[ 12 - THE FATHER COMES TO SEA ]

♁

"Appa," I beg out a rasped sob, withstanding the cruelty that my poor friend has been faced with. I press my hands as hard as I can down on his wound. I always thought I'd be the kind of person who would be humiliated to grieve the loss of a pet. I guess not. 

The tears continue to run unchecked down my cheeks. "Please wake up, Appa. Please, please, please. I can't lose you." 

Orion's face remains distorted with madness, fueled by some crooked sense of vengeance. His fixation on revenge seems uncompromising as he persists in bearing his gunpoint on me. I try to ignore the exacting feeling of danger and focus on saving Appa. I know he's still alive, I know it. He still has enough breath to aggravate me in this doggy lifetime.  

"Huh, where's my kid?" Orion mumbles, almost hysterical now, stepping past my crumpled self to inspect the inside of the truck. "Where's my kid, where's my kid... where's my kid, goddamnit?!"

I only scream back at him from the floor. It's a voiceless mourn.

"Don't make me hurt you, Kinara," he warns. 

"You murderer!"

I hear the clicking noise of the gun once again. Once it's reloaded, he maintains his unfaltering aim. I gather the will to look him in the eye, to seek out the man I once had madly been in love with. I experience hurt so intense, that I can't think through a void anymore when I don't find him. He has been replaced by this rage-clenched, delirious madman intent on killing me for information. He is impassive to emotion, to my love. Numb and too far gone. 

"You're going to shoot me, Ri?" I ask, heartbroken amid his ire. "Do you want me dead?"

And he takes an axe at my hope when his upper lip curls. "I still have my doubts."

"Then do it," I dare him. It comes out helpless instead.

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. I was the one who severed all my ties with him. I watch him, only instinctually, as his eyes close to compose himself, his breaths growing harder, and he uses the hot end of the gun to scratch at his temples. His nose wrinkles as if something had turned sour in the air and he finally looks back at me. The green it holds is the colour I'd imagine is vitriol. 

"Kia. I could never," he says oh-so-patiently. "Okay? I'm sorry, baby. I don't believe I could shoot you. I love you. I love you so much. You're my whole life. Look, I'm sorry about"—he points at Appa—"your... dog—this whole scene. I mean, he was about to take off an arm! It was self-defence!"

I carefully inspect as he tucks the revolver back into his jeans and shows me his bare hands. I notice a startlingly amiable smile on his lips as he crouches by my dead guardian. I don't want his poisonous shadow anywhere near Appa.

Orion touches the thigh of Appa's rear leg and laughs under his breath. "A fighter, this one. He'll live."

A relieved sigh quakes back into me. Appa's got a pulse. I knew that little shit still had enough dog years left to annoy the crap out of me.

"Oh, Appa. I'm so sorry." I rush to feel Appa's fur. I don't mind Orion watching me hide my sob behind a consoled front. Now that I can confirm Appa is almost okay, I want to run away badly, but I am rooted in fear. 

"I'll come clean for you, honey." Orion wipes a finger a blasé finger across his nose. "Do you think I would come halfway across the world, to find my child and shoot them dead? Why would I harm the child I've put so much effort to give you? Does that sound like a clever narrative to you?"

I don't answer him and serve him satisfaction. But, a part of me wants to hear him out. 

"I'm a parent, too," he says, his voice low. "And you took that from—"

"You don't deserve it, you monster," I hiss.

"No, you have to hear me out!" He yells, his voice breaking off into a painful whisper. "I know—I know what she's going through. Her pain, Kinara? Whatever you came here for, whatever you think you know... you have no idea. There's no one here who knows this better than me."

I attempt a bare scoffing breath. "Piss off."

He ignores me. "I can fix her. You know I can. I can make it go away."

A moment passes for me to call bullshit. I don't; I continue to stare at him in horror. 

When the defiance wears off, I realise that his words are something I never expected. I don't see this do-good samaritan smoke show he's putting up for me. A twinge of nausea twists my abdomen because I find myself believing in him. I had come all this way, triumphing folklore over science, but here Orion appears as another shot at a wasted effort. The honours they bestowed upon him, the praises the world showered him with—if anyone could drum up a solution for my baby girl, it would be him. 

My unsound, analytical side begs me to reconsider, even if I face the consequences of what I'd left behind. I know this, but.

This is my husband who had forsaken me when I needed him the most. Exploited my body and manipulated me to meet his needs. He had unknowingly presented me with a self-inflicted form of abuse that was only brought to bear after months and months of unbearable pain. I fear what he might do when he gets his hands on my daughter. Even though Mira is currently somewhere, perhaps a thousand metres underwater or on a remote, unlivable island, I know she is better off there than she is with her father. 

In his struggle to make me see his side of things, Orion had backed me into the truck. My back presses into the chilly metal door and his hand finds my face. He's delicate, but now I can only envision a smoking gun between his fingertips. A bullet aimed straight between my eyes.

"I promise you, baby. I can make her right for you. For us." Orion nods confidently. 

"I don't trust you anymore, Ri," I manage, too helpless to put on a confident pretence. 

"I know," he says softly.

I shake my head. "I've broken myself too many times to cater to you, so I'm exhausted. I am done. And that little girl—that miracle your fuck-ass self gave me? I will gladly let you empty that pistol into me before you touch—"

My breath catches before I can realize what is happening. It's as if Orion has prepared himself to press down on the trigger of the gun aimed at my ribs, but as he does so, I notice a pallid silhouette, posed in accomplished effort. 

The effort, I realize, was the piece of moon-shaped metal that had dislodged and stapled Orion's armed wrist right into the steel of my truck. And in that moment, I don't acknowledge it, but I know that by the end of that tirade, Orion would've put a bullet in my guts. 

His cursing yell rings in my ears. As the gun clatters to the earth, I have sufficient awareness past the incredible sense of relief that floods and prompts me to kick the gun away. I scuttle right from under him on hand and foot, bowing my body over Appa to protect him from my saviour. 

"Kia," the silhouette calls to me. 

I turn to the voice, struck by it in my mind's eye. My face twists to miserable ease. 

"Marc!" I yell.

I can't afford to be staggered by his ensemble choice at the moment. Marc Spector has wrapped himself up in what I can only assume are bandages, like one of the ancient mummies I've seen in those cartoons with Mira. It's laughable, especially with the unfiltered dread it evokes in me without notice. The mere sight of this disguise is designed to make me feel his vehemence. 

He moves past me like he's gliding, spotless eyes glistening like he'd split the moon into halves and stuck them to his head. Immediately, Orion's anxiety is palpable.

"Kia! Get the fuck off me, man—who the fuck are you? No. Kia! Kia, don't do this! You have to understand!" Orion's agonizing scream echoes past the floor. 

The afternoon breakers crash louder onto the shore, drowning him out. From beneath the white-capped waves, I follow Namor's surface from his kingdom, his gleaming spear in hand, his muscles taut, and his presence in front of my husband becomes the sweetest enigma of water lore. He throws a new dimension of colours into the spectrum as the ocean still clings to his turquoise jewels. 

He wipes a hand down his chiselled face before cleaving his weapon into the earth and tousling his damp hair. I can see his eyes more clearly now, and he's been pushed too far, and mad as hell. He barely looks at Orion, his eyes persistent on me. Searching me up and down... inspecting me.

Namor says something in his native tongue, a growling order, without unpinning his stare. Upon his words, a Talokanil soldier, whom I can only describe as a mutant, powder blue underneath his lumpy, magnificent armour strides forward for Orion. 

His heat crosses past me before I hear his grim breaths from his ornate respirator. When it strikes me—this person cannot respire on land. But his king does so with ease. Then again, his king can soar through the air because of the plumed wings at his feet. 

"Kinara," Namor murmurs to me, a palm beckoning me toward him. "You'll be travelling with me."

I point to Appa glumly. "I can't leave him."

"Marc Spector will see to your pet's safe return," he assures. Then flashes a dark look at Marc. "Won't you, Mr Spector?"

Marc only grunts back, lowering to pick his bloodied blade off the ground. He eyes me carefully, his deformed mask gives nothing away but to convey an intimate message. He's still the Marc I've always known. I'll explain everything. 

And I take his word for it. I respond with a quiet nod. Take care of my Appa.

Meanwhile, the warrior had bound a respirator around Orion's mouth and bound his wrists in manacles. They were a fortress by themselves, made to last.

I am aware of Namor's fingers gliding around my waist, gingerly forcing my legs to move toward the truck. His casual contact makes me stumble a step before catching up to pace beside him. 

"What's going to happen to him?" I ask up at him, attempting to peek past his broad shoulder where Orion was being dragged to the shore. I want to both stop them—an undying instinct my husband has driven into me—and let them drown him. 

Namor's jaw hardens as he opens the driver's door for me."You'll find out later. Patience, Kinara. Get inside." 

"What about Appa—please—"

"He's just fine. You have to get inside now."

I climb onto the seat and twist the key that was already in the ignition. Namor follows me into the passenger seat with ease and takes a moment to appraise the inside of my four-door mobile home. Mira's toys are littered about in the back, her little security blanket lies haphazardly over her grey booster seat, and a twinkling solar system mobile hangs from the light switch.

From the tenseness in his expression, I assume Namor doesn't like it. "You raised Mira in here for days?"

"Months," I correct bleakly.

His eyes widen. 

"I had to find you. Before I lost her," I confess. Now that he says it, I am unnerved that I'd subjected a toddler to such a claustrophobic circumstance. My top priority had powered me to look past the bare necessities that Mira deserved.

He looks to the sideview mirror before I can measure his expression, murmuring, "Start the car."

I sigh and twist the key. The sound of the truck roaring to life makes me flinch. I reach for my GPS, ready to type. "Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer.

I glance at him. "Namor?"

A muscle jumps at his arm upon the sound of me calling to him. He turns to look at me, and a strange ferocity is plain on his face; I ache to touch it away. I don't cross my limits and stay in control. 

"Namor," I say again.

"Yes." He raises his head to the ceiling, and then his mood shifts and he smiles. It's tolerant but his obsidian eyes remain unreadable. "We are heading back to town. I will stay with you until I know none of Orion's people have followed us."

Impulse pushes me to ask, "Will Mira be okay?"

"She's under the protection of my most loyal warrior," he assures and gestures to the wilderness ahead. "You will drive us and we will wait this out."

∞