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The scent of blood in the water, even just a trace of it, causes him to lose consciousness, and when he comes to, it’s always to the sight and scent of copious amounts of blood, and the copper taste of it on his tongue. His stomach is considerably fuller than it had been prior to the episode, and sometimes he’s got something stuck between his teeth, the oddest of which was a bikini top, and the most disturbing of which was a human jaw.
“Doc,” GW (short for Great White - his parents weren’t very creative) says. “I don’t quite know what to make of it.”
“Hmm,” Doctor Hammerhead says. He reviews his notes, and frowns (though, on hammerhead sharks the frown is perpetual, his frown actually deepens). “It seems to me,” he says in a distinctly Austrian accent, “that your issues with your mother, which you seem to have repressed, are starting to come to the surface of your conscious mind, and this, in turn, is causing you to experience what we call a break with...”
It’s as the doctor is about to give GW his diagnosis that he blacks out, and Jaws takes control. The doctor stutters to a stop with his explanation, and takes a startled swim away from what he can see is immediate danger.
“H...he...hell...o, who, who are, are you?” the doctor (who hates the fact that he still stutters after spending years in speech therapy with Dr. Saw, a sawtooth shark) asks.
“So, you know I’m not that sad little wuss who can’t find anything better to do with his time than talk about his feelings and his mommy and daddy issues with a shrink,” Jaws says. “Good. I don’t have to pretend to be him, pathetic loser. You can call me Jaws.”
“Lo--look,” Dr. Hammerhead says, adjusting his glasses with one of his pectoral fins, which is no small feat (and that’s another thing that he hates, the fact that he’s nearsighted, unlike the rest of his family, which his mother hammers on and on about at family gatherings...like he doesn’t feel bad enough about it already).
“No, you look, four eyes,” Jaws says, showing all of his deadly sharp teeth in a smile that is anything but nice. “I don’t want you spilling the beans about what’s happening to GW, you got me? I’ve got a nice gig going on here, and I don’t want you, and your shrinking ways, to get in the way of it. You hear me?”
“Oh, I can hear you just fine, I’ve got great hearing,” Doc Hammerhead boasts. “What I don’t get is why you want to keep yourself a secret from GW. You are an integral part of him, I don’t see wh--”
Jaws clamps his, well, for lack of better word, jaws, around the doctor’s head, effectively silencing him, and inadvertently knocking the doctor’s glasses onto the bottom of the seafloor. And now the doctor can’t really see at all, which doesn’t help his situation at all.
Neither of them can talk now, which does not bode well for the narrator of this story, who has accidentally written themself into a corner (of the ocean that’s very dark and cold, and a touch lonely - just so you know, angler fish are not very friendly, nor are they particularly attractive, not that the writer is looking, they’re not, yes, I’m talking to you).
Where were we? Oh, yes, Jaws has Doc Hammerhead by the throat (give the narrator a moment to conduct a Google search to see if hammerhead sharks have throats...inconclusive, we’ll just say) er gills (possibly pharynx), and things are not looking good for the good doctor.
It’s then that a scream (distress signal) can be heard, alerting both sharks to the fact that there is injured prey in the water. Both of them (the good doctor included) are on high alert and Jaws removes his...jaws from Doc Hammerhead, freeing him.
The scent of blood reaches both sharks at the same time, and then there’s a race to see who can reach the injured party first. It’s no contest, Jaws leaves Doc Hammerhead swimming in his wake (without his glasses, Doc really is blind in the water).
What Doc swims into is a veritable bloodbath (pun is totally (okay, somewhat accidentally intended)). The ‘prey’ as it turns out was not at all what he’d thought it would be (a lovely little octopus or agile stingray) and he’s rather disappointed when a severed human hand floats past one of his eyes (close enough for him to see without his missing glasses), and a foot past another.
Jaws, he determines (silently, because he does not want to provoke the other shark in the middle of a feeding frenzy) is (quick Google search to double-check what the author believes to be true about DID, and it’s not like they have not already read oodles and oodles about it, or that they’ve been obsessed with it since they were a kid or anything) the alter that comes out when GW feels threatened or is confronted with a highly emotional or volatile set (not plagiarized™) of circumstances.
In other words, when GW panics, Jaws takes over.
It’s a classic case of DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) if Doc Hammerhead has ever seen one (he doesn’t need his glasses to see something like that). He’s never actually seen one in person. He’s read about the condition, and has heard lectures on it. Doctor Mako was particularly well spoken on the subject, having once treated an algae that, when in an altered state, took on the personality of a tiger shark. It was fascinating stuff to learn about, but now that he’s seeing it happen in front of him, Doc Hammerhead doesn’t really have any idea how to treat GW (or if GW is even the main personality...just who is GW?).
There is more screaming (distress signals galore that make Doc’s senses go haywire) and the erratic thrashing of human limbs churns the water around them. Other sharks are drawn to the area by the scent of blood, and the sounds of struggling prey. If Doc doesn’t get things under control, there’s going to be more human deaths on his fins, and that does not do his conscience any good.
There is one cardinal rule of the sea that is followed by most of her aquatic creatures, and that is you do not kill the humans. They are dumb, careless animals who do not understand what they are doing much of the time.
The dolphins (sweet, patient, kind creatures that they are) have attempted to communicate with the poor hapless creatures time and time again (through a variety of different methods), but have not gotten very far with overcoming the slow-witted nature of these awkward land dwellers.
It’s a fairly sad state of being, and Doc isn’t too keen on the witless creatures, but he knows that once this cardinal rule is broken there will be consequences that will impact, not just GW (or rather his alter, Jaws), but all creatures of the sea. Because, though they are dull-witted, humans are vindictive creatures, and they have weapons of mass destruction (and some that are just plain deceptive, and point toward the unfairness of the land dwellers) that they will not hesitate to use to eradicate their perceived enemy.
“Jaws!” Doc Hammerhead calls out in the midst of the din, knowing that he probably won’t be heard (no matter that shark sonar is top of the line as far as sonar goes (after a little bit of Google searching, the narrator realizes that it’s not sonar that sharks have, but electromagnetism, and that humans (dumb as they are, and there’s no denying it) use sonar to repel sharks, who have a strong sense of electromagnetism and smell)).
Then it hits him (not literally, of course (unless you are using the ironic sense of the word literally) (or rather the new, en vogue, meaning of the word literally), (which means not literally, literally, but literally ironically)) that he should not be calling for Jaws, but rather for the personality that he wishes to bring to the forefront of the other shark’s mind. He should be calling for GW.
“GW!” Doc Hammerhead calls, and he forces himself through the debris of the human body that Jaws is currently ripping apart, entrails get caught on one of his eyes (which, ew, though it doesn’t smell half bad (that’s Doc’s thinking, not the narrator’s, the narrator has never smelled entrails, nor does the narrator intend to do so)), and an eyeball brushes against his mouth (it’s still moving, though Doc knows it’s not seeing anything (and how can Doc see that when he doesn’t have his glasses on, and it’s touching his mouth, which is nowhere near his eye? You ask. It’s called artistic license, and I’m writing it for dramatic effect, gosh darn it, and if you don’t like it, well you can read this other great fanfic by the same author, it’s called “Go Suck an Egg”. (not really, the narrator does not wish to offend anyone, really, they’re sorry, please continue to read, if you can make your way out of the parenthetical labyrinth they have laid) (is that too many parentheses?) (is that enough parentheses?) Let me know in a comment.)) (just kidding) (not really)).
“GW, I know you’re in there somewhere,” Doc Hammerhead pleads as he pushes his way forward, getting hit by an arm of a fleeing human, and nearly biting that arm on instinct (hammerheads can be aggressive when pushed, or hit by a flailing arm of a human fleeing a demon shark attack).
“GW, it’s okay,” Doc says, even as he watches Jaws chomp right through the middle of the fleshy material of another human that did not make good on its escape. This one is pale, and plump. It reminds Doc of a baby seal, but it is far clumsier than a baby seal, and far more inelegant (humans really are graceless cows when it comes to swimming (they can’t help it, they have no fins)) and now it’s far bloodier and it’s face is frozen in a rictus (it’s rather comical, to a shark’s sense of humor).
“GW, please, please come back,” Doc says, though he’s not sure that’s a good idea right now, because they are surrounded by bloody body parts, and the water is more blood than water, and there are other sharks circling the area, ready to hone in on the kill.
“Jaws,” Doc tries another tack. “Jaws, that is enough!”
The shark turns to look at him, and the Cheshire grin on his face is enough to make Doc shudder and almost stop moving (which, for a shark would mean death, because a shark that is not moving is a shark that is dead...according to past research the narrator has conducted, or something that the narrator has heard someone say sometime in the very vague past). It is not a friendly grin, it is a predatory grin, and while Doc Hammerhead is a great hammerhead shark (not to be confused with the scalloped bonnethead (discovered after another quick Google search by the narrator)), he is no match for a great white shark on a killing spree.
Doc Hammerhead does the only thing he can do in that moment, he turns tail and swims as fast as his fins can go (which is really fast (25 miles per hour) according to Softschools.com), but a great white shark (when motivated) can swim faster (35 miles per hour, according to a Google search). They’re neck in neck, or rather fin in fin, by the time they are clear of the people and blood-infested water, and a shudder goes through Jaws, and then there’s a slowing of speed, and then a blinking of eyes (which sharks cannot actually do, but the narrator is telling you to suspend disbelief because they are personifying sharks, and it’s not as if they haven’t taken artistic license before), and then they both stop (very briefly) and then keep swimming in a slow, lazy meandering manner.
“Where was I?” and it’s GW speaking now, Doc Hammerhead can sense it, even the shark’s tone of voice is different.
Doc Hammerhead opens his mouth to tell GW/Jaws his theory, but remembers what Jaws said, and their frantic chase through open waters, and he firmly clamps his mouth shut. He’ll have to approach this in a much different way if there is to be any hope of recovery for GW (and if Doc wants to remain in the waters of the living), or whoever this shark really is. For all he knows, GW is another alter for some other personality altogether. It’s all rather complicated, but Doc is up for the challenge (someone has to be).
“I feel like I’ve lost time again, Doc,” GW says. “What’s that you’ve got hanging off your eye? Where are your glasses?”
Doc wants to head off GW’s panic before Jaws (or whoever else is in there) comes to the fore and takes over, so he changes the subject. “Did you know that when I was a little baby shark, my mama shark would sing me this lovely little song, it went something like this, ‘Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo, baby shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, baby shark,’” Doc sings. “Come on, join in on the next chorus, ‘Mommy shark doo doo doo doo doo doo...’”
GW catches onto the tune quickly, and before everyone knows what’s happening, both sharks are singing Doc Hammerhead’s lullaby, and dancing (and so is the audience...don’t pretend you aren’t singing along, and pretending your arms and hands are teeth and jaws).
Alternate Ending #1 : Slashy Goodness (for those of you with slash goggles on)
Alternate Ending #2: Herteromania (for our straight folks out there)
Alternate Ending #4:
Reader’s Choice (choose wisely; you may regret it if you don’t)
Alternate Ending #5: Canon Wins, the Director’s Cut, Cut (sad ending, you may need tissues)