Archive of Our Own

Stoffel’s dreams are cold.

He is not aware of many things other than this; the freezing cold, feeling like ice is seeping into his bones, his teeth chattering. It makes it hard to think, hard to concentrate on anything else. Wet clothes on his back, damp hair, feeling like he’s forgetting something. Hard to breathe, suddenly: lungs squeezed tight, cold in his mouth, in his throat–

Stoffel wakes up with a gasp, almost startling right off his couch. It takes him a few moments to regain his bearings, to blink away the tears. 

He is in his living room. The afternoon sun is filtering through his curtains, a slight breeze making them flutter slightly. It’s barely mid-January, and though it is chilly in Monaco, it is not cold enough to justify these dreams Stoffel keeps having.

Which is why he does not think they are merely dreams.

It takes a few more minutes for Stoffel to be able to sit up, the room swaying slightly around him. He can feel the beginning of a headache, as usual, and he grabs the glass of water and painkiller he had prepared in advance, gulping it down eagerly. The feeling of the water going down his throat makes him shiver, but he brushes it off.

The low table by the couch is a mess of half-burned incense and cold cups of tea that Stoffel hasn’t bothered to clean up yet, things he knows his friends wouldn’t be thrilled to find in his apartment. 

Mitch has this new thing of popping over randomly just to check if Stoffel is still alive; Stoffel once found him curled up by his front door in kitsune form, just waiting for him to come back. Norman will sometimes call him no matter the hour, just because Stoffel hasn’t replied fast enough to his texts. Even Jev, usually more level-headed and reserved, checks in on him more than he used to.

And Stoffel gets it, he does. Last year has taken a toll on all of them and it’s hard to get past it; shake off the nightmares and the anxiety, the feeling that they’re not really safe, even at home.

Stoffel just has another, additional way to make sure that they are –if only he can make sense of it.

Stoffel gets up on unsteady legs and makes a half-attempt to clean up, brushing the ashes aside and bringing the cups to the kitchen. He should probably get started on dinner, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stomach the food. The thought of a shower strangely makes him anxious.

His hands are still shaking.

Stoffel brings the tea to Diriyah, though he doesn’t dare light up the incense in case the smoke triggers the detector in his hotel room. It’s probably not his best idea, trying to get a vision before the weekend, but the thought that something could happen while they’re here makes him so nervous that he cannot bear not to try. 

Jev eyes him warily when he excuses himself from the team dinner on Thursday to go to his room early, citing the jetlag. Somehow, Stoffel is still surprised when he hears a knock on his door as he’s pouring hot water into a cup, and finds his teammate behind the door.

“Hi, uh, do you need anything?” Stoffel stutters out.

Jev narrows his eyes and brushes past him into the room.

“Be my guest,” Stoffel mutters sarcastically, closing the door behind them. 

“What’s up with you?” Jev asks, looking over the room critically, arms crossed. 

Stoffel tries his best to act nonchalant. “What do you mean? Nothing.”

“Norman was right,” Jev says. “You are acting weird.”

“I’m just trying to go to sleep,” Stoffel huffs. “If you don’t mind…”

“Are you sick?” Jev asks, crossing the distance between them to put a hand on his forehead. “Possessed?”

Stoffel bats him away. “Of course not! What’s up with you?”

Jev backs up, uncharacteristically avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

As a general rule, Stoffel and Jev don’t often talk feelings with each other –they both have other friends they usually go to first for that kind of thing. This is a strange shift in their dynamic that puts Stoffel a little on edge, without really knowing why.

“Well, I am,” he replies curtly.

“Did you have a vision?” Jev insists. “I thought we said that you should tell–” His gaze clearly stops on the cup of tea Stoffel had been making himself before he arrived, and his eyes grow wide. “Are you trying to induce one?”

Stoffel knows there’s no point in lying, but he still feels defensive. “I just want to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“I don’t know!” Stoffel exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. 

“It didn’t help us last time,” Jev says pointedly. 

“Thanks a lot,” Stoffel replies, can’t help the hurt from peeking out of his voice. “Anything else you want to tell me before you leave?”

Jev shakes his head a little. “I didn’t mean– it’s just, they’re bad for you. The visions. I don’t… want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt,” Stoffel argues. “No one gets hurt if I just figure this out.”

Jev shifts his weight from foot to foot. He's staring hard at the wall, as if trying to find the right words.

“Don't be an idiot,” is all he says, in the end.

Mitch is at his door three days after they’ve come back from Diriyah, somewhat predictably. He visibly checks Stoffel up and down, as he usually does, but then he steps into Stoffel’s apartment instead of leaving immediately.

“You good?” Stoffel asks him, following him into the living room.

Mitch’s gaze sweeps over the coffee table, undoubtedly noting the mess.

“Better, now that we’ve gone through Diriyah,” Mitch finally replies. “Are you?”

Stoffel crosses his arms. “Did Jev send you? I don’t need a babysitter.”

Mitch cocks his head a little to the side, like he does when he’s shifted. “He didn’t need to. I can see you’re…” He waves a hand around instead of finishing his sentence.

Stoffel grows irritated. This is the second time in barely a week that one of his friends tries to give him a lecture and he’s getting tired of it. They don’t know what it feels like, to have the future at the tip of his fingers, and yet be unable to see it clearly. They don’t understand what he saw, last year, that he could have avoided had he been able to make sense of it sooner. 

Stoffel would do anything to prevent it from happening again.

“Hey,” Mitch says, softly, and now he’s standing just in front of him. 

Stoffel hadn’t realised Mitch had moved. He hadn’t realised he has been tearing up, either, until he looks at his friend and finds his vision troubled. Mitch gently takes hold of his hands, clenched tightly at his sides.

“What did you see?” Mitch asks, and though he appears calm, Stoffel can see that he’s a little tense, too.

He shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know, I don’t– I don’t know how to make sense of it, I don’t know what’s coming and–”

“Stoffel,” Mitch interrupts, firmly. Then, his arms are around Stoffel and he is hugging him tightly, warm and comforting. After a split second, Stoffel hugs back, bending a little so he can press his face against Mitch’s neck. He finds that his mind quietens a little, having him right there.

Afterwards, they sit on the couch and Stoffel tries to describe his dreams as best as he can. Mitch grabs a piece of paper and a pen and writes everything down, reading it back with his brows furrowed. 

“Okay,” he says when Stoffel is done. “That’s… confusing.”

“I know,” Stoffel moans, dropping his head into his hands. “That’s why I’m trying to figure out more. I don’t want–” anything else to happen to you, he thinks, but his throat is too tight to say it.

“Yeah,” Mitch whispers, as if following his train of thoughts. “Okay. What do you need?”

“What?”

“To feel better,” Mitch clarifies. “What would make you feel better, right now?”

Stoffel hesitates. “You won’t like it.” Mitch’s eyes don’t leave his. “I really need to drink this tea and try to meditate. I have to– I have to try.”

Mitch nods. “Okay. We can do that.” He bends forward and grabs Stoffel’s cup.

“Really?” 

“You’re going to do it anyway, right?” Mitch shrugs. “It's better if there's someone with you, at least.” He brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip before making a disgusted face. “Does it also work with water?”

Stoffel laughs. He doesn’t know when was the last time he genuinely did that.

Mitch grabs himself a glass of water from the kitchen, and Stoffel teaches him how to light up the incense. Mitch turns up his nose a little at the scent, but he doesn’t say anything. He watches Stoffel get into a criss-crossed position with curious eyes, before he shifts and curls up next to him, putting his head on Stoffel’s lap. Stoffel strokes his back gently, and closes his eyes. 

It isn’t so hard to relax, this time. 

Stoffel is cold.

It is dark around him, but he can feel a slight breeze on his face, making him shiver. His face is wet, and when he tries to brush it away, he can taste salt on his skin.

If he focuses, he can hear whispers, perhaps multiple different voices at once –overlapping and echoing around him, almost like a song. He cannot make sense of any of them.

There's a figure, standing in the darkness in front of him. Stoffel cannot make out any of their features, but they gesture toward him, as if trying to reach out. Stoffel cannot move towards them, as much as he tries.

Suddenly, the figure falls to the ground, legs disappearing into nothingness as if tugged down by something. They look up at Stoffel with wide eyes, opening their mouths to scream. Only a cloud of bubbles comes out, rising into the air, soon obscuring the figure from Stoffel. Everything slowly disappears in the darkness.

Someone, in the distance, calls out Stoffel’s name, repeatedly. As the sound gets closer, Stoffel is able to recognise Mitch’s voice, sounding panicked.

He tries to call him, but when he opens his mouth it fills with water and he chokes on it, unable to get some air.

Stoffel wakes up in his living room, immediately scrambling into a seating position, breathing hard. A blanket falls off his shoulders and he notices distantly that his legs are tangled in it. 

Mitch is perched on the opposite armrest, fur standing up, tense all over. His eyes are tracking Stoffel’s movements warily, but he calms himself down when he sees that Stoffel is awake. He jumps down from the couch and shifts, stepping closer slowly.

“Stoffel? You with me?”

Stoffel nods stiffly, throat too raw to speak. Wordlessly, Mitch hands him his glass of water and Stoffel gulps it down eagerly.

“Do you remember what you saw?” Mitch asks after a couple of minutes.

By now, the details are already fuzzy, but Stoffel remembers the cold, the murmurs, the trapped figure. Hearing Mitch’s voice. 

Mitch dutifully writes it all down, but he flinches a little when Stoffel mentions him.

“So you think that was me?”

“I don't know,” Stoffel replies truthfully. “Probably.”

Mitch hums, eyes looking over their notes. He looks almost like he did when they were in GP2. His features have sharpened over the years, but his gaze is the same as it was back then; steely, determined.

“Remember when we were looking for that vampire nest in France?” Stoffel asks without really knowing why, memories flooding back.

Mitch looks up at him and frowns a little. “Of course. And we did find it, in the end.” He looks back down. “We will solve this, too.”

He sounds certain of it; Stoffel wishes he could say the same.

Mitch's phone starts ringing and they both startle a little. Mitch grabs it from the coffee table, something in him easing at the sight of the caller ID.

“It's Sacha,” he tells Stoffel, “probably just checking in. He does that, when I feel... strong emotions.”

“Are you going to tell him about..?” Stoffel waves a hand in the air vaguely.

“Not if you don't want me too,” Mitch replies carefully.

Stoffel takes a second to think about it. “Could we do it tomorrow? Right now I’m a bit…”

He doesn't finish his sentence, but Mitch must see the exhaustion on his face because he nods without question. He picks up, stepping away a little.

Stoffel doesn't try to listen in on the conversation, letting the familiar hum of Mitch's voice wash over him. His head is pounding and he feels vaguely sick to his stomach, but he forgot to prep the painkiller this time and he doesn't think he'll make it to the bathroom. He shivers slightly and tugs the blanket around him again.

After an indefinite amount of time, Mitch is back next to him, putting a cool hand on his forehead.

“Shit, you're burning up,” he says. “Do you usually get sick after these?”

“Didn't use to,” Stoffel replies, feeling like he's talking through cotton. “Now, almost every time.”

“No wonder Jev didn't want you to do it again,” Mitch mutters. “It's kind of scary, you know? To see you have one.” He grabs one of Stoffel’s arms and puts it around his shoulders. 

“So Jev did send you,” Stoffel mumbles.

Mitch sends him an exasperated, if slightly fond, look. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

They stumble through Stoffel’s apartment and into his bedroom. Despite Stoffel’s protests that he's cold, Mitch strips him out of his clothes and presses a chilled compress to his forehead. He also makes him drink down some medicine Stoffel can't be bothered to identify, before he lets him lay down. Stoffel immediately burrows into the covers, the softness of the mattress already dragging his tired mind to sleep.

“You're staying?” he manages to ask Mitch, through half-lidded eyes.

“Of course.”

“Good.” Stoffel finally closes his eyes, the darkness a balm to his aching head. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

“That's rich,” Mitch scoffs. “Right now I'm the one keeping an eye on you.”

Stoffel cannot reply, inexorably falling asleep. His last conscious memory is the mattress dipping beneath Mitch’s weight, the cool press of his muzzle against his neck, and then nothing. 

More than a month passes without another vision. Stoffel tries a couple of times, always under Mitch's and/or Sacha’s watchful eyes, but nothing more comes to him. However, they all deduce they should probably avoid swimming training in the near future and relay the information to the rest of the grid, before boarding the plane to São Paulo.

The race is nothing to write home about for Stoffel, though he manages to finish in the points. His mind is elsewhere, desperately trying to make something out of the clues he’s being shown.

His flight leaves early the next morning, so he ditches the celebrations to go take a nap. He has a slight headache –probably caused by dehydration– that he wants to sleep off before supper.

He runs into Jev in the elevator, of course. They haven't been ignoring each other, exactly, but they haven't really hung out either. Stoffel had wanted to talk about Diriyah, apologise for his defensive reaction; he knows that Jev had just been worried about him, in his own awkward, slightly stilted way. But Jev had seemed pretty preoccupied all weekend, subtly looking over Jake –and Stoffel can’t blame him, after what happened here last year. He can still clearly recall the way vines had wrapped around the wolf, almost choking him out.

Another thing he had seen beforehand, and hadn't been able to avoid. 

“Are you coming to Lucas’ barbecue later?” Jev asks him a little stiffly, pushing the button for their level.

“Yeah, I think so,” Stoffel replies. He leans against the mirrored wall, resting his head against the cool glass. “I don't have anything else planned, anyways.”

“Good. I didn't want to be on my own,” Jev replies. “Seb’s flying out tonight, already.”

Stoffel huffs out a laugh. “Mitch said the same thing. Sacha's already on a plane to Argentina as we speak.”

Jev smiles back. The elevator dings as they reach their floor and they step out in silence.

“Look,” Jev says brusquely, as they arrive at his door. “About last time, I…” He trails off awkwardly.

“It's okay,” Stoffel says. “I know you were just looking out for me.”

Jev nods. “But have you been– better? Since?”

“Yes. Mitch's been helping a lot. Don't worry.” Stoffel puts on a teasing tone. “It's making you lose your hair faster.”

Jev weakly hits his arm, but he's smiling despite himself. “Don't push it.” He grows serious again. “You call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Yes, mom,” Stoffel jokes. “See you at 8?”

Jev nods and finally disappears into his room.

The water is cold, clinging to Stoffel’s clothes. He can feel rough sand under his feet, digging into his skin. Further away, despite the darkness, he can make out Mitch’s figure, looking into the distance. Stoffel calls out to him, but Mitch doesn't seem to hear.

Stoffel comes closer with shaky steps. In front of them, the waves are lapping regularly, almost soothing.

“What are you looking at?” Stoffel asks. When Mitch fails to reply once again, he turns his head towards him. 

Only, it isn’t Mitch anymore, but Jev. He's visibly wet as well, hair sticking to his face. 

“He's gone under,” Jev says impassively. He finally looks at Stoffel, eyes as hard as ice. “Don't go.”

“What do you mean?”

“The water. Don't let us go.”

He starts to fade away in front of Stoffel’s eyes, like smoke dissipating. 

“Jev, wait!” Stoffel tries reaching for him, but he has already disappeared and his fingers clench around nothing.

Stoffel wakes up in his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. His forehead is bathed in sweat and he wipes it away shakily, sitting up.

He reaches blindly for his bedside table, grabbing the piece of paper and the pen he had left there just in case. He cannot read any of Mitch’s words, vision blurred, but he messily scrawls a few of his own, trying hard to remember.

“Something about the water…” he murmurs. Maybe a beach? Their hotel isn't very far from one, and if Stoffel focuses he can almost hear the waves, crashing into the shore. 

He has always thought the sea was a relaxing sound, coming and going regularly, like a metronome. Right now, it almost sounds like a song, a bass line he can hear without being able to make out any of the lyrics.

He can't shake the feeling that there is something there that he needs to see. That the sea holds the key to everything.

Without a second thought, Stoffel jumps out of bed, quickly getting some shoes on before stepping into the hallway. He does not reach for his keycard, or for his phone, leaving it all in his room. The door locks behind him.

On his bed, the paper reads “DONT GO INTO THE WATER”

The beach is still warm under Stoffel’s feet when he tugs off his shoes, burying his toes into the sand. The ocean looks calm, despite the dark clouds that are starting to roll in, a sudden storm that will certainly mess up Lucas’ barbecue plans.

But Stoffel isn't thinking about any of that. The waves are calling to him, as if singing his name; he knows he will find the answers he is looking for there.

He walks forward almost blindly, the water steadily going up to his ankles, hips, shoulders, and then he's swimming against the waves, trying to find something in the distance. He's barely aware of the ache in his arms as he pushes forward, up, down, up–

Stoffel blinks and suddenly stops, keeping himself afloat in one place. His mind feels numb, and he can’t quite remember why he is swimming. What is he looking for here? This isn't a good idea, he should turn back and–

But the beach is impossibly far away already, just a pale line in the distance. Stoffel feels too tired to swim back, but he knows doesn’t have a choice.

He lets himself float on his back for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He doesn't even remember getting here in the first place; he doesn't remember anything after he said goodbye to Jev and went to sleep.

Above him, the sky is turning a worrying shade of grey, and Stoffel can feel the waves growing stronger. He has to start his way back now, or he might never make it.

Just as he's turning around on his stomach, he feels something graze his foot. He pulls his leg back sharply, trying to peer into the dark water. It's probably nothing, just a bit of seaweed, but– 

His heart starts hammering in his chest as he begins to feel movement around him. He tries to remain calm, but then something cold wraps around his ankle and tugs him underwater.

Stoffel kicks out with his foot, unable to free himself. He is being dragged down despite his best efforts, the water getting impossibly colder, pressing against his head. His legs are getting entangled in whatever this is, gradually restricting his movements. 

Stoffel opens his eyes despite the sting, but the water is too dark for him to make out anything precisely. He can distinguish a vaguely greenish shape near his legs, something like tentacles wrapped tightly around his legs. Stoffel once again tries to escape, but his lungs are getting tighter and tighter. His mouth opens without his control, letting out the last bubbles of air he possessed.

Helpless, he watches them rise towards the surface, getting further and further away. 

I don't want to drown is his last conscious thought before darkness takes him. 

Stoffel is cold.

It's the first thing he realises, his limbs trembling uncontrollably, his teeth chattering.

Strange light patterns are dancing on the dark ceiling above him when he opens his eyes, and it takes him too long to realise it is just light reflecting off the water gently clapping next to him. He can also hear soft murmurs and little clicks that he can't attribute to anything. 

He sits up abruptly when he remembers what happened, out in the sea. How did he end up here, he thought he was going to die–

His breath catches in his throat when he sees a dozen faces looking back at him with huge, dark eyes.

Well, faces might be a stretch. The… creatures look vaguely humanoid, but their features are much more elongated, their mouth pulling away from the rest of their face, like fish. They don't have any facial hair, but Stoffel can discern gills on their neck, like the ones Edo has when he shifts. The rest of their bodies are hidden underwater, only their heads peeking out to stare at him. Their skin tone range from dark blue to light green, almost invisible in the sea surrounding them.

These must be sirens. Real ones, seemingly barely any similarities with Edo. Stoffel had never seen one before, much less a whole group, and they don't seem particularly interested in talking things out, some of them showing off pointy teeth at him.

“Hello?” Stoffel still tries, shuffling back a little. His back comes into contact with rough stone, and he realises he's in a small cave, almost entirely closed off. The light is coming from underwater, through what seems like a small opening; but the sirens are blocking it.

One of them turns towards the group, letting out a series of clicks. It sounds a bit like those recordings of whale sounds Stoffel has heard in documentaries, only less melodic.

Another siren clicks something back, and the whole group seems to shudder.

“Can you understand me?” Stoffel says. He slightly hugs himself, trying to stave off the chill. His clothes don't help, but Stoffel doesn't see himself stripping them off in front of these guys.

His head is pounding and he closes his eyes briefly. It feels like the beat of a song, rhythm echoing in his skull. Maybe he should take his clothes off, actually. Maybe he should lay back down. Edo had once said some sirens eat people. Becoming a siren snack would be cool, he supposes.

Stoffel snaps his eyes open, at the same time as the first siren slaps another, smaller, one. Water splashes and the other disappears underwater, quickly gliding through the tunnel and out of view. Stoffel’s head clears immediately and he breathes in shakily. 

“Did you enchant me?!”

The first siren lets out a hum, but then shakes their head. They point to Stoffel with palmed hands, only three fingers that Stoffel can see, then to his head.

“I don't understand,” Stoffel says. “Something with my head? I…”

The siren propels themselves out of the water, sliding closer to him. Stoffel cannot back away any more than he already has, but he still tries to press himself closer to the wall and away from them.

The siren stops before touching him. Their body is long, dark green with fins on the back and sides. Instead of a tail, like Edo, they have a mass of tentacles protruding from their hips, sliding seamlessly against each other. 

The siren puts a finger into the sand next to Stoffel’s feet and draws a few lines.

“Is that… a flower?” The siren shakes their heads and adds more lines. “An explosion?” The siren points again to his head, then to the drawing, insistent.

“Something about me?”

The siren nods, then seems to think for a second before drawing a couple of stars.

“Oh!” Stoffel exclaims. “Magic?”

The siren lets out a loud click and nods vigorously. Then points again to Stoffel’s head. “Am I magic? I mean, I guess so…”

The siren turns to their peers and speaks to them, receiving a chorus of clicks back. The sounds grow louder, back and forth, as if in an argument.

“Okay, look,” Stoffel says after a while. “I don't know what you want, but I need to get back. People will be looking for me.”

Despite the other sirens still seemingly talking, the one next to Stoffel turns towards him with their head tilted to the side. They seem to study him for a while, before pointing a finger to Stoffel’s shirt. He looks down; it's a team shirt, of course. 

“That's DS Penske,” he says. That might be a stupid question, considering the whole ‘sea creature’ thing, but. “Do you know Formula E?”

There is instant silence. All the sirens are looking at him again, eerily still, even the one next to him. They seem tenser than a second ago, but this might be Stoffel’s only chance.

“You do?” he presses. He hopes they are still somewhat close to Brazil. “Maybe you know Lucas di Grassi?”

Some of the sirens let out urgent, panicked clicks and suddenly Stoffel sees a flurry of movement, sirens disappearing underwater with loud splashes and a mix of tentacles, hurrying through the underwater tunnel. 

He turns towards the friendlier one and finds them backing away from him as well, eyeing him warily.

“Wait!” Stoffel calls out. “Why are you–”

But the siren is back into the water, distancing themselves. They give Stoffel one last look, before they flip and disappear through the tunnel as well.

“Wait!” Stoffel tries again, but only his voice echoes back.

Shit. Now he's all alone, with no way of getting out of there. Maybe it beats getting eaten by sirens, but Stoffel doesn't enjoy his odds now either. 

He tries not to let the panic get to him. He has to get out of there. He doesn't know how long it's been since he last saw Jev, but surely his friends must be getting worried about his absence. It seems that the light is getting dimmer, as well. Someone will be looking for him; Stoffel just hopes they won't get captured like he did. The idea of Mitch being turned into a siren snack isn't too appealing either.

He gets up on unsteady legs, one hand on the wall for support. The stone is cold under his fingertips, but not wet, and devoid of any seaweed, which means the cave is probably not going to fill up with water entirely, at least.

Stoffel walks around the little cave, fingers probing the walls in search of a way out. He doesn't find any, and he soon ends up on the other side of the little beach, water gently lapping up at his feet.

Now that the adrenaline has faded a little, Stoffel feels cold again. His clothes are weighing him down, weirdly stiff because of the salt, and his hair is steadily dripping water down his collar, making him shiver. He can feel that his thoughts are getting a bit foggy, like the time he hit his head pretty badly during a crash and couldn't walk straight afterwards. 

He takes his shirt off, hoping it will help. 

“Hello?” he yells, squinting to try and see underwater. The light is almost gone now, but there doesn't seem to be any movement.

Stoffel is truly on his own.

He spends an indefinite amount of time searching the cave, to no avail. He is pretty sure the temperature has been dropping as well, probably because it is now nighttime.

He sits down on the sand with a sigh and tries to pinch himself awake a few times; it really isn’t a vision this time. He shivers again, but he doesn't know if he still has the energy to get up futilely.

During all these months, Stoffel had never thought the visions could've been about him. It had never been about him, before.

Stoffel flops down on his back, heels of his hands pressing hard into his eyes. He feels so stupid, and now he's going to die here. Alone.

He opens his eyes again, blinking away the white spots.

Except they don't entirely go away.

Stoffel jerks upright, staring at the water. A new light seems to be coming through, paler, but enough to see. The water is much further away than it was when he first arrived, exposing a bit of the underwater tunnel; letting the moonlight filter through.

Stoffel studies it for a moment, but in the end he doesn't hesitate much. He takes off his pants as well and steps back into the sea.

Despite having his footing pretty much the whole way through, Stoffel has to grip the side of the tunnel to keep his balance. The current is getting stronger, pushing him back towards the cave. He really hopes he won’t be too far from the shore when he finally emerges.

The tunnel dips abruptly, Stoffel almost smashing into the rock in front of him. The water hasn't gone down entirely in this section, still touching the top of the rock, but Stoffel cannot afford to wait any longer. He takes a moment to regulate his breathing, before diving in.

He follows the pale light, careful not to hit his head. blinking away the sting. His arms are shaking, both from the cold and the exertion, but now that he's gone under, he has no choice but to reach the end of the tunnel.

Finally, when he feels like his lungs are going to burst, Stoffel notices that the light is now directly above him. He kicks out hard on the last bit of rock, desperate to reach the surface. He can finally see the moon, halfway full and distorted through the water.

Just a bit more, he thinks desperately, and his head finally breaches the surface.

Stoffel gulps in a huge breath, and lets himself rest onto his back for a while. He feels anxious, every current against his legs feeling like he's being grabbed again, but it's just his imagination. Still, he would like to get going as fast as possible.

When he feels like he has regained his breathing, Stoffel flips himself upright again, looking around him. He's pretty sure the waves are bigger than when he came to earlier, and he knows the currents will be stronger because of the tide pulling out. But he can see the lights of the shore –or, well, a shore, at least. It would be more practical if it was the same one Stoffel had left from, but at this point he's not feeling picky.

Steeling himself, Stoffel begins to swim back.

It is hard, currents fighting him the whole way. A couple of times, he goes under, coming back out spluttering salty water. But, slowly, steadily, the lights are growing bigger in his vision.

It eases somewhat once Stoffel gets a bit closer, the waves now pushing him forward instead of back. He lets himself be carried, towards the beach he can now slightly distinguish, sand white under the moonlight.

His feet finally touch the sand below him, but Stoffel cannot rest yet. 

A wave roars behind him, breaking above his head and making him lose his balance. Stoffel closes his eyes, feeling himself go tumbling forward, unable to stop it. He thrusts his hands in front of him, hoping he won't smash into a rock. His fingers meet sand and he digs them in, feeling the wave go back, trying to take him with it; he resists.

Finally, the sea spits Stoffel out onto the beach.

He crawls forward just enough to be out of reach of the water, then lays down onto his back, breathing hard. He cannot feel his feet anymore, and his hands are tingling slightly. The waves break and crash in a regular pattern, but Stoffel doesn't let himself listen to it this time. He hears something else, instead, above his heavy breathing.

“–offel!”

It's almost inaudible over the sea, but Stoffel strains to hear better, propping himself up onto his elbows. Is there… a flashlight, in the distance?

“Stoffel!” comes the scream again, and this time Stoffel hears it perfectly.

It's Mitch, of course; it has to be him, because Stoffel has heard this before.

He tries to call his friend in return, but his voice dies in his throat, scratchy with salt. The flashlight seems to turn away, and Stoffel shoves himself to his feet, suddenly panicked. He hasn't come all this way to be left here.

He tries to walk forward and stumbles a few times, falling onto his hands and knees, scratching his skin; every time, he gets back up, desperate to reach Mitch. 

He can see two other lights, now, a bit further away; Mitch seems to be walking back towards them.

“Stoffel!” he calls again. He sounds panicked.

I’m here, Stoffel thinks dazedly. Just look behind you, you idiot.

Mitch is not a psychic; but he has never left Stoffel behind before. This time, too, he turns around.

His flashlight falls into the sand when he shifts, the kitsune taking off towards Stoffel so fast that he seems to be flying. Stoffel’s knees buckle under him from relief, knowing that he doesn't have to catch himself this time.

Mitch shifts back in front of him, knees skidding into the sand, catching Stoffel’s shoulders before he can tip over.

“I got him!” he yells over his shoulder, voice breaking. “Over here!”

His hands frame Stoffel’s face, warm against his salty skin. “You fucking idiot!” he exclaims emphatically. “Where were you?!”

Before Stoffel can respond, he is dragged into a hug, Mitch's arms steady around him. 

Stoffel collapses the rest of the way against him, head resting into the crook of his neck. He's shaking hard, chest almost painfully constricting with relief.

“I'm here,” Mitch breathes out against his hair. “I got you.”

“How d-did you– find me,” Stoffel stutters out, the cold making it hard to speak through his chattering teeth.

“You weren’t in your room, and– Jev found your shoes on the beach,” Mitch replies, voice unsteady as well. “But we've been searching for so long, I was starting to think–”

His arms tighten around Stoffel, and Stoffel grabs his clothes in return, keeping him close.

Mitch releases him only when Jev skids to a similar stop next to them, barking worriedly. His fur hangs down from his stomach in clumps, water dripping from it, like he tried to go halfway into the sea before backing out.

“I'm okay,” Stoffel lets out, his voice raspy. “I'm good now.”

Jev noses at his shoulder, a move Stoffel has seen him do time and time again with the wolfpack. He raises a tired hand to scratch his ears, Jev uncharacteristically leaning into the touch.

“Come on, lay down,” Mitch probes after a minute. “Let me check you over.”

Stoffel obeys without protest, leaning down halfway against Jev’s warm flank. Mitch shifts and noses at his arms and legs, before climbing onto his stomach and licking his face. Stoffel doesn't push him away, knows that Mitch needs to reassure himself that he's really fine. 

Lucas walks up to them at this moment, on the phone. He finishes his conversation in rapid, tense Portuguese, shaking his head as he looks over Stoffel as well.

“You ruined my barbecue,” he says dryly, pocketing his phone after having hung up. “Does something hurt?” 

“Not really,” Stoffel says. “I feel sore, mostly.”

Lucas narrows his eyes at him. “I'll check you for anything magical at the hotel.”

“I can't feel anything,” Mitch offers, shifting back next to Stoffel. He sounds relieved.

Jev wriggles behind him until Stoffel sits down properly again, shifting as well and looking at him critically.

“Do you not know how to follow your own advice?” he asks.

Stoffel has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?”

Mitch looks like he does, putting a hand in his jeans pocket and drawing out a crumpled piece of paper. He flattens it out against his knee and Stoffel recognises the paper they had used to write out his visions. 

He does not remember adding the last sentence, written in big, shaky letters and underlined three times.

“Any idea why you decided to go for an impromptu swim?” Lucas asks.

“I don't think I really had a choice,” Stoffel admits. “Did you know there were sirens in these waters?”

Lucas’ face darkens, closing off. “I told them the paddock was off limits. Apparently, I wasn't clear enough.”

Stoffel chuckles a little, despite himself. It's not funny, but if he doesn’t, he'll probably cry instead. “Oh, you were. They got so scared when I mentioned you that they left me in an underwater cave to fend for myself instead of eating me.”

“They were going to eat you?!” Mitch cries out, scandalised.

“Apparently I am a snack,” Stoffel jokes weakly. Mitch hits him in the arm without force.

“Next time you should probably let Edo handle the negotiations,” Jev tells Lucas sagely.

Lucas lets out a long sigh. “Come on, let's go. I have a car waiting to take us to the hotel.”

“He was worried, really,” Mitch whispers in Stoffel’s ear as he helps him get up. “Was about to call the lifeguards and everything.”

“Didn't think he had it in him,” Jev comments. He loops Stoffel’s arm around his shoulder and Stoffel leans against him gratefully. His legs feel like jelly, trembling enough that he is unsure whether they will be able to support his weight. Moreover, now that the adrenaline has gone down, he feels very cold once again, shivering.

Mitch makes a sad noise and takes off his jacket, draping it over his shoulders. “Come on. Let's go home.”

Yes, Stoffel would quite like that. And, hopefully, avoid the beach in the foreseeable future.