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callboxkat · 3 years

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Banished (part 8)

Author’s note: Thanks for waiting!

Summary: Janus has been banished from his pod for crimes that he did not commit. However, this merman’s bad luck is far from over. A mer is not meant to live on their own in the open ocean, and as one would expect, things do not go well. Enter: Florida Man.

Chapter Warnings: injury (cut, burn, non-descriptive), censored swearing, fear, hunger, Janus being a little bleak, death/murder mention (no actual death)

Word count: 3250

Banished Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Ba—bump—fwap.

Remus caught the rubber ball in one hand, and threw it again at the wall.

Ba—bump—fwap.

Two hours had passed since Logan had left (or perhaps fled) Remus’s house, and still the merman was sleeping.

Ba—bump—fwap.

Remus had paced around for a while, poking his head in the living room at frequent intervals to see if he’d woken up; but eventually, when there had been no change, he’d decided to take a break and change out of his swimwear.

Ba—bump—fwap.

He’d changed into comfy black sweatpants, a gray-green tee shirt, and a glittery green headband with cat ears. The glitter got everywhere, but that just meant all of his stuff sparkled.

Ba—bump—fwap.

The merman was still asleep when Remus was done doing that; so he’d decided, heck, if Logan and the merman were both taking naps, why shouldn’t he? He could nap, too!

Ba—bump—fwap.

…It had turned out that he was, in fact, too excited to fall asleep; but he had given it an honest try. He’d even faceplanted on his bed, instead of on the floor, or even on the sofa.

Ba—bump—fwap.

So, now he was sitting on the kitchen floor, throwing a rubber ball at the wall so it bounced off the floor and back into his hand. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that hoped the noise he was making would wake the merman, but he wasn’t actively trying to do that.

Ba—bump—fwap.

…Okay, maybe this was still a bit of a d*ck move.

Ba—bump—fwap.

Remus caught the ball and lowered his hand, pouting. A moment later, he sighed and dramatically let himself fall sideways to the floor. The ball rolled out of his hand and settled at the bottom of the cabinets.

He lay there for a few minutes, blowing air at a bit of dust on the floor and watching it spin around, when he got a text alert (a squelching noise that everyone who heard it hated, which just made him love it more). He fished around in his pocket for his phone and brought it up to his face. Another text followed, popping up on the screen just as Remus unlocked the phone. Oh, it was Logey!

Logan 🤖: Hello.

Logan 🤖: I would like to confirm that I paid a visit to your house this morning.

Remus chuckled a little. Logan must have woken up from his nap, and was probably hoping—if distantly—that the events of that morning had all been a dream. Unfortunately for him, Remus would not indulge that fantasy. Sure, it was a very strange reality, but the strangeness was what made it fun!

Remus: Yep, you sure did! Have a good nap?

A few minutes passed with no response, but Remus knew that Logan wasn’t actually away from his phone. After the first couple of minutes, his hunch was confirmed when those little ellipses that indicated the other man was typing popped up, only to disappear. And appear again. And disappear.

Finally, his reply arrived.

Logan 🤖: Thank you for confirming.

Ah, poor Logey. Remus twisted so he lay on his back, and put his feet up on the wall, debating how to reply. Would it be too mean to tease him? Maybe Remus could ask if he’d added Dolphin to his Duolingo yet. Two hours might be a little too soon for that, though. Remus stuck his tongue out and held it between his teeth, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the keypad.

Logan made things easier when he sent,

Logan 🤖: Have there been any developments?

Remus, from his position on the floor, craned his neck back to look into the living room, with its furniture still haphazardly shuffled about to make room for the aquarium. He could just barely make out the bundled shape of the merman, curled up inside.

Remus: Nah he’s still sleeping.

Another minute passed. More ellipses appeared, only to disappear, before Logan’s reply came.

Logan 🤖: He’ll need food.

Logan 🤖: Do you have anything he can eat?

Remus considered.

Remus: Ya I have some stuff.

The reply came quicker this time.

Logan 🤖: You have fish? He is most likely a carnivore.

Remus rolled his eyes.

Remus: I’m not a dumb*ss Logan, I’m not giving him ramen 🤪

There was another pause.

Logan 🤖: Apologies. 🤪

Remus burst out laughing, only remembering after he’d started that he was supposed to be being quiet, and shushed himself. Or attempted to. He couldn’t quite stifle his giggles, but he couldn’t be held accountable for that. That wasn’t his fault; it was Logan’s! He couldn’t be expected to hold it together after that text, especially when Remus was sure it was sent in complete seriousness. Logan would probably wear a necktie with his lifeguard uniform, if he could.

That image did not help with Remus’s attempts to stop giggling.

Logan 🤪: Was that an appropriate use of that emoticon?

Remus grinned at Logan’s new contact name.

Remus: Ya that was perfect.

…

Janus opened bleary eyes. The side of his face was pressed against something hard and smooth, like well-worn stone.

He was tired and groggy, but he actually felt better than he had in a while. He wasn’t nearly so lightheaded anymore, which was a good start. The water was warm, too, and he could feel where bits of sunlight dappled against his skin. His body ached, and his neck still felt like… well, like he’d nearly been strangled by a net, but the sharp pain in his face had vanished. He was still hungry, but that was nothing new.

It was possible he had a fever, he thought as he shifted, feeling a little unsteady. But it didn’t seem too bad; so for now, he decided he could ignore it.

His surroundings were unfamiliar, and didn’t much resemble his soft, woven-kelp bed at home; but the smooth surface he lay on felt oddly comfortable. And he didn’t seem to be in danger, at the moment.

He allowed himself to drift in and out of a doze for a while, and slowly, the grogginess faded. He wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he finally cracked his eyes open for good, now clear-headed enough that he couldn’t continue to ignore his surroundings.

He seemed to be alone, so Janus swallowed the nervousness that rose within him. He had no reason to be afraid, he told himself, not yet.

He had fuzzy memories of before, of the human—no, there had been two humans—and of them… giving him medical attention? He remembered when they had talked to him about what they planned to do, when they’d given him the medicine, and when one of them had carried him somewhere else. They might have ended up outside, at one point… he remembered looking up at the blue sky and trying to ignore what was happening. Nothing they did had hurt, but it had still been frightening. He also thought he remembered Roman being there, and feeling reassured by that; but that part didn’t make any sense at all, in hind sight.

He must have dreamed that part. He might have thought that he’d dreamed the entire thing, if it weren’t for where he found himself now.

Despite himself, Janus’s heart ached at the thought of his friend. He reached for his necklace, fearing it would have been taken while he slept, and lost forever. But his fingers closed around the little red scale. Still there, in one piece.

Feeling a little reassured, Janus took a moment to orient himself. He was lying in some kind of glass box, which was filled with water. It was rather small, especially compared to the open ocean, but not in a way that made him feel too claustrophobic, especially since he couldn’t say he had much of an urge to go for a swim at the moment. Besides, he had gotten unfortunately used to confined spaces, during his imprisonment.

Hopefully, this new situation wouldn’t turn out to be much like that one.

The room beyond the box, only slightly distorted by the glass, held haphazardly arranged, unmistakably human furniture—the kind of chaotic arrangement he might have expected from the human who brought him here, he thought. This was probably his home.

Janus swallowed, ignoring the protests of his sore throat.

At least said human didn’t appear to be in the room. Nor any other, for that matter. They could return at any time, but at least it was just him, for now.

Janus lifted heavy fingers to the injured side of his face, where his worst injury had been, wondering about the lack of pain there. There was a large bandage over the cut—not the pathetic one that Janus had put there. He decided to leave the bandage in place, since he didn’t want to start bleeding again, but he pressed down on it experimentally. It still didn’t hurt, but his skin felt strangely heavy and numb. Janus prodded harder, first over the bandage and then to one side, but to his alarm, he couldn’t feel a thing. Janus took a few deep breaths to quell his panic, telling himself it was probably not anything permanent. He felt faintly ill, and tried to swallow the sensation.

Janus took one more deep breath in and out, and then pushed himself to sit up. He was still feeling a little woozy, so he ended up leaning on the strange flat glass that made up the box’s walls.

As he sat up, he saw that, unfortunately, the metal cuff had also stayed with him. But the wrist underneath had been bandaged, the soft white material padding the space between his arm and the hard metal. Janus inspected it, but his wrist didn’t feel numb the same way his face did.

He glanced up, and was relieved at the confirmation that there was no ceiling to the glass box he was in. He didn’t remember there being one, but he didn’t quite trust those memories, and a lot could have happened while he was asleep. Should Janus take that as a reassurance that the human wasn’t trying to trap him? Did the human who brought him there think he was simply too weak to escape? Or did he think that the lack of water beyond the box was enough to make him stay put? Janus couldn’t say, but he hoped for the first possibility.

Janus wasn’t sure why he still cared: It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go. Even if he could get back to the ocean, his life would probably just go back to the misery of before. And yet… he supposed that a part of him still stubbornly believed he had a chance of returning to his old life. Back home, on the reef, with his pod. Even though he knew it was impossible.

Janus wondered why that strange human had decided to help him in the first place, assuming that he really did want to help him. It was possible he had no explicable motivation, and it was just a result of him being insane. Which was a distinct possibility, based on what Janus remembered, and the décor of the room he was in. If that was true, it didn’t bode well for Janus.

He gently placed his fingers against the bandage on the side of the face.

Okay, perhaps simple insanity didn’t match with how well Janus’s injuries had been patched up—putting aside the possibility that the second human had done that entirely themself. Admittedly, Janus didn’t remember them very well. That nervousness bubbled up again as Janus wondered if this second human was dangerous—he’d just have to hope that they only had good intentions. They had helped him, after all.

Would either of them have helped him, if they knew what the cuff on his wrist meant?

Janus rubbed at his eyes, then pushed himself up so that his head was above water, surfacing as quietly as possible before looking around. As lonely as the past months had been, both during his banishment and the captivity leading up to it, he would gladly take a moment alone to orient himself now.

The walls of the room were a plain off-white. The surface was dull, so they weren’t made of polished shell or stone. The room also seemed to be a hard, squared off shape, very different from the soft, organic curves of Janus’s home. Some of the furniture and the flooring seemed to be softer, though, even if the arrangement of it made no sense to the merman. That and the numerous decorations adorning the walls helped to soften the space a little. Skulls of all sorts seemed to be a common theme, although the only ones that weren’t drawings were obviously fake. There were also knick-knacks made of fabric on one wall, which seemed to be meant to be octopuses, or possibly squid. There was a small tree in one corner, which was clearly fake, even if Janus had very rarely seen living trees, let alone up close: This one had no leaves and was entirely black, with several of its twisting branches adorned with bright green baubles.

In short, the room was just as strange as Janus might have expected.

There was no water in sight outside of the class box he sat in, other than a dark, damp patch of the flooring around it which led into the next room. Probably from when they had carried him, he reflected. It must have still been the same day, then—the water wasn’t dry yet, and the sun still shone behind the covered windows. He couldn’t have been asleep for too long. A few hours, at most, he would guess.

His effort was probably pointless, but regardless, Janus took the time to take note of every possible escape route from the room that he could see. There were the windows, of course, but they seemed to be covered by the same smooth, flat glass as what made up the box he was in. Perhaps he could break one, if he needed to. There was also two different doorways leading out of the room. Beyond, one had a soft covering on the floor, like the room Janus was in, while the other had a harder, smooth flooring. Janus couldn’t see far past the first doorway. Through the second, he could see the edges of some furniture, and… what was that?

Janus’s gaze paused on something lying on the floor. It didn’t look like furniture, or a decoration. And suddenly it clicked.

It was a hand.

He jumped at the realization, stricken with the thought that something must have happened while he’d slept—was the human dead? Was Janus next?—but at the audibles slosh of water his movement caused, the hand moved, and Janus heard the unmistakable sound of the human it belonged to getting to his feet. A second later, a head poked into the room.

The human who’d found him on the beach was here, after all. Not dead. Just lying on the floor for some unfathomable reason, impersonating a murder victim.

He was tall, even for a human, and fairly thin, with short brown hair that had a patch of gray in it. It must have been premature, or perhaps dyed, because he didn’t look like he could be that much older than Janus himself. He also had a patchy mustache, and large brown eyes. He had a faint sunburn, and vivid freckles across every inch of exposed skin. Janus was probably a third of his height, and the fact that he measured up that much was only because his tail was proportionally longer than the human’s legs.

Janus’s eyes lingered on the human’s arms, parts of which had been wrapped in white bandages. He felt an unexpected twinge of guilt, remembering that he was responsible.

The human’s mouth split into a wide grin at the sight of Janus, and he clapped his hands, bouncing where he stood. “You’re alive!” he said in English.

Janus’s ear fins twitched downwards at the volume. Of course I’m alive, the merman thought, but did not say.

“So, are you feeling any better?” After a beat he cackled softly, and sounding entirely cheerful, added, “You’re not going to shock me again, right?”

Janus stared at him. There was a long pause.

The human’s frown faded into something more uncertain. “You can understand me, right? F*ck, I could have sworn….”

At least it turned out that the human spoke English, Janus reflected, even if he was a little annoyed, on principle, that the human’s assumption about Janus speaking English was actually correct. He was suddenly glad that he’d chosen to study that human language, rather than joining Roman’s Spanish class, as much as the other mer had griped about their inability to practice together at the time.

And then Janus felt sad, because he would never hear Roman’s over-dramatic griping again, even if he did get back to the ocean.

Remus was still waiting for an answer. Janus’s eyes darted to one side, which Remus seemed to take as confirmation that Janus could understand him. His grin returned full force, and he was clearly thrilled.

“Oh, man, you totally can!” he said, clearly thrilled. “Oh, f*ck—that’s so sweet!” One of his front teeth was missing, only making him look all the more off-kilter. Janus leaned back warily.

“Wait, so—can you talk, too? You can talk, right? What’s your name? Do you have a name?”

Janus would have scoffed, if he weren’t so nervous. His webbed fingers curled over the lip of the glass box, for something to hold onto.

“I’m Remus,” the human said, still smiling, smacking a hand to his chest harder than necessary. “So—you?”

Janus kept staring off to the side for a moment, his fingers tightening on the glass. He avoided looking at the human

The merman couldn’t help but want to cling to what little control he had over the situation, and refuse to speak. But… he was already in the human’s house. He didn’t particularly want to be in an angry human’s house. And besides… it was just a name. It wouldn’t exactly do any harm for Remus to know. It wasn’t as if it would mean anything to him.

Janus opened his mouth, licking his half-numb lips nervously. His eyes flicked back to the human. “My name is Janus,” he said.

Or at least, that was what he meant to say. What came out was a small, hoarse squeak that didn’t resemble words at all. Janus flinched at the pain suddenly flashing through his throat, and his grip on the tank tightened so hard the knuckles turned white. If he had had claws, they would have left scratches in the glass.

Remus’s smile vanished, and he dropped his hand from his chest, rapidly taking several concerned steps closer. “Cr*p, are you okay?”

Janus ducked back under the water’s surface, squinting in pain, breathing cool water in through his gills to try to soothe his throat. Beyond the glass, Remus hovered. Janus knew he was talking, but between his distraction at the pain in his neck and the way the water muffled the sound, the mer couldn’t understand a word.

So, talking wasn’t going to work.

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