APH PruCan Beyond The Sea 1

Somewhere beyond the sea
somewhere waiting for me
my lover stands on golden sands
and watches the ships that go sailin'.

-Bobby Darin 'Beyond The Sea'

'PLOP'

'SPLASH'

Matthew watched as another one of his bottles hit the ocean, thrown into the churning drink at a clean arch from his arm. He sighed as he watched it wash out to sea like so many others had before it. Inside the fragile glass container was yet another message written by him to destinations unknown.

"I don't know why I even bother.", Matthew muttered to himself as he climbed back up the rocky shore line that made up the pathway to his home, and what an unusual home it was. Not many could claim anymore than they lived in a still functioning lighthouse. Even fewer could say that they lived on a deserted island made entirely of granite off the coast of Nova Scotia. Matthew's tiny spit of land was by the tiny rural fishing village of Sambro, off of a remote shoreline where only seagulls were his most constant visitors. On good days, Matthew would sail over to civilization to restock on essential supplies but for the most part, he existed on him own.

The lighthouse had been a promotion…of sorts….if one could call a barren wasteland surrounded by ill tempered, choppy seas of iron gray water that. Matthew had joined the Canadian Coast Guard because he had always loved the sea but still felt some sort of need to serve his country. He had done well enough to gain some notice, just not the kind that he had wanted. With his medical skills and excellent marks in survival training, his superiors had deemed Sambro Island Light the perfect assignment for Matthew. While the work was mostly routine and really just a matter of checking and changing out the burned out bulb filaments and running sound tests on the fog horn audio system, Matthew had to admit to himself, he did get a sense of accomplishment and general wellbeing whenever he watched ships sail safely past his lighthouse.

Now only if it wasn't so damn lonely…..

Tossing messages in bottles at the ocean had been his twin's idea. Alfred knew that while Matthew did not mind being alone, he did mind being lonely. It was easy to think sometimes that one was forgotten by the entire world here in a place like this. Alfred had made the suggestion after the last time he had visited upon noticing that Matthew had taken into the habit of carrying around and conversing with a small stuffed animal. His twin's reservation aside, Matthew still thought that Kuma….Kumakara?….Kumajama?….the polar bear cub was excellent company despite other people's nosy and possibly very sane opinions about it.

Unfortunately Alfred's visits were few and far between, his twin joining the Marines as soon as it was legally possible. Alfred had never gotten over or forgiven their parent's divorce or the move. Matthew had been taken up to Canada by their mother, while Alfred had been forced to stay in Texas with their father. Alfred popped in whenever he could(usually unannounced and uninvited) but it would be years sometimes between these visits due to Alfred's deployment.

Every week or so, Matthew would write a letter. Nothing too long and nothing too short. Just a letter, neatly written and rolled up in a scroll like fashion before being placed in a wine bottle, the cork of it sealed with wax. In the beginning, Matthew would just write about his day and what he did for a living. That got too boring even for him though. After a while, Matthew began to write down whatever came to his mind. Sometimes, he would simply talk about a silly dream he had or more mundanely, the pancakes that he made that morning. Other times, the letter would be entire compositions, the Canadian baring his soul out on paper, his hopes and fears made real in literary form. Matthew figured that the bottles either shattered or sank eventually so why not? He had stopped giving out his address on them ages ago, signing the letter now simply as 'Matthew of Sambro Island' or 'The lighthouse on the edge of infinity' if he was feeling especially morose that day.

Matthew never thought for one moment that anyone would actually find one of his bottles or much less read them or respond to him. At first, he had had some meager hopes and maybe even one silly dream of being flooded by letters from all over the world by people who had found his bottles. Hope like that soon becomes worn and tattered though after too many years out in the wind, so Matthew packed his away into the smaller corners of his mind to save it for something plausible. He didn't know what that something was or if it would even happen to him. Nothing ever happened to him.

Matthew sighed, looking over his shoulder at the iron gray sea capped with slashes of foamy white. No…..nothing happened here….

….and nothing ever would.

Another week passed and Matthew found himself back down at his dock. He sat on the weathered wood and toyed with the bright blue bottle at his side. Yet another letter was nestled within its glass confines.

"I can't keep doing this. Really if I think aboot it, I am just littering.", Matthew muttered at his means of communication as he picked up the vessel to study it with renewed interest. As much as he tried to talk himself out of it, Matthew couldn't bring himself to ever quit. The very act of writing the letter broke up the monotony of his week, plus it gave him an excuse to drink. Pulling back his arm, Matthew launched the bottle into the air and watched its curved decent into the ocean. He followed the bobbing cork until the currents pulled it out of sight. Matthew remained sitting there, ignoring the cold that nipped at his face and fingers, and tried to seep underneath his thick sweater. He was used to it by now and for once, the sun was out so he was going to enjoy it while he had a chance so that he could enjoy the view. The light made the ocean glitter like it was made of sapphires mixed with stardust, its chaotic surface broken occasionally by a fishing birds that dared each other for fish or a clump of migrating seaweed making its way to shore.

A very recognizable striped fin in shades of light and darker gray caught Matthew's idle attention, cutting the water's surface just a few feet away from him. While sharks were not an uncommon sight, he had never seen one swim so close to his deck. Sighing, Matthew stood up, the lighthouse keeper not willing to risk having his legs mistaken by some wayward shark as its next meal. To his amazement, the fin continued to glide toward him, the shark swimming close enough to the dock now that Matthew could make out the striped pattern on its smooth gray flesh.

Leaning over cautiously, Matthew peered into the water. Red eyes looked back at him but they were not set in the kind of face that Matthew was expecting to find. Instead of the bullet shaped form, a human face stared up at Matthew, the outline of it made blurry from looking at it through the water's surface.

Stepping back in rude shock, Matthew rubbed his face with his hands, letting the callused tips of them work into the delicate skin of his temples. He had finally lost it. Matthew had heard of all the stories of men left too long on their own and all the creatures they had hallucinated as a byproduct of their isolation. Telling himself it was a shark and only a shark, Matthew lowered his hands to risk another look for his sanity's sake.

By now, the 'shark' had surfaced and was studying Matthew intently with its bizarre scarlet eyes, the color of them made more sharp by the long silvery lashes that accented them. Short spiky locks the color of old iron dripped seawater onto too pale skin that had never seen the true light of day expect fractured through tons of salted water. Gills, fins, or a combination of both were on either side of the shark's head where ears would have been on a human. The shark's face was lean and angular with high cheekbones, sharp facial features, and a fine, straight nose. The oddity tilted its head to the side as if in inquiry as it leaned up even closer, using its tail as both leverage and anchor. Matthew watched in morbid fascination as pale fingers gripped at the deck, the tip of them ended in solid talons rather than nails and the in between spaces of the fingers webbed with gray flesh.

Was it human, was all Matthew's brain could ask, the term 'shark' losing its grip as the being's description. It reasserting itself when the strange man grinned at Matthew, his teeth defiantly not human. The jagged sharp tips of them interlocked and were triangular in form with ridges along their edges. Those dagger like teeth looked capable of ripping apart flesh without even really trying. Staring wide eyed and slack jawed, Matthew toyed between the notions of fleeing for his life or passing out on the spot.

"H-hello?", Matthew managed somehow to stammer out, dismissing either notion by making his tone of voice sound almost normal. For all he knew, this could just be a very elaborate hallucination on his part. If it was real, fainting would only give the sharkman a chance to pull him into the water to eat him and running away was never a good option. It might entice his visitor to stay for some reason.

"Are you Matthew?", the sharkman asked, his words guttural to the ear and his voice sounding almost hoarse.

Matthew congratulated himself for not screaming like a little girl but only because he was too stunned to really react in a proper manner( i.e. run away like a bat out of hell and lock himself in the lighthouse to babble at walls until he felt better). Chewing his bottom lip out of nervous habit, Matthew debated with himself on several things. First off, he would love to know how the sharkman knew his name. Putting that mystery to the side for now, Matthew wondered how he should answer. Would the sharkman go away if he told him 'no'. If he told him 'yes', would the strange being stay? Did this sharkman want something from him?

"It's not a hard question, dummkopf.", the sharkman rolled his blood colored eyes expressively wide, "Damn, humans are dumb. Don't even know their own names."

"I-I'm sorey!", Matthew cursed inwardly at himself for stuttering again and for his ingrained use of politeness. It didn't exactly scream confidence in the face of adversity. "I know my name, thank you very much. Why should I give it out to you? It's not everyday, a…shark…person….thing pops out of nowhere and asks for it."

"Dumb and rude. Kesesesese.", the shark man chuckled, his laughter a strange rasping sound that grated on Matthew's ears, "I'm not a thing. I am a Galeocerdo."

"Is that like a mermaid?", Matthew found himself asking, even as parts of his common sense were begging him to make for the safety of his lighthouse.

The question earned him a look of disgust from the self proclaimed Galeocerdo, the sharkman leaning back in the water so that he could bring his tail into full view, the fins of it dipping in the out of the water as he balanced in the current. "Do I look like some slut bag fish with a singing fetish to you?". The sharkman's tail was that of a tiger shark, the flesh of the appendage light grey with a rubbery looking texture to it, the smooth surface of gray skin slashed with a darker grey stripes pattern and the finer lines of some silvery scars.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Matthew found himself staring at the sharkman's tail and even speculate what it would feel like under his hands. "You wanna touch it?", the shark man grinned up at Matthew, making him wonder just how long he had been staring at his unusual company. The open view of keen teeth again made Matthew break off his perusal and step back. He noticed that the sharkman's expression dropped into a frown upon noticing his minor retreat.

"Never mind.", The sharkman huffed, lowering his tail so that it disappeared beneath the water once again. "Can you just answer my question? Are you Matthew or am I looking for some other lighthouse? Scheiße, I was sure that damn crab gave me the right directions this time.".

"Are you speaking German? Is that what that accent is?", Matthew asked in surprise. He thought he had recognized some of the foreign words.

"Nein. It's Prussian.", the sharkman answered indignantly with a shake of his head that sent droplets of salty water flying everywhere, "I first learned to speak human from this awesome guy Fritz and later again from this pirate named Kirkland who had a real hard on for proper English, whatever the hell that is."

"Speak human…", Matthew began wonder aloud only to be interrupted by a series of bizarre clicking and grumbling sounds coming from the sharkman's throat, "Maple! What the hell was that?"

"What? Do you really think that we naturally speak your ugly languages?", the shark man laughed, "You are just lucky I am so awesome that I bothered to learn two of them. I can also speak whale.".

"Ok….Do you have a name? One that I will be able to understand?", Matthew knew there was no chance in hell that he could be able to produce any of those odd noises without making a fool of himself.

"Only the best name ever! Fritz gave it to me! In human, my name is Gilbert!", the sharkman stated very proudly for some reason. Matthew didn't have the heart to tell him that most people would not chose that name if given half a chance at birth.

"My name is Matthew….", the lighthouse keeper began to introduce himself but was surprised out of it as Gilbert's face lit up with uncontained excitement, his tail rising up to slap at the water. Matthew barely managed to dodge the spray in time.

"So you are Matthew!", Gilbert yelled, doing an odd little dance in the water. Matthew had to step back several paces to save his sweater and pants from being splashed.

"I am a Matthew, though I might not be your Matthew. It is a very common name here, I am afraid. Do you have a last name to go with it perhaps?", Matthew asked once Gilbert's joyous spin in the water had settled down. "Why are you looking for a Matthew at all?".

"Scheiße! You mean there is more than one!?", Gilbert looked shocked by the idea of such a concept.

"Of course there is. Like I said, it's a popular name. There are thousands if not millions of Matthews in the world.", the lighthouse keeper shrugged. Now that he thought about it, it made him feel kinda invisible having such a common title.

"My people don't reuse names. It's considered bad luck to do so. Every Galeocerdo born is given an original name to reflect who they are as a being.", Gilbert said looking practically distressed. "My own name in your language means 'Warrior whose laughter strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies'.".

"That's interesting….and long…", Matthew said carefully.

"Ja…Well…..it's sounds better in my native tongue.", Gilbert shrugged, sinking back further into the water from the gesture. Or it could have been from under the weight of his tone. The shark man looked abysmal, his worry and uncertainty gnawing its way to the surface of his peculiar pallid skin.

"Why are you looking for him?", Matthew asked gently, feeling oddly sorry for the shark man. He didn't seem to wear defeat well. Instead of answering, Gilbert disappeared beneath the salt water, leaving soft foam to swirl in his wake. He was gone for long enough that the silence seemed unnaturally fragile and Matthew began to doubt his own sanity once more. Just as he started to wonder if he should leave while he had half the chance, the silverette returned with a splash, his pale torso breaking the water's surface once again. This time Gilbert had something in hand though, Matthew noticing several braided strips of seaweed wrapped tightly around his fist. The woven cords were carefully tied around the necks of some very familiar looking bottles, a great number of them in fact, all of which with letters within their hollows. Some of the stationary appeared worse for wear, having been opened improperly so that water seeped in through the cork, the cargo sodden and blurred into smudged nonsense.

"I'm looking for the Matthew who wrote all these letters. According to that damn crab, the address should be around here somewhere. Is there another lighthouse near by?", Gilbert sighed, looking suddenly very tired as his pallid shoulders slumped. He tied the kelp to the dock to keep the bottles from sinking again.

"How on earth…When did you…where did you get all those? I thought they were all lost.", Matthew babbled, his mind racing and bounding about in circles upon itself. He knelt down on the dock, ignoring the moisture that soaked in through his thick pants, and reached out a hand to glide his fingers down the bottles, some of which were years old. Matthew could tell by the bottle color alone. He had switched from red wine to white wine a while back. His oldest letters were encased in brown and black bottles while his newer post had merrier colors of green, bright blue, and even red.

"So you are the Matthew I've been looking for!?", Gilbert grinned, the expression only growing wider as he watched Matthew reach down into the water to touch his lost messages. "I found the first one in what you call the Channel, between England and France. I found another tangled up in some garbage out in the middle of nowhere waters of the Atlantic. I traded with an octopus for two more. After I had collected about six or seven of them, I got curious and started to track down their source. I've been looking for you for many, many moons, Matthew of the lighthouse.

"B-but…..why?", Matthew felt like he was at a total loss. The dream of an answer to his message in a bottle seemed unreal even when it was new and he could have never imagined this type of answer to them.

"So Matthew, ever had a wet date?", Gilbert leered, leaning in on the dock in such a predatory fashion that it made Matthew feel instantly uneasy. It took a moment for him to process the shark man's question.

"Eh?", was all Matthew could manage but it did make him pause long enough for Gilbert to react. The shark man rose out of the water fluidly, diving straight out of the sea to land on top of Matthew, making him yelp in surprise. The lighthouse keeper sagged under the new weight as he felt his collar grabbed and sinewy pale arms lock themselves around his shoulders and neck. As Gilbert shoved his face toward Matthew, the human closed his eyes in a blind panic, praying that when Gilbert bit out his throat or chewed off his nose it wouldn't hurt too much.

So Matthew was quite surprised when he felt lips upon his own.

Matthew was struck dumb not only by the act of it itself, but by the chill brought with it. Lips too soft to be real were as cold as the Artic waters they existed in. Matthew trembled as they melded to his lips and could feel the warmth of his own flesh against Gilbert's glacier skin.

Luckily, Matthew was strong from living so long on his own or he would have fallen into the ice cold ocean, the shark man was being fully supported by him. As it was, Matthew fell backwards, taking Gilbert with him, still connected. The shark man's arms were like a sodden vise around his neck.

The hot and cold kiss was broken as the air was knocked out of both pairs of lungs, leaving both participants gasping and staring at each other. Parts of Matthew's mind were blown in the quake of this kiss though other more rational parts were noting how heavy and wet Gilbert was, the shark man laying fully on top of Matthew, pinning him to the dock.

Matthew didn't get to dwell on any of this for long. Gilbert turned out to be as greedy as the animal he mimicked, cold lips descended down to claim Matthew's own again and again and again, until the lighthouse keeper's lips started to grow too numb for him to feel anymore.

"St-t…op…..stop!…..Sto…", Matthew squeaked out between the amorous assaults, the shark man all enthusiasm and animation but no real skill. A traitorous part of Matthew's mind noted that shark people must not kiss in their culture or maybe kissing was totally different underwater. Ignoring such thoughts, Matthew worked his hands underneath Gilbert's chin, staying mindful of those sharp teeth as he pushed Gilbert up and away.

"Why?", Gilbert asked breathlessly, looking down at Matthew in open surprise, his too red eyes wide with question.

"Because….Because, I don't know you! Because strangers, at least human strangers, just don't' do that with one another.", Matthew explained desperately quick. For all he knew, it was a common custom from where Gilbert was from. The shark man didn't look like he was gong anywhere soon and he was far too heavy to move. Matthew was barely able to keep Gilbert off him as it was. Words would have to be his leverage for now.

"But I'm the love of your life.", Gilbert calmly stated, leaning up on his elbows to peer down at his quarry with an inquisitive but entirely honest look.

"Eh?"