18. Meridian
Meridian
EIGHTEEN
A utumn sunlight glints off Deep Pockets' rails as I secure my equipment. Today feels different. The familiar weight of solitude is gone.
"Ready?" I call toward the water where Cyreus treads.
"Beyond ready." His mouth quirks up on one side. "Though I remain skeptical about your timing system."
I hold up the waterproof timer with its blinking lights. "Twenty minutes diving, ten minutes warming. Three cycles, then we're done. No exceptions. No heroics."
"And these warming spots?"
"That's your department." I tap my dive computer. "You mentioned underwater caves with air pockets. If we map a few near our sites, I can restore core temperature without surfacing."
He nods, but tension lines his forehead. We've spent a week negotiating protocols that balance his protective instincts with my need for autonomy .
"The site I've chosen should yield results," he says. "Merchant vessel, sank during a 1922 storm. International waters, but deep enough to discourage recreational divers."
Despite all our planning, the reality of what we're attempting finally hits. I'm about to dive beyond normal limits, trusting my life to someone who isn't even human. By any rational standard, I should be terrified. Instead, I feel steadier than I have in twenty years of diving.
"Let's begin," I say, moving to the platform. "Equal partners. Not you protecting me, not me proving myself."
"Understood." Something shifts in his posture—a subtle squaring of shoulders.
I drop beside him, cold water shocking my system despite my improved wetsuit. Cyreus moves closer, and the water around me suddenly warms several degrees.
"Thanks," I say through my regulator. "But conserve energy. I'll warm up once we're moving."
The wreck materializes from murky depths—massive wooden hull still largely intact after a century underwater. Her bow juts from the sandy bottom, cold-water preservation keeping the structure sound.
As we approach, I notice the difference in Cyreus's movements—gone is the carefully controlled stiffness he maintains on land. Here, in his natural domain, each gesture flows with uncanny precision.
We reach the cargo hold, and I activate my metal detector. Almost immediately, it signals a find. Working methodically, I uncover a pocket watch, tarnished but intact, with an elaborate monogram engraving.
Over the next fifteen minutes, I collect several more items—a silver cigarette case, a lady's compact mirror, cufflinks that appear to be platinum and sapphire.
My wrist timer flashes yellow—five minutes until we need to reach a warming spot. Before following Cyreus, I sweep over one more promising area. The signal comes back strong, and I uncover a small metal chest about the size of a shoebox.
My timer flashes red. Time to move.
Cyreus leads me through a narrow opening into a passage I never would have found alone. We surface into an air pocket concealed within the ship's structure.
"How did you know this was here?" I ask, removing my regulator.
"I've explored this wreck since it sank." Cyreus shifts partially to his natural state—human torso above water, tentacles below. "This pocket formed naturally as wood decayed. It's been stable for fifty years at least."
"Perfect." I pull off my hood, letting the warmer air reach my scalp. "What did you think of our first partnership dive so far?"
"Promising." He drifts closer. "What did you find? I saw you collecting several items."
I reach for my mesh bag. "Personal effects mostly. Pocket watch, cigarette case, jewelry." I display each item carefully. "And this."
His reaction to the chest is immediate—a sharp intake of breath, a predator's stillness. "Branigan's lockbox."
"You know what this is?"
"William Branigan was the ship's purser." He touches the corroded metal almost reverently. "Among those I couldn't save when she went down."
The casual reference to his century of isolation hits me hard. While I've been alive three decades, he's watched these waters for a hundred years, witnessing death and history completely alone.
"That must be hard," I say quietly. "Remembering people you couldn't save."
His eyes meet mine, surprise evident. "No one has ever... considered that aspect of my existence."
"I'm considering it now." I move closer, the treasure temporarily forgotten. "You've carried these memories alone for so long."
"Not alone anymore." A slender tentacle wraps gently around my wrist. "Having you here, sharing these discoveries—it transforms everything."
My timer beeps. I set the chest aside and assess my physical state. The shivering has stopped; feeling has returned to my extremities.
"How are you holding up?" Cyreus asks.
"Good. Warmer than I should be at this depth." I smile. "Having a personal heater helps. "
"I've been maintaining a thermal boundary around us." His admission surprises me. "It's not difficult, but it's another reason to stick to our time limits."
"You're spending energy keeping me warm," I say, understanding dawning. "That's why you've insisted on these breaks."
"We agreed this would be a true partnership." He covers my hand with his. "That means acknowledging what each of us needs."
Two more dive cycles yield additional treasures—a brass compass, a barometer, silver serving pieces, copper cookware, and crystal decanters somehow preserved intact.
When we finally break the surface near Deep Pockets, I'm exhausted but exhilarated—and most importantly, neither hypothermic nor bent.
"We did it," I say, pulling myself onto the platform. "First official partnership dive—complete success."
"Your timing system worked better than expected," Cyreus admits as he shifts back to human form.
"The warming spots were perfect. I could have done another cycle easily."
"Which is precisely why we're stopping now—while you still feel capable of more." He helps with my tank. "The partnership only functions when both respect the safety protocols."
I turn to him once free of the equipment. "Thank you. For trusting me to know my limits, and for helping me respect them. "
"It's getting easier." His hands rest on my shoulders. "To see that your independence doesn't mean recklessness. That caution doesn't equal control."
After securing our finds on deck, I change into dry clothes while Cyreus arranges our discoveries on a waterproof tarp with a towel wrapped around his temporarily human waist.
When I return, he's examining the lockbox with focused attention. "With proper tools, we could open it without damage."
Nearly an hour of patient work passes before the lock mechanism yields with a soft click. Inside, nestled in oilcloth, sits a stack of paper currency—bank notes from another era, remarkably preserved.
"They survived," Cyreus whispers, genuine awe in his voice.
I find myself less focused on the find than on his expression—the unguarded joy of sharing this moment with someone who understands its significance.
"This is why we do this," I say, touching his arm. "Not just for the value, but for moments like this. Connecting with the past."
His gaze shifts from the chest to me. "For me, it's about connecting with the present. With you."
"The treasure is remarkable," I admit, "but it's not why today felt perfect."
"No?" His fingers brush my cheek.
"No. Today was perfect because for the first time, I wasn't alone down there. I had someone who understood both the work and me. "
"Does that bother you?" he asks. "That our success required both of us?"
The question reveals how well he understands me—my pride, my stubborn independence, my need to prove myself.
"No." I move closer, resting my palms against his chest. "It makes me grateful we found each other. That we figured out how to work together without either sacrificing who we are."
His arms pull me against him. "I never expected this. A partner who sees me—truly sees me—and chooses to build something together rather than flee in terror."
"I never thought I'd find someone who respects my independence without using it as an excuse to keep distance." I rest my head against his shoulder. "We're both getting things we never expected."
As the sun sets, I notice the subtle signs of strain as Cyreus maintains human form.
"You need to change back," I say gently. "Go. I'll anchor here tonight and see you in the morning."
He kisses me thoroughly before moving toward the dive platform. "First thing tomorrow. We should discuss which site to explore next."
"It's a date." I follow him to the rail, watching as he prepares to return to the water. "And Cyreus? Today was everything I hoped our partnership could be."
The expression he gives me before slipping beneath the surface carries a contentment I've never seen in him before. For a century, he's been alone in these waters, watching humanity from the outside. Now, finally, he has someone to share the depths with.