Wip Week: Merfic (Part Two)

[randomweaving]

The Elders knew.

The moment he'd reported back, he'd seen it in their eyes, heard it in their song. They knew the sun had touched him, saw he'd lost his heartstone, knew he had broken the most sacred of their laws.

It would, he reflected as he swam, have been easier if they'd been harsh in their rulings. But all had understood, had been almost kind, had told him they held no blame for him, had known it was in his nature. But they had banished him all the same.

Not from the ocean, no mer would do that. He could no more change his nature than he could fly, and their magics held no more power than his. But banish him from clan, family, his fated course...that they could do.

And a mer alone could not survive long. He knew that well, the life of a scout was dangerous enough. The ocean was his home, but a savage one when she wished to be, away from the outposts of his kind.

Another clan might take him in, if he performed some great deed, proved his worth through acts of skill or bravery.

Assuming he could find another clan. Assuming he had any skills other than too much curiosity, and too much imagination.

So he did the only thing he could think of. He again found the images his split-tail, his Perry had given him, and headed toward them, headed toward the world above. Perhaps the legends would be true, and his tail would melt away when he pulled himself completely from the water.

And if not, if it killed him as others said, well...what did he have to lose?

* * *

It was too quiet, without Ben, Perry decided. That had to be why he couldn't sleep; why he couldn't seem to close his eyes without seeing the ocean, the face beneath the waves, those large eyes gazing curiously into his. It was just that he was used to listening to Ben ramble before they fell asleep, chattering about girls or tests or his photography portfolio or basically anything else that popped into his head. Without that, all Perry could hear was the sound of waves crashing on the beach; after the weekend he'd had, of course that was distracting.

But after two or three hours of tossing around, thoughts wandering listlessly, he finally shoved the covers away from his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. He wasn't sleeping; there was no sense sitting in the stifling heat of the air-conditionless dorm room trying to pretend otherwise.

Slipping on a pair of jeans, not even bothering with shoes, Perry grabbed his key and headed out to the hall, outside and down the stairwell, toward the university's private beach. The Marine Biology building was dark; it was too late in the semester for the night studies unit, and the enclosures were locked. He walked past them, moving down the slope of sand, until he was standing with the surf just barely touching his toes. He stared out over the water, glinting as it reflected the moonlight, and sighed, folding his arms in front of his body protectively.

How? he thought, a silently whispered query to the great ocean before him, one hand reaching up unconsciously to touch the strange stone that rested against his breast, under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Why didn't you claim me, as you claimed so many others? Why not me?

Before he had much of a chance to ponder this question any longer, movement down the beach caught his eye. He turned quickly, frowning, a little irritated to have been caught in his silent contemplation, but after a few moments, irritation turned to perplexity, then to mild alarm.

"Hey!" he called, turning and moving forward. "Hey, man, are you okay?"

He couldn't really see the guy very well--the darkness kept him silhouetted against the moonlight--but he was walking unsteadily, staggering dramatically, and even as Perry watched, he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees in the sand. It was then Perry realized the guy was naked, too.

Drunk, he thought, annoyed. Probably a frat boy.

"Hey, man," he said, moving closer. "Weekend's over, you know. Shouldn't you be sleeping it off?"

The kid didn't answer. Perry's frown deepened, watching as he tried unsuccessfully to climb back to his feet, then toppled over again. A tiny whimper met his ears, and some of his earlier irritation melted away--the kid didn't sound drunk. Just...scared.

"Hey," he said again, voice gentler as he closed the distance between himself and the stranger, kneeling in front of him, waiting for him to look up. "Hey, are you okay?"

The kid whimpered again, eyes darting up. His face cleared, slightly, when he saw Perry's face, and he reached out. Perry could see he was wet, hair dripping in his face, eyes frightened and confused.

"Hey," Perry murmured, soothingly, kneeling and reaching out to touch the young man's shoulder. It was cold, and clammy, and there was no hint of alcohol on the kid's breath or in his eyes. Taking in the bruises on his elbows, the sand that caked his feet and calves, the shivering, the fear...Perry's eyes widened.

"What happened to you?" he murmured, horrified. No clothing--must've been swimming, and lost his suit somehow. Maybe he'd gotten in trouble out at sea--Perry knew a lot of amateur wind surfers and kayakers ran into trouble in the waters near the university. And...Jesus, if the kid had been out all day, and had only just managed to swim back to shore...

A rush of fellow-feeling washed over him, and he squeezed the kid's shoulder sympathetically. "Hey," he murmured. "It's okay now--you're safe. Come here, let's get you some clothes and I'll take you to the clinic." He climbed to his feet and offered his hand.

The kid just looked at him for a long moment, before very hesitantly reaching up and taking Perry's hand. Perry pulled him to his feet and suddenly found his arms full, as the other man stumbled and fell heavily against him.

"Whoa, easy," he murmured, concern growing as he felt the young man trembling in his arms. Shock, he thought grimly, remembering some of his premed courses. The kid needed help, fast.

Well. Clothing, first. His dorm was right on the way to the infirmary anyway. Of course, he wasn't at all confident this guy could make it up the stairs. He frowned, biting his lip and drawing away far enough to look him over.

"Listen," he said softly, "I'm going to run upstairs and get you some clothes, but I'll be right back. Will you be okay to wait here for me?"

There was no sign of recognition in the kid's eyes, but his fingers curled into Perry's shirt as he tried to pull away and he whimpered, tugging him close again.

Perry lifted his eyebrows, trying to remember if his textbooks had ever mentioned anything like this in relationship to shock. Either way, it was obvious the kid wasn't going to be able to climb the stairs, and Perry knew he couldn't afford to wait as long as it would take to haul him up bodily. Cursing the dorm's lack of elevators, he knelt, lowering both of them to the sand and gently unhooking the guy's fingers from his shirt. Those fingers curled around his hands instead, their grip surprisingly strong, and Perry sighed, squeezing them gently as he gazed at the frightened young man.

"I will be right back," he said, slowly and clearly. "Wait here."

He drew his hands away, and felt his heart clench oddly when the young man whimpered, large eyes growing a little wet, and curled in on himself, shaking harder. He swallowed, shaking his head at his own sentimentality, and turned away, sprinting up the beach and back into the dorm building.

In his room, he dug through his closet, finding a school hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that would probably serve. He grabbed a couple pairs of sandals, too, not sure about the guy's shoe size but thinking it might be helpful to have something on his feet.

Then, snagging what he hoped was a clean towel, he darted back down the stairs, then out the back door again, jogging over to where he'd left the kid on the beach.

He was still there, still curled tightly around himself, still shaking in the soft breeze off the water. He reached out again, when Perry came closer, the fear in his eyes easing when he once again fisted the other man's shirt. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, tugging Perry back down beside him.

Perry complied, wondering absently if this guy didn't have some kind of mental deficiency as well. But his eyes weren't dull or blank; they were intelligent, sharp, and very, very frightened.

"What happened to you, anyway?" Perry murmured, as the young man curled in against him, burying his face in Perry's chest.

He got no answer. He hadn't really expected one. He reached around his armful, grabbing the towel, and draped it over the young man's shoulders, beginning to pat him dry.

The young man jerked, looking up as though startled and staring at the cloth draped around him.

"It's okay," Perry said, biting back a smile. "It's a towel. See? Just a towel."

"Tow-el," the kid repeated, his voice uncertain, shaking. But he offered Perry a very slight, very nervous smile as he said it.

"That's right," Perry praised him warmly, a chuckle escaping him in spite of himself. The guy didn't look foreign, but that would certainly explain a lot, if he were. "Towel." He began moving the fabric over the man's arms and back, drying him gently.

The kid twisted, watching what he was doing, touching his skin after Perry'd dried it, his brow furrowed deeply. He giggled, though, a surprisingly young and carefree sound, when Perry reached his sides.

Perry lifted his eyebrows, amused. "Ticklish, are we?" he murmured, as the young man giggled again. "All right--here, you go ahead and finish up." He handed the towel over, giving an encouraging nod.

The kid just looked at him, though, touching the towel gently, plucking at a loose thread. "Tow-el?" he repeated, brow furrowed.

"You really aren't from around here, are you?" Perry mumbled, taking the towel back and resuming his work, careful to avoid ticklish spots, keeping his movements businesslike but gentle. A distant part of him wondered why he was taking so much care of the kid--any other day he would've just called security or an ambulance or something. But there was something different about this young man, something strange, and it called up a protective instinct he hadn't known he had. And the guy seemed to trust him--he'd relaxed visibly when Perry reappeared, and was even now watching him intently, eyes focused and intelligent.

"All right," Perry murmured when he'd finished his task as best he could. "Let's get you dressed, so we can take you to the clinic. Here." He reached for the pile of clothing and grabbed the pants and hoodie, handing them to the younger man. "Put those on."

Again, the kid touched the clothes, but didn't do anything with them, just looked from the pile to Perry again. The fear had mostly faded from his eyes when he'd giggled, but there was still a wary hesitance about him.

"They're clothes," Perry said, voice growing a little disbelieving. "Surely you've seen clothes before?"

The guy shrank away, at the tone of Perry's voice, pulling his knees up to his chest. They were scraped and scratched, sand encrusted along the red lines even after the gentle drying Perry'd finished. "Clo-thes?"

Perry sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, man," he said. "But you really need to put something on. You can't go walking across campus naked. Not even in California."

The kid patted the pile once more, but still looked confused and worried, only slowly relaxing again, seemingly unconcerned by his nakedness. But he touched the sweatshirt again, then reached out and gripped Perry's shirt, tugging lightly at it. "Clo-thes," he murmured to himself again, nodding slowly.

Perry sighed again. "All right," he murmured. "Here."

He picked up the hoodie, glad he'd chosen one that zipped up, and opened it, draping it over the guy's shoulders. Then, slowly so he wouldn't startle the kid, he reached through one of the sleeves, and took the guy's hand, drawing it back through.

The kid didn't resist, but giggled when his hand popped through the cuff. He wriggled his fingers at himself, giggling again as Perry pulled his other arm through the other sleeve in turn.

Perry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "You're certainly easily amused," he said, zipping the hoodie and reaching for the sweats. "No chance you already know how to put these on, I suppose?"

As had become usual, the kid didn't answer. He seemed too distracted by pulling his hand into the sleeve and then popping it back out to have noticed Perry'd spoken, in any case.

"Figured," Perry muttered to himself. He was oddly reminded of the Tom Hanks movie Big, in which a thirteen-year-old had suddenly been given the body of a thirty-year-old. It was just a movie, of course, but Perry was starting to think that this guy could easily be a toddler suddenly thrown into the body of a college student. He sighed again, rolling the pant legs and positioning himself in front of the kid's feet, pushing one through the sweats, then the other, and drawing the pants up to the guy's knees.

"You're going to have to stand up for the rest of this," he said, glancing up into the kid's face again.

The expression that met his wasn't what he'd expected. All traces of amusement were gone from the kid's face, and Perry suddenly thought that no toddler could ever have looked that sad, that regretful. "Clo-thes," he murmured, voice full of loss, before reaching down and touching the waistband, tugging it up on his own until he was clothed.

Perry blinked, then shrugged to himself, climbing once more to his feet. "All right," he said, reaching out for the kid's hand again. "Let's take you to the clinic, shall we?"

Warm fingers took his, and the other man blinked, but helped Perry pull him up, when it was obvious that's what he was doing. He stood, swaying slightly before seeming to find his footing in the sand.

Perry moved forward, after a moment's critical surveillance, and wrapped an arm around the young man's waist, drawing his arm over Perry's shoulders. The young man smiled, looking agreeable enough about the arrangement, and Perry began to walk, leading him slowly but surely up the dune, back to the campus. "I don't suppose you have a name," Perry murmured as they walked, pausing now and then to allow the young man to regain his footing.

He paused, though, slumping a little when they came into the soft glow of a lantern, shaking against Perry again as he squinted up at it.

Perry frowned, glancing up at the light then back at the young man beside him. "What's the matter?"

The kid didn't respond--no surprise there--but just burrowed more tightly in against Perry's side, hiding his face against the broad shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay," Perry murmured, startled. "It's just a lantern. It can't hurt you, see?" He leaned over and rapped on the metal pole with his knuckles; it echoed hollowly. "No big deal." But still, he couldn't persuade the other man to come any closer to it, and finally just shrugged and skirted the pool of light, wondering how long this was gonna take.

Fortunately, the clinic was relatively close to the beach. He bypassed the main entrance, knowing the only staff available at the moment would be the emergency crew on night duty, and headed straight for that entrance, walking in and hitting the bell on the counter.

A surly looking nurse appeared a few moments later, glowering at Perry, then at the young man in his arms. "What's the problem?"

Perry shrugged. "Not honestly sure," he replied. "I found him naked on the beach. He doesn't seem to know how to talk, and he's having trouble walking, but I don't think he's drunk."

"He's not naked."

Perry bit back an exasperated sigh. "I know he's not naked now," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. "I gave him some of my clothes to wear. He was wet and shivering--I think he might've been in the water."

The nurse stared at him, then at the strange young man, before shoving a clipboard at him. "Have him fill these out," she said, "and take a seat. We'll be with you in a few minutes."

Perry glanced at the sheet, which requested, among other things, name, birth date, and student ID. "Um...I don't know if he can read or write," he said.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Is he a student here?" she asked, looking annoyed. "We can only treat current students with a valid ID number and identification."

"I told you, I don't know," Perry said, growing a little frustrated himself. "I found him naked on the beach, and so far all he's said to me is 'clothes' and 'towel.' But I couldn't just leave him out there."

"We cannot treat any student without a valid ID," the Nurse said, snatching the clipboard back from Perry and frowning at him as though he'd tried to pull of a major heist. "He'll have to go to the county hospital."

Perry sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "Listen, can we call an ambulance to come get him or something? He's not walking really well and my car is all the way on the other end of campus, in the north parking garage."

She sighed, but waved him off toward the chairs. "We'll call them to pick him up," she said. "Just have a seat."

Perry got the other man--who'd burrowed completely into his side when confronted with the grumpy nurse--over to the less than comfortable plastic chairs, sitting him down before settling beside him. At least he'd gotten a distraction in place of his insomnia.

It took almost half an hour before the ambulance arrived, sirens silent, and the paramedics entered. Perry climbed to his feet, gently shaking the young man--who'd fallen asleep with his head on Perry's shoulder--awake once more. "Hey," he murmured, "these guys are going to take care of you now, okay?"

Startled blue eyes met Perry's, and the kid fisted his hands in Perry's shirt, hanging on as the paramedics came closer.

"What's the matter with him?" one of the paramedics, a gum-chewing blond with "Stacy" on her nametag, asked Perry, eyeing the younger man askance.

"He's scared," Perry replied, voice a little defensive. He knelt in front of the young man, who still sat in the chair, and gently untangled his fingers from the front of Perry's shirt. "It's okay," he said, as gently as he could. "They won't hurt you, I promise."

His fingers closed around Perry's, squeezing tightly, and he again made the soft whimpering noise Perry'd first heard on the beach.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Stacy asked, staring from Perry to the young man on the chair. "You can come with him, if you want..."

"I don't know him," Perry said, climbing back to his feet and drawing the young man up with him, not entirely surprised when his lanky arms circled Perry's waist and clung there, trembling. "I just found him on the beach. I think he's suffered from some kind of acute trauma or something." He reached around, closing his hands around the kid's wrists and drawing his arms gently away. "Hey," he murmured. "They'll take really good care of you, they really will. You'll be better in no time"

The younger man's face crumpled in on itself, and he slumped, like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. He offered no further resistance, just watched Perry, eyes never leaving him, as the paramedics came forward.

Perry felt his heart clench, and swallowed, a strange feeling of guilt twisting in his gut. The paramedics hooked an arm each under the young man's elbows, leading him gently toward the door, but the young man kept his eyes trained on Perry's.

"Hey...come on, man, don't look at me like that," Perry said, following them toward the ambulance. "I'll come visit you tomorrow after my classes, okay?"

But the hopeless gaze stayed on him, as the doors closed. "Per-ry..."

He heard his name, but before it fully registered, the ambulance was pulling away.

* * *

Land was big. Bigger than he'd thought it would be, even knowing the extent of the sea. He had kept his attention focused on his Perry, on finding him, finding the place he'd felt when they'd bonded in the water.

And it had taken a long time. The shore went on forever in either direction, and no place along it matched the shapes in his mind. He had seen the sun set above the waves, rise again, and then sink once more before he found the spot.

He supposed he could've gone faster, if he hadn't been so fascinated by all he saw. But each time he surfaced, there was something new to see, some wild invention of the split-tails at which to marvel. At first he kept giggling, taking them all in.

But then...then he realized he would soon be living with those things, that world, and his heart quailed. It was after that that he swam faster, ignoring the shapes and movements other than to check them against his memory of his Perry's home.

When at last he reached the point of land, he found himself hesitating, floating in the water, only his eyes above the surface. He knew this was the place, knew he had to go on land to find his Perry. But fear filled him. He had never been fully out of the water before--even when he'd saved his Perry, he'd made sure his fins stayed wet--and he wasn't certain of what would happen.

There were rumors enough, among the young mers, but none of them knew for certain. The most common was that a mer's tail would split, and the mer would become like one of the split-tails, walking about. Some said the tail would return, when the mer went back to the sea, and some said it wouldn't. But still others said the tail would split, and the splitting was fatal.

Outcast he may be, but he didn't want to die.

He hesitated, holding himself just beyond the breaking of the waves, watching the shore. It was night, but the moon was full, her radiance shining down, and he could see better than he could beneath the waves.

Gathering his courage, his resolve, he silently called out to his Perry, trying to draw him down to the water. He wasn't sure if their bond would act as one between mers, but he hoped, and called again, and again.

When he saw a dark figure approaching down the beach, a joy great enough to drown his fear filled his heart, and he didn't think, he merely pushed himself up through the waves to gain the shore.

He was tumbled over and over, caught in the crest of heavy surf, the chaos utterly unlike the calm of deep water. Finally he gained the sand, fingers digging into it, pulling himself up from the water, the lapping waves that still kissed his fins.

It was when he cleared a line of debris--drift wood, dead seaweed--and fell back in soft, warm sand that the pain hit him.

For long moments he thought he was dying, as he coughed up water he'd forgotten to clear from his gills, felt his tail flapping and writhing and splitting up the middle, leaving him finally breathless and aching. He opened his mouth to release a sob, and felt air rush into his chest, instead.

That made him sit up, blinking down at himself. Split-tail. He poked gingerly at one half, surprised to feel soft skin beneath his fingers, not the scales he knew. Running his hands down their lengths, he jumped again. The scales were gone from his forearms. He breathed a sigh of surprised mer song, and even that sounded strange, reedy and thin and lost in the night air.

He'd become a split-tail, like his Perry. "Per-ry," he murmured, hugging himself tightly. His Perry would protect him, just as he'd protected the split-tail. His Perry would make this strange world make sense...they'd understand each other.

He was sure of it.

It was only that surety that pushed him to pull himself up, attempt to take a step. But, though it'd looked easy, when his Perry'd done it, when he'd seen others on the beach on his swim, he found he couldn't keep himself upright for more than a moment or two, not without falling over. He curled around himself in the sand, silently calling to his bondmate, crying for the loss of his world.

But then his Perry was there, and all was well.

Or so he'd thought.

* * *

Perry wasn't entirely sure how he made it through his classes the next day. He attended them all, even the Physiology lecture, which should have been a fascinating class but was taught by the most mind-numbingly dull professor who'd ever roamed the planet, Perry was certain. He usually didn't attend, preferring to learn from the course discs and the text, but an extra burst of motivation (or, perhaps, a desire for distraction) drove him to do so anyway.

It didn't matter. He spent the entire time doodling in the margins of his notes, thinking about the young man from the beach.

He knew my name. He said my name.

He'd been going over the entire encounter from every angle for most of the morning, and he was 99% positive he'd never told the strange young man his name. He'd asked for his name, and gotten no response, but he was all but certain he'd never used his own, not even in the clinic.

How did he know who I was?

By the time his classes ended at three, Perry knew he wasn't going to be able to stay away from the hospital any longer. Pausing in the cafeteria only long enough to grab a bagged lunch, he headed to his car and made the short drive to the University hospital near campus. He should be able to find the guy--he had a good description, and a good excuse. After all, the guy still had Perry's clothes.

He stopped in the front and asked about the young man who'd been brought in the night before, and was made to answer a number of questions and fill out a HIPAA form before he was finally given the information he needed.

"Room 407," the receptionist told him at last. "John Doe UCSB. Good luck, though--apparently he won't let anyone touch him, and he's been making weird noises out the window all day."

Perry nodded his thanks, feeling an extra twist of guilt, then moved toward the elevators, following the woman's instructions, and soon found himself standing outside the young man's room. He reached for the door, which was closed, then paused, realizing there was a strange sound coming from within--a sort of high keening song, one that reminded Perry of the tapes of humpback whales he'd heard while taking an elective Marine biology course his sophomore year. The sound was sad, mournful, and Perry drew a soft breath at the ache in its chords.

"Who are you calling for?" he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment.

Then, nervously, he knocked once. The song stopped abruptly, but there was no motion behind the door after that. After a long moment of silence, Perry turned the knob, pushing into the room and squinting when he realized the lights were off, the shades drawn but for a small sliver in the corner that afforded a glimpse of the ocean.

"Hello?" Perry murmured, trying to see.

"Per-ry?" There was a sudden explosion of movement in the dark, and Perry felt two arms wrap tightly around him, as if they'd never let go.

He staggered a little under the impact, but wrapped his own arms around the young man in return, not certain why he felt so relieved to be near him again but knowing he did. He sighed, rubbing the other man's back in gentle circles, swallowing to feel the trembling wracking him. "Hey," he murmured, soothingly. "It's all right, man, I'm here...you're okay."

The smaller man pressed closer, tighter, only relaxing after a long moment. "Per-ry," he murmured again, much more softly, one hand fisting once more in Perry's shirt.

"Yeah," Perry replied, pulling back far enough to look into the other man's face. "How do you know my name, buddy?" he murmured, hoping that somehow, he'd understand. "How do you know me?"

Pale brow furrowing, the young man sat back a little, freeing his hands and chewing at his bottom lip. He raised his hand, and reached out, touching Perry's chest lightly, his eyes searching the other man's for a long moment. But when nothing happened, he dropped it again, sighing, obviously frustrated.

Perry bit back his own disappointment, offering the young man a smile. "It's okay," he said, shaking his head a little. "Don't worry. I just wish I knew what to call you."

Sighing again, the other man crossed unsteadily back to the bed, pulling Perry with him. He lay his head on Perry's shoulder after he sat down and snuggled close.

"Wish I knew why you were so fond of me, too," Perry added, mostly to himself, reaching up automatically and stroking the young man's hair back from his temple.

Just then, a sound at the door made Perry glance up, and the young man whimper and burrow closer to him. Perry frowned, then realized it was a nurse assistant. She looked startled when she saw him sitting there. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know he had any family..."

"I'm not his family," Perry assured her quickly. "I just...found him. Last night." He gave her a half shrug, his other shoulder still the resting place (and now the hiding place as well) for the other man's head.

"Oh," the aide said again. She frowned, glancing at the thermometer and pulse ox in her hand. "I...my shift just started, and no one's been able to get his vitals yet, apparently, because he won't let anyone near him, but maybe since you're here..."

Perry shrugged again. "Feel free to try," he offered.

There was another soft whimper, when she first came close, but after a moment the young man looked up at Perry. He swallowed visibly, but didn't move away when the aide reached for him, though he didn't help her in any way, either.

She slowly and carefully took his vitals, wrapping the cuff around his arm and taking his blood pressure, then his temperature, then his pulse and blood oxygen levels, recording them in the chart. When she'd finished, she beamed at Perry, nodding her thanks, then left the room.

Perry glanced at the young man, a small, sad smile on his face. "Haven't let anyone else touch you, huh?" he murmured. "Yet you won't let go of me. What is it that makes you trust me so much?"

The kid left off rubbing his arm where the blood pressure cuff had been, and looked over at Perry, sighing again. He pointed out the window, at the small strip of ocean that was visible, before looking back, waiting.

Perry frowned, leaning forward and gazing out the window, then back at the kid, wondering what he was supposed to see. "What?" he murmured. "The ocean?"

He touched the glass, fingers moving over it, before reaching back to touch Perry's chest again, his eyes practically begging Perry to understand.

Perry bit his lip, wishing he knew what it was he was supposed to understand, to feel. This kid was trying so hard, trying to make him understand something, and it was...right there, but just out of his grasp, somehow. He released a slow breath, then shook his head, feeling strangely ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

But the kid just sighed, and hugged Perry again, pressing close against him. And then pulled back, reaching up to touch his own cheeks, his face wet with tears. He stared at his fingertips, when they came back wet, before lightly touching his cheeks again.

Perry sighed, reaching up to wipe at the kid's cheeks with his thumbs, clearing them of tears. "Don't cry," he whispered, heart aching again, feeling he was failing the kid, somehow. Which was a strange thing to be feeling, since he'd just met him last night, and barely knew him--he didn't even know his name, for fuck's sake. But he still felt bad that he couldn't help him; couldn't understand whatever it was the young man clearly so desperately wanted him to know.

The kid leaned into the soft touch, sighing softly once more. He pointed out the window, then to himself, then to Perry again, hands making a surprisingly elegant imitation of a crashing wave.

"You...me...the ocean?" Perry murmured, frowning a little as he tried to piece together what that might mean.

The kid's eyes lit up, and he smiled, reaching out and touching Perry's chest again, then his cheek, very lightly. "Per-ry. Boat. A-live?"

Perry's eyes went impossibly wide, as suddenly the image of the face in the water flashed to mind, overlaid itself with the face of the young man in front of him, and matched. "You?" he whispered, disbelief in every line of his features. "It was...it was you? You saved me?"

"Saved," the kid agreed, touching Perry's chest...no. Not his chest, the stone that rested against it, smiling widely.

Perry stared a moment longer, a thousand questions trying to crowd their way into his mind, but the overwhelming gratitude shoved them all aside. "You saved me," he whispered, and smiled broadly, though it was a little watery. "You...fuck, thank you..." he moved forward, hugging the young man close again, tightly, lowering his face to the wiry shoulder. "Thank you...thank you so much."

The kid hugged him back, wriggling in the strong embrace, still smiling just as widely when Perry pulled back.

He moved his hands up to cradle the kid's cheeks, staring deeply into his eyes, wanting to make sure he understood. "Thank you," he said, slowly and clearly. "Thank you for saving me."

The kid's eyes filled again, even as he smiled wider, and he threw his arms around Perry's shoulders, snuggling in close and tight.

Perry held him, eyes drifting over the kid's shoulder to the patch of ocean visible through the shades. He didn't know how or why, but he was certain the kid had come from the water, somehow. Had lived there. It would make sense--not knowing English, the whale-song crying, not knowing about clothing...sure, it was impossible, but...well, so was Perry's surviving, wasn't it? And the kid knew about it--knew about his rescue. Knew his name, and had found him again, looking for help.

He saved you, a voice in his mind whispered to him. Now he needs your help. Save him.

He drew away again, looking down at the young man, who was still beaming at him, fresh tears spilling salty down his cheeks. Without thinking, Perry bent and pressed a gentle kiss to one of those cheeks, tasting the tears on his lips. "I'm going to help you," he whispered. "I'll get you out of here, and whatever it is you need...I'm going to help you. I promise."

"Help," the kid repeated, slowly, and nodded, snuggling close again, his eyes drifting closed.

Perry waited until he was certain the kid was asleep, then lowered him gently back down onto the mattress, tugging the blankets up around his shoulders. Then, glancing quickly through the chart to get the name of the attending physician taking care of John Doe UCSB, he headed to the nurse's station to have him paged.

It was insane, he knew, but he had to get the kid out of there, and find out how to get him home.

* * *


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