It was another week, a way-too-long-but-way-too-fast week, when Peso declared that Barnacles could officially take the Captain role again.
Barnacles was inwardly terrified.
"Are you sure?" he asked calmly. He was in the Medical Bay. Peso was finishing up an examination.
"Absolutely! Everything's healed nicely. We don't even need to do daily checkups anymore. I'd say you're as good as new."
He didn't feel like it. He felt like his soul had gone dimmer, and that he was a fraction of his former self; but he nodded anyway because Peso of course did not mean it that way.
The nights were still nightmarish, he still had to sleep in the hallway, he still felt tense, and it seemed like it was slowly and slowly getting worse.
But there was absolutely, positively, no way that he was going to bring this up. He had kept his problems away from the others before. The situation with the manatees immediately came to mind. These circumstances weren't even as bad. With the manatees, he was about to die. This was nowhere near to a life or death situation. It had been a month, and he was tired and frustrated and scared all the time. It was a month, and it felt like he was losing himself, like he was slipping away. It was a month, and he could feel his reserves draining. It was a month, and he already felt like he couldn't take it.
But he had to hold on. He couldn't see the end, but he had to hold on.
"We'll have missions starting tomorrow," Barnacles declared, a sudden spike of determination going through him. If he had to deal with this, better do it head-on.
The day came and went, and they were soon in the Gups leaving the Octopod. Barnacles had Kwazii drive, so he wouldn't have to deal with that stressful situation again. Though he internally sighed. It shouldn't be stressful. It never was before. Why did he have to be so irrational and weak?
It was another normal outing, a check up and research mission. There was no danger nearby that needed their attention. But Barnacles was always ready. Always ready for the other shoe to drop.
They went to the coral reef- or sea mount- or whatever it was, he really didn't pay attention; and they all got out. Jumping into the water was like electricity to him, unnaturally cold, snapping him back to that dark cave and the fangs and glowing eyes that reflected off his flashlight. But though the images filled his mind, he kept his expression as neutral as possible and went ahead of everyone else, so they couldn't see his face. He tried his best to concentrate on what's around him, and though it was difficult -so difficult- he made it happen.
"Captain, what should we do about this?" Shellington asked, bringing up some glass bottles he found on the bottom of the sea floor.
Barnacles let out a frustrated, though discreet, sigh.
"Just do the normal protocol, Shellington. The one that we. Always. Do."
Shellington looked at him, surprised, but he nodded and quietly swam away, picking up more trash.
When the sea otter left, Barnacles immediately felt his stomach sink. Why did he get so annoyed? He was supposed to lead them; Shellington asked a question-
-An obvious question to an obvious answer. Really, why are they always like that? Even with the manatees too. They always asked and asked and asked. Why couldn't they just think for themselves?
Barnacles was surprised at this animosity. It never aggravated him before. Sure, sometimes it was mild, but he was never angry.
The Incident did something to him. He was changing. And he hated it.
The rest of the mission went without any more mishaps. It started. It ended. That was all there was too it.
Barnacles breathed a sigh of relief once the bathroom doors closed, back in the Octopod. He leaned against the sink, relieved and angry that he was so relieved. It was just a normal mission. Why did it have to be so complicated?
He felt like just sitting down, curl up into a ball. He scoffed. That was socially unacceptable, even if he's alone. He's a Captain, for pity's sake. He needed to step up and act like one.
But, all things considered, it was a good day.
Though it didn't feel like that at all, he looked himself in the eye in the mirror. "It was a good day," he told himself seriously, eyes angry and determined, willing it into existence just because he said so.
He didn't believe it, but he decided to focus on it.
This nightmare was horrendous. The others were there, too, being eaten alive, torn apart. Barnacles had woken up shaking, and he just automatically went to the bathroom. It was smaller; not so wide. It felt safer. He couldn't even stop himself at his half-asleep state, and just automatically sat down and curled up into a ball on the floor, his back against the wall.
When he finally got to his senses, he was indignant at himself but could not bring himself to stand up. At least like this, he felt safer. It didn't make sense, but he felt safer.
And he couldn't bring himself to stop.
He was back in the bathroom. Of course he was; he guessed it was his sanctuary now. He just hoped nobody thought it was strange. No one probably would come to this part of the Octopod anyway; it was the closest to his room and far from anyone else's.
It was 4 in the morning. He had just woken up. Not that it really mattered; sleep was barely nonexistent.
He was sitting on the floor again, curled in the fetal position. He was ashamed - You stupid, worthless polar bear! - but at this point, he couldn't bring himself to get up.
In fact, he was supposed to get ready for the day.
Ten more minutes, he told himself, hugging his legs a little tighter. He had two hours before reporting to duty, anyway. He could wait a bit.
He ended up staying for fifteen minutes before he made himself get up with a grunt.
Worthless, you stayed too long, he berated himself.
Spirits lowered, he robotically turned on the faucet and brushed his teeth.
"Enjoy your breakfast!" Tunip called out, putting the last dish on the table. Everyone was gathered around. Tunip said it enough times over the last few years for him to understand that Vegimalnese phrase.
Barnacles looked out onto the trays and trays of food.
He felt nothing.
There was even a bowl of vanilla kelp pudding. Funny, how they seemed to make it more often.
But even looking at it, his heart sank. He didn't want it; he just wasn't hungry. The Vegimals made it for you! he yelled at himself. They'll be sad if you don't eat the dessert. The others would notice if he didn't eat anything at all.
So with almost numb, robotic movements, he brought the fork to his mouth, slowly filling his undeserving stomach with different helpings of various dishes, including the pudding.
He still felt no hunger, nor satisfaction.
Ten more minutes, Barnacles told himself again, putting his head on his knees. He was in the bathroom again, in the fetal position.
You're weak and stupid and not worth being a Captain and you can't even brush your own teeth and-
"I can, and I will," he gritted his teeth, muttering darkly to himself. He looked up at the counter, where the sink was. The faucet seemed to tower above him, menacingly. His heart started to pound.
Stupid! Why are you scared? It's just brushing your teeth!
"I don't know!" he whispered. He truly didn't.
It just seemed to be getting harder, day by day. It's taking a longer time to get through his morning routine. And taking showers? It was out of the question.
You're better than this, Barnacles! Just come on! They might notice.
They might. He sure hoped not, he prayed not, but they might.
His fear spiked, and he buried his head further into his legs.
This isn't how a Captain should be.
"I know," his voice cracked. "I know..."
He was unable to brush his teeth; he only quickly used mouthwash at the last minute and changed his clothes. From then on, he didn't even do the mouthwash. It was the new normal, and he was ashamed.
These days, he was always ashamed.
He leaned his head back on the cool metal wall, his arms limp. He was back in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out in front of him this time, needing to stay away from everyone, needing a break.
His chest was full, his eyes had pressure. He wanted to cry, but it wouldn't come out. Even if he could, he probably would have pushed the emotions down anyway.
Lunch was supposed to be soon, but he wasn't hungry. His stomach was in too many knots.
He couldn't even explain it. It hurts; it just hurts. Tears almost appeared, but they didn't fall.
It still hurts.