#questions.

Going from a military career to being a janitor in an aquarium was far from a normal life path. On the rare occasion that Finch had to explain it to someone, he was often met with apologies. 

Honestly, he wasn't upset about it. Sure, losing an eye and most of his hearing on the right side sucked. But if he was being completely honest, he'd been looking for an out for a while now. So when they'd offered him a desk job, he'd politely turned them down, and taken the medical discharge. 

Which had dumped him in a seaside town a few hours south from where he'd grown up, with only his military experience on his resume and little else going for him. 

It had taken time to find a job. Finch must have had over a dozen interviews before being hired at the aquarium. Marina, the woman who was in charge of training and supervising him, had expressed her confusion. "You could've taken the security job; we're still looking for someone qualified for that." 

Finch had only shrugged. "I like the change of pace." 

The aquarium was always quiet after dark, when Finch showed up to relieve the day janitor and finish the tidying for the night. It was good money for picking up trash and clearing away spills, but he wasn't about to complain. 

He especially wasn't complaining about being able to eat anywhere in the aquarium, so long as he picked up after himself. As he explored the empty halls, lunchbag in hand, he found himself pausing to take in the tanks. 

Finch had always liked the ocean, though joining the military had meant he rarely got to see it in his free time. This was a nice aquarium, with lots of props and plants for the fish and other residents to entertain themselves with. He'd come here a few times when he was young, and been mesmerized. 

But he'd noticed when he first started that there had been several expansions and renovations since he'd last been here. Several tanks were even bigger, with more fish and more information on the walls beside them. There was a large childrens' area with games themed around the ocean, and he couldn't help but poke around a little in his nostalgic state. 

The thing that drew his eye, though, was the large tank that was towards the back of the aquarium. It was split in half by the outer wall of the building, with a large underwater tunnel between the indoor half and the outdoor half of the tank. The top of the indoor half came level with the second floor, with a thick metal railing around the edge to prevent idiots from getting in the water. 

That had certainly not been there last time he was here, years ago, and with the chaos of learning the new job, he hadn't really been able to explore the building. And the sign hanging above the railing reading "Merpeople — Our Neighbors From Below" piqued his interest. 

Approaching slowly, Finch took in the richly decorated tank; to one side, a large outcropping of (probably fake) rock loomed like a sentinel, pockmarked with large holes and tunnels through it. Scattered across the floor of the tank were thick collections of plants and coral, and as Finch watched, he saw fish of a thousand colors darting in and out of the undersea foliage. 

The tank was huge, especially when Finch had heard there was only one mer inside. But the emptiness, the quiet, was valuable to him at this point, and he found himself sitting on the edge, legs folded under him as he dug through his bag for his sandwich. 

For several minutes, there was nothing to disturb him, just the beautiful flickers of fish through the tank. Then Finch caught a flash of movement, far too large to be the other fish darting around the tank. Almost before he could think of what it was, the mer was in front of him, webbed fingers curled gently around the lip of the tank, holding himself in place with his head above water. 

He probably wouldn't have been much taller than Finch if he were human, Finch guessed. His humanoid torso was certainly similarly sized. However, his tail was easily over five feet long, golden with darker mottling, and waved lazily side-to-side behind him. Finch could see thick scars across the mer's tail, the fin at the end torn and jagged. It looked old, with patches covered in gleaming, fresh scales, though Finch felt his own scars twinge in sympathy.

The mer's warm brown eyes shone with curiosity as he watched Finch intently, the only movement to push some of his soaked hair out of his eyes. There was a sort of quiet fascination between them both, silently studying each other. 

Finch's eyes darted to the sign to one side. There were a handful of details about mer in general, but nothing concrete about the creature in front of him. 

A quiet clicking noise entered his good ear, so soft he almost missed it. After a moment, Finch realized it was coming from the mer. "…Hi?" He said slowly, lifting the hand not holding his sandwich in a jerky wave. The mer flinched slightly at the sharp movement, but when Finch forced himself to move slower, he relaxed. "You're new here, aren't you?"

The clicking transformed into a soft trill, almost like a purr. The mer adjusted slightly to prop his front half up on his elbows, eyes tracing Finch's face like he were memorizing every part of him. Those same eyes paused on Finch's scarred eye, and Finch almost moved to hide it, skin prickling under the scrutiny. Even after months of this, he had learned the changes to his senses were easier to adapt to than the stares of other people. 

As if he could sense Finch's discomfort, the mer's eyes darted down to the sandwich in his hand, and his expression changed. Something between mischief and hope sparkled in his eyes. Finch saw his tail slow even more, barely moving other than to stabilize his position in the water. "You… want this?" He asked hesitantly. 

The mer nodded, the purring getting louder. 

Finch stared. "I probably shouldn't," he said slowly, thinking aloud. "I don't even know if you can eat this without getting sick, and the last thing I need is to get fired for hurting you." 

The mer had the audacity to pout, as if Finch's concern was merely inconvenient. 

"Hey, Finch!" Finch jumped at the voice on his right, far too close for his liking, even as he recognized the voice of the other night janitor, Charlie. "Making a friend?" Charlie's smile was wide as Finch turned to him without getting up, though as soon as he did, he heard a loud splash behind him, and felt the spatter of water on his pants as the mer dove beneath the surface again. 

"Kinda," Finch said slowly, forcing his muscles to loosen. "I was curious. We don't seem to have any history for him?" He gestured to the information boards. 

Charlie shrugged. "Yeah, it's a higher management thing. Apparently they don't want to share it since it's like, personal? I don't know, it doesn't seem that different from the other fish, and we talk about their injuries and why they're here all the time." 

Frowning, Finch scanned the tank again. The mer was nowhere to be seen. "Well, they're sentient, aren't they? Able to learn languages? If they don't want to talk about what happened, they shouldn't have to." 

"Yeah, but aren't they still debating if it's like, people talking or mimicry?" Charlie shrugged. "I don't know, seems a little far-fetched. If there's so many stories about mer, and we knew about them, then why were they only discovered like, five years ago?" 

Finch thought back to the mer's expression, and he could never imagine convincing himself those eyes belonged to something that didn't understand him. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Do you know what happened to his tail, at least?" 

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, far too chipper. It seemed like he'd sensed the tension his last words had made, and was jumping at the change of subject. "Far as the vets could tell, he got run over by a boat. Well, they think there was already some issues before that. But mostly the boat."

"Huh." Finch turned away, frowning. His eyes darted back down to the tank, where the mer was still very much hiding. "Does he come up here often?" 

Charlie shook his head, eyes sparkling. "Nah. I've been working here for over a year, and he's always hiding. Sometimes you see a little bit of his tail, but that's that." He side-eyed Finch, smiling. "How'd you get him to come up here? I've never seen him out like that." 

Finch eyed the rocks, where he was half-sure the mer had disappeared. "I just sat down," He said, trying to figure it out himself. Looking at his food, his lips twitched into a brief smile. "Maybe he was just looking for a handout."

Charlie's face twisted into a teasing smirk. "Maybe he just liked what he saw," he said it lightly, though his eyes lingered on Finch's face a little longer than Finch thought was strictly necessary.

Before Finch could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tugged his phone out. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I've got to get back to work, and you're done, right?" He shoved a bite of his sandwich in his mouth (better than nothing), and stood up. "See you," he said tersely.

Charlie watched him intently for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, see you around."