Page 36 of Claimed By the Deep
Maybe I can learn to love her as she is, rather than trying to make her life fit my understanding of how things should be.
It's a difficult concept, fundamentally at odds with how my people view partnership. But Meri is worth the effort. Worth the discomfort of adapting to a worldview that seems unnecessarily complex and risky.
By morning, I've settled into an uneasy acceptance that our relationship will require more compromise than I'd anticipated. More willingness to let her face challenges I could easily eliminate. More patience with human concepts that make no evolutionary sense to me.
I wait in our cove, rehearsing what I'll say when she returns. How I'll try to explain my perspective while acknowledginghers. How we can find middle ground that satisfies both our needs.
But as the sun climbs higher and the morning stretches into afternoon, I begin to realize that she might not be coming. That perhaps our disagreement meant more to her than I understood. That perhaps I've already damaged what we were trying to build.
The thought sends cold dread through my core. After a century of isolation, I've found the one being who sees me—truly sees me—and accepts what I am. I can't lose her now, not over a cultural misunderstanding about resources and independence.
I wait until sundown, hope fading with each passing hour. When it becomes clear that she isn't coming today, I make a decision I never thought I would make.
I'm going to her.
Swimming into the harbor after dark is risky, but I need to see her. Need to understand why she hasn't returned. Need to make sure she's safe and that our connection hasn't been irreparably damaged by my ignorance of human relationship dynamics.
I approach her boat cautiously, staying deep until I'm directly beneath it. The lights are on in the cabin, but I don't sense her presence aboard. Deep Pockets sits empty at her dock, secured for the night but unoccupied.
Where is she?
I drift through the harbor, keeping to the shadows as I search for any sign of her. The familiar scent of her skin, her hair, anything that might lead me to her location. But the harborwater is thick with engine oil and human waste, masking any trace of her unique signature.
Hours pass as I circle the marina, growing increasingly desperate with each circuit. Something is wrong. She should be here, on her boat, where she always sleeps. The absence feels deliberate, as if she's avoiding not just me but her normal patterns.
As dawn approaches, I'm forced to retreat to deeper water before the increased boat traffic makes concealment impossible. I leave without answers, without seeing her, without any resolution to the questions tormenting me.
Has she abandoned me? Is she in trouble? Did my cultural misunderstanding drive her away completely?
I return to our cove, settling onto the sandy bottom to wait once more. If she comes today, I'll be here. Ready to explain, to listen, to find a way forward that honors both our needs.
And if she doesn't come...
The thought is too painful to complete. After a century alone, I can't bear the idea of returning to that isolation. Not when I've tasted connection. Not when I've held her in my arms and felt, for the first time since the crash, that I might have found a home on this alien world.
I'll wait for her. Days if necessary. Weeks. Whatever it takes to bridge the gap between our worlds and find our way back to each other.
Meridian
SEVENTEEN
After days battling insurance companies and deflecting Coast Guard inquiries, I finally make it back to the cove where Cyreus waits.
When I drop anchor, he surfaces instantly, as if he's been hovering just beneath the waves for days.
"You came back," he says, relief evident in the slight forward tilt of his head.
"Sorry it took so long." I settle on the dive platform, dangling my feet near where he treads water. "Insurance nightmares and Coast Guard interviews. It's been a mess."
"I feared you might not return." He drifts closer. "That my ignorance of human customs had broken what we were building."
"Takes more than a cultural misunderstanding to chase me off." I extend my hand, our fingers connecting. "But we should talk about what happened."
"I've been considering our conversation. About independence and agency."
"There's something you should know." I inhale deeply. "I was engaged before. To Thomas. He believed he knew better than I did what was best for me."
Cyreus grows utterly still.
