"Dr. Dalton, there's a call for the upper coast of California. They need a full squad, and all the gear. From what the caller said, the van will be fine. The truck can sit this one out. It's too bloody dark out there for a species check, but they can point out the rock pool exactly, and there isn't room for anything bigger than a dolphin."

Dr. Jesse Dalton had taken just eight years to gain his doctorate in marine biology. For someone with such lackluster studies in high school years, that was a remarkable achievement in itself. He had not gone to one of the many degree-for-a-fee schools that littered California and the nation. Instead, he had worked harder than ever before to gain his Ph.D. in the major at the University of Southern California. Marine biology was the only study he had a passion for, and the dramatics of Hollywood appalled him now. Eleven years had passed since the fateful birthday party, and ten had been productive.

"All right. I'll take the second shift- call them up." He was the head and creator of one of many organizations created to rescue beached mammals and get them seaworthy again, if needed. He had also put a great white shark back in on one occasion, a decision that made all but a few close friends furious. People were happy enough with mammalian predators, but sharks were another story.

"Got it." Mike Hurst picked up a phone, dialing room numbers from memory. He was one of several interns elated to work with the esteemed doctor. Jesse Dalton had been the first person to give a real estimate of the way a giant squid's tentacles worked, and had done a landmark study in the tails of fish.

By the time Jesse reached the van made especially for the purpose of saving beached animals, his small crew was already gathered. Mike was staying back at the "base," as it was jokingly called. Three residents were coming with them. Fourteen college students of various majors had been quite happy for free dorms, access to help with homework, and meals, all for just helping with the effort.

"Let's roll." He could use such clichéd jargon. His small group was too serious to laugh at his antiquated phrases, for the most part. He wasn't that old, after all. He was twenty-nine, a professor, a researcher, and still unmarried. As the boldest of student boarders told him, he didn't look to bad. She had even asked why he wasn't married. He couldn't remember what flippant answer he had given. The real reason was absurd, especially for an expert of oceanography. Mermaids didn't exist, according to every text he had ever read, and claiming otherwise would derail his entire career.

Candy and Mako leapt into the van before the designated driver could put a key into the ignition. They occasionally stayed in the two-year-old research center named for a certain unmentioned person. After a year of floundering, he had decided to go to college. College had offered just what he needed, a non-judgmental group, for the most part, of peers. After a year of living like a recluse, his social standing had dropped enough that he wasn't as easily recognizable.

Candy Dunes was now the editor-in-chief of the Ocean's Monthly. The prominent paper of marine biology and oceanology covered only the most important of events in research, new discovery, and theories and new tips for various designs. The patent of her own personal breathing apparatus, perfected after Jesse made friends in the engineering department after ordering a mechanic dolphin sling and adapted van for his new endeavors, had been on the second page, and all proceeds went directly to the charity house founded by Jesse. He had already sponsored more than twenty students who couldn't afford housing. Once the place could become self-sufficient, it would last beyond him. He liked that idea. The Mermaid Research Center already had some power behind its name, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Mako hadn't done so badly. He was a shark expert with several international institutes. He gave his history as growing up poor on a remote Pacific island, saying he wouldn't give its name to keep privacy intact, and had made a study of sharks in the wild. He took Candy's surname, explaining that he did not have one to call his own. The thesis he wrote on exactly how sharks control sensing the electrical fields of living beings was still unmatched, and he only smiled oddly when asked to name his sources, his methods, or anything related to his unconventional researching methods. He had married a reporter, and knew how to treat a source, especially one that no one would believe.

The roads were slick. A storm still tore through the night, drenching the roads and the sea. Errant waves could carry a full-grown dolphin into a rock pool before retreating faster than any of the mammals. Whales were usually just confused by something, or else felt some unknown need to beach themselves. No one had unraveled that mystery just yet. It was Jesse's next project, to lessen the tragic sight of a carcass larger than several school buses washed up on a beach somewhere.

"Here," one of the newest recruits said, flushing with pleasure that she had been allowed to be the navigator. Sophia held a map of the area with Mike's carefully written directions in the margins. Mike would answer any further calls, forwarding locations to the van. Ricard, the navigator's study partner, also new, was looking at a satellite view of the beach.

"We're clear," he said, looking intently at the dark landscape. "There's a ridge of rock, but someone should run over it first on foot. There are a few rough patches. The pool's pretty isolated, away from houses. No one will scare the dolphin." That was good. Veteran members of the odd team knew too well how hard it was to get a skittish dolphin into a sling.

"I'll run the check," Jesse said, glancing at the view of the terrain on the monitor. "Mako, you and Candy are the most experienced here besides me. The rest of you listen to them. Candy's in charge of the crane, and Mako's the best one here at getting a dolphin in. Everyone get that?"

"Better than you?" the driver teased. It was hard to make fun of this man. Danielle had heard that the son of a movie star once had been one of the most brutally straight-forward snobs on the West Coast from everyone, including Jesse himself, but couldn't imagine it. After he started going to college, he had developed a much better sense of humor, as Mako had said once. As he hadn't had one before, that was easy. Jesse had laughed at that, not even remembering that he once would have made snide comments that all news syndicates would emulate, ruining the reputation of whoever had said something remotely that degrading.

"Better than me," Jesse affirmed. Mako understood dolphins in a way that Jesse never could. A few were hesitant, but always found after a few cautious nudges that this odd man wasn't about to bite with razor-sharp teeth.

"I'm parking," Danielle warned. This was a part of standard protocol for the driver, as passengers usually walked, hunched over, through the empty area in the back of the van, where an injured dolphin could ride with room left over. The braking was fairly smooth, with only a small jerk as traction tires gripped the road. The van wasn't going anywhere.

The team moved quickly the instant the van was secure. Sophia immediately began to assess the best route to an emergency medical care center, if one was needed. Danielle went over the route with her. Candy began to work with the crane that extended from a compartment on top of the van as Sophia finished planning a route, ready to steady the van with custom braces when it was moved into position. Mako stood at the edge of the path, judging if it was wide enough for a van. Jesse walked down it, stomping on a few portions to get a feel for the rock, checking for changes in sound. Some rock had a limestone bed beneath it; limestone was easily dissolved by water. All in his business heard about the fate of Ms. Licht's team fourteen years ago, when her entire van went through the thin crust of rock.

He found the rock pool easily enough. It was just ten feet across, an uneven shape that most closely resembled an oval someone had punched in the side. He checked the approach first, making sure he didn't slip. He had learned through experience that rushing to help was not a good idea. Falling was never pleasant, and no dolphin appreciated a scientist, however renowned, falling on top of him.

About to call Mako, he paused. He would just have a quick look. If it was a shark, Mako was the only choice. Jesse had called Mako out to the beach the time he had found a great white. He wasn't about the coax the predating fish into a sling. Mako had done it easily enough, which never failed to amaze Jesse. He related the incident later to Maddie, who wasn't at all impressed. She had already guessed.

Maddie had a successful show. It had started on a local public network, between news on the latest school board decisions and a speech by the mayor. A producer for a major station had watched it, bored with nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon. He had loved her no-nonsense approach, and the easy recipes that didn't ask for three ducklings still in shells or spices only a French gourmet would stock. Her motto was "I'm here to cook, not to support the business of the fancy I-dare-you-to-pronounce-this spice shop." While the motto was rather long, she still used it.

She was labeled the latest of the divas of home improvement. She never held with that image. Leaving just enough to support her and the new housemate she had met in New York, a man she still was teased about by Jesse, Candy, and Mako because he was a fan of the Yankees baseball team she hated so much, the rest went to charity. She gave the odd dollar to Jesse's commonplace but workable idea, though a much larger portion went to a small abused children's counseling shelter in Northern California. If they guessed why, her three younger friends never brought up painful memories for her.

He looked in the rock pool. There was no overly excited dolphin splashing, tail churning water in a panic to be in an enclosed space, ready to be put back in the ocean without incident. There wasn't even a lethargic dolphin that would need medical care. At least there isn't a dead dolphin. He hated the sight of a dead dolphin, the intelligent eyes clouded forever, perpetual smile still frozen in place.

He didn't see any signs of life in the rock pool, besides the usual. There were a few sea stars, eight sea urchins of the particularly sharp type, massive swaths of kelp, clams, a clump of oysters, and a small school of fish. At a pebble he tossed into the water, they scattered into the seaweed, only the small fluttering of seaweed showing their presence. He watched the pebble fall idly, landing neatly beside a pale finger.

He turned to leave before exhibiting a classic double take. A finger? That was not among the usual inhabitants of rock pools. Avoiding the sea urchins, he stepped into waist-deep water, hoping that the abnormally large waves were finished for the night. He still did not like the open ocean. Surfing was out of the option, now. He didn't miss it as much as he would have guessed. After that day twelve years ago just last week, surfing brought too many memories he would rather save to dreams.

Jesse found a spar of driftwood half-buried in the sand. He pulled it out, ignoring the cloud of silt that spread around his feet like a nuclear cloud, though without the deadly effects. He shifted the kelp to the side, not even able to make a guess as to what he would find. He found a pale hand, and then an arm. Well, that was normal enough.

When he found a female torso covered in an armor of scales, he froze for just an instant, though it felt like years. He closed his eyes, remembering the direction that he had to move in. He ducked below water, feeling around on the rough-sanded pool bottom scattered with sharp fragments of seashells. He found an arm, and reached behind a cold back. His other arm found the tail that he expected. Lungs screaming for breath, he stood.

Kelp fell away from her face like a reluctant curtain as he lifted her from the water. Her skin was translucent. He could see the veins beneath, but couldn't tell if they were pulsing. She's so cold. Fish were cold blooded. It would only make sense that she would feel cold. She had been in the Pacific, after all. Cold water, cold fish- 'tis an elementary concept, my dear Jesse. Now he was just trying to calm himself down.

It was Lille. He could recognize her if he was blind, and all he had to know her was the way water rippled over her body. Well, that wasn't quite right, but it sounded poetic. Her eyes didn't open, and her mouth was slightly open. A trickle of saltwater fell from her mouth, hitting the tidal pool with barely a ripple.

"Lille," he said, hoarsely. Too late, he remembered his folly. "Aquiline." He still wasn't used to that name, as beautiful as it was. "Aquiline?" She still didn't respond.

He pulled her hair away from her neck, trying to find that point where a pulse would be found. For all his medical emergency training and efficiency, he was panicking. He didn't find a point for a pulse, distracted by something else. This had not been covered, either in his human CPR or marine mammal emergency session. She had gills.

Well, of course she has gills. She has to breathe, after all. There were three on each side of her neck. Each side had all three perfectly parallel shallow gashes that looked right, somehow. Feathery appendages, like a ripple of translucent silk, extended from each, hanging limply. Finally, the thought that had been circling came to realization. She needs water to breathe.

He dipped her underwater without a second thought. Maneuvering with some difficulty, he tried to hold onto her while holding her hair away from her gills. Improvising, he ran a finger along each gill gently, trying to get a reaction from the still organs. He didn't think that it would work, but then the gills moved on their own at once in an abrupt motion that could only be a sputter. After a few more such coughs, they steadied into a regular rhythm.

She was breathing gently, a slight furrow in her forehead showing that it was difficult. He knew that dolphins had to remember to breathe. Was it the same for mermaids? He would have to ask her later, as soon as he had the opportunity to apologize fifty-six thousand times. That probably would not be enough, but Candy said that after that many it would get very boring.

He saw small changes, ones that he knew were not usual. At least, he had not seen them before. Her skin was clearer, but there was a fragile quality to it she never had shown. Her eyes seemed more sunken, dug into a shadowed hollow that was most definitely not usual. Her collarbones stood out clearly- clavicles, as his anatomy teacher would snap, gesturing pointedly to a diagram. That professor had been insistent on proper names in place of colloquialisms.

A careful hand smoothed the offending hair away from her gills again. Her hair was thinner than it had been twelve years ago, and he could barely believe it had been that long ago . As far as he was concerned, it was just yesterday that she had left. She had not left him, he knew. She had left because he had yet to figure out what he could have had. He had wasted eleven years, and that was enough. He moved a gentle finger to her neck, and found a steady pulse that didn't seem strong enough for her.

"Mako!" he yelled, seeing that she was not about to wake up. "Get me a few blankets. Don't let anyone but Candy down here." Not one of his students would argue with Mako. When he wished, Mako could be intimidating enough that the marine-minded students remembered the shark of the same name. Candy could keep them in line, but he needed her to help him. She knew CPR far better than he did, and always read about odd topics for the magazine. Resuscitating fish just may have been one of them.

Candy carried two of the water-proof blankets when she made her way down the path, moving as quickly as possible without falling from the narrow ledge. What on earth did Jesse want blankets for? They were here to find a dolphin. Maybe he had fallen in, or tore his pants on something. That would explain why he didn't want anyone else there. With these rational reasons in mind, she almost dropped her burden when she the true reason.

"Lille?" Candy never had been one for hallucinations. She didn't notice that she had used the wrong name, and Jesse didn't bother to correct her.

"She's freezing. I think she might just be cold-blooded, but that might be hard to explain. These, too," he said, moving a shroud of hair aside to reveal gills. "She's breathing air, now. I do trust the students, but I think some things are better left secret.

Candy agreed. Between the two of them, she was wrapped in blankets carefully. The end near her tail was neatly tucked in, and the blankets also firmly covered from her shoulders to the tip of her tail. Jesse would carry Aquiline, Candy would field explanations as to why she had been called down. She might not hallucinate, but she could lie well any time at all. Her mother had given her that wonderful talent.

"She's an old friend of Jesse's. We haven't seen her for years. She washed up on the beach. She isn't wearing a stitch of clothing but a torn-up swimming suit, and she's freezing. No, the pre-med students will not be examining her, Sophia and Ricard. She just has a bit of shock- trust me, no hypothermia. Don't probe at her neck, Sophia- she's having a little trouble with her windpipe. No, Danielle, you will not do blood work while in the van, or when we're back at the center. Those kits are made for dolphins. Ricard? Did you listen to me? Leave the poor woman's neck alone." Candy took on the role of exasperated teacher, finally getting them to leave Aquiline alone. Jesse was no help at all, only watching Aquiline for any signs of life, and Mako only laughed at her attempts to control the many students, every last one of them eager to help.

Aquiline gradually grew warmer. Her skin lost the freezing feel, but became no more opaque. As blood flowed more easily in the warmer veins, the skin only looked more transparent than ever. Her hand was limp as Jesse held it, remembering the events of years ago. "Come on, Aquiline," he said, speaking quietly to her. If nearby students in the press of the van heard, they gave no sign. "I lost you eleven years ago last week. I won't lose you a second time." He paused for only a second, whispering to her. It didn't matter that she was unconscious. "I love you, Aquiline."