#leakee-centric

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Lost One

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: N/A, Leakee-centric.

Rating: Holy shit this is actually pretty tame tbh.

AN: Thirsty Crew, I have taken a step back from the thirst in the spirit of the season! This was written for the 31 Little Wrestling Fics Challenge, put forth by @fan-fiction-galore and @thewriterformerlytaggedas! Writing using actual prompts was a bit of a challenge, but I had a lot of fun and I hope that I've put forth something that will please the wrasslin' gods! Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash (even if this is lacking in the thirst department and I don't know whether these tags will actually work because of my laptop so...an attempt was made).

The prompts I picked are as follows: “Are you afraid?” “No.” “Okay good.”, A lone house atop a quiet hill., The storm of the century and the power goes out., and Siren's song.  Enjoy!

(Oh also here's a moodboard for it because I felt like it.)

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For vivid descriptions of dangerous weather/hurricanes. I know that may be an issue for some folks due to recent tragedies. Stay safe!]

The weather was getting worse. He knew most people would be worried. But then again, most people weren’t like him.

Leakee gripped the lighthouse railing, staring out at the choppy sea far below. The wind plucked sharply at his clothes. Instead of alarming he found it comforting, like the caress of an old friend. He knew soon the bad weather would drive everyone else on the island inside. But he intended to remain where he was.

Leakee couldn’t put an exact date on when he’d come here. The older locals said he’d always been here, a few claimed that he guarded the island from greater harm. Leakee had to snort at that. If anything, his presence ensured more chaos in the water and skies.

Hardly anyone questioned his arrival, and no one contested his claim to the lighthouse lands. The long-dormant beacon had abruptly begun to spin again mere days after his appearance, when he had finally found the strength to claw his way up the cliff face to the plateau far above. The tiny shack beside the lighthouse had been structurally unsound and ravaged by the elements, but with time (years and years and years) and plenty of wreckage Leakee had turned it into his home. Now it sported a thick layer of bittersweet vines that masked his haphazard repair work.

All storms were good storms to him, and the bigger the better. He felt less like a failure and more like he was home when the lost winds sought him out, when the storms rose from the deep ocean to find him.

Leakee turned his face up, feeling the first raindrops start to land.

…

The summer had been dry, unnaturally so. Leakee started looking out for weather systems, his eyes peeled for just a few clouds. The island turned yellow with the need for water. At this point even if they did get rain, it might be too late. One spark was all it would take so he was careful, so careful.

Leakee took to pacing on the lighthouse scaffold for hours, constantly scanning the horizon. He wasn’t a protector or anything of the sort; he laughed at the idea. This island had no ties to anything or anyone. But they needed rain. Whether he cared or not was irrelevant, the information was there.

He’d had an ache behind his eyes and in his shoulder for most of the day, feeling the pressure systems changing in the air. Leakee knew a storm was coming, a large one. Earlier reports had said it might be a hurricane, but the air didn’t feel right for one. Wasn’t warm enough, the smell was wrong.

So just a supercell with delusions of grandeur.

His hair started to crackle with static as the sun was slowly engulfed in clouds. The windows rattled with cantankerous gusts. It knew he was here, had felt his presence and was seeking him out. So be it. He would wait it out, then.

Leakee sat silently at the rickety kitchen table, listening to the old radio hiccup from the distant lightning. He flexed his arm, hating the way the muscle refused to stop twitching and jumping nervously. He finally roused himself from his thoughts, pushing his chair back from the table. Static shot from his fingertips to the door handle when he reached for it and Leakee grimaced, deciding that he had stalled long enough. Obviously it was time to get ready.

Leakee wrapped his hair up into a bun at the nape of his neck. He didn’t really know why he bothered, odds were good that he’d be down another hair tie before the night was over. Oh well. He shook his head and closed the door behind him.

It was quiet at the top of the cliff, aside from when the winds whipped. The waves were nothing but a dull roar against the rocky beach far below, and the gulls circled with raspy cries that had become familiar, almost comforting.

There was a well-worn path over the stones of the nearly-sheer cliff face and it was on this path that Leakee carefully made his way down to the tiny patch of rocky beach at the base of the cliff. The wind continued to alternate between pulling at his shorts and playing through his hair, confirming his theory that this was no hurricane. Just a lost supercell.

The water was cold. Of course it was. Leakee grumbled to himself as he struck out towards the open ocean, cutting through the choppy waves easily. He felt the drag of the currents, the confusion in the water as the gale intensified around him.

Leakee rose out of the ocean and roared to the storm. Lightning greeted him like an old friend, crackling along his body and warming his limbs in the chilly water. Thunder rolled a reply as he lunged from the waves and Leakee found himself in the heart of the lost storm.

Clouds filled his hands with their messy embrace and Leakee carefully slowed them, easing them together so they didn’t crash. “You’re lost.” A distraught flash of lightning zapped through the air and he caught it, soothing it back into a trembling line that played over his fingers. “It’s alright. You'll scare them like this, though. I’ll lead you inland. There’s a lake where you're needed.”  Leakee had toyed with the idea of dragging clouds in on his own. But he was sure that might garner him some unwanted attention. This couldn't be the only place affected by the lack of rain. Lost storms were one thing, it might be an entirely different situation if he started outright collecting clouds to make his own weather.

The lightning continued to shiver in his grip, already so tired from its journey. Thunder rumbled a threat and Leakee pulled his own lightning forward, the fresh energy dancing and popping wildly across his arms. “Listen. You will go where I say or I’ll crush you into the water and drown you. Think of the wasted potential.” He growled. “You’re the stranger here. Don’t push your luck.” It wasn’t uncommon for him to have to coax a storm into being reasonable, and it seemed like tonight was no different.

…

The oceans were a place where the veil thinned. Where myth and reality melded, phenomena was explained by being left unexplained.

Leakee had hazy memories of being a force of nature. Needless to say, it was…humbling to not even be able to make a cloud on his own.

He used to be much bigger, easily creating storms, capsizing ships and wreaking havoc on the ocean to keep men’s greed in check. He had been known to wander inland and strike indiscriminately as well, but the open water always called him.

Something had happened, someone had happened and he’d woken up clinging to a piece of wreckage, terrifyingly small and feeble. His body (a real body!) shivered and struggled in the cold water but he doggedly made his way to the shallows. High, jagged boulders surrounded him, the waterlogged remains of a once-proud ship of men continuing to surface as he floundered to shore.

The rocks beneath his feet were smooth and slippery with seaweed. There was a confusion in the water, the loss of drive that his beautiful storm had possessed. Leakee collapsed onto his side, not used to this level of exhaustion from such a simple task. His shoulder started to ache and he looked over, watching dully as black lines slowly oozed into the skin in a crisscross pattern.

He’d been bound, then. Poorly, sloppily, but still.

He wondered who had done it, sometimes. His memory wasn’t the most...reliable. He could vaguely recall searing hordes of men to ashes when his lightning skipped over fields. Setting sails aflame and striking planes from the skies. It could have been anyone, really. The vengeful wife of a fisherman, a soldier who read too much.

A creature of turmoil by design, Leakee had always been drawn to battles. Give the writers something to write about, the roar of thunder and the howl of the wind and the flash! of his silent, devastating lightning cracking the sky while the tiny humans squabbled with one another.

Leakee shook his hair out of his eyes, crossing his arms on the railing. The binding mark only covered his shoulder, obviously amateur, human work, but he could still feel the hitch and drain of it when he overstretched his limits. It’s a pity, he thought as he flexed his fingers. Not because he believed he was more helpful at full strength, but it had certainly made things easier. He would always chuckle at the idea of being a protector. This island had ties to nothing and no one. Even its lighthouse had been abandoned, and the only people stubborn enough to stay surely needed no protection, especially not from a humbled failure like himself.

…

This was a hurricane. Leakee’s whole body practically itched with energy, the normally-black marking on his shoulder edged with a hazy, flickering glow as the lightning strained its bonds.

Hurricanes didn’t listen, and they were rarely controllable. Leakee recalled his previous attempt with a wince.

There was something else, though. A high note that kept reaching his ears, an odd, wavering sound in the uniform symphony of the building weather. Like a plea.

It stirred some deadened portion of him, caught his attention almost more than the storm had and Leakee found himself inexplicably restless, pacing on the scaffold of the lighthouse as he watched the storm approach. The rain was already coming down in sheets, wind strong enough to shift Leakee’s not-insubstantial body weight.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” The young-appearing man mused. “You’ve been spoiled in open water. This island isn’t so quick to lie down.” The storm paid him no mind and Leakee knew he had a true hurricane on his hands. He shook himself and glared outwards, watching the far-off lightning strike the water over and over. He squinted, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no. There was a boat out there. Some fishermen hadn’t been paying attention to the weather and now they were right in the thick of it.

Leakee groaned, already turning to walk back down all those lighthouse steps. Of course. He raked his fingers through his hair as he descended, a little startled at how long it had gotten again. There was no end to the marvels of this body.

The water was cold, and angry. It seethed around him, frothing and dragging him carelessly where it wished. Leakee permitted it for the most part, knowing he would only wear himself out if he tried to battle the storm. Waves rolled over and over in an endless, punishing line, unfriendly lightning blasted the skies and the winds shrieked at him.

Who are you? Who are you? The hurricane demanded an answer and Leakee had none, just like before.

He tore himself from the roiling water, bellowing at the storm. “You don't belong here!” Lightning wound over and under his arms, illuminating the area around him.

Who are you?

Clouds smothered him, obscuring his vision. Leakee felt pain burn and shudder through his binding mark as he already fought the boundaries on his power. “You don't belong here!” He shouted again, digging his fingers into the clouds to slow them down. The madcap pace of the hurricane just dragged him along for the ride, rotating on a massive axis around the clear eye.

Who are you?

“I have no answer for you. Let me lead you away from here.” Leakee implored.

There is a boat. She called us to the boat. She called you to the boat.

“Who?” Leakee asked in confusion. The only answer he got was a deafening clap of thunder and he roared back in reply, his eyes crackling white-blue with pent-up energy. “Obey! Listen! You need to leave before you cause more damage!”

We go to the boat. The storm began altering its course, pulling him along like he was a leaf caught in a stiff breeze. We go to the boat, then leave.

“I said listen!” Leakee demanded, his voice booming in the abrupt silence as he tore and scraped at the hurricane, trying to create a gap in the perfect spiral of its clouds. If he could just slow it down that might be enough to cause less harm to the--

The clouds around him dissipated and he plummeted back to the ocean, the cold splash shocking him to his core. The mark on his shoulder hissed and bubbled in the water like a hot kettle as he fought his way to the surface.

He flung himself up out of the water again, coughing violently. He'd been rudely deposited within a short distance of the fishing boat he'd seen from the shore. That sound was more insistent now. Still almost outside the range of his hearing, it had a ringing, terrified pitch that set his skin crawling.

You listen, little fish. The hurricane lessened somewhat in ferocity, tossing the boat back and forth between two rollers like it was playing a game of catch. She called us. You must answer.

When the boat tipped far enough Leakee caught the deck railing, nearly getting his shoulder ripped from its socket as the vessel rolled back to an even keel. It was a miracle the rain alone hadn't drowned the boat, never mind the waves. Leakee shoved the wet hair out of his face and squinted through the torrential downpour.

There was a net attached to a lift at the stern of the craft. Not an uncommon sight, it was a fishing boat. What was uncommon was the fact that it seemed to still be full of their catch from what Leakee could tell. The cabin was ablaze with light and Leakee crouched to avoid being seen through the windows. He crept towards the net, freezing when there was a loud outburst of voices from the cabin beside him. He could hear a radio hissing with static, the sky overhead rumbling in threat before lightning illuminated the deck.

Leakee caught the barest glimpse of smooth navy scales and grasping pale fingers among the hundreds of fish. It was a mermaid, a siren, a mer trapped in the net.

Throwing caution to the wind, he slipped and skidded across the wet deck, nearly sliding past the net in his haste. He reached out and snagged the plastic fibers to keep himself from tumbling off the stern.

She called.

Her green-purple eyes went wide when they met his through her thick curtain of dark hair; she opened her mouth and unleashed a scream that was unnatural.

Leakee felt his eardrums buzz and his jaw shuddered at the frequency. It seemed to sear through his body, bone-deep. Like his thunder but high and sharp, a knife, a weapon, and he suddenly understood that sound was what he had been hearing the whole time the storm built. She had been calling to anything that could hear and the hurricane had answered.

He rumbled in reply, the clouds overhead lighting up. She stopped, cringing back away from him in the net. So she didn’t understand him. Leakee wondered with a touch of fear just how long he had been bound. He used to converse with ones like her easily. They would sing to him in the night, begging his protection, and he would oblige because it was no trouble, it was barely an effort back then to redirect the waves or drown a whaling ship. How long have I been on that island?

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said slowly in human-speech, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. She hissed at him, baring her teeth. Leakee was hardly surprised. She was cornered right now, not someone to be trifled with by any means. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He repeated, the cables of the net heavy in his hands. He focused his lightning, easing it forward and using his fingers as insulation so it couldn’t dance the way it so desperately wanted to.

The nylon glowed red-hot for a split second and then snapped. One down. She made a noise of fear and Leakee looked up. There was a man, in a rainsuit, staring at him through the pouring rain like he’d seen a ghost. “Are you fucking shitting me?” The guy growled, lurching as the ship rolled underneath him. Why did human-speech always have to sound so coarse?

Leakee roared, the seething sky overhead amplifying the sound tenfold with thunder. Lightning struck the deck, singing along the metal railings and sparking off the lift at the back. The mer in the net whimpered again, this time in panic as the lightning arced over the metal cable of the crane.

But it dissipated when it touched Leakee, the young-appearing man simply flexing his hand. “Are you afraid?” He asked, his voice barely audible over the confusion of the winds. “Do you want to die, son of man?”

“Who the hell are you?!” The man shouted, grabbing the net when the ship pitched violently. He stuck his hand into the net and the mer opened her mouth again. Leakee grimaced, another thunderclap half-drowning her frantic scream as the ship rolled and sent the man floundering to slam up against the cabin.

“They’re not keeping you here.” He tried to soothe her, tried to keep the screaming to a minimum.

“Hurt!” The single word zipped over him, feeling like it opened a raw line in its wake.

“Where?” Leakee asked, working on cutting through the cables a little quicker. She thrust her fingers through the net, making a frenzied noise. Red stained her fingertips. “I know you’re hurt, but where.” Leakee grunted when she shook her head. “Fine. Just hold still.” The last thing he wanted to do was give her the jolt of a lifetime.

This barbaric treatment of mer wasn’t something new, unfortunately. As far back as Leakee could recall in his shattered memory humans had always done this. Accidentally dragging them in with their catch, grubby little mortal hands pawing at the lithe bodies in confusion and delight.

He had become adept at sinking ships for a reason. The wailing cries of those who had lost their brothers and sisters rang out all too often on lonely shoals. He wasn’t really sure whether he had a soul, the wholeness of his being was not something he tended to dwell on, but the sadness of their keening touched some portion of him that refused to stir for even the most desperate of human pleas.

Leakee growled in frustration at the stubborn cables and wrapped his fist around them, gritting his teeth while he focused his lightning even tighter. Molten plastic finally poured over his hand like water as the netting gave way and he shook it off absently, the burning substance hissing where it landed on the wet deck. “Almost there. Hang on.”

She paid him no mind, already trying to wriggle through the small opening.

Leakee caught her wrist. “No.” He said firmly. “You will get hurt, understand?”

“Hurt.” She echoed, those odd green-purple eyes wide as she stared up at him. “H…Help.” She begged.

“I’m trying to, but you need to be still.” Leakee watched in confusion as she rubbed her face against his hand. “Pay attention to him. Tell me if he moves.” He said, pointing at the unconscious human slumped beside the cabin.

She turned back towards the human and Leakee thrust his arm into the hole in the net, ignoring the way the nylon cables sawed at his skin. He gripped the net, stretching it as taut as he could before sucking in a deep breath and tearing through the netting with a fist full of lightning.

She grabbed his hand and he flinched, electrical current still racing through his body. She didn’t seem to care though, tracing the lines in his palm while his muscles stuttered and jumped with energy.

“We need to get you out of here.” Leakee said finally, once he trusted himself to speak again instead of roar with the storm. He moved forward cautiously, wrapping his fingers around the curve of her hip. “Climb up on my back, alright? Put your arms around my neck.” He directed.

She tried to follow his instructions, shuffling closer. The delicate membrane of her fin had been sliced, which explained the blood. Also explained how she had been caught in the first place.

Her fingers dug into his binding mark and he grunted in pain, none-too-gently jerking her hand up higher. “Not there.”

“Hurt?” She asked curiously.

“Yeah. Hurt.”

“Okay.” She murmured, laying her cheek on his shoulder blade. Leakee didn’t reply, just got to his feet and pulled himself over the railing.

…

The swim was exhausting but he didn’t want to risk trying to use the storm’s momentum. The mer was probably a little more conductive than he was.

He felt almost as weak as he had the first time he’d washed up on shore when they finally arrived back at the island. He laid there on the rocky sand while the storm howled over him, feeling the ebb and confusion of it throbbing in his binding mark. The only difference was the weight on his back.

Her stillness worried him after a few minutes and Leakee reached over his shoulder, clumsily patting her hair. “You alright?”

She just clung tighter to him, her face buried in his unmarked shoulder. Leakee shoved himself up onto his knees, glaring at the cliffs in front of him. With how strong the wind was he didn’t dare to risk the climb right now. This area was relatively sheltered, but further up he would definitely be swept away.

The waves beat against the shore mercilessly, taking up even more of the limited space that wasn’t choked with water-carved boulders. He wrapped the mer in his arms, feeling her start to shiver as he hunkered down in the protective hollow of one such boulder. Her tail twitched limply, curling around his legs. “It’s alright.” Leakee murmured, easing his hand down to keep the wounded portion of her tail elevated off the sand. His fragile body had gotten more than a fair share of sand ground into wounds.

Her eyes kept drifting shut while she studied his face, exhaustion obviously dragging at her. Leakee avoided eye contact for the most part, focusing instead on the crashing surf in front of them. It seemed like the storm was lessening but his whole body still felt twitchy, and he was sure if he wasn’t soaked through his hair would have been standing on end from the static lurking under his skin.

A cold hand touched his chest, over where the heart would beat in a regular human. She just continued staring up at him like she was waiting for him to do something. Leakee cleared his throat, settling her more securely against his body. “It’s alright.” He said again. “We have to wait for this to calm down. Once it does, I can help.”

“Help?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” She was trying the words out, probably already working on turning the innocent human-speech sounds into weapons. Leakee shook his head ruefully, digging his feet in to the sand and closing his eyes.

When he stirred hours later she was no longer in his arms. Leakee bolted upright and almost instantly spotted her in the shallows, her slender form draped in the seaweed that the storm had washed ashore. She was wrapping her tail in it while singing quietly to herself. He assumed that must have been what woke him, running a hand through his hair as the odd panic he’d felt receded.

“Hey.” He called, unsure of how he ought to approach her. He wasn't exactly a monolithic entity anymore, she probably thought he was some strange mortal. Some freak.

She rolled over onto her stomach in the shallows, her smile weak. “Help?”

“I can now, yes. I have to climb.” Leakee gestured upwards and her eyes followed, growing wider and wider as she took in the path to the top of the cliffs. “I'll be back.”

She struggled out of the water and onto the beach, reaching out an imploring hand to him. “Help?”

“I need to go up there.” Leakee said, taking her hand after a second. Her skin was chilly to the touch. “Stay here.”

She refused to release his hand though. “Help.” Then, “I can. Help.”

Leakee crouched down. “You don't have any legs.” He pointed out, doing his best to make sure his voice was calm. “You're hurt. You need to stay here.”

“Please.” She shook her head. “Not alone.”

Oh.

“Where's your pod?” Leakee asked gently. Her eyes filled with tears and she rubbed her cheek against his hand, sniffling. “You're lost, were you calling for them?” She nodded silently.

Leakee dragged his free hand through his hair. Lost storms, he could manage. Ease them inland, ring out a few hundred gallons of water and send them on their way. He'd never dealt with a lost mer.

“Look. They won't be able to get to you if you're all the way up there.” He said finally. “I promise I'll come back. Give me an hour, alright?”

She released his hand after a few more minutes of cajoling, her eyes wet with tears as she stared mournfully up at him. “Careful.” She mumbled, folding her arms.

“Don't worry. I'll be back.”

…

It became a daily routine. Shortly after sunrise he would head down to the beach and find her sound asleep in one of the shallow tide pools. A quick touch on the shoulder or head would rouse her from her slumber and she would yawn, then smile up at him. She always seemed happy to see him, which was confusing to Leakee.

She usually caught her own breakfast while Leakee scanned the horizon, only intervening if she tugged on his hand for help with a troublesome crustacean or a too-quick fish. Leakee felt the need to keep a lookout, not just for another storm or her pod, but for the fishing boat as well. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally turn his quiet retreat into some kind of trap for her pod. The thought alone made his lightning crackle and spark fretfully. It was easing in to autumn, storm season, and the waters would only get less hospitable from here on, so he could hope that whoever those men were, they had abandoned hope of reclaiming their netted prize.

She wasn't afraid of his lightning, even when it strained and made his mark glow. She had a habit of just taking his hand because it was the part closest to her and he had been terrified of what might happen if he touched her accidentally when his power fought the binding. So far nothing had happened, but that didn't stop him from worrying.

She also didn't speak much, and Leakee eventually discovered it was out of courtesy towards him that she stayed quiet. “Don't want to hurt.” She had murmured late one evening when he outright asked, running her fingers meditatively over the slowly-healing membrane of her tail. “Too much will hurt.”

She sang every night once he'd climbed the cliff, and Leakee found himself spending his evenings leaning on the railing of the lighthouse, watching the beam play over the water and listening to her plead for the ocean to find her family. It made him ache, no longer in his shoulder but in his chest as she cried out to the moon, the stars and the open water, “help them find me, tell them where I am”. He understood now what she meant when she had said 'too much will hurt'. Listening to her song was the sweetest agony he could imagine.

Even on the stormy nights she sang, as the waves lashed the sand and Leakee tried his hardest to keep the squalls from razing the island. More than once he woke up on the beach to her fingers combing his hair or touching his mark while the sun came up, his feeble body exhausted to the point of dropping right where he was.

She seemed to worry about his mark more than he did. Whenever he sat beside her, her fingers eventually found their way to his shoulder. The area was always a little achy, a little stiff. Like he needed to be reminded that something wasn’t right. Occasionally there was an odd echo from her touch, but he chalked that up as some other strange thing that this fragile body did.

Her tail had healed weeks ago and yet she still stayed, lingering in the pools far below the lighthouse. Leakee couldn't fathom why, but he felt like asking might be rude. He didn't really mind the company anyways.

…

One day he came down and the beach was empty.

He didn't understand. He wasn't sure if he couldn't or if he didn't want to. Leakee ran a hand through his hair, confused. She had just left and for some reason that hurt?

He didn't understand.

That night it was so incredibly, devastatingly quiet. He had almost forgotten what it was like to hear nothing but the surf far, far below the lighthouse. He was still pacing the lighthouse walk as the sun rose again and the gulls started to chatter. The beacon slowly ground to a halt, light fading while he headed back down the stairs, but it went unnoticed in Leakee’s distracted state.

When he went to turn on the radio for some noise, it exploded at his touch. Leakee dropped himself into his chair and put his head in his hands, his shoulder twitching and shuddering. Flickers of lightning sparked between his fingers and lanced into his scalp, making his muscles spasm.

He didn't understand.

Creature of turmoil that he was, drawn by nature to conflict, he didn't understand.

The sun was high in the sky when he finally got to his feet and left the house again. Leakee made the climb down to the beach and sat there on the sand, staring out at the water until his eyes hurt from the reflections of light on the water. He closed them for a second, just a minute or two...

The headache was what woke him, an intense pain in his skull. Something had happened. The lighthouse was dark and motionless overhead, no spinning beam to illuminate the storm in front of him. The winds screamed and growled with a mind of their own, lightning blinding and thunder so loud it felt like his ears would ring forever. Further down the coast, the lights of the tiny island town were nowhere to be seen.

Power's out. Leakee realized with a touch of confusion. The lighthouse shouldn't be affected by that, it was powered endlessly by his excess. That was how he kept himself under control for the most part. Something was wrong though, his lightning seared at the mark on his shoulder and the lighthouse was still dead. Thunder bubbled from his throat and the skies echoed his roar, frantic now at the build up of energy in his body. This fragile form he was bound into may not be able to contain him if the lighthouse couldn't absorb the overflow.

The word was on his lips almost before he thought about it and he screamed it into the intensifying weather, “help!”

He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out as lightning danced over every inch of his skin. There was no worry for safety or drawing attention now while he struggled to discharge the power quickly enough to keep from being turned to ash. The storm grew even worse, possibly due to his involvement. Leakee slammed his fists into the water, spent energy skipping wildly over the crashing waves.

The song was what tore him out of his frenzied motions, forcing him to pause as the noise reached his ears. He dropped to his knees, legs giving out underneath him. The music was beautiful and he was dimly aware of the fact that he recognized the voice. He didn't know why he was smiling and gritting his teeth at the same time.

A hand touched his chin, pulling it upwards. The mer was back, her eyes full of concern as she sang to him. Leakee finally wept when her fingers slid down over his mark because this was it, this was the end of him. The storm of the century, come to rid the island of its small town and lighthouse once and for all. Maybe he was the protector. And maybe he had just failed again.

The pain was unbearable. He could barely move but he tried to keep curled in on himself, tried to contain the imminent explosion. “Are you afraid?” He gritted out in the voice of storms and skies, thunder slamming in his chest like a heart should.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, her song still hanging in the crackling air between them. “No.” She whispered, pressing her forehead to his own.

“Okay. Good.” Leakee replied brokenly in human-speech. “I...missed you.” Her fingers cupped the mark on his shoulder. “Thank you for being here.” He tried to smile again while she wiped the tears off his face. What a strangely human thing for him to do, ignore his own suffering to ease her worries.

“I'm here to help.” She gestured over her shoulder and Leakee struggled to focus, to raise his eyes enough to take in the small pod of other mer watching him warily. “We can help.”

“It's too late for me.” He dug his hands into the sand, his whole body screaming with the pulses of thunder and lightning. “It's too late. Something's gone wrong and I can't...I can't keep up.” He felt like he should apologize, his eyes closing. “I’m…sorry.”

A multitude of cold fingers were abruptly on him, touching the binding mark on his shoulder. Leakee felt an odd twist, a snap! that reverberated through his shoulder as their song rushed over him, into him, flooding him and clearing his head.

“I was coming back. I needed more help.” She said, not in human-speech. Her forehead pressed to his again. “I was coming back for you. I wasn't the lost one.”

The mark on his shoulder shattered like glass when she kissed him.

“You were.”

He was vapor, he was cloud, he was wind and sky and free. Leakee roared and the hurricane quailed, he was one with the tempest after years and years and years of piecemeal, of the binding sapping his true strength. Lightning struck the lighthouse and the windows exploded from the overload, the lantern blazing to life as it rotated once again. His prison, his home. Leakee didn't know whether he should destroy it or leave it be as a reminder of his humbling experience.

The song of the mer reached him, lofty though he was now, and Leakee coasted the pod closer to him on the waves. “What do you want? If it's within my reach, it's yours.” He spoke in the flash of lightning and the growl of thunder and they keened to him, telling him how their numbers dwindled.

Leakee was no protector. Leakee was chaos and storm and as always, he did as he wished. But for the mer who had freed him of his binding, for the one who had moved him with her song...he tossed his head, eyes flashing blue-white with his lightning. “I will keep you safe.”

Her own form glowed with the runoff of his power. She had never feared him, seeming instead to frolic in the deadly radiance of the lightning that struck the water again and again.

His smile was a brief split in the hurricane clouds that the moon shone through.

...

The island was barely missed by the massive autumn storm, meteorologists commenting on how odd it was that two hurricanes within weeks of each other had abruptly about-faced before making landfall on the tiny island. The superstitious muttered that the island's protector must have intervened; the lighthouse was much brighter after that storm on Halloween that had knocked out the power. A few brave eyewitnesses even claimed that the lighthouse had regained power hours before the town, which should have been impossible as the lighthouse had no active power supply and (according to maintenance records) had been out of commission for decades.

Yet it continued to turn, despite the extensive damage an errant bolt of lightning had done to the roof. Never flickering, never faltering, it lit the way home for many a wayward vessel.

And then stories began to circulate. Strange squalls, singing in the night, fishing boats with destroyed nets.

A protector, Leakee was not. He cared very little for being subtle, whipping storms into existence out of clear skies and raging with the voice of a thousand hurricanes at the unjust treatment of his charges. When he was in time, when a mer was released from the nets back into the waters, Leakee’s lightning was fit to split the sky in delight.

But when he was too late, the punishment would not cease until the ship lay in splinters, scattered over the surface of the water. The mer would keen at the loss of their loved one and he would calm the waves around them, guiding them together into the comfort of gentle water and sheltered coves that they might mourn in peace. Leakee grieved with them, his mist and tempests concealing their location until they had safely sung their lost one to eternal rest.

He was a creature of turmoil, drawn by nature to conflict. For the time being, though, for the time of the one who had come back for him...he could play the role.

#31 little wrestling fics #leakee #leakee-centric #thirst party saturday #not really thirsty though #Happy month of halloween #wwe #wrestlers without the wrestling #this was incredibly fun to write #enjoy! #mermaids #nxt #fcw #so much inspiration from american gods you have no idea #seriously go read that book