Lost at Sea

The trigger was the only thing Jasper wasn’t sure how to set up. He knew for a fact that Eleanor had been concealing a hole at the bottom of the pool, but the water distorted distance and he wasn’t entirely sure just how deep down it was. Otherwise, he very well could have just tied the rope he’d braided out of seaweed to it. As it was, he was going to have to figure something else out.

A trip-wire was out of the question. Even if he somehow managed to guess exactly the path that the false-Eleanor was going to take to the surface-- if she came back at all, he reminded himself-- she had made it very clear that her senses were a million times sharper than his. There was no way she wouldn’t see a thick seaweed rope stretching across in front of her.

The only option he figured he had was to pull it manually, which would bring down the debris he’d managed to pile up above the spot where she usually spoke to him. However, he didn’t trust that he’d have the guts when the moment came. Staring into the eyes of the only woman he’d ever loved, he probably wouldn’t.

And so he spent the last of his daylight hours and a lot of the night psyching himself up for it. He tried to imagine every possible line of conversation and how to respond to all of her potentially witty remarks, and even pondered over whether or not he should even let her speak when she came up. What if the heavy rocks and driftwood didn’t kill her? Well, then he’d just have to swim down and finish her off. And how exactly did he think he was going to do that? He’ll sharpen a stick while he thinks.

On and on it went, his thoughts trying to deter his path and him calmly covering the holes in his plan. He sharpened not just one, or two, but three stakes because what if one of them broke? He tied them tightly to his ribcage under his shirt, but not so tightly that he couldn’t quickly pull one out if he needed to.

He worked on thinking of the siren as something entirely different from his Eleanor. The only way he’d ever be able to kill her was if he didn’t hesitate.

A flash of movement in the moonlit pool ripped him from his reverie. He squatted behind a large chunk of rock and gripped the slimy rope tightly in his fists. It reeked of the ocean. Her auburn hair, muted by the water, was the first thing he saw. She had surfaced the exact place he’d hoped she would. He willed his hands to release, to let go of the disgusting line in them, but a morbid piece of him wanted to see her face before.

Maybe it would be easier to end himself if he could remember the look in her eyes when she realized what he’d done.

But when he peeked into those stormy jade eyes, his heart stopped all over again. He remembered all the secrets he’d shared with this woman, although she might just be a beast hiding in Eleanor’s hollow shell. If a wraith of his wife was as good as it was going to get, he might as well enjoy what he has while he has it.

He lodged the braided seaweed back under a heavy rock and stood from his hiding place. Her eyes locked onto him as soon as he began to rise above the debris in front of him. The shadows under her eyes seemed darker and she was more than troubled. He stood with his hands clasped behind him at the edge of the sand.

“Jasper,” she breathed, and a thrill rippled down his spine. He hadn’t heard her say his name in so long.

“Eleanor,” he replied, willing his voice to stop shaking. It didn’t work, of course, but she didn’t seem to notice. She inched closer, as though afraid he’d shout at her again.

“I’m sorry,” she pressed, her fingers touching her collarbone the way they did when she was feeling guilty for something. This little quirk that hadn’t changed erased any doubts he may have had left.

“I’m sorry, too,” he sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “It’s not your fault. If-- if anything, it’s mine for failing to protect you.” He could tell then that he’d peaked her interest and clamped his lips closer together. For some reason, he refused to speak about what had happened. He wondered if maybe that had something to do with all of the guilt he’d been sheltering so carefully in his heart. Maybe he was worried she’d think less of him.

“I brought you some fish,” she said quietly when she realized he wasn’t going to continue. He smiled gratefully as she placed the basket in the shallows. It was crudely made out of reeds, which suggested to him that she’d only done it within a few minutes. Still, it was much better than anything he could have done.

He pulled the lid off to reveal a large assortment of smaller-sized fish. He set immediately to making a small fire to cook them on.

“You know where I came from, yes?” Eleanor asked as he worked. He nodded slowly, but he didn’t like where the conversation was going. “Could you tell me anything about it?”

“I could,” he muttered, stacking some wood in a little pile. “But I won’t.”

“Why not?” She growled. He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow; her tone had gotten a little harsh. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Why not?”

“Let me put it this way,” he started to explain, although he knew he was making it up as he went, “-if I tell you everything, you’ll have something to manipulate me with.”

“If I wanted to hurt you,” she said matter-of-factly, “-I very well would have done it by now.”

He knew that. He knew she wasn’t trying to kill him. He could see everything she did to make herself appear more human to him. However, it didn’t change the fact that she was not, and never would be again, human. Instead of replying, though, he remained silent as he coaxed a fire in front of him.

“Jasper?” She prompted. He nodded his head to acknowledge that he’d heard her, but still made no move to respond.

With a small, disgruntled sound, her head slipped below the water and she left.