The Devil and the Deep.

"Doctor Eddie Reagan has been many things in his life: an academic, an ecological campaigner, a controversial author, an armed activist and most recently, a peacemaker. Now, with the release of his explosive new autobiography, 'Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea', the one-time 'Most Wanted Fugitive' has discussed the part he played in the insurrection against the dictatorship of Pascal Bunari, whose legacy of corruption has been blamed for the decimation of marine life in the Helios Islands, as well as laying bare the prominent role that Reagan himself played in the post-conflict reconciliation with the newly-elected Helios administration.

Doctor Reagan, I join you at the launch of your new book here in the City Aquarium, which some have described as your spiritual home when you return to the capital…"

***

Eddie stole away from the crowd, feeling the awkwardness and exhaustion that preceded a panic attack. The radio interviewer had used his allotted ten minutes with the same dreadful determination of a drunk at last orders in a pub. Eddie could imagine that the barrage of questions and cross-examination would show up in a lacework of bruises across his battered hide when he finally got home and took off the ridiculous suit he had worn for this shit show. His big evening.

When the smug young journo had left, after the longest ten minutes in recorded linear time, Eddie saw with dismay that yet another person was pushing forward with an eager look and a recording device. Feeling that he would prefer to find one of the shark tanks for a quick swim than say another word, Eddie took a moment to nod to his manager before slipping off quietly. He hoped to convey a 'damn you for doing this to me, Estelle' look, but as he snatched another glass of champagne from a waiter and darted away, he supposed that he probably looked more like someone eager to use the toilet. Estelle was in her element tonight, and it was clear to Eddie that even his reluctance to speak to the press delighted her. If he played hard to get with the journos, they would chase him all the more, his notoriety would increase, and the book would sell more copies.

"It's your own damned fault," he told himself. "You could have said no from the start, but your bloody ego had to have the final say".

He walked away from the exhibition hall through a tunnel, around which one of the main viewing tanks in the aquarium displayed a wealth of sea life. As ever, the sight intoxicated him, and he forgot his frustrations for a moment as he watched the bustle of life that teemed through the brightly-lit water. Sea dragons and pipefish danced their comical patterns amongst the rocks while small shoals of silver fishes flickered through gaps in the artificial seabed. Higher up, a bale of easy-going turtles surveyed their terrain. Higher still, two moronic-looking moonfish floated along like dirigibles in a steampunk movie, embarrassed by their size. The sight of the main tank always reminded Eddie of something he had seen in an old French comic book when he was a kid. A vast city filled with millions of flying vehicles, all moving in their own directions, but all connected by an understanding of the chaos. When he read the comic and saw the detailed frames, he could imagine endless private stories hidden within the ink and yet, he remembered associating a chilling anonymity with the whole picture. The main tank of the City Aquarium reminded him of that; how small it felt to be a lone creature in a teeming landscape.

A lone cuttlefish hovered along, hugging the sandy floor of the tank as its clubbed bands rippled and glowed at its sides. As ever, the movement of the cephalopod made Eddie think of some hasty and discreet errand performed at night. The cuttlefish settled at some predetermined spot and wiggled down to bury itself. As he watched, he saw its colouring morph to match the rocks around it. He wondered what secret it was guarding.

Eddie moved on from the main tank, eager to find his favourite spot. He loved all the exhibits in the aquarium, but tonight he had no use for penguins, mantas, or nurse sharks. He would even avoid the new rainforest exhibit this once, with its tree frogs and snapping turtles. He wanted the peace and tranquillity of the Chironex.

The Chironex fleckeri, or box jellyfish, was a species he had first encountered in Papua New Guinea when he was a young man. It was a few months after the mad enthusiasm took hold of him, and the anger had started making him cut corners and take the law into his own hands to save the animals he loved. He had been collecting field notes for his first book, diving down into the chaos of the Coral Triangle for specimens when he had brushed against the tentacles of a floating Chironex. At first, he hadn't even seen the ghostly mushroom cloud that had emerged over a ruin of coral, but he had felt its touch. One of the creature's three-metre-long tentacles, nearly invisible in the water, brushed against his stomach. He had nearly died.

"That was a long time ago." his mind barked at him. He quickened his step, his hand unconsciously brushing against the spot where the jellyfish had stung him as he tried to outpace his memories. He could imagine the pain of it still, searing like a gunshot and with toxins that caused his body to go into cardiac arrest as they hauled him over the gunwale of the old trawler he had hired for his expedition. The last thing he had seen was the face of Stasia reaching out her strong arms to drag him inboard, her face a picture of fearful loss.

He had been young then, fit, and keen, more likely to wear boots and combat pants than the expensive suit and leather-soled shoes that now slapped on the polished tiles as he hurried to the sanctuary of the Chironex. He had been in love, had her. He had recovered in time.

Eddie had survived the jellyfish sting with a thrilling anecdote for his book, a new lover in Stasia, and a name for his boat. His Aussie crew had a nickname for everything, and after stabilising Eddie, they had started making fun of his injury, as a matter of course.

"Got yourself stung by a sea wasp, did ya, Eddie? Maybe if you're a good lad, Ana here will pee on the injury. Bet you'd like that you dirty git, eh?"

Stasia had just smiled at the ribbing and then went back to mopping his brow, her eyes always searching his. When she did this, he wondered if she was looking for some pain in him. It took him a long time to decide what colour they were, but he spent weeks making his mind up. Her eyes changed colour with her moods.

The boat became the Sea Wasp after that, and the book evolved into something like an activist's travelogue as they took her around the spots of coral destruction to which the local scientists, guides and fishermen guided them. It was a happy time, but they became angrier with the increasing devastation they saw to the coral. They started reporting on what they saw and searching out new environmental atrocities, and it didn't take long for their expeditions to take on the aspect of military reconnaissance.

Eddie stopped jogging as he reached the little viewing room he had been seeking. It was a hidden chamber, set apart from the main corridor, and as silent and peaceful as the transept of a church. A lone Chironex fleckeri floated like a spectre in the tank, backlit and suffused in ambient light that morphed from green to red to purple to blue. The deadly creature's tentacles faded in an out of view.

He allowed himself to remember. His fingers brushed at the shirt over his belly, tapping the spot where a tattoo now covered the old wound.

Their reporting had turned into articles, books, and public debates. These had turned into protests at drag-net fishing and industrial pollution. During one voyage, a patrol boat fired a warning shot across their bows for breaching Helios territorial waters. As they watched, the armed vessel had signalled its consent to a garbage scow to dump chemical waste into a coral lagoon.

They made some changes to the storage in the hold of the Sea Wasp.

When they returned to the lagoon on the next moonless night to take photographs of the damage, they had black-market rifles close to hand. Events escalated naturally, an evolution of their anger and their love. It was terrifying and fascinating. He spent his nights trying to uncover the secrets in Stasia's eyes as they clung to each other and spent his days sailing inexorably towards some final conflict. The two of them scorched each other into action and whispered peace in the darkness.

In the viewing chamber, the light in the tank changed to a soft blue, and Eddie saw himself reflected. He looked nearly old now: another media man in an expensive suit with a borderline drinking problem and bad burnout. The light changed again, erasing the reflection.

"Hello, Eddie. It's been a long time."

Of course, she had come. He wondered whether he had seen her earlier in the crowd: something in the carriage of her body that stirred in his mind or the sway of clothing about her frame. It had crept into his thoughts, unannounced, as he gave the interview to the young journalist. Perhaps the morphing cuttlefish had solidified the feeling. It wasn't a panic attack, the throb in his stomach told him so.

It was guilt.

"I knew I'd find you here," she said.

"Stasia." he murmured. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the tank. His neck felt rooted to the spot and his body suddenly felt old and immobile. A hot flush of some emotion was scorching his face with a contradicting sensation of plunging into ice water.

"It's alright, my love. I'm here as a friend."

The light changed again, and her outline came into view. An emerging reflection that solidified and clarified as she approached. Eddie forced himself to turn and face her.

She glided towards him across the floor of the viewing chamber, a metallic, asymmetric dress showing off her lithe body. She had a copy of his book clutched to her side. He hadn't seen her in several years, but she looked the same. Better even that he remembered. His Sea Warrior - elegant and secretive. His love.

"Oh, Stasia, why did you come?" he croaked, and before he knew what was happening, they were entwined in each other's arms and kissing. He felt tears sting his eyes as they embraced. He smelled the familiar scent of her skin and tasted the memory of old kisses. His stubble scratched against cheeks that he had once held with loving tenderness. He sobbed.

"Hush now. It's alright, darling." She held him, rubbing a hand over his back as she planted kisses over the tracks of his tears.

"I couldn't be a killer anymore. I couldn't do it. I had to get away."

Her gaze captured him, and the changing lights in her eyes made them fathomless and fiery.

"But we promised each other, darling. We vowed, remember?" Her fingers gently traced over his belly, then moved to the stylised tattoo of the cuttlefish on her neck. "Until the end, until we could stop them all."

"I thought I could help rebuild. Make something permanent, but I didn't have the energy."

"You abandoned us. Went off to play with the enemy."

"I needed time. I wanted to fix things."

"It's okay, I understand."

"I was a monster."

"We both were."

She held him a little longer, then took him by the hand to a little bench and sat with him. Her smile returned as she gestured with the book. "So is this any good, or more of your fanciful stuff?"

The teasing in her smile made his heart leap. Now that she was speaking normally, and he had calmed down, he noticed how hoarse her voice had become. The smile was the same.

"Oh, the usual old rubbish. Egotistical nonsense to scare up funds and make Mister-and-Missus-Whole-Foods excitable."

She grinned at that, then started leafing through the book, her expression growing quizzical.

"I changed your name, Stasia, in the book. I thought you'd want that."

"I wanted you." Her voice sounded almost gone as she continued to scan the blurb.

"I'm still yours, forever, babe. I just needed-"

"A rest, I know." She coughed then. "It'll be my turn to need a rest soon, I fear."

He stared at her and saw that she was thinner, perhaps more tired than he first thought.

"Are you sick?"

"I'll be okay. I'll get plenty of rest soon enough."

"Come live with me. I can take care of you."

"We can rest together, is that it?"

Eddie thought about arguing, as he felt a sudden plummeting of despair. She reached for his face.

"Enjoy tonight," she said. "I'll see you soon, and we can rest together. I like the sound of that."

"I love you, Stasia."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes playing between green and hazel and yellow and brown. She nodded and then kissed him.

"You too, Eddie. Get some rest. You look worse than I feel. I'll see you soon."

He clutched her hand as she rose and felt the fingers of her hand disappear through his. She fumbled with the little clutch under her arm, spraying something, and then carried on. Eddie watched the woman he loved shimmer out of sight, his heart beginning to hope again for the future.

"Oh shit, Eddie, I forgot to ask, will you sign this?"

She had the book open and was handing it to him before he could object. Embarrassed, he held the book up to the light and accepted the pen that she passed.

Eddie scribbled a note for her as she stood waiting. Her eyes smouldered as she watched him pour his heart out onto the title page. Just as he finished, she snatched the book away. The edges of the slightly-damp, newly-pressed paper sliced into his skin.

"Thank you, Eddie," she said, then kissed him again. She put a folded note into the pocket of his jacket and winked. "To open later. I'll see you soon." Then she stroked his face and left.

Eddie watched her leave and then breathed out one long sigh. As her footsteps departed, he heard the tinkling noise of a glass bottle falling to the tiled floor. He thought to follow, but he knew she wanted to wait to see him again. He trusted she would get in touch.

He turned to look at the Chironex and thought about Stasia, and the violence they had unearthed. He thought about their love and felt his heart thump madly with joy. He was so happy he was sweating. They could make it work. They would be together again, away from the madness.

He was just considering returning for the rest of the party when he became aware of the stickiness on his finger. A papercut, he assumed, one of the little bleeders that makes a mess. When he noticed it, he couldn't help but wince at the realisation of how painful it was.

"Getting soft," he grumbled to himself as he reached for the handkerchief in his top pocket to wrap the stubborn little cut. If he was going to sign any more books, he shouldn't bleed over the damned things.

Stasia's note fluttered onto the bench and he reached shaking fingers to pick it up. Christ, that little cut smarted. In fact, his whole hand was in agony now. He unfolded the note and read, and then gasped.

"From one of two remaining Sea Wasps. To the other. See you soon, my love. Stasia. Forever xx" - underneath was drawn a copy of the design she had sketched all those years ago. The one he had tattooed on his belly. On the back of the note was writing, evidently the instruction page from a scientific kit. He read the top of the page and then pushed into a shambling run.

ETHANOLIC NEMATOCYST VENOM - sp. C. fleckeri - Supplied to Dr Anastasia Reagan. Purpose: anti-venom exp.

DO NOT HANDLE unless fully trained in anti-venom harvesting procedures and wearing protective equipment.

***

Eddie heard the slap of uncoordinated feet as he lurched back to the party. He would find a defibrillator or a first aid kit, or he might be lucky enough to find a doctor in the house. The pain in his hand throbbed up through his arm and across his chest. His skin had taken on a xanthic hue. He felt the beginnings of dizziness and his view was starting to churn. He thought of his crew of Aussies that he had abandoned to their deaths. Deaths at the hand of the corrupt officials he had tried to change. He had just needed to rest.

Just a little further. Just a little further.

He was approaching the viewing tunnel back to the main exhibition hall.

He would survive this and forgive Stasia, and they would be together. She loved him, forever, and had said so herself.

He ignored the magnificent animals he loved as he plodded past them. They flashed and glimmered like jewels in the corner of his vision, all of them embedded in a blue glow. The ground was shaking beneath the weight of his footsteps.

He thought of the Chironex.

They would be together forever, his Sea Warrior and him. It would be alright.

Just a little further. Just a little