by CK Dawn
At the level he wanted, he set it to overlay the photos on the real world. He could dive into them like a catalog and see nothing else, but he wanted to be aware of Caitlin if she ended up wanting to talk, so he settled for an overlay.
The ubiquitous device handled everything for him. All he needed to do was sit back and wave his hand through the air to move images or change directions. He didn’t read the gossip pages or follow the entertainment news, at least not purposefully, but to him, the photos looked like pretty standard stuff.
Whatever Milo’s other flaws, he handled a camera with a skill few paparazzi could match. At least, when he snapped pics of Caitlin. For everyone else, it seemed average. Something nagged at him as he perused the photos of her. Some candid, like her laying on the beach, or drinking coffee.
And did he have a lot of pictures of her. Tens of thousands, if the numbers were to be believed. Most were near duplicates, as he snapped hundreds of pictures a second. This led to a lot of photos that were only slightly different than the one before them. It boggled Wash’s mind how he could take all these.
“Anything interesting?”
With a gesture, he slid all the photos to one side and compacted them to see her clearly. While in autopilot mode, the two-seats of the car offered more room than he’d gotten in his truck back home. He’d managed to turn completely to face her with one leg crossed underneath him. If the car were wider he could lay down horizontally across the front seats and almost imagine being comfortable.
“Lots of really good pictures of you, and so-so images of everyone else.”
When she didn’t say anything, he remained silent as well. The last rays of the day vanished, and darkness shrouded the car, creating a bubble of light around them. The interior of the car and its headlights were the only world he saw.
“You haven’t asked,” she said after a few minutes.
“Nope.”
He opened the file back up and flipped through a few dozen more photos.
“Why not?”
He concentrated on the photos and not on the woman. She effortlessly distracted him, and he was fairly sure she didn’t even try. He could only imagine what it would be like if she tried.
“Caitlin, I’m no one to you. Just some guy you saved on the beach. You don’t owe me anything. Least of all an explanation about whatever your pervert ex-boyfriend said. If there is something you want me to know, I trust you’ll tell me when you want to. But I’m not entitled to you, or anything about you.”
He kept his eyes on the photos, and not the way a strand of hair fell across her face, or the smooth, tanned skin that showed through the tears on her jeans. For the most part, anyway.
“Who are you?” she asked. Her green eyes sparkled in the soft interior light.
“Just a guy from Virginia. I’m no one special.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “You may be from Virginia, Wash, but you are something special, indeed.”
He had nowhere to hide, and if he turned away to hide the color rising in his face, it would be just as obvious. He rode it out, not trusting himself to say anything.
She was mistaken if she thought him special. If his life had taught him anything, it was that he was far from it.
“What is it?” It was as if she could read his mind. He never any good at hiding his emotions.
“Nothing.” He met her eyes. “I… I just…. I know you’re wrong. You just don’t know it yet, but you will.”
She leaned forward and touched his arm, feather-light. There was nothing but kindness offered in that touch, but it made him shiver all the same.
“What happened to you?” she asked him softly. With her eyes on his, he couldn’t pull away. If she knew, would she think less of him? He thought it was likely, but he always could think less of himself, so he wasn’t a good judge.
One moment stretched into many, and she didn’t look away. Not even when he would have expected anyone else to. He sighed. “My sob story is no worse than anyone else. For instance, you have a nutbag stalker who pays hookers—”
“His girlfriend,” she corrected.
“—his girlfriend, to dress up like you. What did you ever see in that guy?” He hoped she didn’t pick up on his subtle change in topic. Talking about his past… to her, he was just a diver lost in Puerto Rico. A guy she saved, and who was trying to help her in return.
All the other things in his life, the Navy, his ex-wife, none of that was with him. Unless he brought them. Wash didn’t want to spoil whatever they had together with his tale of woe.
She tossed her head back and blew out a deep breath sending one strand of hair flying.
“I was young and stupid. I didn’t know anything about… love, I guess. Or the way humans see elves, or what that dynamic looks like. I didn’t know that it was always unfair. I always had… power I was unaware of. I didn’t realize he was in love with me until it was too late.” She sighed. “What was I going to do? I cared about him, but I couldn’t marry him. So I tried to break up with him. But… he knew how ignorant I was, despite… despite everything else. He used my reluctance to hurt him—my desire not to—to build a case against me in my own head.
“He convinced me that I… owed him. That I had been heartless and was ruining his life. That he would die if I left him, and that would be on me.
“I didn’t know how to defend myself against that, so I let him win. And he used that against me in every possible way, except for one. Except for the one he wanted the most. And oh, did he punish me for that. But I didn’t just let him blame me for everything—not just the way things had gone, but the hateful words, every insult, every scrap of abuse that followed… he got me to blame myself, until there was nothing but a web of guilt and shame and regret tying me to him in some sick mockery of love.”
“How did you get free?”
Caitlin sighed. “Daphne. Cleaning up one of her messes separated us for a while… long enough for me to wake up, and realize what was happening. Not all at once—but enough to give me the courage to end it. He’s been dogging my trail ever since. I thought he’d finally given up, but I see he just got clever.”
Wash looked at her for a long moment. “You still blame yourself.”
Her lips tightened. “Old habits die hard.” She shook her head. “And it all started with me. I was… careless with his feelings. And as much as he hurt me, I know he didn’t do it consciously. It was just the only way he knew how to hang onto me.”
He shook his head. “Intent is only half of it. And if he’d known, Cait, he would have done it anyway.”
“Maybe.”
Wash looked back down at his AR. This was a knot she was going to have to eventually sort out herself. There was nothing he—a stranger—could tell her that would mend it for her.
“He got pretty rattled when I mentioned your parents. It was just a hunch, honestly, but he probably gave me every picture he had on you. I was just getting started. If you want, I can dump them over to you and we can go through them together.”
Caitlin stiffened, her spine going rigid as she turned to look at him again. “Wash, I… there are things about me you don’t know. And I like it that way. I feel like… myself with you. No family baggage—”
“Other than your sister.”
“—other than my sister. Yes, thank you. So please, don’t look at any photos beyond just this weekend. Okay?”
It was a strange request, but who knew what photos the pervert had taken of her. Maybe she was worried he had some nudes.
“I can delete them all before yesterday if you want.” Why not? They essentially belonged to her.
The blue light of the car’s interior softened her features as she smiled. Her eyes had that spark of light in them, and he wanted to keep looking as long as it was there. He could imagine doing just about anything to have her look at him that way.
“I would very much like that, thank you.”
“Sure, no prob,” he waved his hand. The file struct
ure came up and he selected everything but this weekend and hit the delete button. In seconds, they were gone.
“I’ll tell you, or you’ll find out, I’m sure. But for right now…” She undid her seatbelt and turned so she could lay back against his chest like he was a recliner. He froze, startled.
“I just want to be me, okay?” she murmured. “Wake me up before we get there.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His throat tightened and suddenly he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
She curled up against him, letting out a huge sigh. After a few moments, her body relaxed against his, and he could feel her breath slowing. After a few moments, she was asleep.
God, he liked this woman. Even if she hadn’t been the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life, there was something just… incredible about her. Her. Not her green eyes and black hair and perfect body.
It was in her eyes, and her smile, and her laugh, and all the things she handled without faltering. All the brief moments of sadness he saw, peeking through the rest.
As she slept, her silver necklace fell against his arm. The air crackled from the snap of static electricity and the jewelry fell away to land back on her. He flinched from the sudden pain, then froze, concerned he’d woken Caitlin. But her breathing was still slow and even.
He was being a fool. Glancing in the mirror, he saw the same Wash who’d stared back at him every day for the last three years.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. His memory of the previous three days was still a little shaky, but he found if he focused on the memory of the flight in, he could move it forward slow enough to recall.
He’d been here on a dive. That he knew. The wetsuit she’d found him in wasn’t any off-the-shelf brand. Only crab-divers wore them. They were specially made to interface with the neural-network the suits pilots used to control them.
But, if he were here operating a crab-suit, where was the suit? How had he gotten out of it in the water, and why? A tsunami posed no threat to a crab-suited diver.
The suits themselves cost almost fifty-million dollars. There were only a few private organizations that even had them outside the navy.
He tried thinking back again to the flight. Crystal blue water. The plane banked over another island with a refinery on it as it approached Puerto Rico, but no knowledge as to why he was on the plane.
Then—nothing until he woke up with Caitlin leaning over him.
She had said he’d hit his head but when he reached up to run his fingers through to find the bump, he couldn’t.
Nothing sore on his temple or neck… in fact, he wasn’t sore or tired in any way. Adrenaline? He flexed his fingers examining the muscles in his arm and the way he felt. He wasn’t shaky or hyper-aware he just felt… normal.
Wash sighed and brought his link back to life. He flipped through the images of Caitlin on the beach and then rolled the photos back to three days before.
Caitlin was entering the hotel like a movie star, elegantly but effortlessly dressed, as he’d come to realize was her trademark. She had a lot of luggage and a small entourage. Paparazzi were pushing in at the sides, held off by her security, snapping pictures.
It looked so glamorous but in this shot… she looked a little sad. A bird in a jeweled cage. Never truly alone. Never truly herself.
Except for right now.
He looked down at her as she slept, and brushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes.
The next series was Caitlin on her balcony, leaning out to look at the city. The images were high enough quality that he could zoom in pretty far. There was another woman behind her.
Wash hadn’t seen her in the other photos. Had she arrived earlier?
The girl looked nothing like Caitlin. Blond curls fell around her shoulders, skin more porcelain than bronze. She was dressed in all black, embellished with gold jewelry—and a lot of it. There were close-up shots of almost every piece, including her earrings. Her ears were pointed. This had to be Daphne, but Wash couldn’t see any family resemblance.
Every time both of them were in the frame, the camera centered on Caitlin, while Daphne was always partly in shadow, and never quite in focus.
There, again. One of the balcony photos. Caitlin was alone, her long black hair rippling slightly in the wind. Her hands were clasped together as she leaned on the balcony, and for just one frame… she looked so sad.
Without even meaning to, he reached down to comfort her, stroking her dark hair.
Caitlin snorted lightly in her sleep before shifting, bringing her arm up to his chest as if she were snuggling with him. A yawning chasm opened in his heart, and a flood of warmth poured in.
“Dammit Wash, what have you gotten into?”
Caitlin didn’t answer. She was out, soft snores echoing in the car.
Caitlin found it easy to fall asleep resting against Wash’s chest. As soon as her head touched him, her thoughts quieted and her heart calmed. A shudder went through her as she relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in… so long.
So long.
A soft darkness fell across her, and she slept.
Images came at her in a confused jumbled mishmash. Wash, holding her tight as the bullets tore through him. Her sister’s scream as the lift doors closed. And through it all, the incessant buzzing of insects.
She stirred. She was in a car, laying against something—someone—warm and soft. A strong hand gently rubbed her head.
Her link. The buzzing was her link alerting her to a call. Reluctantly, she pushed herself away from the wall of warmth that was Wash.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked.
“No,” she pushed her arms out as far as they would go, popping her shoulders and arching her back to stretch. “Someone’s calling me over and over. Hang on.” She waved her hand next to her link to trigger the answer, only then realizing that she didn’t recognize the number. That was strange. Links had to be programmed for the user in order to pull contacts and numbers from the universal database.
“C—Caitlin?”
Daphne.
Her sister’s voice was trembling. With a gesture, she connected her link to Wash’s, muting his end but letting him hear.
“Daphne, thank god. Are you all right?”
“Other than being tied to a chair, yes… but they want to know why the ransom hasn’t been paid.”
Ransom? Caitlin glanced to Wash who shrugged. No one had contacted her about a ransom. Who in their right mind would think they could hold the future ruler of Atlantis for money?
“What ransom? There wasn’t even a note, just those three thugs who tried to shoot me.”
Daphne didn’t answer. With no external speaker to let in ambient noise, it was impossible to tell if the line had closed or not.
“Daphne, what ransom?” she asked again.
“They sent you a note on hotel stationery. They had the letter delivered with your other packages! Why didn’t you open it?” Daphne was almost shouting by the time she finished.
Caitlin started to shake her head, but then Wash put his hand on his face and nodded, mouthing ‘I know what they’re talking about.’
“I’m sorry Daphne, I receive a lot of mail from the front desk, you know that.”
“You thought it was fan mail?” Daphne’s words came out high-pitched like she was on the edge of hysteria.
“Wait,” Caitlin interrupted her. “They want a ransom. So, they weren’t trying to kidnap me?”
“What?” Daphne’s voice cracked into a higher pitch as she practically tripped over her own words. “Why on Earth would anyone kidnap you? I’m the crown princess. You’re nothing! You carry my purse.”
Caitlin took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “That’s the reason they wouldn’t kidnap you. Who would be stupid enough to try to ransom the crown princess of Atlantis, Daphne? Father won’t be pressured into any political concessions…”
“This isn’t about politics, Poseidon
, Caitlin, it’s about me. They want five-hundred million transferred to a private New Guinea account by dawn tomorrow or…” Her voice began to tremble. “Or they say I’m going to go home in pieces.”
They wouldn’t dare. Hadn’t Daphne told them what would happen? She wouldn’t have to! Anyone with a brain… anyone with half a brain would know better. Five-hundred million? Were they insane?
“Daphne, I don’t have that kind of money. Let me talk to them. I’m sure we can—”
“Who cares what paltry sum you can come up with? Call Dad! Let him know what’s going on and…”
Anger swept over her. Call their father? The king of Atlantis? They were insane.
“Daphne,” her voice rose sharply in volume. “I am not calling our Father with a ransom demand. That’s ridiculous and you need to tell your kidnappers so.”
“Ridiculous? What are you even talking about? You don’t get a say in this, just relay the message and—”
“Are you insane? Have you met our father? He would send the Vasilikí and murder every human on this island before he paid out a half-billion dollars for you.”
Father could be ruthless when he needed to be. But mother… she disliked humans at best. She didn’t think they would actually attack the island—she’d exaggerated a little for effect, but she had to get her point across.
There would be no ransom paid. She wasn’t lying about the Vasilikí, he would send them. They were elite and they would track her down, kill her kidnappers, and anyone associated with them.
When Daphne said nothing, Caitlin spoke. “Listen, I know who ever took you has to be listening. So listen, five-hundred million isn’t happening. If you ever thought it was, it’s because you know nothing about what you’re into here, and you damn well should have studied up!
“However, I am not without means. I can have five-hundred thousand for you by tomorrow, provided you let my sister go right now. It’s the best—”
“What? Is that all I’m worth to you?” Daphne was screaming now. “Call Father, now!”
“You call him if this is so damned important. But you won’t, and you know it. Deep down, you know they won’t pay the ransom. No one is going to hurt you. Whoever took you isn’t that stupid. Just—”