Dark Waters Rising

Tide

"The Kraken."

Wesley's face grew pale. The sea monster's name was no stranger to his ears. He had heard many gruesome tales of it in his travels, though he had always believed it to be a creature of legend, not of reality. To think it was here now, prowling in the depths just beyond the island, was frankly quite terrifying. 

"It's calling to me," the pirate said distantly.

Wesley paused a moment to listen, but no foreign sounds were audible to his ears. He found it upsetting that the creature was able to target an individual source of prey. The pirate seemed to be in a sort of trance as he watched the waves, which was enough for Wesley to know the Kraken was real and was having an effect on him. The fact that Valentine still stood beside him made it clear to Wesley that he was trying to fight the pull, but as the merchant observed the dreamlike state of the pirate, he realized he might be losing the battle. 

Wesley's fingers slipped into the pirate's, unperturbed by the magically ink stained skin. He squeezed Valentine's hand and in a surprisingly steady voice he spoke. 

"Valentine. Come back to shore." 

The pirate didn't move, or make any other outward sign that he had heard. Perhaps he hadn't. He appeared to be in a different world entirely.

"Valentine," he tried again reaching his other hand up to pull the man's gaze away from the ocean. "Valentine, look at me."

The pirate's eyelids fluttered as his gaze ghosted to the merchant's. The depth Wesley had always seen in his lavender irises was missing. Instead they seemed dull. Lifeless. Sad.

"I see you," Valentine whispered tiredly, reaching out to run his thumb over the merchant's bottom lip.

"Don't go," Wesley told him. 

His eyes flickered as he fought to keep them on Wesley instead of the sea. 

"It is time."

"You can't," Wesley's voice was so thick he felt like he was speaking through molasses. 

Valentine leaned forward and lightly connected their lips. He pulled back almost as soon as they had touched, but the contact was enough to allow him a brief moment to think clearer.

"Take care of my things, Wesley. They meant a lot to me and I want you to have them."

Wesley shook his head in denial before embracing the pirate in a tight hug. The merchant's cheek rested against the inky tendrils that at some point during the night had migrated over the captain's heart. He hated them, he decided. Far more than he had ever hated the pirate.

Valentine's strong arms encircled the merchant and held him close. He breathed in the presence of his mate and cursed the beast for drawing his attention away with an impossible allure. When Wesley noticed, he reached up and directed Valentine's face toward him for a second time.

"Don't," the merchant pleaded.

"I need you to do something for me," the pirate breathed. Wesley's attention was sharp, even through bleary eyes as he clung to the pirate's every word. A nascent smile tugged at the corners of Valentine's lips as he said, "Be happy." 

Wesley wanted to cry so badly, but he somehow managed not to. He felt like his heart was shattering, and he couldn't for the life of him remember when he had started to care so much about the pirate.

"It will give me strength for whatever comes next to know that you are happy," he continued.

"I'll try," Wesley's voice broke.

"Good," the pirate breathed. He placed a gentle kiss on the merchant's nose. Then his cheeks. Then his forehead. And finally, he placed one last lingering kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Wesley Roberts." 

A singular tear slipped down Wesley's cheek as he saw the man's eyes become extremely distant again. Wesley held his gaze, though he was positive the pirate could not see him anymore, until he turned back toward the sea.

He watched solemnly as Valentine waded deeper into the water. As soon as the water lapped around his waist, he dove forward and slipped beneath the waves. 

A small glint of lavender beneath the surface was the last Wesley saw of Valentine Cross. 

----+------+----
A/N

Well shit.

Sorry for the delayed update. I got jabbed by four needles at the doctor this week and I have been out of it. Finally got around to summoning enough brainpower and arm mobility to edit and publish this part. 

Anyway, only two more chapters until the end of Part One, so stick around for that. In the mean time, I'll be around bottling up all the hearts I just ripped out of your chests for my display case. (Seriously though, even if it hurts, you'll want to stick around for Part Two and Three.)

Do you believe in an afterlife? What does it look like in your mind?

Until Sunday,
-Mora Montgomery