The Lighthouse Keeper and the Mermaid

By: TriplePirouette aka 3Pirouette

Spoilers: none

Category: AU, fantasy

Rating: PG

Word Count: 5393

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is all mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: A/U "He looked out over the horizon. The shinning rays of the sun bounced off the water, making him squint, but he'd seen it. Her beautiful blonde head, trailed by a great iridescent tail as she swam off."

Author's Notes: For notalwaysweak for the sheldon-penny Saturnalia gift exchange! Woo! Also, I know very little about mermaids and even less about lighthouses, but this caught my fancy for some reason. This is also my first ever, real and true AU fic for any fandom, so I hope it's everything AU-ers want it to be! Prompt: Penny is a mermaid and Sheldon is a lighthouse keeper. Any rating. Wildcard word prompts that I tried to incorporate, too: butterflies, rituals, seasons, succubus. The time period is intentionally fuzzy. This almost feels like I should categorize it as "not quite steam-punk" because I want it to feel old and historical, but still have some modern hints to it. Put it wherever it makes sense to you.

HUGE, AMAZING thank yous to trippy41 for betaing!

Distribution: ff. net, and my LJ, anywhere else, please ask first :)

Feedback PLEASE at: I love anything constructive! Blatant flames, however, will be disregarded and used to roast s'mores...

The empty, ringing sound was comforting to him as he climbed the metal stairs. Spiraling ever upward, Sheldon felt a little calmer with each step. "Just another night," he muttered to himself, listening as his voice bounced off the stone walls of the lighthouse. The chill in the air whistled through the cracks in the old mortar, and he hugged his sweater tighter. He'd been away for too long, but this life was like riding a bike.

His grandfather. His father. His older brother. Now him. They kept the light shining at East Point. "One day, Sheldon," his father used to say, "sailor's lives will be in your hands. You'll show them the danger. You'll show them where it is safe. You'll lead them to their futures and away from their pasts. We never let the light go out, son. Never."

At the top he looked out over the sea, the light sweeping slowly and steadily around behind him. The beauty always surprised him, but still felt like home. The edge of the earth, his mother used to say. A tiny island on the end of a long outcropping of rocky shores. A while to the mainland, almost a day to a big town, it felt like he was the only person on earth. The ships almost never got close enough to see, but that was alright with him.

The silence of the ocean was welcome in his life right now.

Lost. She was so lost. She'd gotten separated from everyone else and now there was only blackness. Not the usual dark of the sea, but true nothingness. Not an algae, not a guppy, not a single thing.

She called out, but just like every other time there was no answer.

She let herself feel the despair of her situation for a moment, floating literally and figuratively any way the tide took her. She took a deep gulp, rubbed her eyes, and set off forward. After all, any direction was better than staying still.

The winter chill was in the air tonight. Sheldon looked at the sparse walls of his tiny room in the base of the lighthouse. New mortar. Maybe some whitewash. New boards for the floor and some kind of insulation underneath to keep the chill out. Setting up tapestries crossed his mind to keep the wind from whistling in from the outside wall, but he had none and would never be able to afford them. Even these minor improvements would be draining to the little money he had.

It needed to be done, though. No one had lived properly in these walls for an entire winter, not since his brother died.

That's why the boat had crashed; blown off coarse and victim to the jagged reef.

That's why he was here now, called away from his flights of scientific fancy to do something real- something that everyone he knew considered more worth while than gazing at things and wondering how they worked.

He knew how insulation worked, and cold weather. He would not join the rest of his family in the plot outside of town, not when he could create a wonderful place for himself right here.

And maybe even include some science.

When she finally saw something other than darkness she felt her heart shudder in her chest. It was a shipwreck. She'd always been told to stay away from shipwrecks. It was bad luck. An Omen. A sign of things to come.

But she'd always been told to stay out of open water, too. Right now, that seemed to be the more important tenant. She pushed through the water and around the imposing hull. The water was nearly as dark here, but every once in a while she'd see a glimmer of light above filtering through and glittering through the sea.

She found a cove not far from the surface. On one side it was a wall of coral, woven and twining into a lattice that caught slivers of seaweed. Across the back and floor must have been the inside of a linen closet. Brightly colored sheets and towels created a bed softer than any sea sponge she'd ever seen, rounded and bouncy in the tide. The last two sides were draped in fabric. Dresses and pants and sails caught up on the splintered edge of the mast, floating in the water and creating a cave that somehow felt soft and safe. From the outside it was dark and foreboding, but the light would filter through and she'd see the colors, the softness inside, and knew it had to be hers.

She slipped in, snuggled into the bouncy womb of fabric, and closed her eyes.

She felt air. Her hair swirled around her face, a silk dress brushed against her chest, and a chilly morning fog tickled her nose. She blinked her eyes open and saw the sky. Reds and crimsons breaking up the clouds, the white sail flapping in the breeze. From her navel down she was still submerged, and there were no waves crashing around in her cave, but she could hear them crashing outside of her small haven. She turned and craned her neck, pressing down into the squishy bed of towels. Just over the mast she could see the rocky shore of an archipelago, capped by a stately light house.

Through the early morning fog she could just make out a figure of something at the base of the lighthouse and she squinted until it came into focus: a man.

She squeaked and dove back into the sea.

He always came out to see the wreckage in the morning.

The first time he'd seen it was at night. The moon and sea had given it a ghostly look: a skeleton rising from the depths to exact revenge for the souls lost. He'd huddled in the lighthouse that night, crying for the loss of his brother and the loss of the men and women on that ship.

The next morning, the hulking creature took on a serene quality. With the tide out he could see more shapes, like the landscape of a small, seaweed strewn country that somehow promised the hope of a new day in the surf. Sheldon had come out every morning since then, letting his eyes scan over the horizon as he reminded himself of his new path in life.

The ritual was simple and quick until today. Today was the morning that he saw her.

Bright eyes and blonde hair slicked with seawater peaked over the edge of the mast, disappearing a second later.

"Hello?" he called, concerned that someone had gotten caught in the wreckage. He stepped out to the edge of the small patch of ground at the foot of the light house, craning his neck toward where he has seen her.

A sail flapped in the breeze, and there was no one there.

He'd seen her. She took deep gulps but couldn't seem to catch her breath even in the cool depths where it should have been easy to breathe.

She was lost, alone, and now a land dweller had seen her. Even if she did find her family again, this would be unforgivable.

She swam out, but the fear of not knowing where she was set in again. By sunset when the deep reds of the sky reflected through the shallows she found herself back at the cavern again.

She was already in trouble- another night couldn't hurt.

He tried to take his mind off of her face as he spread the mortar in the cracks in the walls. There was more than enough work to keep him busy well into the winter with the updating and upkeep of the lighthouse.

He still saw her eyes every time he closed his.

Slowly, the small cave became home. Sunny in the day, but as long as she stayed low she could hide from the man with the blue eyes. Sometimes she watched him from below the water, watching each simple, deliberate move as he set about with small repairs on the tall building. She became accustomed to watching his shadow at night as he kept the great light.

That light had saved her life.

She collected small odds and ends. She tried on some of the beautiful dresses that surrounded her and put the ones she liked best aside, using the others to drape her small home in a more deliberate way. She collected stones and shells and built a small arsenal of tools for eating and cleaning and maintaining her small home.

There was a crab that lived in the coral by her bed. She often talked to him when she got lonely, and pretended he could understand her.

There was a storm coming in; a tight, heavy winter storm by the feel of it. The sleet had started at dusk, and the wind had been whipping around and through the light house all day. He checked the light compulsively, knowing that this was the type of weather that made him more important than any other night of the year. This was the kind of storm that blew ships off course, the kind of storm that wrecked them on rocky reefs just like his small slice of the world.

He turned to the steps, and started walking up them for the fifth time that night.

The sea was rough, rougher than she'd ever felt it. She was tossing and turning in her small cove. The coral across from her was cracking, breaking up under the pressure. She wrapped herself in the thick sail, letting it tighten itself around her and give her a false sense of security with its rocking motion.

Her small home wouldn't be safe soon, but she didn't have anywhere else to go.

The hail started just after full dark. Huge balls of ice rattled the windows and made it sound like the world outside was ending. They got smaller and it sounded like tiny explosions all around him. Sitting in the small room, trying to read by fire light, he couldn't help shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. He stood, pulling on the bright yellow slicker and waders and the heavy boots, and stepped out into the maelstrom.

The wind pushed him back into the doorway, but he pressed on, the small pellets stinging even through the thick fabric. He got a few steps out and looked up: the light was shining brightly on, cutting through the din and sending it's light on into the nothingness past his monolithic home. The light cut swiftly through again and he could swear that he saw a flash of wet blonde hair. He set his feet wide apart and searched the darkness, this time seeing a tiny hand reach up through the rough surf.

"Hey!" he called, taking slow, heavy steps toward the wreckage of the mast. He couldn't see her any longer, but he knew she was there as he got closer. He could see the uneven splashing and the body shape held just below the surface in the sail. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

He was too cocky, though, and didn't anticipate how slippery the mossy rocks would be. He lost his footing, tripping forward and catching himself with his hands on a boulder next to him. The surf roared over his head, and pulled him away from the shore line.

She heard him screaming, the sounds traveling faster in the water than it would on land. It hit her ears, shrill and panicked. She unwound herself from the sail quickly, pressing into the tossing tide with power that she didn't know she had in her. In the darkness she found his shape, illuminated less and less at even intervals as he fell deeper and was pulled farther out.

She pressed harder. Even if she wasn't supposed to show herself to this man, she wasn't going to let him die.

The tide tossed him like a rag doll. He could swim, but he hadn't been in the throes of the sea for years, and never in a tide as strong as this. His clothes soaked in the moisture and pulled him down, his boots flooding and sinking him as sure as if they were made of cement. He saw the glimmer of his light house and tried to swim toward it, but he was tossed by the strong current and couldn't find up.

His lungs burned.

He wanted to breathe.

He shut his eyes tight and tried to feel which way he was floating when the sea rested for a fraction of a second, but he was tossed end over end again and into wreckage.

The rest of his breath was pushed from him, he fought with all he had not to breathe in.

He opened his eyes, hoping to see the light again, wishing for any hope of finding the surface before the darkness overtook him.

Instead he saw a hand reaching down in the blackness, a delicate wrist with long, rounded nails reaching for him.

Blonde hair, floating around her face. Stars twinkling around the edges of his vision. The darkness in his mind and of the sea mixing together.

He watched her open her mouth and take a deep gulp of sea water. He panicked as she leaned forward, her lips meeting his and prying his apart.

He braced for the rush of water that would end his life.

The warm air that flooded his lungs was a surprise.

Legs were so clumsy and bothersome. She understood why her father forbade them, but she'd always been fascinated by them. She'd taken out her young rebelliousness by walking around on the beaches of small, deserted islands, smirking at the sea for short rebellious minutes before diving back into the sea, satisfied with her small disobedience.

Right now they weren't cooperating. They were less powerful and uncoordinated than her tail. They slipped against the moss on the rocks and she could barely lift him out of the water. The rain, the hail, the wind- they all stung more than in the water. The water was warmer, the air held a biting chill, and the small pellets of ice hurt.

She hauled him up at the lowest point, pushing him onto the land and rolling him away from the crashing waves, her legs barely getting the used to standing before she was knocked over by a gust of wind.

She tripped over him and landed sprawled across him, her head hitting the hard packed earth. She tried to get up, but she found that her limbs just wouldn't cooperate, and her eyelids fluttered shut even though she fought to keep them open.

She was warm, but not wet. Being dry was an odd feeling- the fabric against her limbs scratched, the air felt electric on her skin, sounds were sharper and harsher. She blinked, waiting for everything to clear. The slight darkness did not go away, but the flickering of a fire illuminated the room randomly and dimly. Her sight was still fuzzy, and she couldn't make out much except some exposed stone and dark shapes.

She rolled to her side, pulling the scratchy sheets with her, stretching and startling when she felt the unfamiliar sensation of legs instead of a tail. She lifted the blanket and looked at them: flesh instead of scales, tiny nails on ten slender toes instead of her majestic fin. She nearly cried before remembering that her tail was only a submersion in sea water away. The sensation of air between the two limbs was odd, weirder than she'd remembered but the only other times she'd had legs she'd quickly rolled in sand, run about a bit, and then jumped right back into the ocean.

Her fingers crept over her stomach, down between her legs, eager to understand more.

"You're awake."

She pulled her hand up, sticking her eyes out over the blankets and staring at the shape of a man. Him. It was him. Her fingers tightened in the cloth and she hid until she could barely peak over the edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've frightened you!" He pulled back, his blue eyes crinkling with worry. "I was afraid you'd really hurt yourself. You haven't, have you? The hospital is awfully far away, but we could try to get there..." He trailed off, his hands unnaturally still by his sides. He was in corduroy pants, a heavy sweater, and had a thick blanket around his shoulders. His hair looked tousled, like it had just dried while he was running his fingers through it.

He looked at her, blinking softly. She shook her head. She couldn't speak: her throat was dry and the words wouldn't come.

"Good." He nodded, pacing back and forth in the small room. "Though we can't discount that you won't take a turn for the worse." He stopped turned and looked quite horrified. "I can't believe how inhospitable I am being! Can I offer you a hot beverage? Tea or coffee? I'm afraid I'm out of cocoa."

The blanket slowly moved down until it was tucked under her chin. "Tuh-?" she croaked out, trying to wrap her mind around what a beverage was, but he obviously took that as her choice, because he began moving around quickly and quietly.

She let the blanket slip to her waist as she looked around, feeling safe with his back to her. The room was small and sparse, and the stone walls reminded her of the tiny coral cove she'd come to call home recently. It was clean and calm, though she could still hear the angry winds and rain outside.

She was running her hands over the soft quilting of the top blanket when he spoke again, slowly turning, "Would you like honey or- Oh! Oh my!" Sheldon turned back away from her, covering his eyes quickly, and spilling the hot water in the cup he held. She watched perplexed as he fumbled for a moment, tipping her head and pulling the hair from her eyes as he wiped up the water and poured more over the tea in the mug. He set it on the counter and turned back to her, turning away quickly again with a squeak. "I'm sorry. Would you... would you care for a shirt or robe?"

She looked down at her exposed chest and wondered what it was that startled him so, but then remembered that she always saw land walkers wearing clothes. Even in the water they were covered. She quickly pulled the blanket up over her chest and sighed. "Sor-" She croaked for the apology, but her throat ached with dryness. Clutching the blanket to her, she rubbed the offending body part with her hand.

He peeked quickly, and seeing that she was covered, came back over with the tea. "Perhaps this will help your throat." He put it on the small table by her bedside and stepped away, wringing his hands tightly. "I've been remiss in offering you clothes. I- I thought it more important to get you dry."

She smiled inside, taking the cup and bringing it to her lips, if he only knew. Even just the steam sent rivers of moisture down her parched throat. She sipped the hot liquid and instantly she felt better.

She let her smile show, and tipped her head up. "Thank you."

He smiled back.

He slept on a mat next to the warm hearth, letting her snuggle back into the bed. It was a fitful sleep, filled with the swirling black of the icy water every time he closed his eyes for too long. The chill of the morning was what woke him finally. He turned away from the dying embers to find the bed empty.

Sheldon stood, wrapping the blanket he'd been sleeping with around him and slid on his now-dry waders. He slipped out the open door into the bright, clear morning. She was only a few dozen yards away, wearing nothing but her own blanket in the morning chill. Her back was to him, and she looked like an angel in the morning glow of the sun, standing at the edge of the island looking out over the sea. It was calm this morning, even the air felt still.

She dropped the blanket, revealing the backside of her lovely naked form. He wanted to look away, it was the gentlemanly thing to, but he couldn't make his head turn. Something about the way her hair shimmered in the sun made him feel like if he turned away, she would disappear and he would never see her again.

She stretched her arms up like a goddess in the morning light, let her hands come together, and in less than a blink of an eye she sprang herself off the edge of the rock and into the water with nearly no splash to betray her.

"Hey!" Sheldon dropped his blanket and ran to the edge, his boots squishing in the mud. "Hey!" He skidded short, stopping right before the edge and peering over. He couldn't see her. The blue water sparkled as far as he could see, the top like a two way mirror-reflecting his image and still showing him the depths. The blonde beauty had disappeared.

He looked out over the horizon. The shining rays of the sun bounced off the water, making him squint, but he'd seen it.

He lost his breath.

Her beautiful blonde head, trailed by a great iridescent tail as she swam off.

She swam to her small cove first. It wasn't there. The coral was decimated, and there were only one or two dresses hanging from the broken edges. Her bouncy bed was gone, and the bulk of the ship had disappeared. The shore line was much different without it: no holes to hide, no caverns to sleep in.

She was first and foremost a Mermaid, and even though she could survive away from the sea, she could not thrive out of it for too long. She couldn't stay here, no matter how much she wanted to learn more about the skinny man in the tall building who held her fascination and showed so much kindness.

She grabbed the two dresses and folded them tightly, swam down and buried them in the sandy depths, covering them with three rocks. She pushed away, sighing in happiness as she felt her tail push through the thick water.

She slowly drifted up to the surface as she swam away; stopping in time to poke her head out and see him crouched there, staring right at her. She dove into the depths, washing away the emotion with the determination to find her family.

She wouldn't miss this man. She wouldn't.

He became obsessed with the lore. Mermaids. Books and charts and maps covered his small room. He searched every day. Walked the reefs. He became steeped in the ritual of it:

Wake up, look for her.

Take a walk, look for her.

Tend the light house, look for her.

Watch the sunset, look for her.

After the storm, snatches of wreckage washed upon the shore. He searched each broken piece, combed through millions of fragments of coral, searching for any clues.

For all of his scientific knowledge and know how, he knew nothing about this. He thought he was going insane- seeing a mermaid. The alternative, that she was a normal woman who threw herself into the sea after he'd saved her, after she'd saved him, was unthinkable. He wouldn't let another death weigh on his conscience. So he looked for her. He wrote notebooks and notebooks full of notes and theories and ideas until it was all he could think about.

The seasons passed. Fall turned into winter, and winter turned into spring. Each day he let his gaze roam over the waters before him, searching for any sign that he wasn't crazy. A porpoise or seal that gave the impression of a fin, a piece of seaweed floating that might have been blonde hair... but as hard as he searched, nothing could compare with the image forever sealed in his mind.

As summer started to break, he started to look into other lore: devils and succubi and monsters that roamed the deep. His mind turned from his scientific pursuits to that of fiction, gobbling up every ounce of information and searching for ways to prove or disprove the things he read.

And every night he tended the light. It never wavered, never grew dim, never went out.

She'd found them, east of the Southern Current where they should have been. She wasn't sure what blew her off course originally, but it was surprisingly easy to find them.

"You could have found us sooner," her father intoned to her one day, "if you wanted to."

Her days were filled with their politics, and play. Back to the simple life led by her kind that they were loath to give up wandering on land. But she found no thrill in it. Every face she saw she searched for the blazing blue eyes, but didn't find them.

She dreamt at night that he'd show up, somehow miraculously one of her kind. They would twirl and tumble in the sea, and fall asleep together in her cove of downy softness by his lighthouse. Every time she woke, knowing that he wouldn't be there, her heart sank a little.

The tides changed, the Pod grew listless and wanted to move on.

While her parents were sleeping, she kissed them goodbye and swam into the blackness of the open water. There was something unknown out there, and she couldn't go on pretending that she didn't want to understand why she missed the feel of two legs and scratchy blankets and soil between what she's come to know as toes. And his eyes. She needs to see those eyes again, even if it's only to say goodbye.

The summer inched in. He saw the butterflies over by the brambles, a sure sign that things are sprouting and blossoming after a cold spring. He walked over to them, and delighted in their simplicity for a moment. He's looking at land now, not the ocean, and not the prospects of the sea. A flight of fancy, he thought, is what this was; a good story to tell someone someday.

He thought about putting away his books, and maybe finally pulling the quilt in off the edge of the rocks where he folded it and left it in case she ever came back.

Maybe tomorrow.

She dove deeper, finding the three rocks where she left them. She smiled and pulled out the bright red dress, tossed it away from her in the waves and swam into it like a second skin. She smoothed it down, running her hands over her stomach where the flesh ends and the scales begin. Her tail: one beautiful solid piece of muscle and flesh that will be painful to split. She looked down further, at her tail, and smiled. She doesn't know when she'll see it next, but looks forward to the slender rounded form of legs again.

The charts are off the walls, bare and slightly stained, they're begging for another white wash. He caressed the cover of the last notebook left- the first one he started with every little detail he could remember about her. He lets his hands slide over the cover, the spine, tracing away the memories. It's almost too much to put this one away, so he doesn't. He slid the box full of his mermaid memorabilia under the bed, and left the last book out on the desk.

The afternoon is winding down, dusk only just past the horizon. With a tired sigh, he begins to mount the steps.

She stops at the outcropping just before the edge, where the tide will hold her still instead of slamming her into the rocks. She takes a deep gulp of water and lets the pain rip through her.

He leans against the rail, staring out into the open ocean. The sun is reflecting off the calm water, golds and reds and ruby tones that bounce back onto the land. He'd always loved it here. It was calm, it was quiet, and it was beautiful.

He saw the water ripple. A flash of iridescence, and shook his head. Of course he'd think he was seeing something now, he'd decided to move on from it. He hung his head low, shame bearing down on him. He'd always loved his privacy, cherished the quiet of being alone, but he thought that perhaps it was getting to him, too much, too soon after losing so many.

He turned away without looking up, and started down the stairs.

Sheldon was only a few steps from the bottom when the knock came. Three short, strong taps on the wood of the lighthouse door. He started, unaccustomed to the sound, but quickly strode forward and put his hand on the knob. He opened it without preamble, sure that it was a villager or some poor person lost on the coast.

He lost his breath.

She was dripping on his porch. Golden hair brushed away from her face but flat to her skull, bright eyes, and bare feet in a scarlet dress that billowed about her knees, dripping into tiny puddles beneath her.

"You..." he whispered.

She smiled at him, and when she spoke, her voice was sandy and rough, like she'd never used it before. "I never got to say a proper thank you." He smiled back and she stood still, looking into those bright blue eyes that she'd longed to see again for so long now. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're real," the words slipped from his lips, his jaw slack with astonishment.

She giggled. "I'm Penny."

He stepped aside, sweeping his arm out. "Come in, Penny." He said the words softly, carefully like it was a fairytale that would end if he were too sure of himself. She stepped past him, and took his outstretched hand in her own. He watched her as she looked it over, turning it in her grasp, meting his eyes slowly.

Penny grasped his hand tightly; feeling like this was just the beginning of her adventure. "You're real, too."

He squeezed it back. "I'm Sheldon."

They would tell the tale about the Lighthouse Keeper and the Mermaid for generations to come. Stories of the lonely man who never seemed so lonely anymore. The small man-made grotto on the edge of the archipelago just big enough for two people to swim. The sightings of an iridescent tail in the water off the coast and the mysterious blonde woman who showed up in town every once in a while.

No one ever knew for sure who she was, or where she came from.

One day, the town office received a letter, asking for the town to find another fit lighthouse keeper. Sheldon Cooper was retiring, he couldn't quite climb the stairs the way he used to and traveling abroad was something he'd never done with his life.

No one saw him leave, and no one saw him again. But the next proprietor of the lighthouse did find a box under the bed, filled with maps and notebooks and theories about Mermaids and other mythical creatures. In the bottom was a beautiful drawing, it's hanging in town hall now, of a stately mermaid, her fin long and strong, her chest bare and beautiful with long locks of hair flowing around her shoulders.

The townspeople of the time swear it's the blonde girl, but no one ever knew her name. The children of the town swore she was a mermaid in real life, and their parents would tell them to be logical. But even the adults, every once in a while, looked at the portrait and wondered. They did live on the edge of a mysterious world, and the sea never gave away her secrets.