Something Fishy

"You've gotta be kidding me," cried Locke, staring wide-eyed at the blonde-haired woman as she reeled in another fish. "How many is that now?"

"You have two," Celes teased him.

"That's not what I meant!"

When it came to fishing, Locke was well above her in both skill and experience. But today, Celes had ridiculous beginner's luck. It was her first time fishing with a pole—she had fished with a sword at one point in her life—and yet, she was the one looking like a pro, making him look like the rookie. At the start of the day, she had even challenged him to a little contest, to see who could catch more fish between them. At the end of the day, the winner would have the pleasure of doing nothing besides starting a fire, while the loser would have the arduous task of cleaning and cooking all the fish for supper. If Locke had laughed at her when she initially proposed the challenge, he definitely wasn't laughing now.

After taking a moment to unhook her catch, Celes counted all the fish in her bucket. She, too, couldn't believe how many she had caught. "It's looking pretty full in there," she said.

"How many?" asked Locke.

"Seven, eight, nine... at least nine."

He put his pole down and gazed at her in amazement. And with a deep sigh, he called out to her, "Celes..."

"Locke?"

"You're a former general, an expert swordswoman who saved the world... a natural in the opera... and unbelievably, a natural at fishing." He shook his head, realizing he had made the mistake of underestimating her. "You're incredible!"

The way he complimented her never failed to make her smile. She turned away with a blush on her face, before casting out her line once more.

Later that evening, Celes found herself warming up by the campfire, waiting for Locke to finish gutting the fish. Being with him had helped her find new hobbies in the wilderness, even if it was something as simple as sitting next to a fire. Without magic, the challenge that came from building a fire made the reward all the more relaxing.

"Celes," Locke called out, breaking the companionable silence between them. "We've a problem."

Walking over to him, she saw two open bags on the table, each filled with guts and gills and all the nasty stuff. "What's wrong?"

"See that?" he said, pointing at one of the bags. "Half the fish you caught were contaminated. You can tell by the color of their gills. They're a bit discolored... brown... grayish."

Celes gasped as she looked at the discolored parts, comparing them to the red, healthy ones. Something about the brownish color looked strangely familiar—it brought her back to the one time she went fishing on her own. The one time she had to do the cleaning and gutting. "So we can't eat them?"

"I mean, we could... but we shouldn't." Locke paused, placing the safe-to-eat fillets on a grill pan. "Eating it won't kill you, though... unless you have the immune system of a forty-seven-year-old man."

"Forty-seven...?"

He shrugged. "Just a random number I made up."

Celes shrugged back. "Well then..."

"You can also tell by the way they swim—I mean, while they're still alive," he spoke again, turning away from her as he wiped his hands with a towel. "A slow fish is most likely contaminated. Actually, contaminated fish tend to wander aimlessly and end up getting too close to the shore."

Celes froze at that moment. She remembered now. She remembered being on the solitary island, catching fish for Professor Cid, or "Granddad" as she called him. Fish was all they had, with all hope lost in the ruined world... and she did all she could to nurse him back to health by catching as many as she could. Some were easier than others to catch, she realized, and a lot of them did appear to have some discoloration on their gills and guts. The next thing she remembered... was the cries of pain and anguish from Cid, his nonstop vomitting and loss of appetite. Celes had no idea. Did she feed her granddad contaminated fish?

"What's the matter?" asked Locke, noticing the sudden frown on Celes' face.

"Oh..." She looked the other way, dumbstruck. "It's... nothing! I'm just starving, is all."

He wasn't sure if that was the only thing bothering her. Regardless, seeing that frown of hers bothered him, and whenever she frowned he always made it a mission to turn it back into a smile. With that in mind, he set the pan aside and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "C'mon, Celes," he said, breathing against the side of her neck. "You still caught more fish than me..."

"Would you eat the bad ones too, if you were starving?" asked Celes. She was still frowning, still thinking about Cid. She wondered if he would have died anyway had he not eaten anything.

"If I was actually starving, then I don't see why not," Locke confessed, tiptoeing over her to get a clear look of her face. She was clearly uneasy about something. "What are you so worried about? Don't we have more than enough to eat?"

"You better hurry up, then," she demanded harshly. "I said I was starving, didn't I?"

"I... okay then, sheesh," he grumbled, and proceeded to pick the eye out of a healthy fish. "Here, you can eat this raw."

She looked horrified as he presented it to her. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, look at this." And without hesitation, he popped the fish eye in his mouth. He began to chew it slowly, and felt a weird contrast between its crunchy cartilage and sticky juices clinging onto his teeth. "Nutritious..."

"But does it taste good..."

Locke stared at her, still chewing as his look of confidence gradually turned into one of disgust. And then, after one last click of his tongue, he turned away and doubled over, wheezing and gagging as he spat everything out. Celes felt her lips twitch upwards as he stood there with his hands clutching his knees. She couldn't help it—she began to burst out laughing.

"Oh Locke, you're so silly!"

He turned around, tears in his eyes, and glimpsed at his lover. As disgusting as that was... at least she was smiling now.