Blue

Molded Rivers

Monsters! Monsters! He had had the audacity to think of them as monsters!

There was only one monster here.

He was disgusting. Irredeemable. There was no way back from this. Adam was gone. This thing he was now, this thing he had become the moment he had participated in his first Hunt, it had to die. He reached down with one shaking hand, reaching for the knife that was tucked on his person. He was going to kill this beast. This was what it deserved. This was all he could give any of these women now.

The blade was cutting into his throat when a hand was placed over his. Then another. And another. They held him gently, their grip soft. He opened his eyes hesitantly. They were crowded around him the way they had crowded around Blue. He was the center of them now. He could see their mouths moving, but he couldn't understand a thing. Blue's eyes were so very gentle. It was her hand on the hand holding the knife... but Samara's hand was the second hand he had felt on his body. He didn't understand. She was right. He was a siren killer and he had murdered so many of them. He was no better than the silver haired man Blue had told her tale about. Blue squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back to her face.

"You didn't know, did you?" she asked him. He was having an incredibly difficult time reading her lips; he kept focusing more on the fact that her mouth was moving and not on actually comprehending the words coming out of her mouth. Her grip was the only harsh one. She was forcing his hand-the knife-away from his throat.

"I just..." he could hardly form any words. How was he supposed to form any syllables when he couldn't even breathe? How could he even push the sounds out when they wouldn't fill his lungs in the first place? Impossibly, Blue's grip tightened, crushing his hand. He focused hard on her face, on the words that she was forming. What was she trying to say to him? He was a little distracted by the pinched, pained look that was suddenly present on Blue's face.

"I think I'm the one," he thought she was saying.

"The one... what?"

"That drowned you," she said. He paused. His whole body locked up, refusing to move a single muscle. Drowned him? That was right... he had been killed by a siren, drowned. Drowned by Blue?

"What?"

"I thought it was a hallucination or something," Blue said, "killing you. I was screaming with rage. Exploding with it. I don't even know why... And then, you were coming towards me. You were so gentle. I thought it was a hallucination, Adam. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know anything."

His heart dropped. It hadn't been his mother? He had been so sure it was his mother. He could barely remember her face; how had his subconscious pasted her face over Blue like that? That feeling of loss, that tiny sinkhole in his stomach, was sucking up the grains of hope that had been stirred loose like sand. His mother and father were well and truly dead. Either they had been eaten by a siren or they had truly gotten in a boat accident, but, either way, their bodies had been swallowed up by the deep blue, never to be seen again. He closed his eyes, even though Blue's lips were still moving. He was so tired. It didn't matter, though, because he knew that Blue was waiting for some kind of response. He wasn't upset with her.

"I don't blame you. It's not your fault," he told her. He opened his eyes.

"I want your help, Adam. I want your friend's help. I want... I want to kill the silver haired man," Blue spat.

"Why would you need our help? Can't you just sing him to death?"

"We can't leave the water. We think that you all can. I'm not sure.... Have any of you ever left the ocean?" Her eyes were burning with intensity, swallowing him up in the storm.

"We've never tried, but I think we should be able. We'd have to be careful... we're all dead. I can't imagine how it would feel to see us again. Chase... Beth... Tammy... I think my Grandmother would have a heart attack and die on the spot," Adam said, the words forcing themselves through the spaces between his clenched teeth. He could practically imagine the look on his Grandmother's face. Would she call him Finn? Act like nothing had happened, that he was simply his father and that she hadn't lost both her son and her grandson in a matter of a few years. She wouldn't cry. He had only seen his Grandmother cry a handful of times in his life. She was a deeply emotional person, but crying wasn't usually the route that her sadness took. She would stare at him with that faraway look in her eyes, and she would ask him how the afterlife was. Was he happy there? Had he seen her son? He wished he had answers for her. He had nothing.

Blue squeezed his hand; he realized that his knife was still gripped in his hand, inches from his neck. He was still in the great webbed embrace of the frenzy. It was strange to be touched this way. It had been so long since he had had more than a brief touch. The Ensigns, he realized, did not touch each other like this. He didn't know how he felt about this. It was a little uncomfortable to be touched like this, after so long. He didn't like the way it made him feel.

Blue was speaking again, he realized.

"So you'll help us? You'll help me kill the silver haired man?" she was saying.

"I... I will. I can't-I don't know if the others will. I'll ask them, but, Blue, I promise you-No, Samara. All of you. I promise you all that you will not be hunted again, not by any of us," he swore. He would do anything to help uphold that promise. He could never let these women be slain by the other Ensigns, never again.

"I don't think that will be possible," Samara said to him. He turned to look at the knot of sirens. There was a ripple of dissent among their faces. They didn't believe them, almost none of them did. He could see it. It had been too long. He wondered how long the Ensigns had been murdering these women. How long they had feared the approach of their careful lines of toy soldiers. The Ensigns feared the sirens deeply and the sirens had been just as afraid. He sighed.

"I'll make it possible, Samara. I'm serious. Whatever it takes. You will not be hunted again. Whatever it takes."

She held his gaze for a moment, her face dubious. She looked away. He didn't have her trust. He didn't have the trust of any of these women. It didn't matter. He didn't need it. He had made them a promise and he was going to prove to them that he could keep it. There would not be another siren murdered at the hand of an Ensign, not while he still drew breath.