DISCLAIMER: Finding Nemo and all related characters and indicia are the property of Disney and Pixar, as if you didn't already know.
…nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange…
In the darkness of a forgotten shipwreck, below the drifting clouds of lookdowns and silversides that darted and wheeled overhead, beneath the thermocline that separated warm surface water from chilled deep current, a lone Moorish Idol lay in the empty carcass of a brass ship's lantern.
Gill had left the others shortly after their escape into Sydney Harbour—Bloat had been useful for once in popping open the bags that imprisoned them—and drifted off on his own. Now that he had finally escaped the dentist's prison, and the ocean was his own to explore, he found himself strangely miserable. Swimming around in the confines of the twenty-gallon tank had been one thing; this wide brilliant world, limitless, full of wonders, exhausted his strength so quickly he found it difficult even to find shelter to escape the barracuda schools that passed overhead; the accident that had ruined his fin and striped his right side with ugly scars had also weakened him considerably, and the muscles that once could have sent him speeding through the water had atrophied in the confined environment of the tank. He hurt all over.
The pain didn't bother him; he had learned to live with that, long ago. It was the odd empty feeling, rather than the ache, which sent him down into this dark hiding place. He found himself waking in the night and wondering where they all were—Jacques, the cleaner shrimp, Bloat, Gurgle, Peach, Deb, even Bubbles, whose mind might never recover from his long captivity—and Sharkbait.
Nemo, Gill corrected himself. His name was Nemo.
He wondered what had happened to the little clownfish. All drains led to the ocean, but perhaps there were filters in the drains, like in the tank…Gill found himself not wanting to think about that, not wanting to think about having sent Nemo to his death. He could only vaguely remember being young himself, free in the ocean, before his capture and his imprisonment; he hoped he had been right about the drains.
Oh, he hoped he had been right.
He shifted in the corroded brass curve of the lantern and looked out at the water; dimly he could make out the shapes of a couple of spider crabs wandering over the sand and picking at fragments of food. They were arguing. Spider crabs always argued.
"…and they say he saved a whole netful of fish! Just pulled the net right offa the boat and let 'em all go!"
"Yeah, whatever, you're so full of algae you squeak. Gimme that!"
"I saw it first!"
"Oh, yeah?"
The speck in question floated away from them as they circled and clacked their claws belligerently. Gill sighed, closing his eyes.
"…and you know that kid of his, the one he went on the big ol' quest to find? Meeno, or whatever his name was?"
"Huh?" More clacking.
"Bilbo, or something, anyway, he's been comin' round here lookin' for him!"
Gill opened an eye. Spider crab A was meandering sideways towards the wreck, picking at shreds of organic matter that drifted in the current. Spider crab B was still talking. "Man, it's like, hey, can't two members of that family ever stay found at the same time?"
"Eh, his dad prolly got sick of him an' went off to find another mate."
"Clownfish mate for life, you idiot."
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Excuse me," said Gill, out of the darkness. Only his eyes and the tip of his dorsal sail were visible. He stayed back and let his voice drop lower, become more gravelly. "You're talking about Nemo?"
Both spider crabs froze. "Who's there?" one of them quavered.
"Never mind who I am," said Gill. "Tell me what you know about Nemo."
"H-he's a clownfish, 'bout this big—" crab B gestured with his claws—"and he's got a magic fin on one side, it brings him luck."
"Oh, like hell it does, it's just a gimpy fin," said the other crab. "He's been nosin' around here looking for his dad. Martin, or Sturgeon, or Tuna, or whatever his name is. Seems he's missing."
"Then Nemo's alive," said Gill.
"Yeah he's alive, and real irritating," said the bolder of the two. "Never shuts up. 'Have you seen my dad? Have you seen my dad? Have you seen my dad?'"
Gill narrowed his eyes. "When did you last see him?"
"Yesterday. Headed toward the harbour."
Gill felt his ectothermic blood grow a little colder. The harbour was a place of seagulls and pelicans and those great spinning blades attached to the back of boats. Nemo must have survived the drains, but Gill didn't lay much on his chances of surviving the harbour alone.
With a flick of his notched tail he slipped out of the lantern and emerged from the shadows, fixing the spider crabs with a steel gaze, and swam off in the direction of the harbour's cloud of silt. The crabs watched him go.
After a while, one of them said, "Who the hell was that?"
"Dunno, but he's got a really funny-looking fin."
"Maybe it's lucky."
"It better be. With looks like that he's not gonna get far in the world." Both crabs laughed at that for just long enough to forget what they were laughing about, and resumed their normal bickering once more.
