• • •

Marcos will not leave the uncomfortable seat of the hospital's quaint and empty waiting room until he receives word about Barry's status, even if it costs him his job or the reputation of his show. He has to make sure the man who pushed him to defeat his life-long monsters is okay.

Fortunately, he spots a nurse approaching him, prompting him to stand up.

"Mr. Moore is conscious," the nurse tells him. "Would you like to see him?"

A wave of relief crashes over Marcos as he nods. "Yes, please."

The nurse leads him into a hallway through double swinging doors. They stride down linoleum floorings before the nurse opens a door to her left.

She holds the door open for Marcos. "He's in here."

"Thank you." Marcos then ducks inside, allowing the nurse to close the door behind him.

Barry's hospital room is small, yet sufficient with a lamp over his head along with the room's sparse ceiling lights casting harsh shadows across the patterned wallpaper and curtained window. Barry lies in the hospital bed with a blanket draped over his lower body, hands clasped over his stomach. His head has a bandage and his face is dotted with bruises and scars from his fall, all accented with his befuddled look at Marcos stepping up to him.

"Mister...Mister..."

"Barry." Marcos places a hand on Barry's bare arm, gazing into his confused eyes. "How are you feeling?"

He blinks. "Besides the headache, I'm doing fine. I don't know where to start though."

"With what?"

"With all that led me to be here. How did I get here?"

Marcos pulls his hand away, now contemplating: He can take this opportunity to convince Barry he sustained his injuries more believably. Yet, that idea doesn't sit well with him.

He strolls over to the leather chair beside the bed. "What do you remember?" He settles on the chair and reaches over to the floor lamp beside it.

Barry holds his eyes up to the ceiling. "Well...I guess I did rescue you because you're here. But you threw me to the beach with some strange...water." He aims a suspicious look at Marcos.

Marcos flicks the lamp on, casting a brilliant light beside him. He turns to him and rests his elbows on his dress pant-cladded thighs. "Um, yes. I suppose I do have some explaining to do. I understand why you would hand me over to the theme park."

"So, why did you strangle me like that?"

The brittleness in Barry's voice pierces Marcos's heart. He straightens up. "That wasn't me. It may sound like an excuse, but it's true. You see, there was a reason why I hid my merman abilities from the world, apart from everyone's reactions: The ocean and its elements have a strong force that can suck away the humane aspect of merfolk. It is extremely difficult to find the balance between land and sea, so to be safe, I avoided the sea at all costs."

"So, that's why you didn't want to be here in San Diego," Barry croaks out, his head sinking in his pillow.

Marcos nods. "Yes. Being near the sea, it was a temptation and I gave in. I tried to balance it, but the ocean, the seafood—even the aquarium as the show's backdrop—was getting the best of me and the last straw was being locked away in the pool. There, I allowed the force to overtake me since I lost hope of regaining my life on land. Therefore, when you tried to rescue me, I was merely watching, unable to do anything until the force used too much of its power to break free from the pool."

"Would you have broken free from the pool if it weren't for me stopping by?"

Marcos shakes his head. "Sooner or later, the force within me would've broken free. But perhaps I would not have broken free from the force completely to act upon what had happened because seeing myself hurt you set an emotional reaction that gave me the power to fight the force. It gave me a reason to not succumb to it again."

A weak smile grows on Barry's face. "You fought for me?"

"For you and our freedom. To put a stop to this secret, to this fear of the ocean's power, once and for all, I did what I swore not to do and battled it..." Marcos leans back against his chair, a blank look on his face aimed at the floor. "...and survived."

"You mean, you could have died?"

"Not physically died, but humanely died." Marcos gazes back at him. "Died as in the force takes over me with no return since I had to become vulnerable to fight it. It's the way my family went and I was afraid to go down the same path, especially using their trident."

All Barry could muster up is a stunned expression against his pillow.

Marcos soaks in his current surroundings, breathing in the oxygen, feeling the silent weight of gravity, gazing at his assistant. "But we did it. I couldn't have done it without you."

Pain creeps onto Barry's face. "Does this mean we're equal? After I turned you in?"

Marcos nods, a warm smile on his face. "I forgive you, Barry." He holds a hand out.

Barry takes it and grips it. "I forgive you too, Mr. Barbero."

Marcos sighs as their hands drop. "Call me 'Marcos.' You earned it."

Surprise flies through Barry's face.

"In fact—" Marcos straightens up to lean closer to him. "—once you get healed up, I can train you to become the next game master to properly succeed me."

Barry's surprise intensifies. "Really?"

"Once I gain Mr. Williams's approval, yes."

Barry's face breaks into a sweet smile. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much, Mister— Marcos."

Marcos chuckles.

"Yet..." Barry's spirits drop. "That was the reason why I turned you in. And I did go on the show as game master since I was the best-fit substitute. And I ruined it—didn't last a minute on stage."

Marcos places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "And we'll fix that with training."

Barry gives a faint, playful smile. "Like how to properly walk off stage with the intent to not return?"

Marcos chuckles, pulling his hand away. "Yes."

"And how do you do that?"

Marcos clears his throat, his fist to his mouth. "Simply turn to the camera and say, 'We will be back in just a minute after a word from our sponsor. Bye for now.'"

The End.