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Willow's Eve

He became famous, ya'know.

You always hear stories in newspapers or tabloids about individuals who survive impossible situations for a prolonged period of time. Maybe they were lost in a dense forest for weeks, with nothing to subsist on aside from their own hunting skills. Perhaps they weathered winter storms thought impossible, surviving arctic winds by producing whatever heat they could. Or maybe they pushed through active warzones, living by making bonds with sketchy individuals. Whatever it took to see another day.

You hear every day the stories of people surviving impossible odds. Sometimes they were outlandish. Sometimes they were simple. Regardless, it came down to the individual to believe if they were true or not. For many – for him – they were nothing more than a passing fancy. Just a little tale one would read in a newspaper, or hear about online. It would entertain a person for a short while, and then they'd be on with their life, having ever forgotten they read the story in the first place.

But then he became one of those stories. He lived one of those impossible moments. He survived an event that claim the lives of so many others. He and only he... alone. Fifteen men went fishing one fine, weekend morning. One month later, only one man returned. And that man's name was Victor Bern.

He was a tall and fit young man. Sometimes cool, sometimes annoying, he had brown hair, a goatee on his chin, and green eyes. Every time you looked at him, the word 'easy' came to mind. That's just how life felt around him; like it was easy. He worked in such a way that exuded casualness and simplicity, even when the opposite was true. Coupled with his ability to get things done, it made for a man who was reliable, even if the grin on his face was punchable more often than not.

Seven months ago, he and a crew of fifteen men went fishing on a simple vessel named 'Frappes'. Their trip was only meant to last two days, three days at the most. Little did they know, a powerful and vicious storm was heading their way.

Things started off simply; just the rousing of wind brushing against the hull of their ship. But then those gentle winds became powerful gusts, knocking their vessel in every which way. This was followed by more and more turbulent seas, with high-reaching waves that crashed against the deck of their ship... and soon destroyed it outright.

Vic never knew exactly how he survived the events of that night. Even now with all this time to think on it, the memories of what happened were still faded. He assumed that – at some point – he was stricken by something and knocked out. All he remembered were the shouts of his fellow crewmates, the boat snapping apart, the wind, the rain, the thunder and lighting... and then nothing. Come the next morning, he was floating out at sea on a piece of driftwood, with only the signs of destruction surrounding him.

What followed was him lucking upon a downed submarine from the 80s. Using it as shelter, he'd survive the next month by hunting the marine wildlife outside of the vessel. He already knew how to fish, and using items he salvaged from the Frappes' destruction, surviving was more a matter of time than it was difficulty. Not to say it wasn't difficult. Living alone in a derelict and abandoned submarine was more a toll on his mental health than it was his physical health.

But he survived. Against all odds, he survived. He managed to live through the month, where he was surrounded by nothing but endless blue waves. And then – one fateful evening when the moon was high in the sky – he finally saw another boat. It came floating by, its horns blaring through the heavens. Fortunately, the abandoned submarine he was in had a flare gun. Using it, he got the boat's attention, and was finally rescued from his ocean coffin.

What occurred next was a whirlwind. He returned home as the only survivor of the Frappes, where there were many questions, and many, many more tears. Even now, he couldn't get the image of his mother's face out of his head, when she walked in through the hospital doors to see him. He never wanted to see a face like that again.

And yet, things didn't get simpler. How does one go back to living a normal life after what they went through? How does one go back to living a normal life when they have seen their own grave? It was an experience both humbling and morbid. Even now, knowing that somewhere in St. Marta's graveyard was his own tombstone, was a thought Vic just couldn't escape from.

He also couldn't escape from the eyes of others; the eyes of family members whose loved ones died on that ship. They were incredulous, jealous, envious. Why was he the only one who survived and no one else? What made Victor Bern so special? He couldn't blame them. If his own loved one died on that ship, and only one lucky son of a bitch survived, he too would be angry, frustrated, and jealous. He'd also question if more happened on that boat that wasn't being told. After all, how lucky can one man be to survive out at sea when no one else did, happenstance their way upon an abandon sub, and then survive over the course of the next month by hunting fish? The ocean is a vast place! In all honesty, Victor should be dead.

And you know what? The others were right. There was more to his survival than what he was telling everyone. It wasn't just one man's struggle against nature in order to live. In all honesty, he was about to join his fellow crewmates as another body out at sea. But then – just as he was about to give up all hope – she appeared.

Her name was Willow. And even now, months after having last seen her, Victor wasn't quite sure if she was even alive.

He didn't survive that month alone, he didn't happenstance his way upon an abandoned submarine, and he didn't use his meager fishing skills to hunt for marine life. He didn't even discover the flare gun he used to call for help! Everything he did – or didn't do in this case – was provided for him by a mysterious woman named Willow.

She was a shark, being the person who found him adrift at sea. It was her who saved him by bringing him to her place of living. She would then provide food for him over the course of the month by hunting down fish. And while their relationship may have become a bit... ahem... turbulent, he ended up leaving that downed submarine with Willow being close to his heart.

But he never told anyone about her. It was difficult enough for him to explain how he survived that boat alone, but would anyone believe him if he mentioned a mysterious shark helped him survive? One who – again – he wasn't even sure was alive? Because now having time to think about what occurred out at sea, Victor was convinced that Willow was a ghost.

It's weird dealing with the paranormal. Having one's entire life being flipped upside down as it was, he didn't know what to believe in anymore. But he did know one thing. Ghost don't happen at random. They linger because they have resentment. If they died in peace, they wouldn't be there, would they? At least, that's how his southern brain sees it. They are a superstitious folk, aren't they?

Maybe that's the real reason why he couldn't get her out of his head. She helped him survive, didn't she? So at the very least, he could help her. Being trapped in that submarine was a unique kind of hell in Victor's eyes, and he was stuck there for only a month. If it's true, and that ship crashed sometime in the eighties, then imagine being trapped there for decades.

Like some sort of purgatory...

He'd spent months thinking about it; months mulling over what he'd do if he was trapped at sea, bemoaning the things he did – or didn't do – in life. Perhaps if Willow hadn't saved him, he too would have become a specter of the sea, haunting the pieces of the boat named Frappes until the day the world was no more.

Hmm...

And it was with that thought in mind that he prepared for his most puzzling quest yet. Any sane man would no doubt stay as far away from the ocean as they can. Why go back to a place you nearly lost your life at? Unless you were a sailor at heart, you'd probably never return to the ocean without a reason to do so. And that's why Victor was planning this.

He had a reason to return...

When he returned to the mainland, life did not go back to normal for him. How could it become normal when – as stated before – he became famous? When news broke out that a young man was lost at sea for little over a month – the lone survivor of an entire crew – it became the talk of the country! Everyone wanted to know his story, wanted to know how he survived, and how he managed to keep his sanity for a month alone! And Victor – being a smart young man – was quick to sell that story. Hey, if people wanted to know in, then they were free to hear... for a price, of course.

Which... doesn't actually make it 'free' does it?

Now, don't get it twisted, Victor wasn't some massive millionaire because of what happened. Hell, he was sure in a year's time, he will have long since fallen out of the public conscience! But selling one's story to be written into a novel, and be turned into a movie, does open up one's bank account by a fair bit. And he needed that money so that he could get... this.

“Victor... are you sure about this?”

“I already said I was, Mom...”

A soft smile appeared on the young man's lips as he looked at his mother beside him. They were truly the spitting image of one another... that is, if he was a forty-year-old woman with brown hair and green eyes, and a bit on a shorter end as well. Their temperaments couldn't be any different however, with how calm and casual he was, compared to how worried and concerned she was.

“I-I know it's been months, Victor... but you don't have to go back to the ocean,” said his mother as she approached him, “You don't have to prove anything to anyone!”

“Heh... I...” he replied as he scratched the back of his head, “I already know that, Mom. But...” he shook his head, “That's not gonna stop me. I've been planning this little trip for months now. I can't stop it right as I get to the finish line.”

“But what if another storm happens!?” she replied, “What if you get blown away at sea again? I... I...” she shrunk a bit, “I can't lose you again...”

The emotion and vulnerability in her voice, brought a frown to Vic's lips. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to bury him the first time when she thought he died, and now here he was, heading back to sea again. It was enough to give him pause, and nearly made him reconsider everything he had planned up to this point. But, no... he couldn't stop now. Again, this was months in the making. Besides, he wasn't doing this for himself.

“Hey, Mom,” he said in a reassuring manner as he placed his hands on her shoulders, causing her to look up at him and the smile he wore on his face, “Everything's gonna be fine, okay? And I really doubt another storm's gonna come and destroy my boat. If it did, then clearly, God wants me dead, and if that's the case, then I'm doomed either way!”

“Mmmph...! Victor!” she groaned as she balled her hand into a fist and punched his chest, “You're just like your father! You can't take anything seriously longer than a second!”

“Mom, c'mon... it's not that serious,” he said... before his smile deflated. It didn't vanish, but instead became something more vulnerable, “Look, I know you don't want me to go, and really, I don't want to go completely either. But I have to go. Not just for myself, but...” he closed his eyes, “I just have to make peace with the situation, okay?”

His words and his face were genuine. That's the thing about Vic; he didn't have a dishonest bone in his body. He was the kind of man who was brutally honest about everything, even in moments where it would have been wiser to keep his mouth zipped.

When she saw this face, his mother knew that no amount of arguing would shake him from his course. And believe her, she tried. She argued with him months ago when he first made this decision, she argued with him when he originally bought this boat, she argued with him during his preparation, and she argued with him during the long drive up here. She argued, argued, argued, but Victor never changed. She both loved it about him, and found it annoying; like a flaw worth marveling at. In the end...

He's her son, so...

“J-just come back alive, okay?” she said, making him chuckle and nod.

“Of course, Mom. The sea couldn't kill me once. I doubt it'll be able to kill me again!”

His cool smile and equally as courageous words, were enough to bring a smile to his mother's lips, even if begrudged. Was it cocky and self-assured of him? Yes, of course. But did she believe he'd come back alive? Well, he came back alive once, so why couldn't he do it a second time?

With that in mind, his mother dropped her head and let out a deep breath. She remained that way for a several moments, before bringing her gaze up to give him this beaming – if tearful – smile. He smiled too, chuckled as well, before bringing his mother in for a tight and warm embrace.

This was similar to the first time he went out to sea all those months ago. Only, where as that doomed trip carried a sense of casualness to it, this trip felt far more emotional. Nevertheless, Victor wasn't going to stop; he couldn't stop. So once a few more moments of tight hugging passed, he pulled away from his mother and turned.

Holger's Bay was this place's name, and as expected, boat after boat after boat were docked at its many piers. A majority of them were like the place they were docked at; vessels meant for business and duty, not for glamour and pleasure. All... save for this boat right here.

Before Victor was a yacht. Not a massive yacht mind you, but a ship that had no right being here alongside all these other boats. It was white and blue, with a modest size, and a back deck that one could easily relax at as they rest on his lounging chairs. It was also a boat that was bigger on the inside than it would look on the outside, as it came fully stocked with a tiny kitchen, lounge, and sleeping quarters within its hull. Again, it wasn't a big boat, but it could easily play host to two or three people.

Such are the perks of being modestly famous.

Only Victor was going on this trip. This was his quest after all; what purpose would he have to bring others with him? He also didn't know how long he'd be out at sea. His plan was a week at most, thinking it wouldn't take him too long to get to where he was going. But getting there and actually seeing Willow, were two different things. Who's to say she'd even want to talk to him?

There was only one way to find out.

Saying his last farewells to his mother, Victor boarded his yacht, where he began removing the rope tying him to the pier's cleat. He could feel his heart pounding into his chest, like the last warnings before a fated voyage. Stop now, he was saying to himself, There's no telling if she's still out there. Or if she even wants to see you again!

These weren't the first time he's had these thoughts. But like before, he forced them down and pushed on regardless. He was smarter now than he was before, and his nimble vessel could easily get him through most storms. Not that he was expecting them anyway; the weather called for clear skies all throughout the week.

Then again, it did so last time. Oh well...

After going through his last-minute examination of his things, Vic made way to his boat's helm, where he turned the vessel on. When he looked up over the dashboard, he saw the infinite horizon of the ocean look back at him. It beckoned him, it taunted him, it frightened him... but he pushed on regardless.

And thus, the modest yacht known as 'Will-O-Wisp' began drifting out at sea.

…

There's a certain sense of peace when one is out here. On the edge of the planet, where there's nothing but blue for miles around, an individual can feel... small. Perhaps it's a similar feeling when standing in the middle of a vast desert, or one some frigid ice field. When one can look towards the horizon, and see absolutely nothing, it will humble an individual.

This wasn't Victor's first time being out here. Before Willow saved him, he waded out at sea for two days straight. But that was on a piece of driftwood, and he was struggling to survive. With that in mind, it gave him very little time to sit here and feel humbled by reality.

But now, things were different. Now, he stood on the deck of his yacht, gazing towards the horizons with a steady heart. While he respected the ocean – as any sailor should – he did not fear it as much as he once did. It gave him the courage to come out here in the first place.

It had been several days since he left Holger's Bay. Most of that time was spent doing nothing but riding out in the ocean waves. Occasionally he'd stop, just to take in the beauty of the ocean, or when he saw a rare fish, but these moments were very few. For the most part, he was a man focused on getting to where he needed to go; a very specific set of coordinates that led him... here.

-34º N, -12ºE

This was the location he was found at in the ocean. These coordinates – just a few simple numbers – was where he had been lost for little over a month. It was miles away from the mainland, a distance he would have no reason to go. But of course, he didn't get here through ordinary means; he was brought here by another. And now he was coming back on his own volition.

There was just one, itsy-bitsy, teensy problem...

“Where's Willow's sub...?”

Vic's question bounced around in his head as he gazed out towards the ocean before him. These were the exact coordinates that he was found at, so where was the derelict sub that had been his home for a month straight? There was nothing here but water. Water left, water right, water up, water down. Water, water, water!

Had he made a mistake? No, no... it was easier to believe that Willow's sub – like the shark herself – was paranormal in origin. If she could vanish on a dime, then why couldn't her sub do likewise? So instead of giving up, or working himself into a confused stupor, Vic pushed on towards the middle of the ocean... relatively speaking, of course.

When gazing over the edge of his yacht, he saw nothing but the opaque blue of the sea look back at him. The ocean here was clear to a fault, but not so clear that he could see the ocean floor. He knew there were trenches here, but none were visible. They must have been deep by miles.

Still, there was no sign of Willow or her sub; just fish. Shooting an annoyed look, Vic placed his hand on his chin in a thoughtful pose, pondering what he should do next. In fact, how does one commune with spirits? Should he have brought a Ouija board?

With his yacht to a halt, Victor began pacing around the ship. From the helm, down into the ship's depths, and then to the back deck; over and over and over again. In his mind, he wondered if this confirmed his fears; that this entire travel was a pointless waste of time. Not made any better by the fact that he didn't think this far ahead. He just thought it would be as easy as returning to her submarine, and he'd be able to talk to her. Clearly, that's not the case.

“Hmm...” he grumbled as he came back to the front deck of his yacht, where he placed his hands to his mouth like a makeshift horn and shouted out, “HEY! WILLOW! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YA!? IT'S ME, VICTOR! VICTOR BERN! WHERE IS YOUR FISH-EATING ASS!?”

Thank the heavens he was out here by himself where no one could hear him screaming like a royal jackass. But it didn't change the fact that after his hands fell, his shouts were met with nothing but silence. Letting his arms drop on the banister of his ship, Victor looked longingly out towards the ocean, seeing nothing but the softly drifting waves.

“Willow...” he whispered, “Aaaah... don't tell me I wasted my time coming out here...”

“Okay... I won't,” a voice replied from behind, “But I'll think you wasted your time.”

A cold shiver ran down Victor's spine as he was answered by someone else. That voice was... familiar. Tensing up, he turned around, where his gaze fell upon the back deck of his yacht. Resting there on his lounging chair was a woman... a shark woman... a shark beastkin.

Tan scales adorned her body, with a white belly, and brown stripes running along her back. Cascading from her head was white hair which freely flowed like cloudy strands, all the way down to her hips. Wild and frenetic, her hair was just as impossible to tame as she was.

A tall woman as well, she had a height and physique that could best be described as 'amazonian'. Muscles laid on her arms and shoulders, her legs and her thighs, her toned core with a slim waistline, all of which made one thing clear: she was a predator, through and through, and escape was impossible when she set her eyes on you.

Her eyes...

Her stunning, powerful... otherworldly eyes. Eyes that had black sclera instead of white, with irises that changed and morphed from blue to white and back again, and slit pupils that wouldn't be out of place on a reptile. These eyes weren't the eyes of a living creature, but instead the eyes of a phantom, or a specter... or a ghost.

She laid there on his lounging chair, her body adorned in light clothing. On her shoulders she had a tattered black cloak, one that was opened to flaunt her body beneath as it laid draped on her figure like a curtain. Her busty chest was clad was in a leather bra, and on her legs she wore a pair of leather shorts, all of which were black in color, which further elevated her paranormal appearance.

Victor's mouth grew wide as he looked down upon the shark, who stared back at him in a sharp and belittling manner. That's the best way to describe her face; as being superior and annoyed at the same time. What's the term again? Oh yeah, resting bitch face; that's what she had.

“Willow...?” said Vic, making her cock her head.

Slowly the shark shifted, where she got off of his lounging chair and stood up before him. In doing so, he was reminded of how stark their differences in height were. He was modest in size and strength, but she was a statuesque beauty. And that statuesque beauty was looking down upon him with her fists on her hips.

“That's my name,” she replied whilst cocking her head at him, “It's good to know you haven't forgotten it. So...” she leaned in, “What are you doing back here, Victor?”

But he didn't respond, instead looking her up and down. His eyes were filled with glee, his hands were clutching at the air, and his mouth was still agape. Victor came thiiiiiss close to hugging the shark outright, while she continued looking down upon him in a slightly annoyed manner.

“Willow... it's you!” he said, smiling from cheek to cheek.

“Were you expecting... someone else...?” she replied.

“I...! I've been sailing out here for days looking for you!” he stated, “I came back to these coordinates, the ones I was found at! But your submarine, it wasn't there,” he looked away, “See! It's not... wh-what?”

Resting out in the ocean – just a stone's throw away in fact – was a half-submerged submarine. It was old and rusted, but sturdy enough to withstand the weather around it... not to mention impossible to miss if someone was sailing by.

“How did...?” said Vic, his voice trailing off as Willow walked passed him, “W-wait...”

“Nice boat you got here, Vic,” said the shark as she began making her way into his yacht, “I love the name, by the way. 'Will-O-Wisp'? Heh... how cute.”

“Willow, I...? W-wait... where are you going?”

The shark didn't answer him however, instead walking deeper into his boat as her tail waved left and right. Tensing up, he followed her inside, walking behind her as his mind struggled to settle his thoughts. Again, he didn't think this far ahead. What should he ask her? What should he say to her now that they were reunited? What does a person say to a ghost? And what was Willow doing?

Well...

Entering into his ship's kitchen area, the shark's blue and white eyes pensively stroked along his things. Being a boat he mainly bought for this little trip, it was yet to be furnished with anything important. Just a few items here and there, mostly to curtail his own boredom.

Curiously, Willow stroked her hand along his table, his clean kitchenette, and then over towards his refrigerator, where she opened it to reveal a dozen or so instant noodles. None of which were--

“Fish?” said the shark as she began pulling out cup of noodles after cup of noodles, “There's no fish in here? Just... poultry... ground beef... hmm... pork...” raising an eyebrow, she looked over her shoulder towards Vic, “Why no fish?”

“Glk... I think I've had enough fish after what we went through together,” he replied as he shook his head, “I haven't had seafood since I got back on solid ground. Even the sight of crabs makes me queasy...” he stuck out his tongue, “No thanks...”

“Hm... suit yourself,” replied Willow as she tapped the container of noodles she held in her hand, “I've been eating fish for decades, and the taste hasn't gotten old yet.”

“Yeah, but you're a shark. The smell of blood sets you on fire,” he muttered before shaking his head, “Ah... it doesn't matter. Willow...”

“Hm?”

“I came back to...”

“Mm-hm...”

“I mean... you and the submarine...”

“Uh-huh...”

Brrrrrrrrrn!

The sound of his microwave caused Victor to tense up. He was struggling to settle his thoughts, meanwhile, the shark was casually preparing instant noodles for herself. On one hand, her casual antics was annoying. On the other hand, it was quite charming of her. The shark – the ghost shark – was preparing herself a cup of noodles, almost in stark contrast to her very existence. It felt so... humanizing, in it's own way.

“Willow, I--”

“What are you doing here?” she said, cutting him off.

His hand dropped slightly and his expression grew tender, while Willow turned around to face him. Leaning on the edge of his kitchenette, she stared down upon Vic, looking incredulous and serious. For a few moments, he struggled to settle his nerves, and thought about her question. She had a point: Why was he here? What did he expect to happen by returning? What did he intend to do?

Again, he hadn't thought this far ahead. For as cool as Victor can be, he's not exactly a genius. He was more of a 'go with the flow', kind of person. He did what he felt was best in any given moment. It's served him well thus far. But now, he was in a situation where he simply couldn't rely on instincts. What does a person say to someone they know is a ghost? How does a person help someone... move on, so to speak? Wait, was this the equivalent of performing an exorcism? He was no priest!

Palming his head, Victor gritted his teeth as he mentally kicked his own ass. He really was an idiot for having come out here. But, dammit, he came out here nonetheless! And while there may not be a manual or guideline for speaking to a ghost, that wouldn't stop him from doing what he always did!

He just... well... acted...

“Willow,” he said as he dropped his hand, shooting her a concerned look, “I want to help you.”

“Tsk... help me?” she replied, this wry grin on her lips, “Heh... and uh... tell me...” she leered at him, glaring into his eyes with her otherworldly blue ones, “How exactly do you intend on helping me? What do you intend on helping me with?”

“I... um... shit...” he scratched at the back of his head, “Look, Willow... I know what you are. Like, yeah, you're a shark, but I also know that you're a--”

“What? Ghost?” she muttered before crossing her arms, “C'mon... don't tell me you actually believe in ghosts...”

“Hrrrgh... hey, stop being so bitchy, I'm just trying to--”

Ding!

The sound of his microwave caused him to tense up and made Willow's ears twitch. Turning around, the shark faced her cup of instant noodles, where she tore open its lid. As steam and the smell of chicken filled the air, Victor took a few moments to settle his nerves. Willow meanwhile grabbed a nearby spoon and plugged it into her meal.

For a few moments, things remained this way; Vic standing there, and Willow eating her noodles. But never did their eyes leave one another as they both wore this abrasive and serious face. The tension in the air was heavy and thick; it would need a knife to cut through it.

Or in this case, a sledgehammer of words.

“I know who you are...” said Vic, causing Willow to slurp up her noodles.

“Mmph... really now? You do...?” she replied, before cocking her head, “Then ago ahead... tell me... who am I?”

“You... you are... you're... aah... shit... fuck it...” he stepped up closer, “Your name is Willow Harvey. Captain Willow Harvey. You were apart of the Royal Dudral Navy.”

“Hm... and how long did it take you to figure that out, genius?” she replied, her tone snarky and belittling, “You read my card. You do know I left it for you, right? You're not as much of a detective as you think you are.”

“I'm not done,” he said, snapping her in place, “You are... you were Captain Willow Harvey. You participated in several high-profile naval battles during the Endo-Cor War back in the early eighties. The war only lasted for four years – from 1979 to 1983 – but in that time, you and the crew of your submarine served your country admirably... before your ship's destruction in 198--”

“Stop it...”

“Wh... what?”

“I SAID STOP IT!”

Vic tensed up as he looked at Willow. Her bark was one thing, but her face was something else. Those blue and black eyes of hers that glowed with a paranormal power, were now as bright as lights. Their glow dominated the whole of her face, making it impossible to see her, save for the savage scowl her teeth were clinched in. She had sooooooooooo many teeth, as befitting a shark. And all of those teeth were bore before him.

“Willow, I--”

“Shut... up...” she growled, causing the waves to shake outside, which itself made his yacht rumble.

Alerted, Vic's eyes widened and he looked around. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest to piss of the supernatural shark. Of course, that's what he told himself, anyway. What he did was different however. He moved in closer.

“Willow...” he whispered, braving the paranormal force before him, “I didn't come all of this way just to piss you off. I... I...” he stopped a moment, struggling to put his feelings into words, “I really did just come here to help you.”

“And how do you intend to help me...?” she growled, again making the boat shake, “What could you possibly do that can help me!? What is it you intend on even doing!? Why are you even here!?”

“I... I wanna make you move on!” he shouted back, his hands curling into fists, “I... haaah...” he then stopped and pulled back as he placed his hand on the side of his head, “I don't know how I'm supposed to do it... but that's what I want to do. Willow... you've been dead since 1982. That's... that's over forty years ago now. Forty years trapped at sea. I was stuck for a month and I was already about to explode, but you? I... I couldn't imagine.”

“Yes, you couldn't imagine!” Willow said as she put her finger to his chest, poking and forcing him up against a wall, “You couldn't imagine being stuck at sea for forty years. You couldn't imagine watching your crew die because of your mistakes, can you!?”

For a few moments, there was silence. And then Victor said...

“I can...”

And Willow's eyes widened.

Realizing what she said – even if inadvertently – the shine of her eyes began to dim. No longer did they block his view of her face, allowing him to see the... sadness... the regret... the vulnerability, she wore.

Willow dropped her arms and looked away. Vic took a step forward, but she stepped back. Then he reached for her, only for the shark to pull away like a strong gust of wind. Retreating to the entrance of the area, she stood there for a few moments, before quickly rushing back up the stairs, leaving him behind. And Victor remained there, rubbing the back of his head as he shook it.

“Way to go, Vic,” he said, berating himself, “So fucking smooth...”

Slowly he began rising up the stairs, following in Willow's footsteps. When he returned to the deck of his ship, he expected to not see her at all. But, no, there she stood at the bow of his boat, her arms crossed and back to him. In the distance he could see her submarine, standing tall from the ocean waves like a decaying pillar.

The once glorious hull of the ship had long since been eroded into rust, though this did little to hide the telltale signs of a battle it went through. Holes ran up and down the side of the hull, ruining the once remarkable submarine. To think, they were created in its final battle... and that final battle was the even that took Willow's life.

Now knowing what he knew, Victor looked over at the shark, watching as she gazed longingly towards her submarine. This place had been her home for decades... as well as her prison... her coffin. Face of concern, Vic reached out for Willow, only for her to pull away again. He understood.

“What was it's name...?” he asked.

For a few moments, Willow refused to answer. Instead she hugged herself closer and tensed up, before looking down and away.

“Nocturne...” she answered, her voice sounding as if... she hadn't said that name in a long, long time, “It's name was... Nocturne... ah...” closing her eyes, she dropped her arms and her head as well, “Victor... you shouldn't have come back here. Why would you come back here?”

“Remember what I said? I came back here for you,” he answered, “I want to help you, Willow. Stuck out here...” he shook his head, “It's not... no one deserves this, least of all you.”

“No, that's not true,” she said as she looked away, “I do deserve this, Vic. You...” then she looked back at him, her face so vulnerable... so hurt, “Victor, you don't know who I am. This? Me being here...? This is my penance.”

“This is your penance?” Vic repeated, “What? To suffer alone in the middle of an ocean for... how long exactly? An eternity?” he shook his head, “C'mon, Willow. What kind of 'penance' is that? What could you have done to deserve an eternity of loneliness?” stepping closer, his back came to her chest, “Willow... you were the captain of your ship. You served your country well. What could you have possibly done that this is your penance in afterlife?”

“That's right...” she whispered, “I was the captain of my own ship...” turning around, she faced him, where her face was tense and angry, “I was the captain of my own ship...” she stepped closer, pushing against him, “And look where that ship is...” she took another step, “Is it resting in some bay somewhere?” another step, “Is it hung up in some museum?” another step... “Or has it even been dismantled, so that its parts can be used in a newer, better ship?” Vic's back flattened against the wall behind him, as Willow pinned him in place with her superior body, “No... it's out here in the middle of the ocean. No, not even that. It's out here beneath the ocean itself. It's rusted and decaying! It's more of a corpse than it is a submarine! And how did it get this way!? Why is it this way!?” she slammed her hand on her chest, “Because of me! I was the captain of that ship! My order was law!”

Dropping her hand, Willow's expression shifted. No longer was she angry and frustrated, but instead reflective, as if realizing just how much she's lost. It all came back to her. Memories and feelings she hadn't experienced in decades. And it hurt her.

“One hundred sixty men. I had... one hundred sixty men who listened to me,” closing her eyes, tears began swelling from within as she gritted her teeth, “They obeyed my every command. They trusted me. Even when I didn't trust myself. They weren't just my crew... they weren't just my subordinates, or workers, or soldiers, or whatever the hell you want to call them! They were friends... like family. We spent months on board that submarine, eating the same shit food, telling the same shit stories, suffering through the same shit conditions... but we weathered it together. And then on a battle that should have been routine... I gave a command on information I thought was sound. Information that turned out to be faulty. I shouldn't have... I... I...” she closed her fist tight, “One hundred sixty men listened to me. And not one of them survived. Imagine that. Imagine if you were the captain of your own ship... and you got everyone killed. Fuck! I'm so pathetic!”

These feelings, these emotions, they tore Willow up inside. It didn't just show on her body, it was felt by their surroundings. As if in tune with her turbulent soul, the ocean waves began to quiver and quake, jostling Victor's boat. Realizing what she was doing, the shark's eyes opened and a gasp left her lips. Without another word, she turned to face the edge of the boat, and quickly rushed for it. She was going to dive in and just... disappear. If Vic wanted to linger about, then fine; so be it. But she wouldn't visit him again.

She wouldn't...

Grab...

“Uh?”

Willow locked up in place. His hand, had grabbed upon her wrist, stopping her. For a moment, the shark thought about pulling herself free of his grasp. It would be easy; she was far, far stronger than him. But for some reason, she lacked the strength to do so. Instead, her head dropped...

And then she turned around.

Willow's gaze met Vic's, reading the concerned and worried face he had for her... as well as the comfort. Yes, that's it; there was comfort resonating from his body. It was so warm, so lovely... so reassuring. A feeling and a face she hadn't seen in decades... and it left Willow feeling conflicted.

“Victor...” she whispered as he began leaning in, “N-no... Vic... j-just...” he kept moving in, “S-stop it, Vic... I'm seri... ous...” but he kept moving in, “Stop it before I hurt y-- mmmf...”

His lips...

Pressed to hers.

Willow's eyes widened as she was brought into a kiss by the man before her. It carried with it this sense of familiarity, reminding her of the kiss they shared on her submarine. But this time, it was not brought on by anger, but instead to help quell her... soothe her. And despite her volatile emotions, Willow felt herself grow pacified. Her eyes quivered, and then closed. Then she moved in... and deepened the kiss.

“Mmmm...”

Against the waves of the sea, Vic and Willow shared a kiss that went on for several moments. The once turbulent ocean became soft and quiet, with only the sound of their lips and clicking tongues echoing out. Clinging closer, the shark pressed her chest up against her lover's, while he wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her tight.

There was a familiarity to their kisses, a... nostalgia even. It had been a while since they last did this, and yet it felt so right. The sharing of their lips, again and again and again, sent out these lovely sounds which bounced against the empty ocean around them. All the while, the two kept hugging one another close, not breaking their kiss until Vic needed to breathe.

Chu...

Their lips parted, and their eyes opened. Looking forward, his gaze met Willow's, who looked back in a vulnerable manner. She was panting, and he was doing likewise, all as the air grew hotter and hotter. Gently raising their hands, the two clutched at one another when Vic said--

“Do you want to take this to the back?”

Willow bit into her bottom lip... and nodded.

…

“Slrrp... Slrrrp... Slrrrp... Slurrp...”

“Aaaah... must you be so... loud? Ahh...”

Doubly so with how quiet the ocean was.

Mouth agape, Vic stared up to the blue skies overhead. The smell of sea salt danced in his nose and on his lips, while the color blue was endlessly smeared upon the horizons like an infinite painting. Outside of his boat, and the submarine half-submerged in the distance, there was nothing.

Nothing but them.

Back here at the stern of his yacht, there was Victor and Willow. Specifically, he sat with his legs spread and his feet hanging over the edge of his boat's swim platform, where they laid beneath the surface of the water. And before him – occupying the space of his open legs – was a certain shark... who had her maw wrapped around his rigid dick.

Slowly Vic brought his gaze down, dropping it upon the head of a certain shark. Her white mop of messy hair bobbed up and down as she guided her mouth back and forth along his cock. He was trapped on all sides by the host and moist depths of her mouth and throat, which clinched around him as her passionate fellatio continued.

Teeth. Rows upon rows of teeth. Each one was as sharp and as deadly as the last. And he could feel them. They tickled, they prickled, and that dragged down the side of his cock. But there was no pain, no discomfort. Feeling them tease along his length, instead brought further and further moans of pleasure from Victor's lips.

“Aaah... keep going...” he whispered as he palmed the shark's head, pushing his fingers through her hair.

Willow didn't hesitate to obey. Closing her eyes, she placed her hand upon his hips and thighs, pinning him in place as she pushed her head down deeper upon his length. With great ease, she swallowed his cock whole, deepthroating it. A bit morbid, but since she was a ghost, she had no need to breathe, making such an action effortless for her. Victor however, groaned with pleasure as he gripped her head harder, then pushed up slightly with his hips, further burying his cock into her mouth and throat.

“Glp! Glrrp! Slrrrp!”

The lewd noises of her mouth reverberated through the air, and danced about in Victor's head. Willow's mouth and throat was nothing short of shear ecstasy. Her tongue would lap and wrap around his dick, her teeth would pluck at its sides, and her spit would completely cover him. And this warmth! Ooooooh, that warmth! It felt better than the sun as it bored down upon both of their bodies.

And Willow performed her fellatio with such ease. Half of her body was submerged in the water, her feet even lazily kicking beneath the ocean waves. All while her mouth kept pushing down... deeper... deeper... and deeepeeerrrr...! Before she began pulling back up, where her lips left his cock with a loud and lewd--

Pop!

Looking down, Willow came face to face with Vic's cock, its thick head oozing with spit and precum. Such a burly length, wasn't it? Appropriate for an abrasive man like himself.

“You... taste just like how you did last time,” said Willow as she began rising out of the ocean.

“You... remember how I taste...?” Vic replied, an eyebrow raised, “That's... a bit weird...”

“I'm a shark, remember?” she retorted, “And I've been eating fish for decades. Just saying...” gripping her cloak by the string around her neck, she began removing it, “When I get to taste something different, something new... I tend to remember that taste.”

Fwwwww...

Willow's cloak slipped off her shoulders, falling down to the deck beneath her feet. Straightening up from his seated position, Vic watched as water flowed down the shark's body, while she gripped her leather bra with one hand, and her leather shorts with the other. There was this feisty, if not hungry look in her eyes, and they alone told Victor everything he needed to know.

With one push, Willow pulled her attire aside, revealing the familiar sight of her busty bosom, and her slick pussy before his awaiting eyes. Her chest was curvy, her nipples were brown, and her pussy was wet with her honey that traveled down her thighs. And it was all coming closer... and closer... and closer!

Plap!

“Nmmph!?”

And then those tits fell around his head.

Willow surrounded Victor on all sides by the touch of her lofty tits. He froze up at first, before melting into the shark's embrace as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Squeezing him in, she nuzzled her lover closer to her bosom, completely smothering him, while at the same time mounting his lap.

With a little bit of maneuvering on her end, Willow began pressing and grinding the head of his cock against her sweltering folds. Just the slightest touches sent jolts down her body, making her groan with a randy, needy desire. She even bit into her bottom lip in an attempt to dispel some of the tension she was feeling.

Not that it did much...

“Nmmmphh... aaaah...”

The air between Willow and Victor was completely different from the last time. Yes, their last tryst was fueled with anger and frustration; equal parts rage and passion. But this one lacked that ire, that wrath. This time as they embraced one another, they felt nothing but desire, nothing but need. All it took was one push down to give them both what they wanted. So...

Willow pushed down...

Pat!

“Aah!”

“Nngghh!”

In one movement, his cock slipped straight into her folds.

The shark's back arched and her arms clutched in, hugging Victor close to her bosom, while her pussy clamped in around his dick. Suckling and swallowing him down as deep as she could go, her pert butt rested on his lap, and his arms were wrapped around her waist. For a few moments, the two remained that way; sitting there and hugging one another close. The warmth of the others' body felt too good to let go of; they wanted to experience it just a little while longer.

Until Willow began to move. Ever so slowly she brought her hips up... and then dropped them down with this weighty--

Pat!

With one solid movement, Willow buried Vic's dick deep inside of her pussy... but she didn't stop there. Gripping his shoulders, the shark began riding his cock in earnest, bringing her hips up and down, up and down, up and down, with these heavy and weighty pats and thrusts. The sound of their melding bodies bounced off against the silence of the ocean around them, while the once tepid waves started to grow stronger and stronger. In fact, it seemed as if they rippled every time Willow's hips met Vic's. Almost like...

Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat!

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

Yes, that's it. Making love to this supernatural shark with paranormal powers, made not just her sing, but the ocean around them as well!s Victor wanted to hear more!

And he was going to get that 'more'!

Smack! Smack!

“Ah!?”

Willow's eyes grew wide. Down below, Vic's strong hands reached around to grab a hold of her ass. In both palms he clinched her cheeks, squeezing them tight into this possessive and hungry hold! But he didn't stop there! He hunkered down, braced himself momentarily, tensed up his body, and then--

PATPATPATPATPATPATAPTPATPAT!!!

With great speed and reckless abandon, Victor drove his dick in and out of Willow's pussy with power equal to that of a steel driver! In and out, in and out, in and out, his cock made a mess of the shark's pussy, triggering these lewd, loud and wet noises! Her sweltering cunt was so hot, and so damn soft, even as it clinched hard around his member. Possessive, she outright refused to let go of him, and he felt the same! Just thrusting and fucking, bucking and riding! Every push up with his hips, was met with a bounce down of hers, as the two were in complete sync with one another!

And that union, this dance, it all finally built up to this!

One thrust! Two thrusts! Three thrusts! And finally--

“GUH!”

Pure euphoria...

Their bodies one, Vic unleashed a torrent of jizz deep inside of Willow's cunt! It rushed, it flowed, and it coated every inch of her awaiting cunt! But his hold didn't leave as soon as his climax rushed, no! He squeezed the shark hard, grinding her down on his dick, and feeling the tight, velvety walls of her cunt as it constricted around him! And those grinding hips, his flowing climax, and the hold he had on her, all served to make Willow--

“AAH-HAAAH!”

She gripped Victor back, holding him in her powerful arms, and even going so far to wrap her strong thighs around his waist. And then there was an explosion! Her orgasm too was just as needy as his, flowing nonstop from her strong folds, and staining his pelvis with those clear juices! But it wasn't just Willow who came, nor was it Victor. For once the shark gave her roaring moan, her lover looked up to the skies overhead...

Where he saw nothing but water.

“Oh shit...”

SKA-DUUUUUUUUUSSHHH!!!

The waves from the ocean fell upon the two, completely swallowing them. But – even though pounds upon pounds of water was collapsing upon him – Vic felt no pain. And – odder still – he didn't feel the need to breathe. He was... safe. Completely safe.

And when he looked forward as the waters of the ocean bared down upon him, he came face to face with Willow, and the face of shear glee she wore. Her smiling lips, her glowing blue eyes, the softness of her features; it had been a long, long time since she had felt so... elated.

And then the water fell...

SPLASH!

Victor fell back, laying flat on the floor beneath him as his eyes stared up to the skies overhead. Despite having such passionate sex, he didn't pant for breath. Instead, he took his time to breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out.

Breathe in...

“Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuffff!!!”

Breathe out...

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!”

“Victor?” Willow whispered, bringing herself up so that she could look into his eyes, “Are you okay?”

He didn't answer her, at least, not audibly. When their eyes met – green on blue – he felt a surge of vigor roar through his body.

More... he desired her more!

Reaching up, Victor grabbed Willow by her shoulders, taking her aback. Before she could speak, he began rising up, where he switched them around. No longer was he on his back, resting on his boat's floor. Instead, he laid the shark upon the ground, drawing a gasp from her lips.

Again she attempted to speak, and again she was cut off as Vic got closer. Taking Willow by surprise, he pushed up her legs, giving him more space to move around in as he came closer. Despite having brought them both to climax mere moments ago, his cock was already ready and willing to go. Why is that? Were his passions that invigorated?

Well... yeah...

Vic's cock once more was angled with her pussy. Willow – biting into her bottom lip – didn't fight him off. Excitement ruminated through her body, her tail even began smacking against the floor beneath her. All the while his cock came closer and closer and closer until--

“Aaah! Shit! Mmmph!”

Vic's cock pushed into Willow's throbbing pussy, delving down deep; straight to the hilt! But this time, there was no slow, passionate build up. No, this time there was nothing but lust... but desire. And Victor let those desires be known!

PATPATPATPATPATPATAPTPATPATPATPATPATPAT!!!

In and out, in and out, in and out! With the same power and speed of a piston, he thrusted his cock inside of her cunt! His hands sat on her legs, pushing them up so that he could have complete access to her pussy, an access he gleefully abused with his swinging hips. The shark bit into her bottom lip, attempting to stifle her voice as thrust after thrust sent her hair flying and breasts bouncing. Her cunt suckled on his dick, refusing to let go for as long as she could! Eventually, her blue eyes grew wide as she felt her impending orgasm once again. How was that possible? She just came moments ago! So did he! It was all driving her crazy!

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Mmmphh!?... AAAAAAAAHHHHH!?”

Her erotic cries of pleasure, triggered waves which coursed around the ocean around them. The once flat plane of blues became turbulent as their mistress was ravaged in the throes of ecstasy. And just like before, Victor ignored all of it. His gaze was focused completely on Willow. He desired nothing but Willow.

He just wanted Willow to be... happy. And if she found that happiness in the flames of passion, then so be it!

That's why he fucked her harder, faster! His long, thick member, pumped in and out of her tight and strong cunt, melding with it, and molding it into his shape! The speed, the precision, the shear lust and passion! All of it went straight into his hips and dick! And right when it reached its zenith--

THWAP!

“GUH!”

“AAAH-HAAAAAH!”

Vic slammed deep inside of Willow, where he sat there, attached to her for one moment... two moments... three moments... and then--

GRRRRKKK!!!

Damn... did his orgasm have to be so loud?

Victor's balls churned as he shot his creamy, white seed, deep inside of Willow's snatch. The shark's eyes rolled to the back of her skull, and a a long, drawn out moan flowed from her lips. Laying on the floor, she felt his cum pool within her uterus, turning it into a heated bath of his seed. She could barely move as more and more of his seed filled her up. Her back even arched off the ground, hanging there for several moments... before she finally fell back, unable to move.

For several long moments, Willow and Victor laid there, gasping and panting for breath. His cock was still deep into her pussy, still twitching and throbbing as it planted the last bits of his seed. He didn't want this moment to end. He never wanted this to end.

But it had to. Sooner or later, it just had to.

With a deep breath, Vic pulled his cock from her pussy, unplugging the cork of seed that began to ooze down on the ground. The shark was a twitching mess on the floor, unable to move, nearly unable to think, all while panting like some sort of dog. It seemed as if she had passed out from it all, for she wasn't saying anything, and her eyes were closed shut.

No, wait, she did say something.

“Ooooooooh... sooooo goooooood... aaaah...”

For several more moments they laid there, basking in the afterglow of their tryst, while the warm sun shined upon them. But even in this moment of post-coitus bliss, Victor's mind began to churn. He came out here with the expressed purpose of helping Willow, not to fuck her... though the sex was nice. But now that he was here, that same question reared its ugly head: What now? How does a person help a ghost?

Before, Vic's attempt only served to anger and frustrate Willow. But now that he had time to think about it – even though brief – he realized what the answer was. So he took in a deep breath... and then said...

“Willow...?”

“Hm?”

“It's not your fault.”

And for a few seconds, all he heard were the silent waves of the ocean.

“Haah... really...? Is that true?” Willow eventually said in a sarcastic manner, breaking up the quiet.

“Like... aaah...” he curled his fist in the air, taking a few seconds to help form his thoughts as he looked away towards the ocean, “You think... being here is your penance, right? That you deserve to be a ghost, and to haunt the halls of your submarine. But...” he shook his head, “I don't agree. You gave a command that led to the deaths of your crew, but you didn't do it pointlessly! Like you said, you had faulty information, and you gave an order based on it. Like... aaah... like...”

Vic paused for a few moments, attempting to settle his nerves and his words. A part of him feared he was only fumbling; that his intentions weren't getting through. Damn; this was far harder than he thought! What could he possibly say that could make her understand?

And then it struck him. The answer was right there. He was the answer. Because... because...

It's easier to help others than to help one's self...

“One time... some crazy, bitchy, smoking-hot troublemaker told me that... I don't deserve to blame myself for something I couldn't control.”

Closing his eyes, Victor felt himself return to the past... return to those days he spent on Willow's submarine. He believed it was his fault. He believed that if he successfully warned them about the oncoming storm, that everyone would have survived. It took him so long to accept the fact that he wasn't at fault for the Frappes' destruction. He did all he could do! Ultimately, he was only human. Whether or not he predicted the storm, they were already out at sea. Once the weather picked up, they were done for.

But he didn't come to that realization on his own. Someone else had to teach him that. And that someone else was right here beside him.

“Willow... I'm not going to pretend that I know what it feels like to be a captain of a warship,” Victor said as he exhaled deeply, “I'm not going to pretend I know what it feels like to command others, or to hold their lives in my hands. I tore myself up over the Frappes, and I was just the weather boy, so I couldn't imagine what it feels like to be in your shoes. But I also know that... blaming yourself for something you can't change, won't help anything. Haaaah... and, look, you said it yourself that your crew was your family, right? Then... ask yourself, would your family like it if they knew you were doing this to yourself?”

Opening his eyes, Vic took a few moments to review his own words, where he felt a bit awkward for having said them. Look, he was no psychiatrist, obviously! He was just a guy who did manual labor! He hadn't even gone to any college! So he wasn't sure if he was making an ass of himself or not.

But, dammit, those words came from the heart, as cliché as that is to say. If they didn't change Willow's mind, then Vic didn't know what else he could do.

“Heh... heh heh... hah... hahah...! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

“H-hey...? What's so funny?”

Slowly, Willow leaned forward, her feet kicking over the edge of the boat, Victor looked over towards her... where his eyes grew wide. Gone was the shark he just made love to. Replacing her was this human woman. This human woman with blonde hair. This human woman with blue eyes. A very... familiar human woman.

“Willow...?” he said breathlessly.

“You know... you remind me of someone,” she said as she poked his nose, “Someone who... pissed me off in life. Someone who I couldn't stand to be with... and also couldn't stand to be without. Hm...” closing her eyes, she leaned over, “I wonder if that's... just a coincidence...”

“Willow...”

“Mmm... hey Vic...”

“Yeah?”

“I'm tired. Do you have a bed I could sleep at?”

“Uh... y-yeah... follow me...”

Willow nodded and got up off of his body, with Victor standing up as well. There was something... odd in the air, he could feel it. It felt... strangely uncomfortable, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Nevertheless, he led Willow into his yachts tiny bedroom. On his lips, he wanted to ask if she was okay, but for some reason, he just lacked the courage to do so.

“You can... sleep for as long as you'd like in here,” he said, to which the shark... err... human smiled at him.

“Thanks, Vic,” she said as she sat on the edge of his small mattress, “It's going to feel nice sleeping in someone else's bed for a change.”

“Right... right... um... right...” he stepped back, “Hey, let me get you an extra pillow.”

“Heh... yeah... I'd like that...”

Vic slowly pulled back, his head held low and his eyes closed shut. For a few moments, he questioned if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Willow had turned back into a human? Did that mean he was making any sort of progress? Maybe she was just thinking, and she needed this time alone. That's what he assumed, anyway.

Shaking his head, he turned to do what he said he was going to do. Fortunately, he kept an extra pillow in his yacht's closet. Why? Well... he just likes pillows! But upon approaching his closet, he looked out the window to see nothing but the ocean. And, no, that's not a good thing. For in this specific direction, he should see Willow's submarine! But it wasn't there.

It was gone.

“What the...?” he said as he pulled back, before turning to rush towards his bedroom, “W-Willow! Willow, your submarine, it's...! What the!?”

Gone.

“Willow? Willow!”

Gone.

Willow was gone.

Vic's bedroom was completely empty, the bed itself was also flat, as if no one had even sat on it, let alone laid in it. But, no, that's not possible; Willow was resting on it when he left! But now it was...

“Willow...?”

There was no sign of her being here. There was no sign of her ever being here. In front of Victor, there was nothing.

“Willow... ahh... where'd you go...?”

What was the point of all this? That question bounced around in Victor's head as he sat upon the edge of his bed. This situation in its entirety was absolutely insane. Not only did he sail out here, but he was successful in reuniting with Willow.

And yet... he felt so... hollow. Why did he feel so hollow? Did Willow move on? Or had she merely returned to her phantom prison? Would he ever get an answer to these questions? And that made this so difficult to accept. This felt like a movie without an ending, at least, no ending that he could call good. It's like things just...

Stopped...

But...

It's not your fault...

“Willow?”

Looking up towards his door, Vic exited through it as he began following the voice. His feet brought him upstairs and back to the helm of his boat, where he gazed out towards the infinite blue of the ocean surrounding him. There was still no Willow, still no submarine. It was just him, and those words which floated around in his mind.

It's not your fault...

Again it played.

It's not your fault...

And again...

It's not your fault...

Once more...

_ It's not your fault _ ...

And at last, there was naught by silence.

For four more hours, Vic sat there on the edge of his boat. He watched the sunset and the moon rise, all without budging an inch. That's how long it took him to understand that...

Willow wasn't coming back.

Maybe that's how things were supposed to be. Maybe he was a fool for hoping he'd gain some closure when it comes to ghosts and spirits. Maybe it was even more foolish to think he could cure a ghost's pain with just one night of passion. But as he sat on the edge of his yacht, wondering if all of this was ultimately a waste of time, he heard that voice call out to him one last time, saying,

What are you waiting for?

And Victor smiled.

“Yeah... heh... I'm going... I'm going...”

Standing up, he returned to the helm of his vessel, where he slowly brought it to life. And though he had a smile on his lips, it was somewhat bittersweet. This may very well be the last time he returned to the ocean... and the last time he'd see Willow in life.

The next time... well...

“Alright... let's get home,” he said to himself as he laxly waved his hand through the air, “I'll see ya around sometime... Willow...”

Pushing on the throttle of his boat, Victor began driving home.