.

Nine

(In which a storm breaks and dredges up lost things.)

The storm woke Lyon in the small hours of the morning. The wind rattled the eaves and windowpanes with a vengeance, grabbing the small cabin by the throat and shaking it like a dog tossing its prey. He imagined he could feel the walls and floor shivering as he listened to the howling of the wind and wild drumbeat of the rain against the roof. It was a fanciful thought, considering how many storms this house had weathered over the decades and how sturdily it was built, but the sharp edge of his pragmatism seemed to have dulled ever so slightly since finding a selkie in the rocks.

He stared out into the murky darkness of the room, listening to the storm crashing along the shore. He hadn't anticipated such a big storm blowing up overnight, although the ocean was a fickle mistress and the weather was especially unpredictable this season. He hoped the Lamia Scale was riding out the storm unharmed. An unexpected storm could do a lot of damage, especially to an older boat like her, if preparations weren't made in advance. Had Yuka said something about an incoming storm yesterday and Lyon had just been too distracted by Gray's impending arrival to pay any mind? He hoped so. Yuka babied that boat something terrible and watched the weather like a hawk. If there had been any sign of an incoming storm, he would have checked the moorings and moved the boat to a more sheltered spot.

There was nothing for it now, anyway. If the storm kept up like this—not uncommon this time of year—then there would be no fishing until it had passed and the boat was inspected and deemed seaworthy.

Lyon closed his eyes against a blinding flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled overhead in deafening peals. The storm must be nearly on top of them. He buried his face in his pillow to block the lightning out, but he didn't sleep. Every nerve was frazzled now, tense and on high alert. He did not care for storms, even when he was safely tucked away inside.

He stayed in bed and waited for the storm to pass, but it seemed to stall overhead. It wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, his stomach rumbled loudly enough to challenge the thunder and he rolled out of bed. He didn't feel up to cooking anything, so he scrounged up some bread and jam in the kitchen. He frowned out the window as he scarfed his first piece and then ate his second more slowly. It was still dark as night with the rain lashing the windows in sheets and angry clouds roiling across the sky. At least until another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky in a jagged streak and he had to blink away stars.

He wondered if he should offer breakfast to Juvia as well. She hadn't emerged from her room yet, although he couldn't see how anyone might sleep through such a racket. Maybe he was antsy because he'd normally be up and fishing by now. Or maybe it was just the storm fraying his nerves.

He supposed Juvia didn't get up as early as he did anyway, and there wasn't much to do until the storm had passed. He would let her sleep for now, if she was lucky enough to be able.

He lit another lamp and paced around the kitchen and living room. This would be the perfect time to work on preparing the house for Gray's arrival, when he was trapped inside with too much nervous energy to sleep the day away, but he and Juvia had already cleaned every nook and cranny and gathered everything they needed. Lyon was probably as prepared for Gray's visit as he would ever be, even if he knew he would be looking for something to keep his hands busy until the moment his brother walked in the door.

For now, he contented himself with prowling in circles and tormenting himself with equally circular thoughts about how the visit would go and what might go wrong and how he could possibly prevent missteps before they were made. It was an unproductive line of thought, but it kept his focus on the present instead of drifting to the past.

Finally, he forced himself to a stop and took a deep breath. He would only drive himself mad thinking about all the ways he might wreck things for good. Rain still pounded a staccato rhythm against the roof, but he needed something to distract himself from his thoughts.

Waking Juvia was probably not the least selfish strategy, but he was going out of his mind and could use the company.

He knocked on her door loudly, but his rapping was drowned out by a peal of thunder. He waited for the rumbling to pass and tried again. Nothing stirred inside the room, and the door remained closed. Unless the pounding of the rain drowned out the sound of Juvia's footsteps creaking on the floorboards. She was rather quiet.

Lyon gave her another minute before calling out her name softly, then louder. When there was still no answer, he paced about the floor in tight circles again, debating what to do. It didn't seem right to barge in on a woman when she might be sleeping, but the storm was already putting him on edge and now he was starting to worry.

He pushed the door open just a crack and peered inside, but it was too dark to see much of anything. He opened it wider, until the wavering lamplight slashed across the darkness of the room.

"Juvia?" he said again.

The lump of blankets on the bed didn't move. Lyon hesitated in the doorway, debating his next move. Lightning flashed across the sky and seared his vision, but in the instant before he was blinded, he saw the truth: the lump of blankets was only a lump of blankets. Juvia was gone.

He rushed across the room, but only confirmed what he already knew.

"Juvia!" he called as he searched the room and hurried back out to the living area. "Juvia, where are you?"

He knew it was useless, even as he said the words. The rooms were too small for him to have missed her while pacing. There was nowhere for her to hide, nor could he come up with any reason why she might want to.

He looked out the window and swallowed hard. If she was out in that storm, she could be lost or hurt or…

Crossing the room in a few long strides, he snatched his coat off the hook by the front door and wrapped it around himself. He jammed his feet into his boots and threw open the door with a crash, the wind sending it swinging wildly on its hinges. The rain whipped across his face as he wavered in the doorway.

Then he took a deep breath and stepped out into the squall. Squinting his eyes to slits against the driving rain, he trotted down the path. After nearly losing his footing in a patch of loose, slippery pebbles, he slowed down and picked his way along more carefully. Visibility was nil, and the wind snatched the words from his mouth and whipped them away almost before they touched the air. He ducked his chin into his coat as best he could, tugged down the hood, and stumbled on, fighting the wind the whole way.

He didn't stop to consider where Juvia might have gone. There was only one place to go, and the thought of it set his heart stuttering. Although he had a difficult—nearly impossible—time seeing the path through the rain, he knew the way out to the rocks by heart. He slipped and skidded down the last few yards of the path, rocks skittering beneath his boots.

The rocks, full of tide pools and adventure in the sun, were treacherous in the rain. They stretched along the northern end of the beach in a jagged field, all jumbled up together. It was easy enough to pick out a safe path in the daylight, if you were careful, but in this weather…

Lyon clenched his jaw and inched into the maze. He knew where some of the larger slabs were, the ones that were more or less flat and smooth, and tried to find those rather than risking the ones tilted at jaunty angles or broken into smaller, sharp-edged pieces. Even the safer chunks had dips and imperfections, and it was too easy to slip into one of the tide pools formed where the rocks met. Lyon forced himself to slow down with an effort and picked his way along carefully. He knew how easy it was to twist an ankle or open up a gash in his leg, and he had no intention of stranding himself out here.

He found the edge of the first band of rocks and hopped down into the narrow strip of sand weaving between the boulders before climbing back up onto the next. The rocks grew more treacherous closer to the ocean, broken and cracked and wedged close together. Under normal circumstances, he would never attempt traversing them in the midst of a storm, but Juvia was out here somewhere. He was betting that wherever she was, it was down by the water.

His boot slid on the rain-soaked rock, and he went crashing down with a cry. A sharp pain pierced his hand and near his knee, and he stayed on all fours for a long moment, gasping for breath and gritting his teeth. But he had no time to waste. Pushing himself back upright, he started forward again with even more caution.

He called for Juvia again, but with the crashing of the waves nearby, it was even more impossible to hear. He struggled against the wind and clambered over the rocks until he drew close to the shoreline. The waves roiled and smashed against the beach, throwing up massive walls of spray, and he dared go no farther. It would be all too easy to be swept into the sea by a rogue wave or fall on the slippery rocks and injure himself.

He moved parallel to the shore instead, going farther up the headland and then retreating back the way he'd come, squinting through the rain and calling for Juvia until his voice went hoarse. She was nowhere to be found.

He paused at the edge of the rocky field and looked around helplessly. He had been so sure…

There was more beach to cover, though, farther down where the rocks petered out and the shore turned to hard-packed sand. He should have checked there first. It was far less dangerous to traverse, for one, and Juvia was more likely to have gone there like she usually did when pining for the sea. It had been foolish and reckless to start with the most dangerous stretch of shore. He should have known better, and yet…

He shook the memories out of his head and fought his way back through the rocks. It was foolish to let the past overcome the present. He needed to find Juvia now, and the only way to do that was to think about where she was most likely to go.

Focus, Lyon.

He made it out of the rocks without twisting an ankle, although he did stumble again and scrape up his palms. A small price to pay. The ocean often demanded a steeper tithe.

He paced the sand several yards above the waterline, moving faster now that his footing wasn't as unsure. He saw Juvia nowhere, and the niggling fear that had been chewing at the edges of his mind since he'd discovered her disappearance became harder and harder to ignore. It stoked his panic to dizzying heights.

Juvia could be gone, reclaimed by the sea. And without her skin, swept into the ocean in the frail body of a human girl, she would die. Or, Lyon imagined so, although he still knew little of selkies despite everything.

The feeling of loss took his breath away, made him choke on her name and fill his lungs with rain instead. He had always known Juvia would go back to sea, but not like this. She was supposed to heal and he was supposed to give her skin back and she was supposed to return to the life he had so rudely interrupted. He had wanted to keep her safe, not…

But he wouldn't give up. His mother hadn't, and neither would he. Not until he knew it was over.

He had made it almost all the way to the headland when he caught a glimpse of bright blue through the sheets of rain. It was lost in the tempest nearly as quickly as he'd found it, but he lunged forward.

"Juvia!" he cried, and his hand closed around her arm.

He pulled her close, unwilling to let go and risk losing her in the storm again, and she pressed tight against him. She was shivering, and he managed to tuck her halfway beneath his coat as they staggered their way back up the beach.

It took nearly twenty minutes, and he missed the trailhead on their first pass and had to backtrack. They managed to make it up the path without falling or injuring themselves, and Lyon slammed the door behind them as another peal of thunder rumbled in the distance. They stood shivering just inside the door, water dripping from their clothing and puddling on the floor. Lyon fought to calm his racing heart. No need to panic now that everything was okay.

"You need to change," he croaked. "Before you catch a cold. Go dry off. I'll make some tea."

Juvia squeezed his hand once and disappeared into her room, looking small and bedraggled. Lyon let out his breath in a shaky sigh and went to get himself cleaned up. Even once he'd dried off and bundled up, he still felt chilled to the bone. He put the kettle on, wiped up the puddles on the floor, and steeped some tea.

Juvia reappeared and hovered silently in the corner, watching him with unblinking eyes. Lyon said nothing until the tea was ready, still working to settle his nerves. They retired to the more comfortable chairs in the living room and curled up with their tea and all the spare blankets they could find.

Lyon sipped at his tea quietly for a minute before saying, "Did you get lost? You were pretty far from home… You might have gotten turned around and started going in the wrong direction."

Juvia nodded and ducked her head, staring studiously at her tea and avoiding his gaze.

"What were you even doing out in the storm? You shouldn't have gone out."

She lifted one shoulder and dropped it again, still not looking at him.

He didn't know what to say to that, so he let the silence stretch. In the space where the words should have been, a spark of anger flickered to life. It grew, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until it filled all the empty spaces inside him and burned hot beneath his skin.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, his tone so sharp that it surprised Juvia into looking at him with startled doe eyes. "How could you be so stupid? I don't care how much you feel drawn to the sea. When it storms, you stay inside. It's reckless and selfish to go out in this weather. You could have died, or I could have died looking for you. Do you have any idea how easy it is to get swept out to sea or fall in the rocks and break your neck? I expected better of you!"

His anger climbed up his throat and choked him, until he had to gasp for air and look away. "You shouldn't…"

He pressed his hands to his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. His anger drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving those empty spaces gaping wider than ever.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He had let his anger rule him before and paid dearly for it. "I'm glad you're safe. You just scared me, that's all."

After a moment, Juvia leaned over and touched his arm. He didn't look at her.

"My mother died in a storm like this," he said in a low voice. "We warned Gray there was a storm coming so he could come back inside before it hit, but he was always easily distracted. He didn't come back, so she went looking for him. She wanted me to stay in, but I went after her because I was worried too. Gray always liked to go out in the rocks, and we were afraid he'd gotten caught out there. My mom made me wait while she went to check. That area is really dangerous when the weather is bad.

"She didn't come back. I didn't see, obviously, but the best I can tell is that she ventured too close to the water and a rogue wave swept her out to sea. We never found her body. It turned out that Gray was in the area, but he knew of an outcropping and sheltered there. He was totally fine.

"But he shouldn't have been out there in the first place. We warned him the storm was coming, warned him to come home, and he didn't listen. I hated him for that, that our mother died because he was too stupid and selfish to make sure he was home before the storm hit. I told him he killed her and blamed him for everything. We fought, and I treated him like a murderer until he'd had enough and ran off.

"I'm still angry sometimes, that he made that choice. But I also know it was a mistake. He didn't intend for us to come looking for him. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. It took me a long time to accept that. I lost both of them that day, one to the sea and one to my own hatred."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and meeting Juvia's wide-eyed gaze head on. "I'm sorry for yelling. I was worried about you. I don't want to lose anyone else like that. Please be more careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

Juvia's fingers tightened around his arm. A reassurance, maybe, or comfort. Then, hesitantly, she slid out of her chair and hugged him. Her arms wrapped around him firmly, and he reciprocated in kind, holding her tight as if he'd never let her go. She was here, solid in his arms, and not lost in the waves. That had to count for something.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said, his voice rough and breaking.

She looked up at him, and the storms in her eyes gentled. She reached up to touch his face in wordless reassurance.

Lyon had to catch his breath. He'd thought she was lost, but she was here. She was here, and he didn't want to ever let her go.

"Can I…?"

Juvia stared up at him guilelessly, then her eyes widened and a rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks. She leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, just by the corner of his mouth.

Lyon blinked back owlishly, caught off guard, but then something snapped inside him. He pulled her close, practically into his lap, and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. For a terrible moment, she was stiff in his arms and he thought he'd misjudged, but then she kissed him back. Whatever was left of his inhibitions crumbled. He kissed her roughly, desperately, like a drowning man gulping for air.

When he finally pulled back, he was breathing hard. Juvia's flush had crept all the way across her face. She pulled her hand away and pressed it to her lips slowly, as if trying to determine what had happened, her eyes wide with awe. She was so pretty like that, flushed and eager and…alive.

"I…" Lyon's voice cracked, and his next gulp of air hitched and turned to a sob.

He folded over, cradling Juvia in his arms and burying his face in her hair, and cried like he hadn't cried in years. He cried for Juvia, who had survived the storm, and for his mother, who had not. He cried for Gray, who he had driven away, and for Sherry, who had loved him more than he had ever deserved.

He cried for himself, and for the girl he should have known better than to love. The girl he could not keep. The girl who hadn't been lost today but would be lost to the sea soon regardless.

Maybe it was just as well Juvia couldn't speak, because there were no words to take any of those pains away. But she wrapped her arms around him again and let him hold her, which was enough.

Lyon woke with a start to a gentle but persistent shaking. He squinted at the darkness, which coalesced into a shadowy form at his bedside.

"Juvia?" he mumbled. "What is it?"

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and gave it a firm tug.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Lyon eyed her sidelong as he threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. Nothing good came of being woken at midnight, or whatever time it was. And after kissing her like that yesterday… Well, he'd managed to dance around the issue in the daylight—what could he really do about it?—but things felt different at night. He hoped he hadn't started something he couldn't control.

But Juvia didn't try kissing him or doing anything particularly intimate, and Lyon was relieved and disappointed in equal measure. She flashed him a mischievous sort of smile, made bright by the milky moonlight filtering through the window, and tugged at his arm insistently until he followed her out of the room with one last longing look at his bed.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Juvia only smiled and led him to the front door. She slipped her feet into her shoes and rested her hand on the doorknob before turning an expectant look on Lyon.

He frowned back. "You want to go outside? At this hour?"

She nodded.

"But–"

She yanked on his arm again, less gently this time.

"Alright, alright. Can't we at least get dressed first?"

She shook her head emphatically and pointed to his shoes. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, bouncing on her heels. Lyon couldn't bring himself to match her urgency, but jammed his feet into his boots.

"Alright, then," he grumbled. "What is it?"

She led him towards the beach, of course, but took a detour to go the long way round to a rocky overhang that overlooked the beach proper.

"What–?"

She whacked his arm and pressed her finger to her lips, cutting a sharp look his direction. He subsided.

She crouched low to the ground and crawled over the sand and rock to the edge of the ledge. Lyon sighed but followed suit, gritting his teeth as he scraped his arms and elbows against rocks. Slithering up beside Juvia, he squinted down at the beach to see what had caught her attention. She pointed down to the shoreline and flashed him a small smile, stormy eyes glittering with delight in the moonlight.

Lyon's mouth dropped open. Over half a dozen selkies danced where the water met the beach, bare feet splashing in the water that lapped at the sand as they twirled and spun. Their laughter was pitched low to melt into the sound of the waves, and he could just make out snatches of the lilting song they were singing to keep time. They danced with abandon: spinning about, linking arms to careen through a more complex set of steps, spinning away again. Their exuberance was palpable, like the air tingling and hair standing on end just before a lightning strike.

Juvia bobbed her head in time to the song, one hand tapping soundlessly against the rock and swaying in circular motions. Lyon wondered if she had joined in clandestine dances like these. He'd never thought to ask her if she could dance.

But he soon found his attention drawn back to the selkies in the waves. He was so entranced that he almost forgot to be embarrassed by their nudity, although a few of them at least had their skins draped over their shoulders for easy access. It wasn't even so much their bodies that were beautiful, but the way that they moved. The combination of grace, vivacity, and secrecy, along with a hint of music and magic, was a heady mix.

Lyon and Juvia watched in absolute silence. Lyon barely dared to even breathe, although an itch was building inside him. The dancing and camaraderie pulled him in, until his feet wanted to tap in time to the rhythm and he wanted to get up and join in. He wasn't much of a dancer and couldn't ever recall dancing—or doing anything, really—in such an uninhibited and carefree fashion before. He had never wanted to, either, until now.

Bracing himself on his elbows, he eased forward a few more inches to get a better look, the thread of the song drawing him in. His boot scraped along the rock, dislodging a shower of pebbles that tumbled down the slope with a clatter before rolling to a stop in the sand. Lyon froze.

The laughter and song and low murmur of voices went abruptly silent, and the selkies on the beach all looked up, craning their necks to peer up the slope. Lyon held his breath. Surely, they wouldn't see him and Juvia up here. Anything could make noise on the beach at night.

But the selkies, obviously wary and a bit skittish, searched the darkness until they found him. There was a brief moment where he locked eyes with one and everything stood still. Then the selkies darted into the sea, snatching skins from around their necks or out of the sand nearby. For half a second, he thought he saw a pair of dark seal eyes watching him from the waves, but then they were gone.

Juvia huffed out a breath and elbowed Lyon.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "That was pretty amazing, though."

Juvia nodded, then brightened again and stood up. She headed down the embankment with no further concern for stealth, gesturing for Lyon to follow. He did, still berating himself for his carelessness. He could have watched the selkies all night long. Would have, if he hadn't scared them off.

Juvia led him down to the shore, where the other selkies had just been. She only stopped when they reached the wet, hard-packed sand where the tide lapped at their bare feet. Spinning back around to face him, she placed a hand on Lyon's arm and another at his waist and raised her eyebrows. Lyon followed suit, bemused, and Juvia took a few tentative steps back and then forward, side to side. He stumbled after her.

"I don't dance very well," he admitted.

Juvia waved her hand dismissively and led him into another sequence of steps.

"Your ankle! You should–"

She silenced him with a look and kept going. She had all the grace out of the two of them, but Lyon was content to follow her lead even if he looked the fool. He tried humming a few bars of the selkies' song, but he couldn't get the tune quite right and the sound felt too loud and obtrusive in the hush of the night. He stopped, and the quiet lapping of the waves kept the time for them.

Lyon felt a little silly and it didn't come naturally to him, but Juvia's face was aglow with excitement as she spun through the surf and eagerly dragged him along with her. She looked so alive, dancing to soundless music and the murmur of the waves along the border of sea and land where her kin had left their footprints only minutes before.

He kissed her there in the moonlight, and she blushed and smiled and spun him about again.

They danced there on the ocean's doorstep until dawn began creeping over the horizon, and Lyon found the beat of the sea in the waves beneath his feet and the woman in his arms.