six months later

Yixing had always thought it funny how, day to day, nothing ever changed; yet when he looked back on the six months that had passed, nothing was the same as it was. He supposed that after all that had happened to him, he'd never be the same. Still, he took it upon himself to pretend that things would be okay, just as they had before. He watched with a grim smirk the headline on the news. In the corner of the wating room, the TV screen was showing a familiar face: Dr. Lee Sung Hwan with two police men on either side of him, and a flock of press scrambling to get a word or two. The anchorwoman's voice spoke over the muted scene:

"In more recent news, Dr. Lee Sung Hwan, former head of the Sirenian Theories sect of the marine biology department at the Institute of Science, has finally been convicted of his crimes against the National Navy and the coast guard. Lee's actions in acquiring unauthorized sonar technology led to the devastation of off-shore fishing industries and resulted in the mass whale beachings in the later part of last year. For his actions, Dr. Lee will be facing up to 18 years in federal prison and 500 hours of community service."

Yixing smirked in his seat and let a small wave of triumph wash over him. Finally, that demented doctor was getting what he deserved. After stealing Jinyu away from the lab, of course he, Luhan, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo had to answer to the authorities. But Luhan's father had pulled some strings for them, which usually meant that he bribed someone. Yixing was uncomfortable with the situation at first, but he'd learned not to question some things. If it kept him out of jail, then so be it.

These six months had been quiet; perhaps too quiet. It was almost suffocating. But he'd convinced himself that if he just kept going, eventually, he'd return to normal. After all, he couldn't spend his entire life looking for her. Still, sometimes, at night, he'd let his mind wander, just for a few hours, just until he fell asleep. And then he'd pull himself up by his bootstraps and prepare for the new morning, which always held considerably less hope than the morning before it.

"Zhang Yixing," said a stern female voice. The secretary poked her head out the door and Yixing stood up at attention.

"Here," he called.

"Mr. Yoo will see you now," the bespectacled woman said before returning to her desk.Yixing gathered his things and adjusted his tie. After clearing his throat, he followed the secretary through the door and prepared to meet Mr. Yoo about a portfolio of songs he'd sent. After six months, he'd finally summoned enough courage to send his songs and a few demos to a producer. Mr. Yoo had called him the previous night to discuss his submissions.

Yixing walked through the door and was met by the scent of cotton. It was a very large office, illuminated by floods of natural light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one side of the room. The rest of the office was characterized by an array of cosmopolitan design and decor. A man, Mr. Yoo, sat at the large desk in the center of the room. He had just finished hanging up a phone call and stood to greet the young man.

"You must Zhang Yixing," he said. Yixing bowed. "Come on in. Have a seat, and let's take a listen to your demo. I've got quite a few comments for you."

Yixing did as he was told and sat in the black, leather chair that faced the man's desk. Then, the producer touched a few buttons on a remote, and the songs began to play. 

Mr. Yoo leaned his elbows on his desk while one of the demos Yixing had made played on his CD player. Yixing sat stock still in the chair, watching Mr. Yoo's face for any indication of how the man might feel toward the song. Yixing winced a little hearing his voice on the tape.

"I know," Yixing said. "My voice doesn't go with the song, but I think that -"

"I like it," Mr. Yoo said. Yixing widened his eyes.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it sounds great," the man said. "What do you call it? 'My Lady'? Genius, I like the smooth start, contrasts the harder beats in the song. It's got that R&B vibe. And I gotta tell you about how impressed I was by your aesthetic when I listened to rest of your submissions on the tape. My wife loved it."

"Uh, thank you, sir."

"I'll give you 400 for the rights to all of them."

Yixing's jaw nearly dropped hearing the number.

"Uh, all of them?"

"Yeah, they're great. I'll buy the whole portfolio for 400. Sound good?"

Yixing still couldn't believe it. "Sure," he said blankly. He bit his tongue for a moment before adding another query. "You're serious?"

Mr. Yoo laughed a little at the shocked expression in the young man's face. He liked youths who had talent; and he knew a winning song when he heard one, and from Yixing, he'd heard ten of them.

"Yes, I'm serious," the producer said. "Granted, I probably won't be using all of them on the next release, but I think they would be useful to have. You've got a lot of amazing pieces here: Let Out the Beast, 3-6-5...Peter Pan. So, what do you say? Can I buy your songs?"

Yixing smiled wide. "That's.... Yes, sure! Thank you... Thank you so much!"

"You've got talent, kid," he said. Mr. Yoo looked at Yixing's excited face and was reminded of his own youth, running around to all the producing labels, begging for someone to give him a chance. For once, he was happy to be on the other end of the spectrum, giving chances to promising young writers. And he knew that Yixing was a good choice. "Say, tell me a little about that last track, the piano one. What's it called?" Mr. Yoo asked.

Yixing wrinkled his brows. "The piano track, sir?"

"Yeah, I think it's called 'Don't Cry'?"

Yixing shut up his mouth, wondering how to reply. "Was... Was that song on the demo CD?"

Mr. Yoo looked curiously at him. "Yes, it was," he said. "Was it supposed to be?"

Yixing swallowed and looked apologetically at Mr. Yoo. "No, it wasn't," he said. "That was probably a mistake."

"Hmm," Mr. Yoo said, wrinkling his brows and looking at the sheet music for the song. "That's a shame. It's a beautiful song. My favorite in the set, actually. Yixing, if you're willing, I'd love to buy this one off of you, too. It's elegant, emotional, the lyrics are very poignant, and I'd be willing to put in extra payment for it."

Yixing smiled apologetically once more. "Thank you for the consideration, sir," Yixing answered. "But... I, uh... not this song."

There was a short silence between them, and Mr. Yoo let out a sigh and put the sheet music back down. 

"Who did you write for?" Mr. Yoo asked. Yixing looked surprised at the question, but as songwriter himself, Mr. Yoo knew when a song was written for a specific person. And this song was just saturated with the spirit and passion of a songwriter writing for a specific person. At once, Yixing's mind recalled the image of a certain girl, but he hesitated telling the producer. Yixing just smiled.

"A girl," Yixing answered. "That's all I'll say about it. Sorry."

Mr. Yoo looked back at the young man and could tell that something about this song was uniquely special to him. At once he understood the reasoning behind his decision not to sell the song to him. It was too personal, too close to let it go. He nodded slowly. He paused the music, grabbed a pen from his desk, and began to fill out a form. 

"Alright then, just the nine," he said. He scribbled his signature down on the form, ripped it from the pad and pushed the paper to Yixing. "Just sign on that line, and initial twice where it's instructed. And then you're good to go. I'll have my people give you a call when we're ready to record it or if we want to make some changes. Give that form to the woman at the desk and she'll pay you."

Yixing reached for the pen and followed the man's instructions, signing the paper where it was indicated. With the deed done, Yixing stood from the chair with a smile and shook Mr. Yoo's hand.

"Thank you so much, sir," Yixing said. He was about to pull away, but Mr. Yoo kept his grip on his hand for a second.

"I'll tell you what, Yixing," Mr. Yoo said. "I know I won't convince you to sell that song to me, but anytime you want to come into the studio and record the song yourself, you're more than welcome to."

Yixing looked at the man's face for any sign of jest and found none. He felt excessively humbled by Mr. Yoo's kindness. He smiled appreciatively and put his hands into his pockets.

"I'll think about it," he said. Mr. Yoo smiled.

"Good boy," he said. Yixing walked toward the door, but before he exited, the producer called to him one more time.

"Just a thought, Yixing," he said, and Yixing paused. "The song is wonderful and all, but I'm not exactly sold by the title."

"Oh," Yixing answered, not sure what to think.

"Here's a suggestion," Mr. Yoo said. "Make it a three-word title; change it to Baby Don't Cry."

The Northern shore of the country was famed for its peaceful, sandy beaches, where the white sand contrasted the dark blue brilliance of the shining sea. Still and bright, the ocean had the calming effect of a balm on charred skin. People came from miles around the country and retreat to these tranquil shores. But that night, the water was stirring. Agitated waves beat down on the sands of the beach, rumbling and growling in their furor. There was intrigue afoot down in those depths. Every creature in the deep could feel it.

The mermaids woke, sensing that something was terribly wrong. They unfurled their tales and looked to each other only to find that no one could understand what was happening. Taking to the water, they followed their senses, swimming as deep down as they could, until they reached the sea witch's caverns. They hid behind rocks and weeds, trying as they might to understand what was happening. In the dark corners of the undiscovered seas, that witch was up to something.

The sea witch moved like a wraith through the frigid waters. Agitation was running through her bones. She had waited a long time for the right time to begin the rite. She was aware of the mermaids watching her. Let them watch, she thought. She would soon be mistress of these waters with the magic she'd gained; better for them to know it now. Her fingers writhed toward her prize: the glowing light of a siren's soul, which was white now, instead of gold, locked away in her underwater keep. When the other mermaids caught sight of the glowing soul, a collective gasp ran through the crowd of gathered creatures. Their eyes widened, and their jaws dropped, wondering how the witch had gotten such a thing.

A cruel laugh rippled through the witch's throat as she gathered the light soul into her spindly fingers, nearly crushing it. Greed and all her sinister intentions coursed through her blood as she brought the siren soul closer to . Her opened her jaws wide, her razor teeth poking outward, and the light of the siren soul disappeared in , swallowed whole.

The mermaids could feel the intensity of the frozen silence that followed in the moments after the witch had swallowed the soul. Fear settled into their guts, wondering what would become of them now that the witch had regained her siren abilities. Chaos would ensue. Danger and death would surely come to them now. The witch's mouth curved into a smile, sickly and unearthly. Her wraith-like body moved through the waters again, exiting the caverns and facing the rest of the mermaid company. No one would be able to stop her now.

She could feel the intensity inside of her growing as the souls inside of her merged. Her power was growing, she could feel it. Her deteriorating body was gaining back its beauty and its strength as it absorbed power from the siren soul. Yes, she'd be unstoppable. 

But there was suddenly a sharp stab of pain. Right in her midsection. A grimace replaced her sneering grin. Another stab of pain came, and another, until it was attacking nearly every part of her body, burning from the inside. Something had gone wrong. The witch's panic turned into a chaos as she bolted out of the deep and screamed her agony. Her skin was pale again, transparent. Her skin began to deteriorate, melting away, turning into foam just as it had happened to the siren she destroyed. Her scales fell away, her bones disintegrating. The mermaids watched in astonishment at what was happening.

And the witch gave one final cry, a deep, brazen sound that came from the deep of . And that was the last of her before her body had completely disappeared. The mermaids watched intently, still confused. But out of the ashes of the witch's death, there came a light. The siren soul drifted up from where it had been swallowed and floated in the open water, burning bright and glowing, still totally alive. That was when one clever mermaid made the distinction.

She swam slowly toward the small glowing ball of white light and touched it tenderly. This was no mermaid soul it all; somewhere in the time that the witch had captured it, this light had turned from gold to white. This was a human soul now. And it didn't belong to just any mermaid; it had belong to their siren, their golden protector who'd left the sea in search of love. And she must have found it if her soul had become immortal. And it was this immortal soul that killed the witch from the inside.

With a joyous call, she began to swim upward. Her sisters slowly joined her, taking the human soul back to the surface, where it could regain form and body and return to its home. The mermaids swam upward, intertwining their paths with an upward lift, guiding the soul with their currents and their songs, singing goodbye to their dear sister, and wishing her luck. Slowly yet surely, the small white light floated up to the surface. When they came too close to the surface, the mermaids began to swim away, trusting that the foam and the waves would guide it to shore. 

The sky was black and stormy again by the time the soul had floated up. Swept by the waves it was carried to shore, and the foamy waters carressed it and washed over slowly until the bubbles hardened, forming the body of a girl. Washed up on the shore with no clothes and completely unconscious, Jinyu was once more welcomed to land. 

Hours must have passed, and Jinyu didn't wake. The stormy sky soon calmed down until the moon reappeared. And a woman was trekking across the wet sand. She pulled her knit jacket closer to herself and tightened the knot of the scarf that wrapped her head. She was having another one of her lonely fits; ever since her husband died and her son left home, it was like the sea became her family. And no matter how stormy the weather became she still took it upon herself to take a short walk across the shore and then back home; these waters were all she had left.

She had lost her husband to these waters; he'd been a seaman on a government vessel, and one day his ship was caught in a storm, and he never returned. His body had been claimed by the sea. She supposed that was why she came out here so often. She felt a little closer to the things she lost, the things that had been swallowed up and never returned. But tonight on her walk, she stumbled upon something unexpected: the body of a young girl.

The woman ran to her and fell on her knees, checking to see if she was awake. She watched the girl's chest move up and down and determined that she still lived. Shedding her jacket, she threw it over the girl and did what she could to pick her up. How strange to find something like this on such a night. Storms usually meant lost lives, claimed by the sea; yet sometimes, these lost things would wash ashore.

Yixing was busy at the piano again; Mr. Yoo had asked him to insert a rap sequence in My Lady in order to accomodate one of the rappers in his company, and Yixing was more than happy to do so. Cups of coffee littered the top of the instrument, and that probably wasn't good for the piano's health. Yixing chewed on his pencil, trying to figure out whether he wanted a divided rap sequence or to just insert the whole thing in one chunk. That was when Mei walked into the room. She'd just come home from a fair at her school. 

Yixing looked up at her, expecting that she was coming in to announce that dinner was ready or something. Instead, he widened his eyes, taking in her clothing.

"What are you wearing?" he demanded. Mei furrowed her brows and looked down at herself. It was a white dress with pale blue horizontal stripes. Yixing recognized it because he'd been the one to buy it; only, he hadn't bought it for Mei. 

"This?" Mei said, pinching the side of the skirt and flaring it out. "It's a... it's a dress."

"That's not your dress," Yixing said. "Did you wear that to the fair? That's not even yours."

"It fits fine, though," Mei said. Over the six months, she'd grown taller, and yes, the dress did fit her better than it would have if she'd worn it a year ago. Still, Yixing was annoyed by the fact that Mei had worn it.

"Still doesn't change the fact that it's not yours," he said. "Go change."

"Why?" Mei asked, disturbed. "It's not like Jinyu's going to wear it anymore."

"Will you just go change your damn dress?" Yixing yelled sternly. Mei widened her eyes at him but stood her ground. Seeing that she wasn't about to leave, Yixing rolled his eyes and turned back to the music. Mei silently fumed. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to keep from yelling as well.

"It makes her feel closer," Mei said softly. Yixing froze, and Mei continued. "You're not the only one who misses her, you know."

Yixing felt something snap inside of him, and guilt fell down on his shoulders. Mei walked forward and placed something on the piano next to the empty mugs of coffee. It was a small, transparent plastic cup with a lid. And inside of it was a single, tiny goldfish.

"I won that at the fair," Mei said. Without another word, she turned and began to retreat out the room. Yixing sighed and the piano bench.

"Hey, Mei," he said, and his sister stopped at the door. "I... Alright, I'm sorry. You go ahead and wear what you want." The apology came too late however; Mei just left without saying anything in return, closing the door softly behind her. Yixing turned back to his work with an agravated sigh. Of course he should have known that Mei would be upset about Jinyu's departure; after all, he wasn't the only one whose life had been affected. And Mei didn't even have a chance to properly say goodbye. The last time she saw Jinyu had been when she was taken away. She had less closure than him. 

Yixing looked at the goldfish Mei had brought him and he felt frustrated with himself. He'd stopped looking for her a long time ago, but he still had rouble letting go of the hope that she'd still come back. Somehow. He took the portfolio of songs and rummaged through them, pulling out the sheet music for the song he'd written for her, the first song he'd finished since the situation with Sa Rang. Then, he took a pencil and changed its title: Baby Don't Cry.

The first signs of consciousness came to Jinyu in the form of cold; she had suddenly conscious of how cold she was despite the spiking warmth of her body. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and she was startled for two reasons: one, being that she had woken up at all. And two, she was in an unfamiliar room. It was dark in the room, but she could still see clearly that she was on a bed, and to her right there was a desk, and to her left a bookshelf. The ceiling had been painted blue, and white clouds were painted over that.

Fear began to settle in, along with the wild array of questions: where was she? How did she come to be here? What exactly had happened? 

"Are you alright?" said a kind, female voice. Jinyu slowly turned to her right and saw a woman seated there. Her face was slightly grey, though she supposed it was from age or exhaustion. Despite that, there was kindness in her voice, and in her face. She reminded her of Yixing's mother. 

Yixing, she thought. What had happened to him? Where was he now? And how long had it been? The woman suddenly rose from her seat and came closer to where Jinyu lay. She pulled the blanket closer and tucked it under her chin.

"You still have a bit of a fever," the woman said. "I made soup, it's on the stove now. But I think we'd better save that for when you're better rested. I can imagine that you've had quite an adventure. And I'm sure that we both have questions."

The woman touched Jinyu's face, and Jinyu closed her eyes, savoring the feel of her soft hands. She felt tired; she felt like a rock that had tumbled down a mountain. 

"What's your name, dear?"

Jinyu opened her eyes again and looked at the woman's face. Jinyu her lips; they were chapped and slgihtly painful. Even felt terribly hurt. Mermaids weren't given names; names were human business. Yet something tugged at her brain, the memory of the name she'd been given, and she summoned the strenght to pronounce it.

"J..." she whispered. "Jin... Jinyu."

The woman smiled. "My name is Vera," the woman said. "I'll be taking care of you."

There was so much more than Jinyu wanted to know, and so many questions that she wanted to ask. But the enormity of her exhaustion took over, and soon she was just too tired to keep her eyes open. She needed to sleep some more. Vera sat back in the swivel chair and sighed, looking about the room. This room used to be her son's room, and sometimes when he took it upon himself to come back home for some holidays he would stay here. In fact, it was almost time for another holiday and he'd be home soon. 

Vera knew she'd have to explain Jinyu to him once he got back. She reached up and untied the scarf from her head and let the air touch the bare skin there. She reached up and ran a hand over her bald head; once upon a time she'd had beautiful hair. Now, chemotherapy and radiation therapy and countless other cancer treatments had taken that pride from her. Vera looked back at Jinyu and noticed her cropped hair. Perhaps once upon a time, Jinyu had long, beautiful hair as well. 

She stood up and began to put the cups and medication back onto the tray, and she began to walk back to the kitchen. She turned the fire below the soup down to "low" and let it simmer slowly. Then, the unmistakeable sound of a car in the driveway. Vera smiled. Right on time, my son, she thought.

Nichkhun was home.