Dark Waters Rising

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"I can't believe you stowed away on my ship," Castor grumbled over the pint of ale he was nursing. 

"I had a feeling you were going to do something stupid," Roman shrugged, sipping on his own pint.

"Stupider than stowing away on a ship and neglecting your duties as sheriff?" 

"Ouch," Roman placed his palm over his chest as if he'd been shot. "Do you think I'd actually have left without making the proper arrangements? I'm not daft."

Castor gave him a healthy dose of side eye.

"Besides," the blonde continued, "I'm technically out looking for a missing person, so it falls under my duties regardless."

"I'm not looking for Wesley," Castor sighed. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Well, I'd imagine here is as good a place as any," Roman shrugged, flagging down the barmaid that had served them their drinks. After the woman made her way over, Roman put on a charming smile and said, "Terribly sorry to bother you, but we are looking for a friend of ours and think he might've passed through here sometime in the last month or so. Has anyone by the name of Wesley Roberts been in?"

"I don't know," she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, causing her skirt to sway slightly. "What does he look like?"

Roman looked to Castor, knowing he'd be able to provide more information than he could. 

"He's about this tall," Castor held up his hand for reference. "He has reddish brown hair, about this long, and his eyes are blue."

"You've just described half the population, lad. I'll be needin' more than that."

"He's got an accent similar to mine and there's a good chance he's traveling with a taller black-haired fellow with purple eyes."

"Purple eyes! Now there's something I'd remember," she said. "Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. Don't think he's been 'round."

"What about Cassius Grey?" Roman tried. "I heard he likes to frequent this town as of late."

"Yeah, I know 'im," she said. "If he keeps to his routine, he should be back in here 'round this time tomorrow."

"Excellent, thank you," Roman's expression was grateful. 

Once she'd walked away again, Castor asked, "Who's Cassius Grey?"

"He was my father's first mate before he died. If you truly are looking for a man that was abducted by a siren, he'll be a good starting place."

Castor thought about it for a moment before nodding in agreement. He hoped the man did show up the next day, since the Queen Adelaide would only be in port for a week more at most.

----+------+----

"You're doing well," Calloway praised, patting Valentine on the back. "Our numbers have more than doubled."

"It's still not enough," Valentine said. "Even if our numbers were matched, we're still asking women, children, and the elderly to fight."

"People die every day."

"They shouldn't have to," Valentine ran a hand over his face. "I shouldn't be asking them to."

"That's why Wesley's gone to the surface, isn't it? To even the odds?"

Valentine's shoulders were taut with stress. He glared at the other man, thoroughly annoyed, and said, "Until I have proof otherwise, I will operate as if Wesley has failed and we are on our own."

"That is wise."

"I am tired," Valentine said. "Please leave."

It took that level of bluntness for Calloway to realize Valentine wished to be alone. With a curt nod, he swam away, leaving Valentine as the sole occupant of the former cargo hold. 

He sighed, bubbles escaping his nose. The loss of buoyancy caused him to drift slowly downward. As his back touched the floorboards, his hand reached for the metal band around his arm. 

He hated the cold, empty feeling that settled in his chest in Wesley's absence. Even knowing he was probably fine, Valentine had to fight the urge to leave it all behind and find him again. Anything for a few more minutes with his mate. 

He didn't like to think about it, but the thoughts prodded at his mind persistently. There was a good chance he might never see Wesley again. His father had scouts looking for him constantly, and if they managed to find him, they'd try to kill him. If not that, then he could die in the looming battle, or worse, Wesley could. 

He only knew one thing for certain: if they both lived through this, Valentine was taking Wesley back to the surface world where they would live a long, happy, boring life together. 

He just had to do a tiny bit of patricide first. 

"I'm ready when you are," he whispered to the current, knowing Wesley couldn't hear him, but hoping beyond anything that he could feel the message in his heart regardless. 

The clock was ticking, and soon, Wesley would make the first move that would start a civil war.

And until then, Valentine was holding his breath.

----+------+----

A/N

If you had to describe what you're feeling right now as a weather pattern, what's your forecast?

Happy Sunday,
-Mora Montgomery