says.
Eddie doesn’t know anything about the siren's actual culture. What they would do to Buck if or when they discover what he did. If there’s someone he would be answering to. He just hopes he isn’t killed for it.
Before they break through the entrance of the cave, Eddie leans down, “I guess this is goodbye.”
Buck offers him a lopsided smile, “Until next time, Eddie.”
He continues to push the canoe forward, until Eddie can see where his captain has been waiting, lying down in the wherry. He shoots up in surprise. Eddie knows he wasn't anticipating his return, but even still he waited.
“Diaz,” he calls in disbelief.
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge him just yet, instead he fights against his better judgement and reaches both hands down into the water to caress Buck’s cheeks. He guides him up to meet Eddie halfway and he places a soft kiss upon the siren’s lips. The tug in his gut doesn’t make him feel queasy anymore. “Goodbye, Buck.”
If Eddie’s captain has any thoughts on the matter, he doesn’t voice them.
Only after he watches the orange of Buck’s tail disappear back into the cave does he gather his things, pass Christopher over to the captain, and climb into the larger boat.