Page 53 of Technically Abducted
"Every second," Tev'ra promises. "And the edge has built-in grips specifically designed for non-swimmers. But Finn, there's no pressure. The smaller pool is perfectly adequate for cleaning, and I can swim anytime."
I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but patience and care. He'd give up what he wants without hesitation just to keep me comfortable.
"I want to try," I say. "I want to be with you."
Tev'ra studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "All right. But we establish safety protocols first. You don't let go of the edge. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you tell me immediately and we move to the smaller pool. No heroics, no pushing through fear just to prove something."
"Deal," I say, though my voice wavers slightly.
We make our way to the pool area, and I'm struck again by how beautiful this space is. The larger pool stretches out before us, the water so clear and still it's like dark glass. My heart starts hammering as we approach the edge.
Tev'ra moves to a control panel, and suddenly the room dims. The ceiling comes alive with stars—not just any stars, but ones I recognize immediately. The Chicago sky, the constellations visible from my city, but impossibly bright and clear. Like seeing my home sky without the light pollution that usually washes out half the stars.
"How did you—" I start, then stop. Of course he knows where I live. He spent twelve hours in my apartment.
"I thought familiar stellar patterns might be comforting," Tev'ra says quietly. "Though I enhanced the visibility significantly. Your planet's atmospheric conditions and urban lighting obscure much of what should be visible."
I stare up at the artificial sky, seeing the Big Dipper and Orion more clearly than I've ever seen them in real life. It's beautiful and somehow heartbreaking at the same time—a reminder of how much we lose to our own progress.
"It's perfect," I tell him honestly.
Tev'ra activates the edge grips, and I see handles and ledges that definitely weren't visible before extending from the pool's rim. They look solid, designed specifically for someone like me to hold onto safely.
"The water circulation ensures constant temperature and cleanliness," Tev'ra explains as he slides into the pool with the same fluid grace I remember from our first lesson. "And the mineral content has antiseptic properties."
He surfaces near where I'm still standing, treading water effortlessly while he waits for me to decide. There's no pressure in his expression, just patience.
I sit on the edge first, letting my legs dangle into the warm water. It feels good, familiar from our previous sessions. But this time, when I slide in, there's no bottom to find with my feet. Just water, extending down into darkness I can't see the end of.
My hands immediately find the grips, squeezing tight enough that my knuckles go white. The water comes up to my chest, and I can feel the depth beneath me like a living thing.
"How deep is it?" I ask, then immediately regret the question when I see Tev'ra's expression.
"Does knowing help, or does it make the fear worse?" he asks gently.
I think about it. Usually, not knowing makes my anxiety spike. But something in his careful tone suggests that knowing might be worse in this case.
"Don't tell me," I decide. "I don't want to know."
"Good choice," Tev'ra says, and there's approval in his voice. "Is there anything else you need to know to feel safe?"
"Is there... I mean, is it just water down there? Just empty space?"
"Just water," Tev'ra confirms. "It's a pool, Finn. Clean, filtered water and nothing else. It's only that it's deep water."
The simple honesty in his voice helps more than any technical explanation would have. It's just deep. That's the only scary thing about it. I can handle deep, especially with these grips and Tev'ra right here.
"Okay," I breathe. "I'm okay."
Tev'ra swims closer, close enough that I could reach out and touch him but not so close that he's crowding me. "You're very brave," he says quietly.
Before I can respond, he dives smoothly beneath the surface, and suddenly the water around me comes alive with blue-green light. His bioluminescence creates patterns in the water like nothing I've ever seen—trails of light that follow his movements, turning his swimming into something that looks more like flying through space than moving through water.
He's beautiful. Graceful in a way that takes my breath away, moving through the water like he was born for it. Which,I suppose, he was. This is his element, his natural habitat, and watching him swim freely for the first time makes me understand something fundamental about who he is.
He surfaces near me, not even breathing hard despite the complex underwater dance I just witnessed.
"That was incredible," I tell him. "You're incredible."
