A/N: Very short. Kind of a random idea I had while at Myrtle Beach looking for shark teeth. I'm from Oklahoma, so the ocean is pretty much The Coolest Thing Ever when I get to see it up close. As a result I was very inspired to write while I was there, and the more I thought about what I wanted to say, the more I thought about Raina and Nathan. This may or may not be the only time I revisit Equinox; I'd always wanted to write something from Nathan's POV and, while I found it to be much more difficult than I'd imagined, it was fun. Hope you like it!

The tooth was smooth, black, small as a sunflower seed. A baby tooth. You wouldn't see it unless you knew what you were looking for, how to distinguish it from the other bits of rock and shattered shells buried in the muck. He had picked up a handful of that gooey mixture and let the water and globs of sand slip through his fingers, sifting it. Shells appeared, only bits and pieces, halves not wholes, their pretty grooved edges broken, crushed by the water.

The tooth was there. He touched it with his finger, drew in a breath, and looked over his shoulder at her. The ocean crept up around his feet while he did so, the water from the last wave racing back down the beach; the water from the new wave meeting it halfway. Water and water. The sound was shhhh. The sound was as quiet as the sunlight.

"Raina," he said, but she didn't hear him.

Her head was tilted back, her face turned upwards toward the overcast sky, her eyes closed, as if she was listening to something he couldn't hear. She sat on the beach, propped on her elbows, knees up. Her shoulders were pink. Blond strands of hair blew in the wind, blew loose from her ponytail.

His heart beat faster at the sight of her, and his hand closed tight around the tooth.

"Raina," he said again.

This second time he said her name, it was to himself. Looking at her was like looking at a scar, a reminder of old pain, distant pain. The wound had closed, yet he could still see it and and touch it. Who was to say it wasn't there? She was the broken bone that still hurt when the weather was changing, the pressure in the cracks, in all the unhealed places of his soul.

This weekend wasn't enough. The resort hotel wasn't enough. All the water in the ocean wasn't enough to cover what he had done.

He thought about the way her muscles shrank and tightened under his touch, how she would be laughing, smiling, while at the same time looking at him with her eyes full of fear. She didn't tell him things like she used to. He was showing her more and more of the hidden places inside him; she was showing him less and less. Even at night as they made love, she didn't hold him like she used to, softly moving her hands through his hair, her mouth on his ear as she breathed and whispered. Instead she clung to him, like a child clutching his hand in a crowd, scared of being lost. Whatever it was, it didn't feel like love anymore.

The worst part was the way she looked at him when she didn't think he was watching: that mixture of fear and pity, the face people make when they see something horrible that they don't understand.

For the thousandth time, he tried to go back to that night, to figure out what happened. All he could remember was the red hot cloud of anger. . . at her, at himself, at the baby.

The baby. There was a shot of pain in his stomach, almost physical, that made him gasp. He wished there was someone to tell and had even thought about going back to confession at his childhood church, just so he could get it out in the open. But so many other sins had piled up since he had last confessed as a child. . . if he admitted this one, the others would come spilling out behind it. This sin, the biggest, was a stone that held them where they were, like the stone over the tomb of Christ.

How could he tell her? How could he make her understand? "I didn't want to kill it," he would say, "I didn't mean for it to happen." Would she believe him? Would he believe himself? How could he? He'd seen the baby as a mirror image of her: something he would love too much and end up destroying.

She had no idea.

She wore a black bathing suit, simple, just a one-piece. It wasn't very revealing, but two guys in college t-shirts walked by, looking at her on the ground, nudging each other. She didn't know; she never opened her eyes. His heart was pounding with rage that turned into panic. He wanted to hold her close, cover her head with his hand, shield her from all the breaking glass.

"Raina!" he called, and he could hear himself, that he sounded furious.

This time she opened her eyes, shading them with her hand; she smiled, nervous.

"What?"

"I found something."

"What?"

He walked over to her, watching the sand sink like a mattress under his feet, white circles appearing in the light, like pressing your thumb into your skin. Seagulls dove and soared over his head.

"I think it's a shark tooth," he said.

"Cool," she replied, reaching out her hand to take it.

She examined it for a second, holding it up to the light. Her hand was small; he could see the delicate fan of bones.

"Go find me one," she said.

"Keep it. I'll find another one for me."

He walked again to the water, his hands empty now. If he could, he would give her everything he had or had ever had, just so she would stay, love him like he loved her, a love that was agonizing, tormenting, lasting pain. A love like being buried alive.

He was six. The sun was hot; the water was soft on his bare feet. The waves ran in, ran out, burying him in the sand up to his ankles. He moved his toes, saw the surface of the wet sand move, like a heart was beating beneath it.

"Nathan," a voice said from behind him.

He turned and saw his father. His father's eyes were as blue as the water, and everyone said they looked like each other- tall, dark hair, sad eyes. Immediately Nathan's heart started racing. What had he done? Had he left the sunscreen too close to the water? Had it washed away? Had he gotten sand on the radio? Had he wandered too far from their spot on the beach? These little, unavoidable mistakes with their enormous consequences were the things he dreamed about at night.

He wanted to run but couldn't; there was no where to hide and it was too late for the ocean to cover him. He felt a lump rising in his throat, but fought back the tears. It would be worse if he cried.

But then his father smiled at him.

"Come here. I want to show you something," he said, putting a hand on his back.

The hand was warm against the bruises there. They were deep bruises, under the skin, and didn't show. Nathan bit his lip so he wouldn't flinch.

"What?"

"Come with me."

He took his father's hand. On the beach, he could see his mother waving at them, her black beach hat wide and floppy. He waved back.

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Is this the place where Oisin saw Niamh come over the water?"

"No. That was in Ireland."

"Where's Ireland?"

"On the other side of this water."

Nathan shaded his eyes, but try as he might he could not see the other shore.

"Do you know what happens in the water at night?" his father asked.

Nathan shook his head, forgetting about Oisin and Niamh for a moment.

"The tide comes in and-"

"What's the tide?" Nathan asked.

"That's when the ocean fills up like the bathtub at home. It covers the beach."

"What about Mom?"

"It won't happen for a few hours. We'll be back in our room by then."

"What about my sand castle?"

"Remember what they told you at church? About not building your house on the sand? You can build it again tomorrow, further up," he said.

Nathan didn't care too much about the sand castle; he kept asking questions because he liked hearing his father talk. Dad didn't talk exactly like Grandma, whose Irish accent was so strong it was hard to understand her. But he said some words different, bent them a certain way, just enough for you to know that he came from the same place she did.

"Know what else happens in the water at night?" Dad asked.

"What?"

"Sharks come up here, right where we're standing. They go out with the tide and leave their teeth in the sand."

"Why?"

"They fall out. Like your baby tooth at Christmas, remember?"

"Oh," Nathan said, "Is there a tooth fairy for them?"

"That's what we are," Dad said, smiling down at him. "See this?"

Nathan's father leaned over and picked up a small black bit of shell. At least that's what it looked like.

"That's a tooth?" Nathan asked.

"That's a tooth. You can have it."

Nathan took the tooth, fingers trembling. The gift was precious and unlike anything anyone had ever given him. It would have meant the world on any other occasion, but here at the beach with his father it meant much more. This was special, too special to hold inside of himself; it wouldn't fit next to the shame and fear; he didn't deserve it.

"I'll give it to Mama," Nathan said.

"Give me what?"

Nathan's mother was walking down the beach behind them, holding her hat on her head. She balanced in the sand, hobbling as the waves crashed and broke against her legs. With the ocean behind her, she seemed so small, like a bird that has flown very, very high into the air.

"Shark tooth!" Nathan yelled, holding up the small pointed object.

She grinned, rumpling his wet hair. "Let's hope he brushed every night huh?"

To Nathan's father she said, softly, "I'm heading in. I can feel myself starting to burn."

"Not yet," he murmured.

Dad wrapped his arm around her stomach and pulled her close; they were laughing, whispering, their voices like a fountain. Nathan couldn't hear what they said, but he liked it when they were like this, when Mom didn't do something to make Dad angry, to make Dad hurt them.

They were like Oisin and Niamh.

Nathan walked further down the beach, looking out at the water. Once he had asked Grandma if God was as big as the ocean, and she had said He was even bigger. God seemed like the tide and the waves crashing against Mama's legs. He stopped, held the tooth in his hand and poked the tip of it into his palm. It wasn't sharp enough to hurt. He pressed it down harder with the tip of his index finger, trying to break the skin like in Jaws, but the tooth slipped and popped out of his hand, plunking into the water. Nathan saw it for a moment just before the next wave ran in, scattering the seashells at the bottom, taking the shark tooth with it when it ran out. He scrambled to grab it back, but it was too late.

The fear took his breath away. He looked down the beach where his parents were walking, holding hands, coming closer to him. When his father found out. . .

He could feel the tears starting to come, and he turned and ran. It was hard in the sand, his feet sinking with every step; he couldn't get very far before he fell, hands spread out on the rocky bottom, shells digging into his palms. The salt water burned the open cuts on his knees. He was gasping for breath as he looked back and saw that his mother was heading back to the hotel, gathering up the beach towels. His father was walking toward him alone.

Run or face it.

"I lost the tooth!" he cried out, raising his hands in surrender. If he admitted it now, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He was crying so hard he couldn't see his father. He moved his upraised hands over his eyes to protect his face from the expected blow, but instead he felt himself being picked up, held in strong arms.

"I told you there were more didn't I?" his father said gently.

Nathan gasped, hicupping, blinking, as he realized he was going to be alright. More than that. . . his father was holding him. After a minute he allowed his muscles to relax, and he reached up, wrapping his arms around his father's neck. For so long, he had imagined this.

"Don't let your mama see you crying," Dad whispered, "We'll find another one when she goes inside."

"I didn't mean to!" Nathan cried.

Nathan's father said nothing, just kissed his head.

There was something inside of him that was being filled up, making him aware for the first time of just how empty that space was. It was a space that had been there for as long as he could remember. Sometimes it hurt less, sometimes more, but it was never full, even though at moments like this it seemed like it could get close. . . that whatever he was feeling right now with Dad was the thing that was supposed to fill it up, if only there was more of it, and if only it lasted. But in a second, he knew that whatever had been poured in would run right out again. He was broken; it never held.

When Nathan stopped crying, he expected his father to put him down, but he didn't. They walked that way down the beach for another few minutes. Nathan rested his head on his father's shoulder and looked out at the horizon again. The waves moved, back and forth like brush strokes. Shhhh. . .

He looked hard, again, for the other shore where Ireland was. But there was no other shore. This was the end, it seemed, of the whole world.

-

"Hey," Raina said from behind him.

He felt her gently touch his back. And he turned, smiled. Her eyes were haunted and full of fear. He thought about her on the ground, crying, hands up to protect her face as he drew back his fist.

"You're burning," he said, and he covered her with his shadow.

"I know. I'm heading in. Plus it looks like it's gonna rain soon," she replied with a shrug.

Her cheeks were flushed pink as seashells, strands of blond hair flying loose around her face, collar bone protruding under her neck. Nathan kissed that perfect place. She was small and fragile to him, and though he knew she didn't see herself the same way, he wanted to protect her. He wanted to hold her in his hand like Thumbelina. How could he ever hurt her? Why did he hurt her? He told himself he would never do it again.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothin'," he said, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He couldn't tell her the truth, that he was tired and tired of being tired and tired of knowing that there was never going to be anyone, ever again, to pick him up and carry him when he couldn't go on, that there was no where to hide, that there was no where to be safe, no time to stop running, no door to lock behind him. There was no one to protect him from himself, and there was no one to protect her either.

He knew there was something more than this, another shore beyond this one, another place, but he just couldn't see past all the water that went on as far as the sky.

"Not yet," he said, pulling her to him.

She laughed, kissed his mouth. He loved her hands on his back, the way she smelled like rain. The empty place filled up, ran out, filled up, ran out.

"I kept calling you. You were just standing in the water," she said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'm starving. We should go eat."

"Tonight," Nathan said, "It should be tonight."

He thought about the ring in the room that he planned to give to her, the question he planned to ask, the question that would make her love him and insure that she would stay forever. In his hand, she was small enough to crush, a butterfly that was too beautiful, he didn't dare move his fingers.

They left the beach, the sound of the waves behind them. Nathan looked over his shoulder once, saw the sky and the water and the horizon, where there was no other shore. He thought about the tide coming in, the waves going in and out, the water at night.