What the Water Gave Me

Chapter Seven

Dead and sunken ships littered the bottom of the ocean in certain rough patches, where rocks and angry waves carried them down. Bucky didn’t usually explore them. He’d never had a reason to and human things bored him, but now he went from ship to ship, ripping the doors off the hinges and turning the looted shells inside out in a search. When he found something shiny, he’d take it with him, sling it around his neck or tie it to his wrists and when he finished, he had a nice collection of gold and silver chains and necklaces and rings and gems. The next day, he brought it with him to the shore and pulled himself up beside Steve. Steve looked over and gasped as he unloaded everything in front of him a wet heap.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed and he leaned over and sifted through the pile with his fingers. “What is this?”

The board and marker were sitting on the sand waiting for him and Bucky snatched it up.

“Presents,” Bucky wrote and Steve blinked at him. He looked back down at the pile in the sand and held up one golden necklace.

“Is this real?” He asked and Bucky shrugged.

“It’s shiny,” he wrote and Steve cracked a smile.

“Where did you get all this?” He said.

“Sunken ships,” Bucky wrote and flashed a toothy grin.

“Wow,” Steve said. “And you collected all this for me?”

“Yes,” Bucky wrote and nodded emphatically. “Like?”

“I do, yeah,” Steve said. “I do like it, thank you.” He looked at Bucky. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, but then Steve went on. “Well, I suppose maybe I do, now that I think about it. I’ve got something of a proposition.” Bucky looked at him and cocked his head questioningly. Steve shifted and scooted closer to Bucky. “See, I was thinking, maybe you ought to come back with me.” Bucky stared for a second and blinked at him. Steve swallowed and rubbed his hands over his hair. “The town’s only a mile or so away. I’m not sure how we’d do it yet, but we could fit my house with, I dunno, a swimming pool or something. You could stay with me.” Bucky drew back a little and made a face. Steve studied his expression and his chest deflated. “You don’t want to,” he said and Bucky frowned. He picked up the board.

“Food?” He wrote and let that say it all.

What would you feed me, Steve? How would you do it? Toss me a few carcasses and turn around? If you could do even that.

Steve seemed to understand what he meant and he paled a little.

“Could you try maybe not eating people?” He asked quietly and Bucky glared. He again did not mention his diet switch, one of which he was hoping would be impermanent. He turned the board back around and wrote again.

“Not pet,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to say that you were,” Steve backpedaled and Bucky frowned.

“Half-baked plan,” he accused and Steve pursed his lips.

“You don’t have to be rude,” he said.

“Why want me anyway,” Bucky wrote and Steve looked down and shrugged a little.

“Just thought it’d be nice,” he said. “Having you closer. I didn’t want to keep you as a pet, geez Buck, I just… Wanted you near to me.”

Bucky didn’t quite know what to think and he looked Steve up and down. He picked up his board and wrote again.

“Can’t keep thing like me in pool,” he wrote and Steve nodded wearily.

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

Bucky set the board down in the sand next to the pile of gold and looked up at Steve. Steve looked over at him and let out a breath.

“What?” He said and now, Bucky reached forward and grabbed at the sand and pulled himself up further, continuing to drag himself until he could turn himself around and sit on the beach right next to Steve. He felt disgustingly dry. He brushed the sand off his torso and the front of his tail and offered Steve a grin and Steve shook his head and laughed. There, he thought. Near to you.

Bucky was enjoying Steve’s laugh and leaning back on his hand when he felt a sharp, excruciating pain in his tail and then another in his left shoulder blade and he opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched screech. Steve looked over, stunned, and Bucky could see blood pooling out of a small hole on the side of his tail and he panicked. He flopped over ungracefully and cried out in pain and started trying to claw his way back to the water. Steve clamoured to his feet and leaned down and grabbed Bucky’s arm and started pulling.

“Go!” He screamed as soon as Bucky was far enough in the water to be free. “Go, Bucky, go!”

Bucky pumped his tail and swam at record speed through the water, leaving a red trail behind him. He went as far as he could before the pain was too much and he found a small, underwater cave to hide in. He looked at the hole in his tail, wincing with the pain, and prodded it. Fire shot through him and every scale lit up with pain. There was something in the hole, something small and metal and covered in blood and Bucky sucked in a gulp of water and held it and then began digging into the hole with his claws to get the metal out. He screeched again into the water and was left panting when his bloodied fingers finally found and extricated the bullet. He held it up to his face and realized there must be something similar in his back and he leaned his head against a rock wall behind him and let out inhuman moans of pain. The bullet fell from his fingers and sank down to the sandy floor. He clawed at his back, but was unable to reach the hole with his hands. He didn’t know how to bandage his wounds. He didn’t know how to avoid bleeding out, how to keep other fish from smelling the blood and following him here. It was getting dark and Bucky didn’t know what to do but try to find Steve again.

He swam back to the shore as the sun set to find it empty. He watched weakly from a ways away and then pulled himself back up onto the sand, under the shady ridge he and Steve had sat before. He hoped Steve would come back for him and he lay on the sand and pressed his face into the crook of his arm, trying not to focus on the pain.

He moaned his pitiful version of Steve’s name and shuddered.