A/N—Paradise Lost continues my series for the movie The Shape of Water.

The previous two offerings are The Shape of Loneliness and Firmament.

Paradise Lost

April 2018, Riene

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They were together one minute and apart the next, separated by a school of silvery fish numbering in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. As the first few had flitted toward them the Creature had grabbed one, then two, his stiff mouth opened in what she recognized as a smile.

"Good. Eat." He'd bitten down on one, splitting it in half with his hard teeth-like jaw mandibles, and offered the other, bloody end to her. Elisa had shaken her head, still vaguely nauseated at raw, oozing entrails. He'd shrugged, a habit he'd picked up from her, and eaten the remaining part in two swift bites.

But the fish kept coming, a few at first, darting frantically by them, then dozens, then hundreds. The Creature had frowned and looked back at her. "Stay." She'd nodded to show she understood, and he flipped backwards, muscular legs propelling him away, curious to see the source of their fear, the reason for their flight.

Perhaps he hadn't seen the shark, concealed by the silvery mass, but she did. Heart pounding frantically, Elisa reacted quickly, swimming perpendicular to the school as she'd been taught. Adrenaline gave her speed, and when she surfaced next the shark was nowhere to be seen.

Nor was the Creature. She hadn't worried, at first. The fish had been disorienting, the sunlight reflecting from the choppy water and the silver bodies thrashing by her, and she wasn't perfectly certain in which direction she'd swum. Toward a shore, hopefully, and not open ocean. As of yet she couldn't swim well enough to battle the rolling waves and sizable currents. They'd been keeping within a mile of the shore, risking the danger of being seen, until her paltry skills increased.

He finished chewing through the thick netting and spat the foul-tasting pieces far away. Getting caught in a net like a guppy was beneath him. Well, except for that time a few months ago. Silt, dredged up by the heavy weights and nets made it difficult to see and to breathe. Freeing himself, he swam up and away from it to gain some perspective.

The heavy seines, pulled by boats far above dragged relentlessly along the sea floor, scraping everything in their path. Corals and sponges were ripped from the floor, crustaceans struggling to slide through the holes, enormous fish thrashing frantically against the mesh, their sides bleeding. A desperate octopus flattened itself and slipped through an opening, swimming away as fast as possible.

With a powerful flip he swam away, eyes straining through the murky water. Barely visible in the distance, the shadow of another boat darkened the surface. Below it the sea floor churned. All around him the water echoed with the sounds of distress, of fear, of pain.

Elisa surfaced, staring about in dismay. She'd surfaced once before, seeing the line of trawlers, and dove deeply, swimming away from them. The last thing she needed was to be seen. No, the last thing she needed was to be caught. Oh god, what if he had been caught, trapped in the heavy fishing nets? There was no way to signal him, no way to warn him. Not for the first time angry tears rose in her eyes, frustrated at her lack of a voice. If only she could call him. With his preternatural hearing, the Creature would surely have been able to find and return to her. If she could only call him.

Elisa ducked back under water, listening frantically, but though she knew his haunting underwater tones, the very music of her soul now, she could not distinguish his voice against the background cacophony of the ocean's symphony.

She took a deep breath and held it, listening intently. From far away the mournful cry of a lonely whale echoed through the deep, overlaid by the agitated chittering of dolphins. Beneath it ground the the heavy thrum of engines, mankind's destruction, and the irregular clicking even he could not explain.

Elisa surfaced again, impatiently. How had he shown her to find land? She shook back her hair, ruined now from weeks of salt water immersion. She'd been proud of her hair, despite years of the nuns' admonition that pride was a sin. Soft, straight, and silky, the Creature had been enchanted by it, running his webbed fingers through the ebony strands. Now, with no other comb than her fingers, it was a mermaid's tangled mane.

She shut her eyes, turning her face, waiting for a breeze. In the evenings and at night, the currents of air flowed from land out to sea, bringing the smells of foliage and humanity. Far more sensitive than she, he would unerringly direct them to a remote bay where they could sleep, safely hidden in the shallows.

Angrily Elisa wiped her face, salt tears mixing with the salt water. They had never been separated long. What would she do if he did not return…could not return? She could not now live on the land, not after the miraculous changes he had wrought in her body. They were so far south, by her best reckoning, beyond the boundaries of the United States, past Cuba and probably Mexico. She had no money, no identification papers, barely any clothing left. Would anyone here even understand her hand signs?

The breeze, tentative then stronger, blew cool against her cheek and she turned. Land was that way. He would expect her to follow their set routine. She could only hope he would somehow follow and find her.

The sheer scale of the destruction was unbelievable, horrific. He'd been following the line of trawlers for miles, appalled. Many of the smaller fishes had escaped through the gaps in the nets, but most had not. All were claimed, crustaceans, porpoises, dolphins, sharks, even rocks, entire chunks of coral reefs, and innumerable fish.

His anger was threatening to overwhelm his sense, his pectoral lines pulsing dark reds. He longed to return to ELISA, but this destruction could not go undeterred.

He seized the nearest net, keeping his legs well away from the tangling webs. The material was far too tough for his clawed hands to tear apart, cutting the tender webbing. His claws could not rend it. Grimly the ancient Creature began to sever the strands with his teeth.

She emerged from the water, dripping and shivering, pale in the waning sunlight. Was this a cay or an atoll? She wasn't truly certain of the difference, and in the end it didn't matter. The beach was deserted, a thin expanse of sand bordered by a rocky eroded shore. Brush, grasses, and a few small wind-twisted trees grew in scattered clumps. Wearily Elisa climbed the rock wall, wincing as the sharp stones cut her feet. Nothing, no sign of human habitation, no distant twinkling lights could be seen. Perhaps she was safe.

Enough driftwood lay about that she could build a small fire, assuming there was any way to get it started. But was it worth the risk? She still preferred her meals cooked, to the Creature's amusement. It would take little effort to gather clams or oysters, a fish or lobster. Would a fire be seen by the trawlers, or any other passing boat or aircraft? Would they assume someone camping or someone in need of rescue? She didn't need rescue; she needed only him.

Dragging the tattered remains of her dress about her shoulders, covering her breasts, Elisa drew her knees up to her chest and waited.

Finally the last of the nets hung in shredded tatters, attached to the trawlers above by one hook. He judged them no danger; they were too damaged now to be able to hold the most inexperienced crab. Satisfied and feeling no small amount of glee, a revenge against the land-dwellers who had no concern for lives other than their own, he swam away.

The surface waters were cooling, the warmth-giving orb slowly disappearing at the water's edge. Stars would be overhead soon. The Creature twisted around in the water, looking about. He did not often notice the passing time; there was only now, and later, and then-ago. Time was a land-dweller concept he struggled to understand, but he had the sense that he had been under the water attacking the seine nets for a very long time.

He chirped into the breeze, then dove underwater, calling. Only the sounds of the ocean met his ears. A shiver of panic between to tingle at the edges of his mind. Could the trawlers have caught Her? How would he ever know? He could not risk going near them to listen, to try to catch her scent on the breeze. There was a sharp, swift, bird-like sound she could make with her mouth, but nowhere could he hear that either.

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. His hands were torn; shoulders ached and jaw ached from the effort of rendering the seine worthless. His chest hurt as well from the lengthy submersion. He needed to find a place and rest, but he would not leave without ELISA. The Creature began swimming in an increasingly wider spiral, searching.

Elisa sank onto the shore, head on her knees, tears stinging the cut on her face. She'd climbed the rocky cliff to its highest point and stood there, whistling the sharp signal she used for him, staring out across the darkening waters as the sun slowly sank behind her. The light was quite dim by now, and she'd been unable to find the relatively easy spot to climb back down. She'd tried, though, and slipped, grasping at the rock face frantically and injuring herself, only to fall in the end on the sandy beach below.

She'd lain there a moment, stunned, the breath nearly knocked out of her lungs, before finally dragging herself upright. Her cheek was cut, her hands badly scraped and abraded, her feet sliced into ribbons. Thank heavens for the sand, otherwise she might well have broken a bone, and then what would she have done?

Wincing at the pain from her injuries, Elisa staggered to the shore and gasped at the shock of pain as the salt water flooded her open wounds. She washed them as well as she could, rinsing the grit of the crumbing rocks and sharp sand away. The blood flowed red and dissipated, diluted by the rushing, foamy waves, and slowly, she crawled back to higher ground on knees and elbows, trying to keep more sand from irritating the cuts. Hungry, cold, and hurting, Elisa lowered her head to her hands and wept.

A wild terror, such as he'd never known, threatened to overcome his mind. Not even when the nets had pulled him from the water and he'd been shocked into unconsciousness, only to find himself trapped in the metal cylinder, had been like this. For now he feared for ELISA. His agonized cries echoed through the deep, desperate and grieving. She was nowhere to be found.

Wearily he began to swim toward the nearest shore, schools of fish scattering before him. He needed rest, rest and sustenance, before beginning the search again. His senses told him there was land ahead, one of the many fragments of eroded atolls or cays that lay scattered across the enormous expanse of water. He would rest there, find fish or perhaps crabs, and resume his search.

As he drew closer to the island, a familiar, bitter metallic tang entered the water. He knew that taste, and in a frenzy of desperate movement, flung himself toward the shore. Even from here he could see the small, crumpled figure lying still upon the sand, and a cry escaped his throat as fear threatened to overwhelm him.

He staggered from the water, falling to his knees beside her motionless form, howling his grief and loss. Once before loneliness had driven him to seek others and nearly cost him his life and freedom. Now the loss of ELISA would destroy him. He bent his head and rubbed his thin scaly cheek against her face, gathering her body to him.

Elisa's eyes flew open and she raised one aching palm and laid it against his chest. He was here, safe. The Creature's shrill keening stopped abruptly as her tear-filled eyes looked up into his desperate golden gaze. The shock and relief transmuted to guilt almost instantly, and he looked away, ashamed of having left her. He had not protected his mate as he should, and she would be right to leave him.

But Elisa pulled his face to hers and kissed him desperately, clinging to his shoulders and sobbing in relief. The Creature lifted her hand, licking her blood from the torn flesh, crooning. He frowned, concentrating, the iridescent markings on his torso growing brighter, whiter, as her flesh knitted together, healed, leaving only thin white and pink scars.

Her hands were signing so quickly he struggled to understand. "Shark, lost. Afraid. Long. Island shelter night. Waiting. Rocks, climb, fall, hurt, blood. Sleep."

"Boats," he signed back. "Nets. Fish. Many dead. Me. Nets dead. Searching. Sad. ELISA. Fear, sad."

"It doesn't matter now," she answered, slowing. "We are together. You, me, together."

"Together," he affirmed.

Wearily they climbed to their feet and began to collect a simple meal of crabs and shellfish. He seemed reluctant to go far from her, touching her arm, her leg often, as if for reassurance. He'd returned briefly to the water, hunting fish for himself, then pulled her down onto a hollow in the sand, plucking at her ragged skirt and staring at her intensely. Smiling Elisa unfastened the few remaining buttons and he slipped the faded dress from her shoulders. They made love on the beach, clinging to each other fiercely as they rode out their passion under the stars.

At last, they turned their backs to the moon. He slept next to her in the shoals, clawed hands locked around her back, fearing even in his exhaustion, perhaps, that she might somehow slip away again. Elisa curled herself around her lover as tightly as possible, cradling his head against her chest and stroking his neck and shoulders.

In sleep his clawed hands moved against her back, and she smiled at the word. Together.

They were.

A/N-

Bottom trawling is an actual, highly controversial method of fishing employed by many countries. The nets are held down with heavy weights and dragged for miles, sweeping up everything in their path. The amount of damage done to the ocean floor and continental shelf is indescribably horrific. Entire coral reefs are ruined and habitat destroyed. Up to 80 or 90 percent of the collected sea life, including many endangered species, called "by-catch" are considered "collateral" and tossed back overboard, mostly dead and dying. These include birds, sea mammals, and the "wrong" fish.

Some sharks can sense blood at the ratio of one part per million. They have an acute sense of smell and olfactory system. I figured our Fishman could be no less sensitive!

I hope you've enjoyed this addition, and please leave a comment or review. Thanks!

~R