S. Welles - To Ocean's End

“Please tell me what’s got you upset.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Which is code for ‘it’s something.’ Just tell me. I’ll keep it between you and me.” He reached back for her thigh and caressed it with his fingertips.

Even though Mido’s entire back was still soapy, Jessie pressed her body to him, wrapped her arms around him, and began scrubbing down his front. She heaved a sigh through her nose and breathed in the soap’s spicy scent. “I don’t want to tell you. Please stop asking.” She pivoted their bodies so the shower rinsed off his back. She kissed his shoulder blade.

“What did Jacobi do?”

“Nothing.”

“It has to be pretty bad if you’re too scared to tell me.”

“I’m not scared.”

Mido turned around and fixed his serious gaze on her. She looked away but he cupped her chin in one hand.

She gazed into his pale eyes until she couldn’t take it anymore. She rose onto the balls of her feet and gave him a kiss, then kneeled on the tiled floor and began scrubbing down his strong legs. “Look, I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want you to hate each other because of me.”

“What did he do?”

Jessie paused in her scrubbing, Jacobi’s rape threat echoing in her mind. “He said some really mean things. He just wants me gone. That’s all, so let it go. Please.” She resumed scrubbing.

“Only if things don’t escalate.” His tone softened. “If things go well, he’ll get his wish, so I guess it’s not a big deal in the end.” He held up a finger. “But… if he does become threatening or dangerous, I will step in. I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you, Jessie. You’re my world now.”

Jessie stopped scrubbing Mido’s calf. She looked up into his handsome face, her mouth ajar. After two years in Tethys’s hellhole, Mido’s words were the last thing she’d ever expected to be said to her. He gave her his sweet smile, then began running his fingers through her hair. Her gaze darted to his groin.

Mido was at half mast. She rose slightly and gave his head a kiss, then sat on her heels and fought back a surge of fear and bad memories of men having their way with her on her knees.

Mido gasped and shot up to full mast. “Jessie…”

She felt herself starting to slip out of the present, so she locked her gaze on Mido’s blue eyes and willed herself to see nothing but him.

He guided her to her feet and kissed her on the lips, then tried press his body to her but she held his hips at bay. He tried to move her hands but she shied away. He stopped kissing her. “What’s wrong?”

She gave his thighs a reassuring rub. “I love you, too, Mido. Very much. Just give me a moment. Kissing you like that is making bad memories replay in my head.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He tried to wrap his arms around her but she bodily twisted him around and hopped onto him piggyback. He gently sandwiched her against the wall as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. This was the only way they’d figured out how to let Mido enjoy the feeling of being wrapped in her legs.

“It’s okay. I’m still glad I kissed you like that.”

“Oh, god. Me, too. I can’t stop thinking about it.” He massaged her thighs and glutes.

“One day,” she said softly. “One day. I am determined. And I’m hopelessly in love with you too, Mido.” She rested her head against his and listened to the cascading water as she played with his hair. Running water. Showers. The other three had been just as sweaty and were more than likely waiting their turn to clean up. “But we better hurry up and finish showering before the others come in. I don’t want to move, but…”

“No. I agree. This is private.” He set her down and they shared one more kiss before rinsing off.

No one spotted a damn thing on the first day, and today was my only other shot before the waters got too dangerous thanks to pirates and such. Even though I figured it was safe to assume I’d get skunked today as well, I dozed in the Harpy, just in case someone spotted anything. Chances are, if I didn’t stay in the Harpy, a fish would show and I’d miss my chance because I was too far away to take a shot. But, if I stayed in the Harpy, or somewhere near it, I’d have nothing but open water to shoot at. That’s how life worked sometimes.

At some point in my dozing, I fell asleep. The swells, the salty wind, and the blaring sun, they all sapped the energy from me. I didn’t try to fight it. But at some point I was woken from a strange dream where a monkey was using my head as a drum to beat out a mindless rhythm.

I fully came to when a hand slapped my face. I shook out my head, swiped the air in front of me, and caught an arm, then rubbed my eyes and focused on my captive. O’Toole. Of course it was him. No one else would wake me like that.

O’Toole was gibbering frantically like an excited monkey. I pushed him away when he raised his hand to slap me again. “Stop that. I’m awake. Now what’s your problem?”

He gibbered some more, then let out two monkey-like cries as he pointed out over port.

My lagging brain took in the sparkling swells, then honed in on a huge patch that perfectly fit Scully’s lopsided pancake description. I bolted upright in the turret and stuck my feet in the pedals, then rotated the Harpy and aimed it at the whale flounder. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. O’Toole started running in circles near the port railing, pumping his arms like he was doing the breast stroke. I ignored him as I gauged whether the fish was in shooting range or not. It was a very long shot. Looked just barely in range, but I didn’t want to miss again. However, the closer my ship got, the more likely the thing would show some tail and dive. My hands started shaking.

Considering how many centuries I’d been around, and all the decades harpoon guns had come back in style, I was a superb aim. Just like guns, I could factor in every last detail to make that killer shot. I angled the Harpy up thirty three degrees and waited for the bow to ride up to the crest of a wave, then fired. There was a hiss of the release of pressurized air and a dull, metallic clank. The harpoon went nowhere. I removed my hands from the triggers. “What the—?”

Conveniently enough, I’d left the safety latch on. I tugged the harpoon back until it clicked in place, unhooked the latch, and pumped the air pressure tank half a billion times to make sure the damn harpoon would fly. I stood up in the turret and waved my arms like a maniac. “Hey! Whale flounder on port! Sam, Rammus, Cancer—whoever’s up there, move this ship!” I pointed to the bows’ ten o’ clock.

Sam’s voice rang loud and clear over the system. “I see it, Captain. She’s a big one. I’ll approach her nice and slow.” Sam announced the sighting to the entire crew.

Just great. O’Toole’s babysitter was busy at the wheel. Now I had to take the shot asap before the idiot dived in. “Call someone to come hold O’Toole down!” I plopped into the seat, took a few seconds to aim for right where I wanted it, and fired again. The Harpy hissed and screeched, and the harpoon got jammed halfway out its chamber. I let out a snarl as checked the psi gauge. It read double the advised pressure, even after being fired once. I opened the pressure release valve and corrected my own stupidity.

O’Toole bolted for the Harpy and began yanking on the harpoon like he was trying to throw it.

“O’Toole, stop that!” I jumped onto the deck and tried to pry him off. “It’s a harpoon; not a javelin. Now leave it alone!” He kept reaching for it so I smacked his hand and hauled him away. He whimpered and lunged again, but I yanked him back and bodily blocked his path. He hunched his shoulders. “No, O’Toole. Just keep your eyes on the fish.” He whined. I pointed at the whale flounder. Good god, I wanted to strangle him for unwittingly sabotaging my shot. He followed my finger, pointed to himself, then started running in circles and pantomiming swimming again. “That’s better.”