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In her dreams, there is the ocean.
~*~
(In her waking moments, the sour-salt smell lingers in her throat. It is like nothing she has ever smelled before.
The doctor says that it is simply a side effect of the medicine he is using.)
~*~
In the dreams, her fish walks with her along the shore, picking their way over rocks and through tide pools. He is a constant companion and his hand is always there when she reaches for it.
Beside them, the ocean rolls.
~*~
When he draws her into the waves, she hesitates. The ocean is so wide and vast, foreign to her, who has lived her life only seeing tame ponds and sluggish rivers.
But scales spread over his skin and fins flutter in place of feet as they go deeper, and where their hands are joined, her hands are the same as his.
The ocean is unfamiliar, but it is his home and he wants to share it with her.
~*~
(The fish bowl is empty, now, though she can't bring herself to empty the water out, as well. She wonders if the little fish has found his way to the ocean, if it is anything like her dreams. He seemed so small and the ocean seems so big, she can only pray that he is safe.)
~*~
Water closes over her head and for a second, she is lost, the brine bitter against her tongue, her eyes.
And then it passes and she is breathing his water like he had breathed her air.
When she opens her eyes, he is there before her, skin and scales commingled, cradled in the current so naturally that it is reassuring. This is his domain.
And it can be hers.
~*~
(She wonders, privately, if it is some sort of sin. Her doctor is handsome, from what she can see around the veil he wears. But in her dreams, her fish is equally so. It would not be such a quandary, except…
She thinks she should not think his scales and fins so much more compelling than human limbs and skin.)
~*~
She swims with him, awkwardly at first, then with growing grace as she adjusts to her new shape. He is patient with her, teaching her, her hand held tight in his as they move.
Eventually, they come to the mouth of a river, the spill of fresh water bright against the now-familiar salt sea. He pauses, looking at her, eyes dark.
"The ocean is my home, but if you are willing, I will show you where I came from."
She nods and he leads her upstream.
~*~
They come to a section of the river, shallow enough for the water to warm, the riverbed lined with smooth, clean stones. There are other fish here, ones that are content with their wild shape and do not bother with the half-human seeming that her fish is using. But they are friendly enough, making way for them and not minding when skin brushes against scale.
Her fish leads her through, closer to the shore, until the trailing branches of a willow slip over them and they are in a secluded grotto, just big enough for the two of them.
~*~
(She wakes from this dream with a peculiar feeling, restless and wanting, but unsure of what to do to satisfy it. The day is long and torturous and come evening, she is eager for her bed and her dreaming.)
~*~
There is no misunderstanding between them like this, and when her fish reaches for her, she reaches back, draws him to her.
She has never done this, but her body moves as if it knows more than she, turning, fitting against him. The water is warm, but he is cool to the touch, a welcome relief.
He presses her into the pebbles with care. When he enters her, the fullness is new, but not frightening. Even the motion of it is gentler than she would have thought, the water rocking them together, his tail curling against hers, until finally he shudders and heat blooms through her.
~*~
(She cannot look at her doctor the next day, because his eyes remind her of her fish and her fish reminds her of - she cannot speak of it, even to herself. Best to avoid his gaze and hope this passes soon enough.
There is an ache between her legs, but she cannot tell if it is from the wanting or from the sating.)
~*~
They stay in that spot for days, neither of them hungry for anything but each other. Several times a day, he reaches for her and she always welcomes him, arching against the pebbles as he loves her in ways she’d never imagined.
He spills into her often enough that her belly grows round, taut and firm against his hands.
~*~
(She feels bloated these days, no matter what medicines she takes. Her robes hide her form, but she spends private moments running her hands over the swell of her belly, wondering if the dreams are simply a way to make sense of what is happening to her. She cannot bring herself to mention it to the doctor.)
~*~
"This is where my journey began," he tells her, body curved around hers, hands gentle against her belly. "This is where my children's journeys will begin."
When her body goes tight with the next spasm, he helps, pressing his palms against her skin. It is her turn to spill, ribbons of black that curl and settle among the pebbles.
He stays with her until it is done, her belly flat once more and the riverbed around them turned inky with their brood.
~*~
They linger one more day, then leave. The eggs will grow and hatch and someday find their way to the ocean.
"We will return again when it is time," he tells her when he catches her looking back. "But this part of their journey must be done alone, there is nothing more for us to do for them."
He leads her back to the ocean. The vastness of it feels familiar now, welcoming, and she wishes...
~*~
There are scales, under the veil, dark and familiar. She looks at her doctor who is her fish and he looks at her.
She cannot tell if this is a dream or not.
"I will take you to the ocean, to my home," he promises her. "And we will be together.”