Chapter Text
2 October 2016
The four of them spend a long time outside the pub, eating and talking and drinking in each other’s company. Martin is eager to hear how they’ve been doing in the last few years, though the expression on his face is tinged with wistfulness when he hears about their colleagues. Coral eventually wanders over from the playground, staring intently at Tim until she decides without consulting anyone to sit in his lap. Tim lets out a startled sound, looking at Jon. Jon allows it, though Sasha notices him watching carefully from the corner of his eye.
“Hello, little lady,” Tim says. Coral doesn’t say anything, just studies him with wide brown eyes. Sasha’s heart melts.
Eventually, Sasha can tell that their time together is coming to a close. Jon is looking increasingly anxious, shooting worried looks at the villagers that pass by.
“I’m sure none of us want to have to drive after dark,” Tim says, saving them from having to make an excuse.
“You’re right,” Martin agrees, putting a hand on Jon’s knee. Jon visibly relaxes.
Sasha writes down their mobile numbers on a scrap of paper, which Martin pockets. She hopes he’ll use it, but she can’t blame him if he doesn’t. In his shoes, she thinks she might be tempted to vanish into the sea, never to be seen again.
Coral toddles over to hug Sasha, then Tim, before letting Jon pick her up again. Martin has an embrace for each of them as well. Sasha grips him tightly, not entirely wanting to let go. She had forgotten how good his hugs were.
“We’ll be seeing you,” Martin says as they load into the car. “Stay safe.”
Sasha has a feeling it’s not just a pleasantry.
“We’ll try,” she promises.
Their car slowly vanishes into the distance. Tim’s hand settles on her shoulder.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” he asks quietly.
Sasha bites her lip. “I don’t know if okay is the right word. They’ve been through a lot. But they’re strong, and I think they’ll be...as okay as they can be.”
“They really love each other, don’t they?” Tim says. “I’m glad Martin has someone who cares about him.”
Sasha’s hand finds Tim’s, and she squeezes gently.
“What are we going to do about Elias and the Institute?” he asks.
“Hell if I know,” Sasha says with a shrug. “We can worry about it tomorrow.”
Tim nods. “We should probably go, too, shouldn’t we?”
“I’m not ready yet,” Sasha says. “Can we just sit here a while?”
“Yeah.”
Tim drapes his arm over her shoulder, and she leans against him. They sit together in silence, watching the afternoon fade into dusk.
The little cottage Jon and Martin buy with Peter’s money is perfect: small but cozy, situated on an isolated stretch of Scottish coast. Coral loves it. She’s quick to claim one of the bedrooms as hers, even if she doesn’t sleep there. Martin suspects it will be a long time before she’s ready to sleep alone.
Jon and Martin spend the first few days building their nest, arranging the blankets and pillows until they feel like home. More than a few stuffed animals make their way into the pile. Coral is probably going to wind up spoiled, but neither of them have it in their heart to deny her much of anything. She watches them work with wide, fascinated eyes, before running to make her own small nest in her bedroom. They can tell she’s overjoyed at finally having the freedom to give in to her instincts. They’d seen her bedroom once at the Lukas manor: cold, sterile walls, everything decorated in pale, stiff lace. Decorations made to be seen, not touched. The only hint of personalization had been the one stuffed animal she’d been allowed to keep.
They decorate their home with odds and ends they find on the beach, brightly colored shells and bits of sea glass. Jon orders every book that catches his eye online, and soon their shelves are full to bursting. Martin makes sure their tea and coffee shelf is stocked with every variety he can think of, as well as flavored syrups. He experiments with different concoctions, which Jon promises are all delicious. Martin is fairly sure he’s biased, but he doesn’t mind.
Having their family reunited is healing beyond words. Every day away from their former owners makes them stronger. He knows Peter and Elias won’t come after them, but even if they did, they wouldn’t like what they found. Martin isn’t the same person they stole; he’s older, harder, and more vengeful. But more importantly, he has something they don’t, something he’s willing to die for: a family he loves. That’s what makes him dangerous.
The sea has its own way of healing. The first time Coral sees the blue-green waves, her eyes immediately spark with fascination. Martin knows she’ll love the sea as much as they do; the call is in her blood. The moment they set her on the shore, she tries to dart straight into the surf. They have to grab her by the waist before she can get herself in trouble, calmly showing her how to float and how to swim, how to read the tides and know when it’s safe to go in the water.
She watches them don their skins with the same bright-eyed interest. She loves to play with them when they’re transformed, stroking their smooth fur, laughing in delight when they bark and yip at her. They explain the Blessing to her, and she nods, filing the information away, as children do. It’s nearly a month before she asks to receive it herself.
They give her the Blessing in their nest, surrounded by the people and things she loves. They each give her a piece cut from their pelts. The cuts hurt, but that’s part of the sacrifice: pain given in love. Her face is solemn as she takes the flesh they’ve given, a physical token of her inheritance, of the song of the sea that’s always echoed in her heart. She can finally reciprocate the call, chase the waves and bring her own melody to the symphony.
She spends the night cradled between them as the changes wrack her body. It’s difficult to watch the pain of the transformation, but the Blessing is easier on younger children. They stroke her hair and whisper encouragements, singing lullabies to distract her. In the end, she sports a bright new spotted pelt. She immediately coos at them, a sound somewhere between a kitten and a human infant mewling, and demands first to be picked up, then to be fed, in short order. Martin’s heart melts. She looks almost exactly like Jon, with traces of Martin’s own pattern.
Just when Martin thinks his life is perfect, Jon tells him he has news. His expression is nervous as he leads Martin onto the balcony, with an unwelcome tightness around his eyes.
“Martin, I…I have something to tell you,” he says, biting his lip.
“What is it, love?” he asks, reaching to take Jon’s hands between his.
Without breaking eye contact, Jon pulls Martin’s hand to his belly, letting it rest there.
“I...are you—?”
Jon nods, tears welling in his eyes. Martin falls to his knees and kisses his belly, wrapping his arms around his waist.
“You’re sure?” Martin asks, staring up into Jon’s eyes.
“Yes. At first I thought I was just late, but...I ordered a test. Three of them, actually.”
Martin laughs, because it’s such a Jon thing to do, and kisses his belly again. There’s nothing to see yet, but he’s sure it will be beautiful. Jon is always beautiful.
“How long?” he asks, nuzzling his cheek against Jon’s abdomen.
Jon’s hand lands in his hair. “About three months, I think.”
Three months. That would mean they were still captive when Jon conceived. Martin doesn’t care who supplied the seed, of course; the baby will be theirs and theirs alone.
“I’m so happy, love,” Martin tells him.
Jon frowns down at him, biting his lip. “I...what if something goes wrong? What if I...mess this up again?”
Martin knows Jon blames himself for the outcome of his first pregnancy. He rises to his feet, wrapping Jon in his arms. “Last time wasn't your fault, Jon. Not even a little bit. If something happens this time, it still won't be. I’ll be here for you. We’ll both be here for you.”
Jon nods, and his smile grows. He kisses Martin, then nuzzles his cheek, breathing in his scent.
“Let’s go inside,” he says softly.
They curl up together in their nest as a family, safe and warm, with Coral snoring between them and the sound of the tide outside their window, a gentle call luring them to sleep.
A few weeks after Coral receives the Blessing, Martin notices Jon becoming increasingly distracted. He catches his mate staring into the sea more often, with one hand cradling the soft swell of his belly. Martin has never seen anyone look so beautiful.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“Nothing, starlight,” Jon says, smiling softly. “Just...thinking.”
“Care to talk about it?” Martin asks carefully. They’re both still fragile from their ordeal. Sometimes it helps to share. Sometimes...it doesn’t. He never wants Jon to hold back, though, even when Martin is having a rough time. He wants Jon to tell him everything.
Jon bites his lip, humming as he considers. “I wonder if...she’s still out there. My grandmother. We weren’t close, but—she raised me.”
“We could find out,” Martin suggests.
Jon looks down. “I just...would she even want to see me, if she could?”
“Jon…” Martin can’t resist the urge to wrap his arms around his mate, nuzzling his shoulder. One hand instinctively goes to cradle Jon’s belly. Jon holds his hand gently.
“You always said she valued strength,” Martin says softly. “I don’t know anyone who’s stronger than you. And if she doesn’t want you...well, that’s her loss.”
Martin can’t help remembering his own mother, the disgust on her face when they arrived, the coldness in her voice as she dismissed him. The memory makes his hand clench slightly, and Jon strokes it soothingly. He didn’t care when she called him a whore, or when she said he was used-up. But when she tried to say the same about Jon, he’d snapped. She’d quickly shut up after that. It wasn’t the reconciliation he’d hoped for, but there was something freeing about the experience, a sense of closure he’d been missing.
“I won’t be able to travel much longer,” Jon muses. “If I want to see her, we should go soon.”
“I’m sure Coral will enjoy the trip,” Martin says, kissing Jon’s cheek.
“You’re sure?” Jon asks.
“This is important. I want to be there for you.”
Jon turns around to kiss him, slow and soft.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, nuzzling Martin’s throat.
They travel from Scotland to Bournemouth by train, taking a meandering route that hugs the coast as much as possible. Coral is nervous whenever they encounter a crowd, but they hire a private car. She adores the train ride, practically bouncing out of her seat as she points out every cow and sheep and shaggy farm dog she sees. Jon patiently explains everything he knows about farms and dog breeds, and she soaks up the information like a sponge. The sight of them together, Coral with her wide and excited eyes, Jon with his growing belly, is a balm on Martin’s soul.
They walk around Bournemouth for a while before they go looking for Jon’s grandmother, since Martin and Coral have never seen the town. Coral spots a stuffed seal she can’t bear to leave without, making the excuse that her current seal is lonely, and neither of them can resist.
“Now I have a Daddy seal and a Papa seal!” she says proudly, holding them up. She brings their faces together for a kiss. “See?”
Martin’s eyes are watering as he scoops her up for a hug, kissing her soft cheek. Jon comes in from behind to embrace them both.
After they’ve explored the town, they make their way to the beach. Jon explains that his grandmother has a few regular haunts along this part of the coast, which she switches between for security purposes.
Coral shrieks with delight when she spots a pod of wild seals sunning themselves on the shore.
“Daddy! Papa! Friends!”
Jon has to stop her from running straight into the middle of the pod, gently explaining the difference between selkies and wild seals.
“They won’t like it if we bother them right now,” he says. “Perhaps later, when we’ve put on our skins.”
“Okay, Papa,” she says, disappointed but understanding. She waves to the seals as they walk away. One of them waves a flipper in return, and she cheers. That one, he suspects, is not an ordinary seal.
“She has a spot nearby,” Jon says, pointing to a rocky outcropping in the distance. “I spent a lot of time out here as a pup.”
The climb is a little difficult, especially with a child—Coral ends up riding on Martin’s shoulders, to her delight—but they make it to the small cave Jon used to share with his grandmother. As they approach, the cave smells like sea salt and smoked fish. Either they’ve found the right place, or someone else has claimed the dwelling.
Jon stops, staring at the entrance of the cave with trepidation, and Martin takes his hand.
“We can do this later, if you want,” Martin says softly. “We don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to.”
Jon shakes his head. “No. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never manage it.” He hands his bag to Marin. “It’s best if I approach alone. Will you wait for me?”
“Of course, love,” Martin promises.
Jon disappears inside, while Martin entertains Coral by pointing out the different kinds of shore birds. Coral does her best impression of a seagull call, shrill and piercing.
“Good job, sweetheart,” Martin says, though his ears are ringing a bit.
Coral busies herself making a small castle in the sand, while Martin sneaks glances back at the cave entrance. He can just barely hear the sound of voices. There’s no shouting, so it’s clearly going better than Martin’s encounter with his mother.
A few minutes later, Jon emerges from the cave, his face damp with tears. Behind him is a short, stooped woman, with ink-dark eyes and stern features, and long, silver hair. She looks so much like Jon it’s uncanny. Her expression is calm, but her eyes are red-rimmed.
“I understand my grandson has found a mate,” she says, eyeing Martin critically.
“Yes, ma’am,” Martin replies. “I love him very much.” He settles a hand on Coral’s shoulder. “This is our daughter, Coral.”
Her expression softens as she catches sight of Coral.
“You’re my grandmummy?” Coral asks, eyes wide and bright.
“I’m your great grandmother,” she corrects, kneeling down in front of Coral. “Marilla.”
“You’re very old,” Coral says seriously.
For the first time, Jon’s grandmother cracks a smile.
“I’ve been around for a very long time, child. Since the fourteenth century, if you must know.”
Coral smiles, clearly having no idea how much time that is. Martin’s eyes widen, and he mouths, seriously? at Jon. His mate could at least have mentioned his grandmother was an elder. The oldest selkie Martin had met before was maybe two hundred years old, and he’d been a rarity among their kind.
Marilla turns her gaze on Martin again.
“My grandson told me some of what you two have been through,” she says. “I’m sorry to hear of it. What they did is heresy. Completely reprehensible.”
Martin fights back tears. All he can do is nod.
“I can finish them off for you, if you like,” she offers, a steely glint in her eye. Martin recognizes that look from her grandson, and he knows she would gladly rip Peter and Elias’s throats out. Show them what true fear is.
“Thank you, ma’am, but we dealt with them pretty thoroughly. They won’t be coming for us. Or anyone, ever again. We’ve made sure of that.”
Her lips twitch, the barest hint of a hard smile. “Good.”
Martin can see where Jon got his spine from, his sharpness and his cunning. Jon’s grandmother is cold, but in a very different way from his mother. There’s affection underneath the coolness. Martin’s not sure his mother ever cared for anyone.
They spend the next few days in Bournemouth with Marilla, both in and out of seal form. She shows Coral how to catch fish, then how to grill them over a fire. Coral is delighted to show off her hunting prowess. When they leave, she promises to visit them, and to be there in time for the birth. Martin wonders if she might make a few visits on her way to Scotland, despite his and Jon’s assurances that they’ve been properly avenged.
Jon is much more relaxed on the return trip, wearing a gentle smile all the way home.
28 November 2019
Jon loves their little cottage by the sea. Their home isn’t luxurious, or even large; a bedroom for Jon and Martin and a bedroom for the children, with a little kitchen, and a small living area in the middle. New things have been added to their collections, postcards and pictures, and the odd trinket Tim and Sasha have sent them. It’s perfect for them.
Jon spends his days tending the children, reading, and taking long swims. Occasionally he hunts for the family. Martin makes a small income from his writing—poetry and the odd short story—tapping away at his laptop in the corner of their house. They don’t really need the money; they took enough from their captors to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. But it gives Martin a sense of purpose. Their children are bright, and wild, and every bit as curious as their parents.
"Papa," Coral asks one day. "Will you tell me how you met Daddy?"
Jon hesitates. "Are you sure you want to know, starlight? It's not a very nice story."
She nods gravely, staring at him with wide dark eyes. So young, and already Unblinking to her core. "Yes, Papa. I want to understand."
Jon makes them tea, and they settle together in their nest. Coral tucks herself against Jon's side. Her warmth steadies Jon as he chooses his words.
"A long time ago, I was stolen from the sea by two very bad men. Their hearts were empty, so they filled themselves with the pain and misery of others. They kept me locked up alone, far away from the sea."
"Did you try to get out?" Coral asks, biting her lip.
"Many times, love," he says softly. "But they had my skin, so I couldn't harm them, or return home. Every time I tried to escape, they punished me. You've seen the scars."
"I'm so sorry, Papa," Coral whispers, her eyes bright with tears.
Jon leans down to kiss her hair. "Thank you, starlight. It was...a very hard time. And when they brought your father, I thought it would be worse. It was bad enough being hurt without watching them hurt someone else."
"Your father was...so kind, and strong, and beautiful. I never expected to fall in love with someone so quickly, but he was everything I wanted. He kept me going through the worst of it. You're a lot like him, you know."
"You're strong, too, Papa," Coral says, hugging him tightly.
"Thank you, love." Jon is sure her sweetness comes from Martin. She certainly didn't get it from him.
"Is that when you escaped?" she asks hopefully.
"No, love. They had his skin as well. We were both trapped for a long time. Long enough that we had you, and they took you away from us."
She bites her lip, looking troubled. "Wh-why did you let them take me away, Papa?"
Jon holds her tightly as a familiar wave of guilt washes over him. "I'm so sorry, starlight. They stole you from us while we were asleep, and we couldn't follow. Believe me, we came for you as soon as we could."
Coral nods, accepting his explanation, and Jon wishes he could skin Peter and Elias alive for what they've done to his family. It’s taken them years to undo the damage the Lukases inflicted.
"They had our skins, and they had you, so they had everything that mattered. We wanted to escape, but we were afraid they'd hurt you. So we did everything they asked. Until one night they threatened to separate us, and we couldn't take it anymore. We attacked them, and ran away, and took you with us."
“And then we came here,” she says brightly. “And you had Meri and me, and we all lived happily ever after.”
Jon’s eyes are watering as he leans down to kiss her forehead. “That’s right, starlight. Happily ever after.”
Martin opens the door with their son balanced on his hip. Meri is wearing his pelt, his body covered in the soft fur of a seal, round and plush. He waves his front flippers in greeting.
“What are you two up to?” Martin asks, sitting down next to them in the nest. Meri hops over to his sister, butting at her with his head, and she favors him with gentle scratches.
“Papa was telling me a story,” Coral explains, with the excitement only a child can muster.
“Does it have a happy ending?” Martin asks, leaning against Jon.
“Yes,” Jon says softly. “Yes, it does.”