Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

General Warnings (these do not apply to every chapter): Non-explicit mentions of sex, child death, ableism, general darkness, and speciesism.

Important Note: The views of my OC Barbara are absolutely not my own including toward people (or fish) with any kind of disability. I absolutely love Dory and Marlin as characters! Barbara is meant to be a very closed-minded character and show the contrast between two some crab species and fish view/see the world. She might not be that likeable, but she is complicated and fun to write that said, Marlin, Nemo, and Dory would definitely not be in this story if I didn't adore the characters and Finding Nemo and Finding Dory movies. :) As it stands, I am writing conflict to drive the plot. Don't think I will go easy on Barbara in future chapters either! ;)

P.S: Feel free to check out SoaringGryphonProductions's Finding Nemo story Jaws and Claws. It seems really good so far! It also features a crab as a main character. Please note that my story also has a crab as a main character, I was unaware that SoaringGryphonProductions's story existed until I had already written a few chapters of this story. This was written and continues to be written entirely independently of Jaws and Claws.

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"What's the one thing we have to remember about the ocean?"

"It's not safe."

Son, if you live long enough to truly understand this, you are lucky.

- Marlin to Nemo

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In the sunlit depths of the Great Barrier Reef, fish swam to-and-fro. Colorful damselfish and flounders gathered food and tended to their families. Schools of nervous blennies sought shelter in the white sand in the crystal clear water, ever watchful of larger fish. Among them, Barbara nestled in the Stylophora coral with her husband Copper.

"Pretty day. Lots of people out." the old crab said.

Barbara glanced at her dull red and white dotted partner. "Yes, but you know it is more difficult to forage this way.", she said, eying the bright reef. "Everyone can see so well that all the food gets eaten." She frowned, spotting a young fish gobble up a piece of debris that she hoped would float over to them.

Her eye stalks shifted to the neighbors-a parrotfish family next door. And above her coral hideaway, two clownfish that for some reason chose to associate with a disabled tang. "Not a boring life though."

"Mhm-hmm". The conversation died and minutes passed with dull silence as the crabs looked onward.

Coral crabs weren't known for being great conversationalists, especially elderly ones. Fish said that crabs weren't that smart. But thinkers and observers they were, or at least Barbara was.

She saw the blue tang do a strange shimmy dance. "De de de. Oooooooouum! Iiiiiieeee buuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrm!" The larger clownfish left his anemone to scold her. Typical. After this is over, I'll need a nap.

But as the two fish interacted, Barbara pondered as she did every time she saw them if staying here was a good idea. Disabled fish attracted predators. Still at age 21-a very old age for a coral crab- she was in no shape to travel. "A weak fish is a dead fish. It is the way of nature." a crab teacher had once informed her. Barbara tried to flex her pinchers, too stiff with age to open much. She expected to be dead within the next year- a bad molt could kill her if she ever became too weak to complete it. So why worry?

Besides, the large clownfish was well-known for battling sharks and jellyfish to rescue his son. If the story was true, Barbara thought him an idealistic idiot for risking his life when he still appeared young enough to find a mate and start over. And even more crazy for putting his remaining offspring at risk for keeping the tang with a three second memory around.

"Hey, how about this one? Hmmmmmmmhhh oooooooooo!"

"Please stop." the exasperated clownfish said. Silence descended on the reef once more. Barbara found herself drifting to sleep.

A short time later, noise resumed.

"Where's Nemo?"

"He's at school Dory".

"Oooh right!" the tang smiled.

"Here it comes." Barbara muttered, blinking herself awake.

The blue tang swam directly to the anemone. "Oh, oh , oh, oh!"

"Dory, remember. Don't touch the-"

"Brains!" Dory exclaimed.

"No."

"Sand."

"No."

"Hat. Blue algae. Pointy thing."

"No, no, and no." A pause. "Well the last one probably yes. -But Dory"

Barbara scanned the ocean ahead for food particles. She didn't particularly care if she was woken. She had all day. She was a crab, an old crab without much reason or ability to move much anymore. As long as she got some sleep and got enough debris and mucus from the Stylophora coral to eat, she was fine. No mating rituals. No eggs to care for anymore. Nothing to do but live with her partner for as long as possible until a predator or time claimed her.

"Dory! C'mon. You can remember this. The anemone stings. Don't swim near it."

"Got it." The blue tang was doing unusually well. How many days had it been since she last stung herself? Since last week maybe?

One of the neighbor parrotfish couple's children began crying. The father handed it a pebble. The little fry laughed, delighted. Barbara recalled what looked like many hundreds of tiny babies swimming around their parents last year. But then a current had come and despite the parents' frantic efforts, now only dozens remained.

Barbara wondered what had become of her own children that she had released into the current as soon as they hatched.

Darkness settled over the reef with with it, predators lurking in the shadows. Like every night, every creature on the reef knew that the night could be their last. Copper's eye stalks shifted to-and-fro.

"Danger?" Barbara asked, her voice gravelly.

"I heard the triggerfish are in this part of the reef tonight."

"From who? You know the source is important."

"I don't remember." Copper admitted. "But I heard it today from someone. Maybe some fish swimming overhead on the reef? I don't know."

Barbara sighed softly. No use upsetting her husband. He was a good husband for old female like herself. Protective, observant, willing to defend their coral home from intruders when she couldn't. He was younger than her, but still too old to chase females anymore. His memory was a little shorter than she would have liked, but she doubted she would find anyone else interested in being a partner from her species. The honeycomb coral crab was not exactly known for being the marrying type of crab, especially when young.

The pair crawled deep into the crevices of the Stylophora coral. Out of the specks of moonlight dancing on the crevices of the coral, Copper's inquisitive eyes focused on her. "Do you ever wish we were younger?"

The question caught Barbara off guard. They often did when they were not related to survival or their environment. "No. Why?"

"We could have been mates. Had a family, you know?"

"Yes. You are better than some of the other males that fathered children with me. But that's not how it turned out."

There was a quiet sigh from the polyp next to her hiding spot. "Always the realist." Copper chuckled.

"Put it this way. If we mated, what would have happened?" Barbara asked matter-of-factly. "You would proved yourself best of all the males, mated, and wondered off until, if we ever, crossed paths again. I would protect the eggs and release them when they hatched. Where's the family in that?"

"But what if I had stayed in the area and returned every breeding season?"

"And defeated all the other males each time? "Barbara wondered why this needed to be mentioned. Coral crabs weren't loyal.

"No. If we had an agreement to meet in the same place at the same time in a place we knew there would be no other crabs for the mating. And if we agreed that I would return every breeding season and we would mate if you were... you know ready for it."

Barbara pondered it for a moment. She sensed a tenseness from her partner for some reason. "Well, it doesn't matter now, but you suggested that and we were young, I suppose I would agree. We wouldn't exactly be following the conventions of our species, but it wouldn't be too far off course."

"Could you please keep it down with the sex talk?" an exasperated voice interjected from the anemone above. "There are children sleeping."

"We-" Barbara put a claw on Copper's to silence him.

"Thank you." Marlin replied. "Neighbors." he muttered.

The night deepened as the clouds drifted over the white halo of the moon. Barbara woke with the sparse fuzz on her carapace standing straight. Like a hundred nights before, it was happening.

There was a shuffling sound for a few moments. Then a creak that Barbara felt more than heard in the coral. The light scampering of Copper.

The scared scream of a clownfish. The breaking of coral. Stony shards falling. The rooting of a large mouth through a growing pile of debris.

Barbara stood stock still, gills pumping. If she made no sound, she had a chance.

Another scamper from Copper. A muffled cry from the blue tang and an electric buzz of nematocysts firing.

Barbara felt the mouth get closer. A stifled scream and crab blood filled her senses. But she knew she could do nothing. Even if her pincers functioned normally, they'd be no match for a large fish- likely the triggerfish Copper had heard about-to save her partner. If he died, she would continue on as she had many times before in the face of death. But no matter how many times a predator hunted her, instincts overwhelmed her practical mind and left her in some degree of terror.

Another cry from Copper. The mouth was closer now. Adrenaline urged her frail body to act, but she could no nothing. Maybe her luck would end. It would have been a full life.

Barbara felt the swish of current from quickly turning fins and with it the taste of her husband's blood recede. Minutes passed and she didn't dare move. The silence was thick. Hyperventilating and the sounds of moving fins came from the anemone.

Slowly, the old crab edged closer to her mate. She could smell his injuries with her antennae. "Copper?" she asked hopefully.

The shuffle of legs. "I am alive." a breathless voice answered.

"Good." Barbara said flatly. "Where is the injury?"

"Saving my breath..."

Barbara nodded in the darkness to herself. Slowly, gently, she used her legs and antennae to feel around her husband's body for injury. She wanted to focus on the task at hand but as she inspected each leg, claw, and ridge-she saw a couple hundred young coral crabs at school. Her school.

"So what is the difference between a hermit crab and most crab species?" the teacher, an adult hermit crab asked.

"Hermits aren't social." a child answered.

"So there is room in the sand for the other crabs."

"Some crabs burrow. A shell is a hermit crab's home."

"The third answer is correct." the teacher smiled.

"But-" a boy coral crab that looked a lot like Barbara said.

"No interrupting now!" the teacher chided. "Yes. Coral crabs don't do burrow or have shells. Coral is their protection. You honestly thought I would leave that out for crab students?" Strange pink liquid oozed from behind a coral.

The teacher's eye stalks focused on Barbara and the other student. Her pincers opened slightly. "Now. I will have no more interruptions. Since we are on the topic. There are other places that crab species prefer-"

Some of the class began to cough. Barbara looked up. Past the liquid, a huge white curved creature floated in the water some distance away. No one had seen the water carry it toward them. It was a creature made by humans. Normally they growled loudly and slashed anything that got too close with their rotating fans when they were awake. But this one was silent and no one had thought to look.

"Crawl away!" the teacher yelled. The students who were coughing began to drop. The students scattered. Panicked fish swam in various directions. Barbara took off, but the ink was spreading and saturating everything around it in a chemical soup.

A Moorish Idol couple stubbornly looked solemnly out of a cave as other species retreated. Even as a young child, she knew what this was. Pollution. Oil. Gasoline. The human thing her teachers said killed whole reefs. Barbara crawled and crawled faster. But the stuff kept creeping up, mixing with the water behind her. When her little body seemed about to meet the pink pollutant, she felt a strong current ahead. Forcing all the speed that she could into her legs, she leapt into the current.

It was strong enough that it lifted her body and carried her toward the open ocean. Weeks later, she had rejoined what was left of her class to find that the teacher and most of the students had perished.

Barbara remembered this as the first time that she felt terror in her life. Shortly after that, she learned that nearly every crab from a clutch of eggs dies before they begin school. With that, any innocuous in the young crab had vanished. Only the lucky and strong survive in nature.

Chapter Text

General Warnings (these do not apply to every chapter): Non-explicit mentions of sex, child death, ableism, general darkness, and speciesism.

Special warning in this chapter for ableism and speciesism (poor Dory and Hank).

Note: Barbara is not a static character, but she is a bit of a stick in the mud and very certain of her views of all kinds of things she has learned or experienced (whether they are correct or not). She is the main character for this story. If you don't like Barbara as a character, I understand. There are more to her motivations and internal struggles than just being a grumpy old-lady crab, so I encourage you to read on and see for yourself to see how things develop. :)

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The water over the Great Barrier Reef was grey and choppy. It matched Barbara's mood perfectly. A certain blue tang had woken her from her afternoon nap.

"Frank, ooh! I don't think you've met the neighbors? Uhmm, have you?"

Dory's companion said something, but it didn't register. A very large red octopus trailed behind her, tentacles wriggling. Barbara froze.

"Barbie, this is Dank. And this is." Dory pointed a fin to Copper. "What's his name-?"

"Nobody's home!" Barbara exploded. But her voice just sounded old and raspy. "You want to bring a predator here?"

"I'm not here to eat you." the octopus replied.

"Then what are you here for? You can just go away." Barbara asked. She hoped that she looked younger than she felt.

"Look, if you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"Great! Scram you freak!" She hoped this would keep the octopus away. The mollusks were too smart for their own good. In her younger days, Barbara had a few close friends who made a non-predation pact with octopus. Each time, the octopuses twisted the facts until it seemed that the crabs had broken their part of the agreement and ate them as punishment. It would seem that the crabs would learn from this, but each was an isolated incident.

"No wait!" the blue tang held the octopus back with her fin. Dory turned to Barbara. "Can't we just all be friends? Look, maybe you're busy now and I get it. But that's no reason to be mean to a guest. Right Bank?"

"It's Hank!" the octopus blurted.

"I don't care who you are. You can leave." Barbara's eye stalked darted toward Copper. A claw and two of his legs were missing from the triggerfish attack a couple weeks ago. He was watching Barbara closely.

The blue tang's eyes went blank for a moment. "What was I doing? Oh yeah!" she smiled. "Hank, this is Bara and uh-" she pointed in the direction of half hidden injured crab.

"Listen Dory. We were just told to get out. We should listen." The octopus suggested. A part of the elderly crab was impressed with his curteousness, but she knew better. The mollusk would be back by nightfall to finish she and Copper off. A trickster.

"Oh, they're busy?"

"Something like that. C'mon, let's go!" The two swam off.

After she was sure that the coast was clear, Barbara forced her stiff legs foreward in a walk. She glanced at Copper as she walked past. He was still watching her weakly. Did he approve of what she had done? Disapprove? Did he think she had just sold them out to the octopus? Barbara couldn't tell and honestly, she didn't have the energy to care right now.

She grabbed gob after gob of mucus from the Stylophora that the two crabs lived in. It was slow and tiring work for a crab with barely functioning pincers. But now that Copper was injured, she was on full foraging duty now. Barbara's younger self would have laughed because all the mucus was within a couple meters reach. But she had to do this every day. It would get stuck to her pincers. Stuck to her legs. Sometimes, if an area of the coral was particularly rich in mucus, a couple of her legs would get stuck in it. This wouldn't be much of a problem to a younger crab, but it was to her.

She turned to her husband. "I don't think I will have the energy to survive my next molting. So let's hope you can recover fast."

Copper sighed. "I shouldn't have done all the foraging before. I may be younger, but skipping it got you out of shape. Foraging is harder for you now."

"I will consider it a life well-lived. However long I can make it last. ...If we survive the night." she half-panted as her claws dipped into a particularly sticky mucus secretion.

Moments passed. "The septapus didn't seem that keen on eating us."

"Tricksters they are! They say you are buddies. Then they find a way to eat you. You know this."

"You can't judge all people of a species. ...Weren't those a mimic octopuses that ate your friends?" His voice sounded tired, but his eyes were bright.

"Maybe. Probably."

"Well, it would be best to get on this guy's good side then. He seems to be a friend of the neighbors and he's too big to be a mimic octopus."

"You haven't lived here as long as I have. The blue fish tries to befriend and take home all types of dangerous creatures. Half of them would eat her if they weren't shocked by her dumb friendliness." A leg almost got caught in a coral crevice as she shifted some goo onto her back. This really wasn't her day.

"If you're sure. I'm going to sleep."

"Sure."

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That evening, the two clownfish returned home from... whereever they went followed by their dim-witted friend. Barbara knew because the blue tang getting stung woke her up again.

"Careful Dory. Remember that the anemone stings." Marlin said irritably.

"Right! Got it!"

"I learned all about sharks today. Isn't that cool?" the child clownfish Nemo exclaimed.

"Wow! Exciting stuff! Ooh, how many species are there?"

"Umm..." The young clownfish paused. "I'm not sure."

"I think it was... At least 700!" Dory excitedly.

Marlin's jaw dropped slightly. "That is WAY too many types of sharks. Nemo, please tell me you Mr. Ray is focusing on the small ones? You are too young to be learning about the bigger species!"

"Well, right now we're learning about the filtering feeding types. The whale shark and the bask umm."

"The basking shark?" Dory supplied.

"Yeah!"

The next words that left the older clownfish's mouth shocked Barbara. "You know what Dory? You learned so much from the Marine Life Institute. Maybe you could help teach a class again. Uh, with lots of supervision of course. Key words: plenty of supervision."

Barbara blinked. Had she heard correctly? This fish, the same Marlin who was afraid of his shadow when she moved in some years back? The same fish who seemed to be preparing his son so well (most of the time) for all the dangers of the ocean before went on a quest to find his son and brought back the forgetful tang when he returned?

"Ooh! I could be Mr. Ray's assistant. I've never been a teacher's assistant before."

"You have Dory." Marlin said.

"Oh, I did? I forget."

Barbara sighed. It went on and on like this. The forgetting. The reminding. The attracting predators. Day after day. Coral crabs were terrible parents as a species, but she couldn't help but feel bad for the small clownfish. His father had tried so hard to protect him before. And for what? For him to be misguided? They would all get eaten sooner or later, probably the former.

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Exhaustion didn't afford her much sleep that night. Her dreams were of two things: killer octopuses and the little clownfish.

She stood there waiting for Hank the octopus to come. Waiting for it. If it wasn't tonight, it would be soon, she reasoned as the hours passed. There was nothing she could do, so she should just forget it. But survival instincts kept it on her mind. If she was younger, she would have moved house. There was no chance of it now. Now it was a waiting game- die of old age or get eaten- whichever came first.

As much as she tried to steer her mind clear of him, she kept wondering about Nemo's well-being. Would he be dead soon too due to his father's actions? Maybe his father had been foolish before and that was why he had no mate and Nemo was an only child now. Most fish had hundreds of eggs at a time, having one child at a time was unheard of. Marlin was cautious for a time after losing many children before switching back to his former poor parenting habits, the crab decided. But a nagging feeling told her that wasn't entirely true.

"Why should I concern myself with this?" she whispered to herself. "The child is not even my species. No matter what, I will be dead soon."

Barbara hoped the certainty of it all would give her solstice. It didn't.

The next morning, the blue tang swam head-first into the anemone again. Barbara watched as the father clownfish pulled the tang by the tail away from his home, reminding her for the hundredth time about its stinging nematocysts.

I was a fool to ever consider you a friend.

Chapter Text

From this point on, we will be traveling back in time. The first two chapters were almost like a prologue of the present. From here on out for many, many chapters, the story is set before most  of the events of Finding Nemo. Enjoy!

Special warning in this chapter  for predation and trauma. Also ableism.

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The water was dark under the blanket of night. Predators unseen lurked in every coral crevice, in every sand pile, under every frond. Fish with sharp, serrated teeth ate small fish species they found out after curfew (a great deterrent that kept naughty young fish from sneaking out late with their friends).

A female honeycomb coral crab stood alert with hundreds of tiny eggs held closely to her abdomen. The eggs were due to hatch any day (or night) now. The expectant mother was the larval feeding grounds, a place on the reef abundant in food for newborn crab larvae.

"What should I name you all?" she whispered to herself. "Snapper? No. Too common. Bright Eyes? No, too strange. Morgan? Too plain."

Barbara paused for a moment to scan her surroundings. She was nestled in a cave in a rocky outcrop. But the water seemed pitch black. Dark rain clouds hid the full moon. She was in a risky position. But she had a feeling that her young would be born tonight. She needed to name them quickly.

"Boys, you will all be named Oliver. Girls, you will be named Molly. Boys, you are named Oliver. Girls, you are named Molly. Boys, you are-" A sudden spirring in the water.

Another mother crab or danger?

Barbara sat stock still for what felt like an eternity. When she was sure that no danger lurked nearby, the crab continued repeating her children's names. This was the way of the coral crab. The mother crab guarded her larvae until they hatched and then released them to face the world.

Some species that invested more time in parental care considered her species poor parents. But as she and others of her species saw it, they had no choice. When young, coral crabs couldn't eat the mucus from corals. They would get stuck and die. Or if they stayed clear of the mucus (very difficult to do when they were newborn clumsy free-swimmers), too low of a concentration of phytoplankton existed for them to eat around the corals. Most would starve or attract predators to the coral of their parents. This was the best way to rear offpsinrg as a coral crab. Any sea creature who disagreed didn't understand the ways of her species.

"Boys: Oliver. Girls: Molly." she repeated for the 10th time. Many fish and invertebrates, even those who spent a lot of time and energy on parenting gave all their children of one gender the same name. It was a great tool to call for a lost child in same-species colonies and to prevent inbreeding in species whose siblings separated when young and would not likely recognize one another as adults.

She thought that she felt the stirrings of activity on her abdomen. Are they beginning to hatch? "I wish you the very best children. I hope many of you grow up healthy and strong."

Another disturbance in the water. Barbara pointed one short eye stalk into the open water in front of her. The other she pointed toward a deep crevice, her escape.

"Aaah!" she let screamed as slimy fishy lips grabbed her by rear leg. She struggled as terror seized her. At once, she felt terrible for drawing attention to herself with sound. But it might have been too late.

"Hey! Don't you dare!" she couldn't turn around to see what size fish she was dealing with, but she risked it. "I'll kill you if you don't let me go!" Another fish wordlessly folded back her rear legs with its large fins and began lifting her body to reveal her eggs.

"No wait! Wait. Don't hurt me or my eggs." she thrashed, but the fish clung on easily. "Please! I'll make a deal... A pact." The rational part of Barbara's mind knew this wasn't a good idea. But she needed to do something! To save her babies. To save herself.

The slimy lipped fish unhooked his teeth from her leg. "A pact you say? What's in it for me?" his voice was deep, almost like the deep croak of a frog. The other fish held her down with its fins still, but paused in seeking her eggs.

"Okay. Okay. Umm. I- well if you release me-"

"Just spit it out!" The other fish yelled. "We don't have all night."

"Well... if you eat one third of my eggs, will you-"

"How about we eat all of them? I can-" the deep throated fish suggested.

"No, don't!" she attempted to scurry, but one of the fish flipped her onto her back. She made a muffled cry. She wouldn't be able to overturn herself easily with the extra weight of her eggs.

"I was gonna say, we will eat the eggs and let you live. But if you're going to try to escape..."

"No no. No, you can go ahead. Eat them." Barbara hated the desperation in her voice. At herself for giving her children's lives in exchange. She felt fish lips draw closer and shuddered. But suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

"But if you could wait. uhmm. A couple hours till morning. That way, there will be fewer predators. You both will be safer eating. You can still get the eggs."

"What, so other crabs see and help you come morning?"

"Coral crabs don't really help other crabs often." she blurted, this time speaking from her own experience.

"We aren't falling for that. Besides, she will just escape if we let her go." the higher-voiced fish said. "Let's eat em'!"

"No! No!" Barbara struggled. But slimy fish lips nibbled and nibbled until her abdomen lay bare. As soon as they released her, she scurried to a dark corner.

"No hard feelings." The first fish said. "It's the ecosystem, you know? Maybe next time, you will be able to hatch crab babies." At that, the fish swam off, leaving the traumatized mother to mull over what he said.

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A FEW DAYS LATER

"So you lost your whole clutch, huh?" Vanessa put a claw on Barbara's front legs. "I'm sorry. That sucks. But you were successful on your first time, right?"

"Yeah, I probably still have little Picarell's and Ferni's swimming around from last hatching season. But still-"

"How did they do it? Were the eggs slurped right off you? Did they hold you down?" Her friend's eyes flashed with emotion. Pain. Sympathy.

Barbara blinked. "You speak from experience?" How did Vanessa, a young crab and first time mother this season know this?

"Well, some fish did the same thing to me." The younger crab tilted her body forward for her friend to see. Barbara's gills pumped furiously. She really really didn't want to look. There was a soreness after the whole thing and she really didn't want a visual to confirm it. But against her better judgement and out of sympathy for her friend, she looked anyway.

Large blotches of blue bruising dotted her friend's abdomen. Her exoskeleton looked rough, almost as if it was beginning to peel away in places where the fish had nibbled the hardest. "Does it look bad?"

A moment passed. Barbara didn't know what to say. "No." she lied.

"Really? Hurts like carp though." Vanessa lowered herself. "Well, you are always blunt. So I'll take your word for it." she said with a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah, it probably hurts worse than it looks. We're crabs. We're tough. Don't worry too much about it."

"Well, I guess we both weren't careful enough this reason. There's always next year right?" The other crab's tone was somehow upbeat.

"Right." Barbara echoed. It suddenly felt hard to breathe, but she hid it. "I was lucky to be successful last season on my first try."

"Exactly." her friend said. "Well, I better get back to the Stylophora. Word is a Crown of Thorns was spotted a bit east of here. Got to help the other crabs defend the home and all that. "

"Good luck. Talk soon."

Luck. Barbara mulled over it all as she walked back to her coral. What does luck have to do with any of this? I went to the same place this year as last. I kept watch. I didn't eat or sleep for days straight guarding them. But the full moon was blocked by clouds this time, so I couldn't see as much around me... My mistake killed my children.

Vanessa's words echoed in her head once more. `We both weren't careful enough this season`.

Maybe I care too much.

From that point on, Barbara vowed to do her best every breeding season, but to force herself not to care if she lost her babies. Afterall, that was how non-mammal sea creatures handled parenting. Only a fraction of their children would survive to adulthood and that is what they expected. That is what she should expect too.

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ONE YEAR LATER

Barbara stood in her Stylophora with her female roommates, picking at some goo.

"So, what does your ideal mate look like? Are his spots bright? Are his claws large?" Her bright and nosy acquaintance Frond was asking her about males again.

Barbara sighed. "Whichever male wins the fight."

At Frond's blank expression, she added, "You know, the fights males have every year to see who will partner with the most females."

"Oh yeah! Right."

She honestly wondered sometimes how this roomate of hers was still alive. She wasn't very smart. She didn't bother to ask how the breeding season had gone for the other. She was sure it hadn't ended well.

"But..." Frond continued. "That means you have no preference? Or you like the strong and violent type?"

Barbara took her time to reply, chewing extra slowly on the bit of mucus she had put into her mouth. Not out of uncertainty, but out of annoyance and spite.

"No, I like the fittest. That is what the fights are for. So the best man is the father of the most children."

"I didn't know that."

"I bet not." An awkward silence passed as Barbara slurped the coral's goo.

"So..."

Not again.

"I was wondering. You missed the past breeding season. You told all of us you weren't feeling up to it. Is it because you weren't eating enough to develop eggs?"

Ah yes, the sulking period she had after losing her 2nd clutch of offspring to the fish. She hadn't been eating as much as usual during that period, but she wasn't eating so little as to reduce her body condition, she thought.

"I was attacked by some fish, so I wasn't able to handle much. But I was eating fine. And I am fully recovered now." There, close enough to the truth. Saying something that mader her sound too vulnerable could undermine the trust of her roomates except for Frond (who she didn't think had the brain to handle social complexities anyway) and increase her risk of being kicked out of the group.

"So you will be joining us this year?" The crab sounded too excited for her own good.

"Yes."

"Which larvae feeding ground?"

"As far way from yours as possible."

"What do you mean by-"

Barbara scurried away to another part of the coral. Honestly, she considering starting a vote with her other two more normal roomates to get Frond kicked out.

The other two females were on the opposite side of the coral, looking expectedly. "Lemme guess. She's obsessing over breeding season again?" the smaller crab, Kona asked.

"Yes."

"Not another word!", the second female, also named Frond said. "That's my sister you're talking about!"

"Whatever." Barbara said, walking past them. Maybe they weren't ready for the vote or possibly, she should just leave. But she hoped that today was the day that something finally happened and the dim-witted Frond was ejected from the group.

"Just because she's your sister doesn't give you the right to put all of our survival at stake!" Kona argued.

"But she hasn't done anything that would get us killed."

"Being stupid is one." Barbara muttered.

"Look, I know she is annoying and she isn't the brightest crab. But, she has survived all these years. That has to count for something."

"Maybe because she was tagging along with you all this time." Kona added, rolling her eye stalks. "You aren't supposed to have family here in the first place. Lucy you are the highest ranking..."

Frond opened her claws menacingly toward the lower-ranking crab. "Look, she is the best at gathering food and she shares it with all of us. That's not a crab-like thing to do. But she does it. And if you want to kick her out, I'll kick you out too Kona."

Kona and Barbara exchanged a glance. They were in a favorable high-traffic part of the reef. Two small coral crabs couldn't adequently protect the Stylophora from coral-eating predators or ward off other crabs who wanted to steal their home on their own.

"What if we open up our home to a fifth female crab? Someone on the larger side." Barbara asked, winking at Kona. "That would even things out, so Frond's weirdness are spread among more of us. Less annoying for everyone."

She really hoped that her favorite roomate and that the more intelligent Frond sister would not. If there was five, a vote could be cast and the first Frond sister could be voted out and if they were lucky, overtake the more second Frond in rank. That way, if they tried to vote out the first sister out again, it wouldn't matter because a large coral crab could stand up to the sister. Not to mention, she could do the work of two in terms of safeguarding the coral.

"Larger crabs take up more food. I'm not in favor of this." Kona directed a scowl at Barbara like she had been personally slighted.

"Neither am I." the other Frond said. "Our coral only has enough mucus for four."

Wordlessly, Barbara left the other females. She didn't feel like dealing with more drama right now . If she had it her way, a single crab would be able to defend a Stylophora by herself. She could do what she pleased and everyone else could stuff their opinions in their carapaces.

A couple months later, a mantis shrimp attacked. Only herself and the more intelligent Frond sister survived. Barbara and the remaining Frond sister were left with the unpleasant job of defending the coral and screening female coral crabs to see if they were roomate material. Barbara regreted not voting the Fronds out.

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The three males were fighting. Against Barbara's nature, she found herself wishing that the brightly-colored, weaker male would win as she stood watching with some other females.

"Go, go, go!" A small crowd of gobies cheered.

"I'm going for the big boy." another goby yelled.

The weaker male, was mainly fighting the largest male of the three. The small male grabbed one of the other crab's leg with a claw. But his opponent easily dislodged him. They locked claws.

The third male, paler than the other two climbed on the others and tried to grab the others' legs from the top.

"Ooh, unique move. I like it!"

The top crab held onto the larger crab as the two main fighters disconnected. They performed a sideways crab walk around each other in circles. The large crab smiled and waved to the females as we paced around quickly, obviously trying to impress them with his speed and strength. They wooted and waved. Barbara didn't wave back.

The three males rounded on each other, locking claws, rolling, and tumbling. The crowd commented on their moves. The other females made encouraging sounds. Barbara watched, feeling detached from it all. Why all the fuss? Whoever was fittest would win. However that happened didn't matter.

Suddenly, the bright crab backed off, sporting cuts and abrasions.

"He's dropping out. Shame." a female beside her remarked.

"He's out! I repeat! Dan is out!" a goby yelled, waving a piece of seagrass to signal. The loser scuttled away quickly, obviously embarrassed.

"I bet you my shell that the large guy will win." a hermit crab in the crowd betted another crab.

The gobies cheered as the two remaining males crab walked about, sizing each other up for another round.

"Since when did this become a spectator sport?" Barbara muttered to herself.

"Since long before I was born." an old female beside her said. Her eyes were aglow. The elder was correct. The fighting during breeding season was always like this. For some reason, the gobies were just particularly irritating to her this time for some reason.

Barbara sighed. So many females were here to watch. Even a couple too old to breed who had no business at the fighting site.

"I'm naming male children after him if he wins." another female said. A couple other crabs murmured in agreement.

The two crabs charged at one another, locking and unlocking claws again and again. They tore at each others legs and exoskeletons, inflicting minor injuries. Suddenly, the larger male grabbed the small male's front legs with both claws. Barbara frowned. The small male was too tired and slow.

"Oh yeah! He might body-slam!" a goby whopped, flipping with excitement. The goby crowd and crabs "oohed" and "ahhed".

With a seemingly exaggerated look of determination, the large male flipped the small one up and over him. The small male was planted upside-down firmly into the sand, all 8 legs wriggling.

"Give up?" the large male called.

His opponent didn't answer, continuing hard to try to free himself. Barbara admired his courage even though the fight was pretty much decided.

"If he can't get out of the sand on the count of three. The winner is decided." a goby, a self-declared referee called.

"One." The small male turned himself sideways in the sand.

"Two." He continued to thrash, four of his legs were stuck.

"Three." The small male managed to free two of his legs, his expression panicked.

Barbara blew a breath out from her gills that she didn't realize she was holding.

"And the winner is... Cancero!" the referee announced. The crowd cheered.

"Get a life! These are just two inch crabs." A passing butterfly fish yelled.

Barbara sighed. She was hoping for another winner, but she supposed this was inevitable. The females lined up to meet the father of their young. Barbara distracted herself by thinking of the most generic names possible for the male half of her children.

Needless to say, Barbara's roommates were disappointed when they learned that she had named her children "Claws" and "Sandy", some of the most common names on the reef. But it was better for Barbara this way. This way, she wouldn't have to recognize or remember them.

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EIGHT YEARS LATER

Several breeding seasons and years later, Barbara made her way to what was considered something of a coral crab "retirement community". It was an area that all varieties of coral crabs in the vicinity set aside for the elders who survived to old age. For a crab that reached adulthood to survive to old age was considered a grand feat and the crab community's consensus is that this should be rewarded. As such, they had found a quiet place away from predators and competing crabs for the elders to spent their final years. There was a interspecies pact of sorts that some fish abided by. "Don't eat the elders and we will think a little more favorably of your species."

As the retirement home coral came into view, Barbara was surprised by how pleasant it looked. The other crabs weren't kidding when they called it a "peaceful paradise." Large, flat discs of Acropora hyacinthus encircled a rose up high above the sea floor. Beside that, red and pink corals of all varieties jutted out grew along the edges of a bare patch of sea floor brightened by sunshine. Brain coral, fan, coral, pipe coral, and most importantly, a large patch of Stylophora. In the center of the sunlit area sat a Heteractis magnifica sea anemone.

For the first time in a while, Barbara mild excitement. Not only had she survived longer than most of her peers-an impressive feat-her life might be easier from this point forward.

Cautiously, she approached the Stylophora coral's resident. "Hello. I'm Barbara. I'll be staying here."

An old, stiff male approached. "How old are you?"

"Around 15 or 16. I'm an elder."

The male and another crab eyed her over as if confirming she looked her age.

"My name's Peat. Welcome to retirement." he said in a gruff, though welcoming voice. "I heard that I should be expecting you."

Barbara smiled to herself. Is that it? I'm accepted? There's no way anything in life can be that easy.

"Now." Peat continued. "If you want to stay, there are rules. He motioned with a claw for Barbara to follow him into the Coral. "Now Barbara, 'bout them rules..."

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Now we know a little more of Barbara's backstory and part of why she is the way she is. Also, my apologies that there were only OCs in this chapter. I promise the clownfish will be making an appearance in the next chapter.

How was it? Feel free to tell me what you think in a review!

Chapter Text

I am uploading early for the Finding Nemo anniversary! Yay! :) Again, we are back in time from the first couple chapters. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: The same warnings apply as for other chapters, though this one is not too bad.

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The retirement community was better than Barbara had imagined. There was plentiful space, plenty of goopy mucus, and best of all, there wasn't much drama. In fact, the "rules" forbade it. Something about how too much excitement made it more difficult to age well. The residents were peaceful, friendly, but mainly kept to themselves. Males and females mixed freely since there was no concern about breeding and a looser social hierarchy than she was used to existed. In fact, a couple of the crabs were so frail that they barely moved and just stood around patches of coral mucus for most of the day.

This was the good life as some called it. But Barbara had too many years of life experience than to judge solely by first impressions. The taste of reality came a few days after Barbara joined in the shape of a clownfish, orange with three stripes, as he yelled precautions.

"Be careful! Careful with your fin! Careful, Don't overextend yourself son."

Barbara paused her foraging for mucus to watch.

A much smaller fish with the same coloration drifted out of the anemone's tentacles. "I know. I know. Can I go play, please?" The little fish looked very young, a little chubby thing with big eyes. She assumed that was the larger fish's offspring.

"If you behave, we can go to the fan coral, but no farther."

"Aww." the little fish groaned in disappointment.

The fan coral was practically right outside of the anemone. Though she had never actually raised any of her children herself past the point of hatching, she presumed the limit was a bit excessive.

But then the little fish turned and she saw the slightly misshapen little fin.

"Hmm." she murmured to herself. Barbara didn't know much about fish parenting, but she knew they had hundreds of children at once like crabs did. She predicted that the area would get very busy very quickly soon when the rest of the kids left the anemone. So long for peace.

She returned to foraging, not one to be a busybody. But unfortunately for her (and the other residents), she could hear everything they said while they were out of the anemone thanks to the Stylophora sitting almost at the foot of where the anemone sat.

Why would anyone let there be loud children next to the retirement home? Damn. The crab council lied about this place being peaceful.

She overheard the pair bicker and spend time together. Something about the little fish wanting more room to move, the bigger fish tickling the other, a meal being prepared and all that parental nonsense that coral crabs had no use for.

The other residents seemed uneasy whenever the two clownfish came out. She assumed it was because of the noise level from many children. They couldn't nap forever. It was just a matter of time before the place was teaming with them.

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A couple days passed. There was only stillness and fish passing by every so often. No other babies. No female clownfish. There were a couple of male shrimp bachelor groups living nearby and various creatures stopping to rest or play around the Acropora hyacinthus, but other than that, all was still. This seemed strange to Barbara. There was no such thing as "not busy" on the reef.

Late that evening, she finally stopped to ask one of the long-time crab residents about it.

"So Oceania." she asked over a dinner of mucus and various debris that had gotten caught in their coral home. "It's pretty quiet here. Did a predator recently come through? Or is there a territorial person around the area that I haven't come across yet?"

"No, nothing like that. This area was selected by the crab council for its serenity. But I'm afraid that no place is perfect."

Barbara maintained her gaze with the other crab, expecting further explanation, but none came. "And?"

The crab hesitated. The two clownfish were anemone directly above the crab's home at the moment. "There are some problems. You'll see for yourself in time." Oceania turned away, looking frustrated.

"Huh." Mystified, Barbara glanced up at the two clownfish directly above the patch of Stylophora. The adult male clownfish was probably four inches long. The little one was about her size, an inch long.

Barbara knew she was in view. The father fish was eying her cautiously. Most neighbors would introduce themselves if they weren't prey or predators of their immediate neighbor. Clownfish were not hunters of adult honeycomb coral crabs, so there was nothing to worry about.

Barbara crawled a little deeper into the Stylophora, still visible, but hoping not to raise an alarm. She was expecting a "Hi neighbor. We haven't met. My name is...", but the more she stood there awkwardly, the more sure she was that the welcome was not coming. Barbara wasn't about to start the introduction. Being one inch across as an adult crab, she knew not to draw attention to herself if she wanted to live. All kinds of fish, even ones that don't normally eat crab were happy to eat her species because they were so small in size.

The father fish seemed to be growing wary of the stranger nonchalantly looking his way. "Come on Nemo. There's a safer place over here." He directed his offspring to the opposite side of the anemone.

Barbara began to suspect that the little fish called "Nemo" was the only young fish here. Strange. Maybe the two were rejects from a bigger family. A male alone with no female. And a young fish with a handicap that the family had rejected. The anemone location seemed a little too good for a couple rejects, but Barbara tried to not dwell about it too much. She disliked nosy sea creatures and didn't want to be one. She preferred spending most of her time alone.

Plus, she had more important things to do: learn the names of all the other residents, find a preferred feeding patch, and figure out how to establish a position in unusual "loose" social hierarchy of elders.

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More time passed. Barbara found that she was gravitating toward Oceania more than the other residents. Apparently, Oceania liked to give her children common names, something that she could relate to.

Barbara was beginning to think that Oceania was giving her a strange new resident test when she had said "there are some problems" days back. But then she was woken at twilight to a scream. Based on years of practice, she hid herself deep in the Stylophora. Even though it was late, it was summer and still light out. From her hiding spot, she glimpsed the adult clownfish chasing away shrimp that was even smaller than herself.

She assumed that the shrimp must have stolen some food from the other fish. She closed her eyes again after double checking that there were no other predators in the vicinity.

"Don't you dare put a claw on my son!"

"Sir." the shrimp spoke nervously. "I was just swimming through. I didn't mean anything. Just... please don't eat me."

"Yeah right! Don't let me catch you here again!"

Whatever. Again, Barbara didn't know much about clownfish. She supposed they were a territorial fish species. She would stay out of the way of the clownfish and avoid associating with them. That was no problem.

Coral crabs were very good at hiding themselves and keeping to themselves. She'd done so for years at a time previously when she had neighbors that were happy to make a coral crab a meal.

In the morning, she saw the clownfish shouting and chasing others away again. They were a couple half grown yellow prawn gobies.

Again, these were not dangerous fish to either an inch clownfish or crab. It was a little annoying that the alarm was being sounded when harmless fish approached the anemone, but the clownfish still had the potential to be a great alarm system. When there was real danger, she had no doubt that the clownfish would swiftly handle it. None of the larger reef fish had, so far, gone into the invisible "bubble" surrounding the anemone that she suspected the clownfish considered his territory.

Barbara found herself pleasantly surprised with crab council for selecting this location for elder crabs. She was finally starting to believe that maybe, the retirement community home was as good a place as she'd been told.

But then the screaming started. Not screaming at a predator. Not to defend a territory. Not even screaming as a way to improperly discipline a child. No, it was screaming several times a night for minutes at a time. Sometimes when it happened, she could hear the little clownfish sobbing, but somehow most of the time, she didn't hear anything from the young fish. Either way, the father clownfish woke up the whole neighborhood with his voice.

She did not know of any fish species that yelled loudly at night without reason. She hid herself away more than usual the next day: the father clownfish was acting strange and unpredictable.

The second time, it was in the wee hours of the morning, this time with screams, yelling, and very loud, heavy breathing. Barbara couldn't hear most of what went on in the anemone, but in the quiet of night, it was still audible better. Barbara decided that this couldn't be a strange mating call or a form of long-distance communication like whales used.

The screams were long and almost had a desperate quality to them. Furthermore, they grew raspier and weaker the longer that they went on. Mating calls across species tended to be consistent in quality and have an air of confidence to them. No, this fish was diseased or had a psychological issue.

Barbara need to know if the adult clownfish was a reliable alarm system for predators at this point or if he was "broken". Again, she approached Oceania. This time, she made sure that the clownfish were in the anemone when she asked. "Does the larger clownfish... does he make an alarm call when there is actual danger? A legitimant threat?"

Oceania glanced at the anemone, as if afraid the clownfish would be listening. "There's something wrong with that fish. He rarely talks to us, to anyone other than his child. But yes, he makes a sound when there is danger. Though he makes much less of a fuss when there is a predator than when something innocent wanders too close to his anemone."

Odd. A mostly-broken alarm then.

"So he could be diseased then?" Many fish diseases were not contagious to crabs. Still, it was better to be safe than get infected.

"Probably not. Not in the classical sense." Barbara seemed cautious with her words. Other crabs were watching.

"He's been screamin' since he moved in here two years ago. Used to be even worse then." A frail old male crab said. "He's what-ya call crazy as a clam. To put it politely."

"I wouldn't say totally crazy. At the mild end of crazy." a less frail male crab said.

"You just came 'ere last year. You ain't what I've seen." the ancient crab said to the younger male. "None of us knows why he like that. But all us 'ere 'ave to live with it."

Barbara was mildly curious for once. But she guessed the other crabs had asked what was going on and gotten nowhere or it was simply too dangerous to ask. The fish could be a loose anchor. That explained the lack of activity in this small section of the reef. The sea life that came by either didn't know about the strange clownfish or came through by accident.

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Feel free to leave a review to let me know what you thought. :)

Chapter Text

Barbara begrudgingly dropped mucus into the claw of the retirement community's oldest crabs.

"Thank you young one." The ancient crab with only one eye and a gnarled claw said.

"You're welcome Fred." replied flatly. The old male, who had lived here the longest of all the crabs here, was living on borrowed time. He was incredibly slow and mostly unable to forage for himself. As "the rules" stated, the able-bodied crabs in their small community had to forage for those too old do so.

Why should I have to feed someone besides myself? Why not let old age claim them, so there is more food and room for younger residents?

The old crab smiled at her like he was grateful. Barbara turned to leave.

"Hey Barbara. Why so quiet? You're not going to visit us?" It was the second oldest resident, a female named Barnacle with legs so stiff that she practically remained glued in place most of the day.

"I don't really like to socialize much with anyone." Barbara replied.

"Well, you 'ave time to 'ang out with Oceania. Why not stay a while?" Barbara sighed. The two oldest crabs were a great source of knowledge. But it seemed that since they had lost the ability to move around freely, they turned into social butterflyfish.

"Okay." Barbara turned to face them.

An awkward silence settled. Clearly, they wanted her to make conversation. "Umm. The mucus seems especially tasty here on the East end of the coral." She hated being forced to make small talk like this.

"That it is." Barnacle said. "So, as you might feel, the water feels a little colder these days. So I was thinking-" The old crab shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Not true! The water is little warmer in the summer than when I was 'oun." Fred interjected.

"I know! I know! Ocean warming as it's called. But I like to pretend" Barnacle rolled her eyes. "The water is a wee bit warmer than when I was a crabling." Her eye stalks shifted back to Barbara. "Anyway, with the cold season coming Fred and I will be slower. We might need more help. I know you aren't a people-crab, but if you could tell the other crabs that they may have to move us from our bed sites and back to the feeding grounds every day, that would be-"

"It should be the last winter you 'ave to deal with us before we're dead." Fred interrupted as if sensing Barbara's growing irritation. "Remember, someday, someone will do the same for you." He had the gall to wink at her.

Barbara sighed. Did they view her as a young underling? She was above both of them in the social hierachy. "I'll do it. But you have to remember that I am only around five years younger than you. The biggest difference between us is that... I haven't slowed down much yet."

Luckily, the old crabs didn't seem offended. "True enough. Just remember, if old crabs don't get enough rest, it kills 'em early." Fred said. Barbara figured that when she got to be like these two, she'd ask to be fed to a predator rather than lose her dignity.

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A half moon shone brightly over the reef spreading faint beams of white light into the darkened waters. It was well into the night. Barbara shifted her legs into a more comfortable position where she stood in her sleeping nook. But sleep eluded her.

She glanced at the anemone, straining her statocysts (crab hearing apparatus) for sounds of stirring clownfish.

But something had Barbara on edge. She couldn't quite place her claws on it, but she felt like she was being watched. If her senses were correct, she might get a better idea of how broken the alarm- the adult male clownfish-was. What is his name anyway?

As if on cue, the male clownfish's head appeared from the anemone's tentacles. His large eyes wide with worry. "Are you sure you need to go?"

The little clownfish peeked out from the anemone. "I do, dad!"

The father pushed his son back. "Uh-uh. Wait Nemo! I have to check for danger first. It's night. This is very dangerous."

The father gazed in both directions, then exited and reentered the anemone repeatedly. "Out and back in. Out and back in. Two more times, out and back in." He whispered to himself as he tried to strike up the courage to leave the safety of the anemone.

Barbara liked his attention to detail in regard to predators. But this? He was practically teasing any predator nearby with this strange in-out dance. She sighed and trained one eye into dark water to see if she could make out anything while the other watched the clownfish.

"Okay. The coast is clear. Everything is in order." the fish said as if reassuring himself.

"Dad!" Nemo whined.

"Okay. Here we go." He protectively held the little clownfish's gimpy fin as they descended to wherever their "bathroom" spot was.

Some minutes later, they reappeared. "Nemo, this is the last time I let you have anemone juices before bed."

"Dad...why?"

Barbara thought she should find the situation funny. But she was disturbed reason that the little clownfish didn't understand danger of "needing to go" at night. Coral crabs know how dangerous night is when they are-

A shift in the water. There was a presence. No, there was some large form in the water. Her eye stalks scanned the darkness rapidly.

The clownfish were slowly making their way back up to the anemone. "And son, that is why nighttime is extra dangerous."

The clownfish must have tempted fate too much that night. Suddenly, Marlin opened his mouth in a silent scream. Barbara's eye stalks shifted toward a rapidly growing shadow.

A large creature flew out of the darkness toward the clownfish. The father clownfish threw himself between the predator and his son. The creature bit at the father who quickly dodged.

"Go. Nemo..." he murmured, his voice shaky and small.

The fish lunged again, its crimson scales flashing in the moonlight with deadly intent. The clownfish was so stiff with fear that he barely dodged this time and was harshly knocked to the side.

The predator, a seabass, wasted no time in pursuing its smaller bite-sized victim. It swam downward towards its quarry, sniffing.

Barbara felt a sense of panic and dread coming on. She knew she had the skills to keep her wits about her. She had seen smaller fish get eaten before. But it was never so close and never with a parent fish with just a single offspring.

The clownfish recovered from its stun. "Nemo! Nooo!" the panicked father started toward the seabass. It lunged at something in the dark as its mouth opened wide.

The father attempted to strike the seabass, but he was shaky and too slow for the agile predator.

The seabass snapped at its prey in the shadows again. The fish's scales flashed in the moonlight again only inches for her and this time, Barbara could make out small blue dots like wounds swimming in a sea of red.

The crab's blood ran cold. The fish was a vermillion seabass, a predator of crabs as well as fish!

In a split second decision, she scurried deeper into the Stylophora branches, praying that the fish was too busy chasing its prey to hear her.

Nestled deep in the coral. Eventually, the sounds of the clownfish faded away. She waited to smell blood.

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The next morning, all was still. No activity from the anemone. No fish swimming by. Even Fred and Barnacle hadn't made a sound. The sun was shining brightly in a cloud-free sky overhead like the day was supposed to be cheerful.

Eventually, Barbara made her way to the common morning meeting place. Other crabs trudged slowly behind her.

"Okay. Is everyone alive? I'll go around to all of you for an official check since not all residents are present." Peat, the designated leader and enforcer of the retirement home's rules said.

"Yep." one resident replied.

"Yes." Oceania said.

"I'm not dead yet." Fred replied, looking winded.

"Uh-huh." another replied.

Barbara just nodded.

"Okay. Good. Well, find the others to confirm. In the meantime, I suggest you all get some sleep. As they say, too much excitement for old-timers is a shortcut to death."

Barbara started to wonder if lack of sleep really would kill elderly crabs.

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That afternoon was zero activity at the anemone. But there was no blood or bodies either. Barbara thought she would have known. She had been up all night. But maybe she had missed it from her coral crevice.

That alarm was broken.

But what about the larger clownfish? Large as the seabass was, it wasn't more than 6 inches long. The adult clownfish was too large for it to consume. A large part of Barbara hoped that the adult clownfish was gone. They really needed more sane clownfish neighbors; screams at night really weren't doing the old crabs any favors.

After their naps, the crabs crawled all along the Stylophora growing in patches close to the sides of the anemone. Satisfied that it was safe, they went back to their routines.

Barbara picked at a particularly sticky glob of mucus from the coral. She was alone in a coral patch on food

gathering duty for Fred and Barnacle again. "What kind of social hierarchy is this?" she complained to herself. There were only three reasonably young coral crabs in the group and that responsibility fell on them to forage for the oldest residents. Apparently, the oldest crabs were treated the best even though they didn't necessarily have the highest status in this group. There were exceptions of course. The leader Peat was above everyone in the hierarchy. Also, Oceania had a high status for some reason even though she hadn't been here much longer than Barbara.

With a sigh, Barbara finally freed the goo from the coral and stuck it to the top of her carapace for the two ancient crabs. She lowered her claw to grab another glob.

"Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah! Aaaahhhh! No! Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Not again.

She covered her statocysts with the sides of her claws.

But the wailing continued. Barbara tried to distract herself by thinking about the health benefits of consuming green vs red algae. After what felt like an eternity, it stopped, and she could practically hear the sighs of relief from the crabs in the other coral patches. Barbara scurried toward the coral outcrop where the bachelor group of scarlet cleaner shrimps lived. They didn't seem to be home.

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For the next few days, the screaming continued. But it wasn't just at night. No, it was in the morning, in the evening, and most hours of the night. The clownfish was hoarse by now, but somehow he still managed to make throaty sounds that were loud enough to keep everyone awake. The coral crabs complained amongst themselves and tried to catch naps when they could, but true to the nature of their species, they minded their business and did nothing to intervene.

Barbara eventually found herself actually listening at night to the cries from the clownfish instead of trying to ignore or drown them out. She could only be angry and irritated about this nonsense for so long. She had to get herself accustomed to the volume. Only then, she reasoned, could she ever be able to sleep.

But the more she listened, the more that Barbara realized these were more than just screams. Words like "Nemo", "fear", and "children" were frequently repeated. In the long hours of the night, Barbara began to wonder more about the fish for the first time. Do did he become like this? Were he and his possibly dead son really rejects from a larger clownfish family?

"Please! No! Aaaaaaah!" the clownfish hoarsely yelled just then.

Barbara stared into the black night, trying to get comfortable.

"Help! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Coral!"

It could be like a dolphin call. Yes, a dolphin call. Wildly uncomfortable as the sonar hit you, but not deadly.

"Aaaaaaaah!" the fish's voice was so hoarse that the scream ended in a low-pitched groan.

If she couldn't get used to this, she would have to leave "retirement". She hoped that someone would do something about this. She didn't want it to be her.

Barbara closed her eyes. "Happy thoughts." she muttered.

"Dad. Dad. Why?" The little kid was crying. It was loud enough to be heard outside the anemone.

So he's alive. For some reason, Barbara felt really uncomfortable as the kid's crying continued. There was something. Something very unusual that she was feeling. Sympathy.

Chapter Text

Barbara met her fellow retirees at the communal gathering coral patch feeling a little dazed that morning. She rubbed her eyes with her claws absent-mindly as the other crabs gathered.

She was so groggy that she didn't notice Peat walk to the meeting late.

"Okay. This can't go on any longer." the normally put-together leader's voice was rough and his eyes were red. "WAKE UP EVERYONE! NOW!"

There were several startled grunt and yelps from the other elders. Barbara looked around at the other elders. Barbara felt irritated with herself that she hadn't even had the mind to notice that half of them had been sleeping in the meeting area.

"Okay. Now that I have your attention-"

"Can we meet later? I want to sleep." someone said.

"No."

"I haven't slept in three days." another crab groaned.

"No." Peat said sternly, claws opening. "Listen. Barnacle and Rebecca are dead."

"Dead. 'ow can they be dead? I just 'ere saw Barnacle this mornin'." Fred asked.

"I think that was yesterday." Oceania whispered to him.

"Oh."

"Folks. The point is we have to do something." Peat said. "I know we are crabs. I know we are honeycomb coral crabs-"

"The cranky isolationists." a passing firefish commented.

"Yeah." Peat said, pointing at the fish, looking surprised.

"Who care for no one but themselves." another male, Bill said, walking forward.

"I know. The point is, we have to do something or any of us..." He made a sweeping motion to the other crabs, "-could die next from exhaustion."

"So what should we do?" Oceania asked. Barbara felt like she was hearing all of the information, but like none of it was really sinking in.

"I have an idea!" a female said. "We can stick goo over our statocysts." There were murmurs of disagreement from the crowd.

Bill frowned. "Or we could find a female clownfish. I heard the guy yelling about family a lot. Maybe a female could-"

"It's not a mating call." Peat retorted. The crab narrowed his eyes, pincers opening.

"That's not what I meant."

Peat glowered at the small, scrawny elder. "Never mind." Bill said meekly.

"I don't think any female clownfish would be interested in anyone like this." Oceania said. She grinned sheepishly. "But then again, I know almost nothing about clownfish."

A tough looking elder named Terra raised her claw. "Here's an idea. Find a predator that eats fish but not crustaceans. Tell it to eat the clownfish." she slapped her claws together as if somehow pleased with herself. "End of our problem."

Some of the other elders nodded.

"We're crabs, not predator accomplices!" Barbara was surprised to hear herself say. "If we start making deals with predators to kill other people, we lose our dignity and our place in the ocean as honeycomb coral crabs."

"But he's scared and he's slow because of it." Terra argued. "We would be doing the neighborhood a favor, weeding out a weak fish from the reef."

"It would upset the balance of the ecosystem." Oceania lifted her claws angrily. "If he has a family, they might try to eat us for revenge! That's a terrible idea."

Terra sighed. "Look, clownfish don't eat crabs. Besides, his family probably can't stand him. If he is eaten, we and the other people on the reef would be happier. More food for everyone once the damn clownfish isn't making a racket. Think about it."

Barbara stepped forward to indicate she was wanted to speak. The fuzziness in her brain was receding. "That is all well thought out except for one point. Anemones eat crabs that touch their tentacles!"

"Clownfish do feed their anemones." Bill gasped. "He could feed us to his home! ...Weird."

Each of Peat's eye stalks rotated to look at opposite sides of the crowd of residents. "Any other ideas?" No one replied. A couple crabs looked like they were about to fall asleep again. "Okay then. Since Oceania and Barbara are the youngest and fastest, we will send one of them out..." she frowned at the two two crabs. "to find a female clownfish for the insane male."

"What about me? Finding a lady clownfish was my idea." Bill asked.

"You're too scrawny to do anything!" Peat yelled. Bill cowered.

Peat turned to Oceania and Barbara. "So, which one of you will it be?" His eyes were starting to close a little.

Oceania clasped and unhooked her claws nervously. "Uh.. I just want to emphasize to everyone. I never committed myself to finding a girl clownfish. I mean, I don't have a problem doing-"

Peat's eyes snapped open. "Oceania it is! Thanks Oceania!"

Oceania blinked. Bill gave her a claws' up.

Peat scurried to Oceania, holding a claw to his mouth as if telling a secret. "Just remember. You are finding a single female clownfish. Make sure she is looking for a mate." he said quietly.

Barbara was too tired to realize that everyone was acting crazier than usual. After the meeting, she scurried to a corner and promptly fell asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three days passed. On the third morning after Oceania left, Barbara woke up in the open on the sand instead of her her coral. "Huh?" She performed a mini-jump onto all eight legs. She scurried into the safety of the Stylophora, breathing heavily.

A school of fish watched in confusion. "What's wrong with her?" one asked the others.

In the coral, Barbara looked around, gathering her bearings. I know full well never to sleep exposed! What the Neptune is wrong with me?

She wandered around a bit, her mind was muddled to form much of anything coherent anymore. Eventually, she wandered to the morning gathering place. She waited there until the sun was at its midpoint in the sky. Only then did she realize that the meeting wasn't happening. She scurried to a corner and fell asleep. The clownfish's hoarse cries didn't even wake her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Barbara was woken by someone tapping on her carapace. "Wake up. Barbara. Barbara!" She shifted, but didn't open her eyes.

The tapping grew more insistent. "Wake up already!"

Blurry eyed, Barbara blinked. "Why'd you wake me? Don't you realize how sleep-deprived everyone is?" As she spoke her sentence, she realized she was showing vulnerability by admitting she was tired: something she had learned in school long ago not to do.

Luckily, the crab waking her was only Peat. He looked a little more well-rested and less red-eyed than the last time she had seen him. But he still held his body low and moved with a certain weariness. "Oceania found a lady clownfish. Look."

Barbara peered toward the anemone. Sure enough, a Oceania was standing a short distance from the anemone with a large, bright oscellaris female clownfish.

"You sure he's looking for a wife?" the clownfish asked Oceania. "Normally they come right out of the anemone if they hear a lady and they are ready to partner. At least... that's what my last husband did."

"Oh. I'm sure." Oceania said, though she didn't sound terribly certain herself. "He's a little... unconventional, so it could take some time."

"If you say so." The female entered the anemone. There was a yelp and some muffled talking that Barbara couldn't make out. A couple minutes later, the clownfish swam quickly out of the anemone, looking cross.

"So, how did it go?" Oceania asked, fidgeting with a pebble on the sea floor.

"He is definitely not my type." She quickly swam away.

Nemo peered out of the anemone sadly. Barbara shook her head.

"I'll ask her to find another clownfish." Peat said.

Barbara doubted this would work. The father clownfish was crazy. No fish in their right mind would consider him in any condition to partner up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One day later, Oceania tiredly trudged into view with a young female clownfish behind her. She had an irregular stripe pattern and had a kind look in her eyes. Barbara watched sullenly with the other crabs. She had a little more hope for this fish than the last. But only a little.

"So, you say he is very shy, right?" she asked. Her voice was sweet like spring algae.

"Yeah. Very shy. Take some time with him." Oceania said flatly.

"Okay!" She smiled. Cautiously, she swam up to the anemone. "Excuse me."

A moment passed. "Excuse me. Is anyone there?"

"This is either going to go really good or really bad." Bill whispered beside Barbara.

Barbara really hoped that the crab was right. She wanted to sleep well more than she ever had in her whole life. Between naps, she hadn't seen the father clownfish in days, though she could hear him. Except for asking a predator to eat him, she didn't care what means the crabs used to get the clownfish to stop screaming.

"Umm. I was wondering if you would like to come out. Or maybe talk?" the polite clownfish quarried again.

Barbara thought that she heard loud snoring, but it was just Fred who had fallen asleep beside her.

The young clownfish looked she was about to turn away when the male clownfish suddenly burst out of the anemeone. "Get out! Get out now! Get away!"

The clownfish swam aimlessly, eyes half lidded.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to-" the female clownfish backed away a little, disturbed and confused.

He balled his fin up like he was about to hit something. But he just swam face-first into the sand.

"Maybe the clownfish will die of exhaustion before we do." Terra said with a humorless chuckle.

"Are you sure he's not diseased?" Bill asked Peat who just frowned.

For some reason, Barbara felt bad. Really bad.

"Sir, are you okay?"

"Nemo. no. no. no." the male clownfish said hoarsely. His voice squeaked. His tail was paddling, but he was swimming sideways.

Oceania motioned to the other crabs for some tip to help the situation. Peat, who was in view of shrugged his claws.

Barbara watched as the clownfish tried to swim in the general direction of his anemone and failed. His eyes were closed. She thought maybe he was poisoned or whatever was causing him to go crazy was killing him. Either way, he looked pale and his fins were frayed in a couple places. If he died, the retirement community wouldn't have to deal with the insane fish anymore. Maybe this is for the best. But what will happen to his kid?

Barbara surprised herself at actually being concerned for the handicapped young fish. Maybe she could ask the female clownfish to take the kid in case the dad died? No, Nemo isn't my species. He doesn't concern me.

But the strange feeling was back. Sympathy. She wasn't used to it. The only other times she felt it were when fellow female crabs said they had gotten their eggs eaten during breeding season. And even then, only some of the time.

But the little clownfish wasn't showing himself. And the female clownfish wasn't trying to enter the anemone. Barbara pondered walking out of her hiding spot and asking the female clownfish to take the kid with her. But she wasn't sure she should do that. Kind as we was, the female clownfish would probably reject the little fish because of the little fin and assume it was diseased too because of the father's strange behavior.

Barbara sighed as she thought of the most convincing reason in her mind. It would be against nature. Let things take their course.

The female clownfish eventually grew weary of trying to talk to the disoriented father fish. She swam up to a dismayed Oceania. "I'm sorry. I tried. But I don't think he would work as a husband. He's either sleeping or dying."

Oceania opened her mouth as if to protest, but then just said "I understand."

The female clownfish swam off and the crabs breathed a collective sigh. "I told you this wouldn't work!" Terra scowled at Bill and Peat.

Barbara looked on as all the crabs who were still awake scurried away. She sighed. There goes any chance at giving the kid to another clownfish before his father dies.

Chapter Text

"We have to do something! And that something won't be pretty." Terra said, her eye stalks pointed squarely at Bill and Barbara.

"We might die here." another elder said.

"I am willing to throw out my pride for this!" yelled a large male.

"Quiet!" yelled Peat. Eyes narrowed, he walked angrily into the circle of crabs meeting at the communal gathering place. Everyone fell silent immediately, eyeing the crab leader warily.

"Oceania tried very hard to get a lady clownfish to knock sense into the guy. It failed." He marched to and fro through the circle of crabs. "As I see it, we have two choices." He paused as if for effect. "We either soil our reputation and ask a predator to eat the clown."

There were a couple gasps.

"A third option: we leave."

The elders groaned in protest.

"Where would we go?" Bill asked.

"Many of us won't survive outside of the community!" Oceania yelled.

"We shouldn't let a small fish dictate what we do!" Terra said.

Barbara found herself lost in thought. If they all left, they would not only need to locate an unoccupied coral suitable for ten crabs, they would have to defend it. Predators would find the feeblest members easily, endangering all of them. And other crabs would easily be able to take them. They would have to split up. Barbara didn't have as much of a problem with this as the older, feebler crabs. She could travel solo to find a new home by night when it was least dangerous. Whatever happened to the other crabs would be their own dilemma to solve.

Inviting a fish-eater was out of the question to her. It was against crab nature. Against what she was taught in school as a young crabling. Why are they even considering this?

"Might I remind you that we are near the bottom of the food chain." Barbara folded her claws over one another.

"And I would remind you that this is a life and death scenario!" Terra said, claws wide. Barbara widened her own. She didn't want to fight, but if it came to it she would.

"Guys, the situation is getting desperate. Of all people, Fred isn't talking. He always talks!" a dark spotted old female explained. Barbara looked at Fred. He was staring blankly ahead, blinking and muttering. He seemed smaller somehow than when she had last seen him.

"May I say something?" Bill asked, raising a skinny claw.

Terra glowered at him. Her eyes were red with lack of sleep.

"Well, um... uh."

"May I remind you that your opinion matters the least of any crab here?" Peat said lowly, claws open.

"No need to fight." Oceania walked between the two crabs. "Listen." Her eyes passed over everyone in the crowd as she walked along the circle. "This is a desperate situation. I agree." She walked over to Fred. "But we are at the end of our useful lives. We are a proud species. And proud we are no matter where we fit on the food chain. We are survivors. And we are proud of our small size and beauty. Who are we to betray the nature of our species?"

Barbara blinked. She hadn't expected a speech from Oceania, a crab she was beginning to feel might become a friend.

"Pride be damned." a crab almost Fred's age said. "I want to live another year!"

"Listen. You have all made very good points." Peat appeared to be trying to sound stern, to look angry. But it was plain to see by how red his eyes were and his sluggish, weary movements that he was exhausted like the rest of them. "But I have thought over the options. We will skip the group vote."

A few crabs groaned at this. They almost always voted on decisions that impacted the entire retirement community.

"I will talk to the crab council. I will recommend that they find another suitable spot for us. " His voice grew quiet. "We will leave."

Barbara glanced around at the crabs. She expected more discussion, but for some reason, everyone was quiet. Forlorn even. She wondered why this particular Stylophora mattered so much to them.

"Those who wish to or are unable to move will stay. The rest will leave. But, in the meantime, we will try more thing. I will ask Barbara and Oceania."

Barbara found herself fighting not to fidget. Peat's a capable leader. He wouldn't ask something unreasonable... would he? Why do I feel afraid?

Oceania didn't look pleased.

Peat placed a claw on Oceania's carapace. "Oceania. I understand that I already asked you for a very dangerous favor in leaving Stylophora to find female clownfish recently. I am going to ask for one more time to do something for the other retirees. It will be less dangerous this time. Whether it works or not, there will be a substantial reward for you."

Barbara stepped forward, curious. "What is the reward? And will it be for both of us?"

Peat frowned, gazing at the crowd. "It will only apply to Oceania. And as for the reward, I will inform you all what it is after we execute this plan of ours." Peat's eyes settled on Bill who looked proud of himself.

Barbara had a feeling that Peat had received input from their lowest ranking member, Bill, but loathed to admit it to everyone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I am surprised that Peat asked us to do this." Barbara whispered to Oceania, she said as they left the safety of the Stylophora.

"Yeah, I mean if he has some neurological issue so severe that he doesn't respond appropriately to a female of his own species, why would he-" Oceania fell silent.

A orange clownfish tail was poking out of the tendrils of the anemone. It was at an angle, flowing with the current.

Barbara exchanged a glance with Oceania. They stood there for a few minutes.

"The clownfish might be dead." Oceania inched a little closer, mindful of the anemone's stinging tentacles. "That would actually be the best outcome here."

Barbara nodded. If the fish was dead, the crabs could finally sleep in peace. But the innocent face of the young clownfish flashed through her mind. She felt stiff and cold for some reason.

Suddenly, the tail shifted. Barbara found herself face-to-face with a very bedraggled clownfish. His pectoral fins were unkempt and slightly ragged, like they had been scraped against a hard coral . His scales were a little pale as if he was ill.

"Hi. I'm Oceania." the more outspoken crab began. The gazed at the old crab through clownfish's half-lidded orange eyes, but he didn't seem to be seeing her.

The clownfish didn't seem to be panicking yet. Well, that's good at least.

Barbara opened her mouth to speak, but the other crab beat her to it. "And this is one of my roommates, Barbara."

The clownfish's eyes closed for a moment and the two crabs just stared at a loss for words. Barbara really didn't like introductions with neighbors. Of all the neighbors she had met with, this had to be the most awkward.

"What is your name sir?" Barbara asked. There, non-threatening and hopefully unlikely to trigger an intense reaction.

"My name?" the fish asked, eyes unfocused.

"Yes. Your name." Barbara said.

"My name's Marlin. I'm a clownfish." the clownfish slurred. He was struggling to swim upright.

"We are honeycomb coral crabs." Oceania motioned to herself and Barbara.

Barbara didn't like the obviousness of this, but it seemed like it was needed. The clownfish was barely functioning and they needed to somehow build up a small amount of trust if they were to keep him from panicking or injuring them.

"So uh. Were you... how do I put this... poisoned? By humans or-?" Oceania asked.

"Humans! Where?" the fish's voice practically bled panic as he swirled about looking. "Where are they? I need to get Nemo-"

"It was a question... Marlin. There are no humans here." Barbara said slowly and carefully.

"Oh." he blinked as if this was surprising information. An awkward moment passed. He looked again upon the two crabs. "Uhh... What were we talking about again?"

At least the clownfish was focusing on them now. "Introductions. And you look..." Like you might be dying "-tired." she continued. There were many wrinkles under the male fish's eyes, many more than were normal for a fish.

"I feel tired." Marlin said.

"So do we." Oceania started. "In fact, we came to-"

The clownfish gasped. "What was that?" he glanced every which way in the clear, empty water. "It's-it's-"

"There's no one there." Oceania said. "You are probably halluc-"

"NEMO! Oh no! Nemo no!" the clownfish swam around the anemone frantically in quick zig-zags.

The little clownfish poked his head from the anemone. "Dad..." he said quietly. He looked confused and like he wanted to cry.

"Nemo! Where are you?! Nemo! NEMO!"

The situation was escalating quickly. Barbara could practically taste the humiliation of failure coming. At failing to make any progress with the clownfish.

As the clownfish rounded the corner of the anemone, Barbara reached out her claw without thinking. She caught the insane fish by the tail fin. She felt the fish's power as her body lifted off the sand.

WHACK.

The fish's powerful tail slapped against her legs with enough force to invert her leg segments.

Both fish and crab screamed.

Barbara lay there for a moment, stunned. The pain was searing.

"I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry." a worried voice said.

"You've done enough." It was Oceania. She was standing over Barbara, placing herself between her injured comrade and the clownfish. "You are completely insane!"

Barbara was surprised by the other female. She would have expected her to scurry away from her (as most of their kind did when presented with danger), but here she was being a protector. Barbara didn't think she liked that, but at the same time, she was also impressed.

Barbara looked back over to the clownfish. Hurt and concern danced across his face. He looked very awake now and very aware.

"I'm... Sorry. I-I think I have a problem." Marlin said guiltily.

"You bet you do!" Oceania yelled, claws open aggressively. "Your screaming contributed to the death of two coral crabs! No one has slept well in weeks!"

The clownfish seemed horrified, then doubtful. Barbara swore she had never seen a more expressive crab or fish for that matter. Being too obvious with emotions all the time, especially ones portraying weakness was a great way to get thrown out of the crab colony and subsequently eaten.

"Weeks? Seriously?"

"Yes weeks!" Oceania was livid. She looked ready to strike at the much larger fish with her claws in a heartbeat if he so much as made one wrong move.

The clownfish turned to the side, raising a fin to his mouth. "I mean. Nemo said I scream sometimes at night, but how could I-"

"Seriously. You scream every night. Sometimes every hour. In fact, I think that may be the reason you are so crazy." Barbara said irritably. She struggled into a standing position.

There was a loud crack as three of her front-most legs snapped back into the correct position. The clownfish grimaced. Oceania just watched.

"I want to believe you two. I really do. But I'm not sure sure how I could-"

Nemo reappeared from the anemone. "It's every night dad. Whenever you sleep. Make it stop. Please dad!" The little was crying. He grabbed his father's fin.

The clownfish stared at the two old crabs with wide-horrified eyes as if realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Like we said. You literally caused the death of two people. They died of exhaustion." Oceania said lowly.

Barbara bit her lip. She wasn't sure that emphasizing the deaths were was a smart move. The clownfish was unhinged, unpredictable. He might take advantage of the situation somehow or tell others how tired and weak the older crabs were, which could attract predators and-

"Hey! Don't say that in front of Nemo. He's too young." the clownfish yelled, worried. He was shaking a little.

"Well excuse you! No child is ever too young to know about death!" Oceania yelled. Barbara was inclined to agree. "You're probably traumatizing your kid worse than any-"

"I don't know if I believe this. And I don't appreciate how you are talking in front of my son. Nemo, go back inside! We have adult things to talk about." Teary eyed, the little clownfish retreated to the anemone.

Barbara felt her temper flare. So inconsiderate! I thought my species were the ones who didn't give a damn about others. She expected differently based on what she knew of most fish.

"Why don't you go hide in your anemone you loser!" Oceania yelled.

"Oceania..." Barbara said.

"Or better, feed yourself to a shark!" Oceania shouted, fuming.

"Oceania!" Barbara yelled, her voice rising in pain and emotion. She poked her comrade. "No need to tempt the crazy fish to hurt us more."

Oceania shut her mouth.

Barbara gazed at the neurotic fish. He was spacing out again. "I don't like that." he said, seemingly to no one in particular. "I don't want it."

Barbara furrowed her eye stalks. She felt furious, very much so. But she was surprised that she was able to contain it. It was probably the pain still shooting up and down her legs. She decided to try one last time before declaring this a hopeless cause. "So if I understand correctly, you don't care if you hurt others then."

The father fish blinked. "I hurt someone?" Again shock and horror shown on the clownfish's face. He paused in thought. "Wait a minute. I was just yelling wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were. You scream and scream all night and even in the day. And you hit me with your tail. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Barbara's voice was laced with anger and frustration. She supposed this was pointless. The fish was delusional and had memory loss. She hoped to prove a point though- that she was trying as hard or harder than Oceania. She wanted a reward from Peat too... especially if it meant not having to gather food for and move old Fred around.

"I... I'm sorry." the fish looked over both crabs with concern. Barbara didn't like being stared at by fish. It reminded her of how fish groupers would stare at little honeycomb crabs intently as if relishing the thought of dismembering and swallowing them. "I really didn't know how much I scream." the fish continued. He looked genuinely uncomfortable, like he was about to say something unnatural. "I'm not myself lately. You see. I have these nightmares..."

"So you're a mad fish and you're weak!" someone yelled from the Stylophora.

Barbara felt her blood boil at the ineptitude of whichever crab that was. As if reading her mind, Oceania yelled back, "And you have a death wish for us and all of the crab retirement community!"

Barbara's attention was focused on the clownfish. She expected him to forget what they were talking about again. But he appeared to be following the conversation. He looked so guilty and sad that it was pitiful. Barbara saw noticed a large half-healed bruise on the clownfish's side from when he had been too slow to get out of the way of the seabass over a week ago. It was an advertisement of incompetence and weakness. Disgusting.

"I'm so sorry. I-" The clownfish repeated. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Help? Go help yourself so you don't ruin other people's lives! But she forced herself to keep her mouth shut.

There was silence. Barbara belatedly realized that Oceania expected her to respond. Before he forgets again. "You can help the crabs by not screaming. Do whatever clownfish do to act normal." she forced calmness into her voice.

The clownfish sighed. "You're right. I think I use therapy." the clownfish seemed to mull for this for a moment.

"How does one find 'a therapy`"? Oceania asked.

"I guess you're right. You both could use it too... To deal with all these things." he motioned with his fin to Barbara again. She felt terribly exposed.

"Where is a therapy found?" Oceania repeated. Barbara drew a blank.

"Well. I guess talk and it makes things better somehow?" The clownfish's eyes shone with doubt and worry. "I don't know."

Barbara tried to move an injured leg, grimacing.

"And this will help if we talk frequently?" Oceania asked.

"Yes. Supposedly." the clownfish said, looking uncomfortable.

"Okay then." Oceania replied. Barbara blinked in confusion. What were they agreeing to?

A moment passed.

"Okay." the clownfish replied awkwardly.

"That will be it then." Oceania declared. "Come on Barbara." Barbara liked this crab. She really did. Maybe she could even consider her a friend. She swiveled an eye stalk back at the strange fish as she did a limping crab-walk back to the Stylophora. The clownfish looked confused. If she was honest with herself, she was confused too.

Later that evening, Barbara asked the other crabs what 'a therapy' was. None of them had an answer.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

1 WEEK LATER

Barbara hid away in a nook within the Stylophora, stock still.

She heard the voices of several crabs behind her. "Is everyone ready?"

"Bill, I know you want to go, but we only have places for five at the new retirement coral."

"If Maven dies en-route, can I take his place?"

"The journey is about 1000 yards. I'm surprised that the Council didn't find us a closer place."

She heard scurrying legs. "Say, where's Barbara? She's supposed to join us."

News from the honeycomb coral crab council had reached retirement community the previous day. Not only had the crab council accepted their offer to move, but they had secured a suitable Stylophora for them!

Barbara cursed under her breath, slinking deeper into the coral crevice. The timing could not have been worse. Her legs flip-flopped between burning and numb. It wasn't supposed to happen that way! She was supposed to be ready to leave with everyone! Her body needed to be better than this!

"Barbara?" the crab called again.

She pulled her legs under her carapace in an attempt to camouflage herself as a rock or debris. It was a very uncomfortable move considering her injury. Now, if she somehow figured out a way to get herself a little more time to heal, she could sneak after the others.

"Barbara!?" Scarlet eyes peered into the half-dark coral ridge. It was Oceania! The other crab crawled into the ridge herself to remain unseen by others. "What are you doing here? No one has seen you in days!" she whispered.

The movement of Barbara's gills quickened. Here goes by chance. She remained silent, hoping that she had not been detected by any other crabs.

Oceania approached cautiously. "Barbara, half of the elders are about to leave. I held your place for you."

"I'll catch up later." Barbara whispered. She was considering Oceania a friend more and more now. But that didn't mean that she was ready to lay her vulnerabilities plainly. At least, not in the current situation.

"There is no later. Everyone is leaving now." There was concern in Oceania's voice.

A few moments passed in silence.

"Barbara, I know why you're down here. You should-"

"Take my place then." the hiding crab said curtly, her voice rough.

The darkness of the crevice suddenly seemed consuming. Though there were fish and crabs nearly, she felt they were almost alone.

Oceania frowned. "Peat gave me the title of leader for the elders left behind. When the council finds another place close enough for the slower, crabs, we should leave too."

"Leader of the old and broken." Barbara said sourly. She moved her legs back into position. She turned her eye stalks to her friend. "You are an able-bodied crab not much older than myself. You have no obligation to accept Peat's reward. Why stay?"

Oceania seemed at a loss for words. "Because... because someone needs to guide the remaining crabs. Fred's too old. Bill's not capable. Gertrude, I'm not sure, but-"

"That's not the reason you're staying." Barbara interjected with a tired sigh. The other crab's logic made no sense to her. Crabs didn't watch out for other crabs. Especially not the sick and weak: unless Oceania was taking the retirement home rules too seriously about caring for the oldest elders. "Either explain plainly or state that you won't tell me at all."

"No, I will tell you." The crab hesitated, eyes darting to the entrance and back a couple times to ensure that no one was watching. "So, have you heard of the crab Pearlanne?"

"No." Barbara replied.

"Well, she was my mother. She lived in this very coral in retirement for a long time."

Barbara blinked in surprise. "Strange that you know that." Barbara replied. Coral crabs didn't normally know anything about their parents other than their names. Knowing what parents were doing at the end of their lives was very unusual.

"Yes it is. And it gets stranger. I have a sibling that I spoke to a year ago." Oceania whispered. "This is why I don't want the other crabs to know." She stepped closer to Barbara. They were claw-to-claw now.

"When my mother was already very old, Fred had just entered retirement. Fred cared for her and well... Fred was Pearlanne's mate every breeding season when they were younger." she said almost guiltily.

Barbara tried to gently stretch one of her injured legs. "Fred is your father." she grimaced. "We're honeycomb coral crabs. We don't do family things!" She hoped that she could somehow change Oceania's mind. But she had a feeling the damage had already been done.

As far as Barbara was concerned, the best way for honeycomb coral crabs to live was every crab for itself: no family, no special privileges except those that were earned by the individual. Other species of crabs like hermit crabs were much more social.

But her species couldn't be social if they were to survive. For one thing, if newborn larvae crabs stayed at a parent's Stylophora instead of drifting in the ocean, there wouldn't be enough zooplankton by the coral to support them; they would starve. It was better for honeycomb coral crabs to not know their parents. After all, what was the point of getting to know family for a heavily preyed upon species like themselves? Mourning a family member would only distract crab children from focusing on their own survival. At least, that was what was pounded into Barbara's head in school.

"I know we don't do family." Oceania said. If it was possible, her voice dropped to an even quieter whisper. "My sibling, Blip... if he is still alive from when I last spoke with him two years ago, is due to retire next year. I hear there aren't many suitable retirement Stylophoras nearby, so the Council might send him to our coral."

Barbara glared as Oceania continued timidly.

"...I know well it's against our nature. But um... as you've noticed, we don't follow the normal rules of nature in this retirement community. We forage for the most frail. A crab council makes deals with other species, so we don't have to defend our home from predators or other crabs often." Her eyes shifted to the crevice entrance and back to Barbara again. "The rules don't apply as much here."

Barbara gawked. How could Oceania say such a thing? It wasn't how things were supposed to be! Dangerous mindsets like that are what caused a breakdown in the food chain! They were what caused chaos!

"Since you know well. You know this is wrong. So why stay behind to care for Fred?" Barbara asked.

Oceania honestly seemed scared: she kept clenching her legs close to her body before catching herself. Her eyes shifted about. Barbara knew that Oceania had plenty to lose if others found out. She, Blip, and Fred would be kicked out and likely fall victim to predators.

"Like I mentioned, I don't feel the rules apply as much here." Oceania continued, seemingly finding her confidence again. "They are... open to interpretation. Normally, it is counterproductive for crabs to care for each other. Taking care of the weak just leads to less food for the strong." Oceania whispered so quickly that Barbara's exhausted brain had a difficult time taking sense of all of the other crab's logic. "But there is plenty of food here. Plus we have survived much longer than most of our species. It would be nice to have an opportunity, not as the norm for retirement, but as an exception to a little family around. I have thought about it for months after I learned that I had coincidently retired to the save Stylophora as my father. I didn't know before."

"So it's like a kind of reward then? That's your logic?" Barbara asked. She deliberately skipped asking about how Oceania had learned Fred was her parent. Maybe some social convention was broken there too, but that could be for another time.

"Yes." Oceania seemed relieved. "A reward for living a long time. A reward for the individual. All the things that we do in retirement that are ... unnatural for our species are rewards for beating the odds."

Barbara frowned. She still didn't like this. Oceania was twisting words about their own species to justify her own actions. "And you don't think this will cause problems?"

"I won't let it. Just... please listen. Don't tell anyone or I might get voted out and ejected from the retirement community." Oceania sounded unusually desperate. It was not often that another coral crabs let strong emotions show so visibly.

Barbara pondered it for a long time. If the familial relationship was kept secret and younger crabs didn't take up the same habit, what harm could this do? Fred would be die from old age soon anyway. And Blip could have been eaten since Oceania last spoke with him. What were the odds of him joining this exact coral? There were hundreds of Stylophoras nearby. Surely Oceania was mistaken that none were retirement-worthy.

"Your secret is safe with me." Barbara finally replied.

"Thank you so much Barbara!" Oceania practically hugged Barbara with her claws.

The other female was normally so calm and collected. Receiving affection from another of her species felt strange.

Suddenly, Peat's called loudly from the top of a nearby Stylophora patch. "We're leaving. Last call! Barbara, wherever you are, Terra is your place if you don't come out now!"

"Go Barbara!" Oceania said a little louder than Barbara thought necessary. "This is your last chance. If you have the strength, go now."

Barbara tried to flex her numb legs. They barely moved. "I don't. I.. I can't."

There was a pause as the two old females glanced at each other in a wordless exchange. Barbara felt some kind of mutual understanding forming between them.

"Then I'll do my part." Oceania declared. "I'll keep the others away from you while you're healing and I won't put you on foraging duty for Fred."

Barbara stared at the other crab, surprised by the act of charity.

"Terra has taken the place of the fifth crab. Off we go." Peat called.

Oceania shot her friend a determined look. "You risked your life twice with the clownfish, even after it hit you. If you ever recover enough to be able-bodied again, as leader, I will make sure you get the second highest rank in the social hierarchy."

Barbara shot her friend a rare smile. She could scarcely believe her change of fortune.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Barbara rested in a shallower, less hidden nook in the Stylophora. Her legs felt better today. Maybe they won't fall off after all. She greatly preferred keeping the three legs than to lose them and spend many months waiting for them to regrow.

But just then, she felt the swishing of water above her. A fish was there. She opened her eyes and barely stifled a groan of annoyance.

Two orange eyes outlined by age and worry lines were peering at her. "There you are Barbara!" It was Marlin. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Of course you are disturbing me." she shot back. Can this fish just leave me alone? Talking about problems goes nowhere with this fish.

"Well, I'll make this quick then." the sounded apologetic.

Barbara nestled herself as deeply in the nook as she could and looked away, a clear go away signal. If the fish really wanted to, he could grab out of the coral nook. But even as unhinged as the crazy fish was, she doubted he would do that.

"I came to apologize." Marlin continued uncomfortably. "I realize that uh... some unkind words were said. But I also understand why you crabs are so... unhappy. I was yelling in my sleep and-."

Barbara's eye stalks shifted to the clownfish. He looked better rested and a little less anxious than the last time she had seen him. But for carp's sake, she just wanted him to get to say as little as possible and get away from her! The clownfish continued stammering an explanation for a few minutes. Barbara tried to drown out his words. She sincerely felt bad for the little clownfish, Nemo.

"...so I'm remembering more now. I slapped your legs with my tail and..." Marlin said sadly. The fish took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry about that." The fish stopped, perhaps finally realizing just how much she wanted to be left alone.

Barbara turned to face away from the clownfish to drive home the point. She always had to make everything super obvious to this fish! She ground her legs into the coral in anger.

"Look, if there's anything I can do to help, uh... you know... to make up for what I've done... tell me." the fish continued as if he sincerely regretted his actions.

There was a pause as the fish waited for her to respond. She had no answer for him.

Marlin sighed. "I wish you would respond... But I understand that you're upset." There was a tense pause. "Well, I guess I'll be on my-"

But Barbara found herself at a tipping point. The move to the retirement community where the customs were strange. The weeks of sleepless nights. The continuing pain. "Don't you understand leave me alone?" she yelled. "I'm a coral crab, not a fish. I don't understand clownfish. I don't form family bonds like a clownfish! I'm practically at the bottom of the food chain!" As she stood there, panting, she realized that what she said wouldn't make much sense... at least to a fish. She sighed loudly. She couldn't bring herself to care who heard her.

"I guess I don't understand coral crabs either." the fish replied emphasizing her species. His voice was more sad than angry.

Again she failed to respond.

"Look, I'll be going." The fish turned tail. "This was a terrible idea. What was I thinking? ...Clearly I'm not welcome here." he murmured dejectedly, seemingly more to himself than to her as he swam away.

But something inside of Barbara switched on. Suddenly, she thought of the little chubby clownfish. Of being a tiny crab larvae trying to capture phytoplankton. Of fishy mouths nibbling at her underside as she pleaded with them to spare her eggs.

"Wait!" she yelled. The fish stopped, turning a bit as if he wasn't sure he heard her. "Come back!" she called to Marlin. "I... I want to learn more about fish.