Lingering in the Ocean Blue

- A/N: This chapter takes place a little later, so the mernavi kids are the equivalent of 13 - 14 year olds in this one.

"What do you mean you can't go?"

For two solid weeks Netto hadn't been able to shut up about the hydrothermal vents. To bail out now… Rock couldn't believe it.

They'd been planning this for a while. It was a little dangerous and more than a day's travel out of their way, so they had to do it at a time when their parents wouldn't question their absence.

It wasn't the best alibi, actually. Netto and Rock had said they were spending a few days at Blues'. Blues, as well as Roll, had both said they were spending a few days at the Hikaris. If any of their parents spoke to each other, they were sunk. And since their parents where on good terms, odds were high that this was going to go fantastically bad.

That had never stopped them before. It wasn't about to stop them now.

(Forte had no need for deceit. He simply told Dr. Cossack he'd be unavailable for a little while. Rock mostly felt pity for Forte's situation, but at times like this he found himself thinking, 'That lucky anemone.' )

"I just don't feel too great," Netto replied, wilting slightly under his brother's incredulous stare. "I think I caught a minor bug or something."

Rock sagged, heaving an exaggerated sigh. Netto was fine. He could tell. Something else was up, he just didn't have the slightest clue what.

It only went downhill from there. Roll sent a message while he was on his way to their meeting point, more or less apologizing because she couldn't make it— one of her cousins had dropped by for a surprise visit. Blues simply didn't show up. Rock and Forte waited around for a while, before he gave up and messaged Blues, and… continued to wait. The response was slow, and when it finally came, all too short.

'Sorry can't make it.'

"Great," muttered Rock. "Just great. Thanks guys."

"Who needs them?" Forte said, ever dismissive. "Your friends are all a bunch of losers."

'They're your friends, too,' Rock thought, but he knew that this was both true and the wrong thing to say, so he bit his lip and started swimming. "It's just more fun to go exploring when you're in a group." Then he glanced over his shoulder at Forte. "Plus, you don't have to live with Netto. Do you know how much he's going to complain about missing out on this?"

"That sounds like a you problem."

So it was Rock found himself traveling alone with Forte, heading further away from home, going deeper into the ocean. He'd only been to the hadal zone, down in the deeper trenches, twice in his life… and then, never without an adult present. Even Forte avoided going too terribly deep, unless he was hanging out with Serenade.

Rock had come prepared with a pack strapped to his back, carrying both a personal and a larger portable terminal, a signal booster, a signal scrambler (to help them avoid unwanted attention from some of the more dangerous predatory cyber creatures out there), multiple flashlights, a few days worth of fuel, and an emergency digimedical kit (including a couple liquid nitrogen boosters in case of heat stroke).

Forte had brought his personal terminal, his fangs, claws, and cannons.

(The handheld terminal was kept discreetly clipped under one of his faulds— the armor skirting on his flanks— which Rock tried not to think too much about.)

Sleeping in the open for just one or two mernavi was needlessly risky. It wasn't like camping under the stars for humans— it was more like camping under the stars in the thick of grizzly bear territory during the height of breeding season. Forte had no problem with it, that was just business as usual for him, but Rock decided to press forward. They could go a few days without sleep. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't really a big deal.

"Just keep swimming," Rock sang to himself.

"Ugh. That's from a hatchling's cartoon."

He shot the other navi a death glare. "Don't you dare make fun of Dory, Forte."

"You are so—" He paused and held out his arms, crossing his wrists.

"Rude," said Rock, shaking his head.

"Just wondering, are you even capable of embarrassment?"

He pretended to think it over for a moment. "Nope." Then, grinning, Rock sped up, leaving Forte in his wake. A few seconds later Forte caught up and then passed him, and then it was on. They raced the rest of the way, trailing over across the sea basin.

They stopped before reaching the trench. Rock tossed Forte a canister of fuel.

"I didn't ask for this," Forte said, in lieu of thanks.

"You're welcome," Rock replied. "What were you planning to eat, anyway? Or were you just gonna starve?"

This earned a look of disdain. "There's nothing wrong with fasting. But to answer your question, I planned to hunt, like any self-respecting mernavi should."

"We haven't been hunter-gatherers for thousands of years. It's a little something called 'civilization'."

"Tsk. Try something called 'self sufficiency'. Otherwise you get too dependent, too complaisant, and you'll die the moment you're on your own."

"Hahaha!" His laughter died off. "Wait, you're serious." He blinked, tilting his head. Gradually his body followed, until Rock was upside-down and peering at Forte with intense curiosity. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Forte huffed slightly. "Do you have a point?"

Righting himself, Rock offered a sort of sly grin. "I had a data read error while still in the egg capsule. If it weren't for civilization— society, tech, our cushy lives you love to hate so much— I never would've been born."

There was a split-second where Forte dropped his guard. It was so brief that Rock almost wondered if he'd imagined it. But for one moment there was this look in his eyes… a look of guilt. How many times had he cruelly called Rock a 'data read error'? He'd had no idea. No idea.

Forte was too proud to admit his wrong, however, much less apologize. It was gone just as quickly as it came, and he proceeded to act as if the conversation hadn't happened.

Despite his apparently shrugging it off, it was actually one of those things that shook his worldview. Forte thought very little about anyone he considered 'weak', and Rockman— for better or for worse— was unnaturally powerful, and he couldn't help but respect that. As gifted as Forte was for his age, he'd had to work so hard, so intensely, to build and hone that power. It always seemed to come effortlessly to Rock. The idea that Rock had suffered such a critical flaw, something weak and lethal, was an incongruity that forced Forte to stop and reevaluate some things.

(Incidentally, Forte never called Rock that again. He came up with many, many other creative insults, of course, but none of them where that particular brand of slurs.)

The water down in the trench was nearly freezing. Like most machines, mernavi's bodies worked more efficiently in cooler temperatures, but too cold was almost as bad as too hot. Too cold slowed electric currents, damaged the screens in their eyes, contraction or expansion caused internal shearing on delicate components, locked up motors and servo valves.

It was a good thing they'd stopped to eat, because their generators had to work overtime to keep them warm.

Their frames could withstand the immense pressure, lethal to most organic lifeforms, but that didn't mean it was comfortable. Rock found himself massaging his aching wrist and elbows, stretching to try and relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. He glanced over at Forte, who seemed completely unbothered.

Their visual input could be adjusted as light grew ever more scarce, and on the way down they would pause every so often to re-calibrate to the seemingly impossible darkness surrounding them. Eventually Rock broke out the flashlights.

As they approached the hydrothermal vents, he turned off the lights and pulled out a fistful of small beads. Bioluminescent tech, which would die out in a half hour or so after activation, and then safely decompose— harmless to the delicate environment they were intruding on.

Gently tossing them, they drifted and swirled in the small currents created as intense heat met freezing water. It gave a muted blue-green glow, softly illuminating the thick black plume that flowed from enormous chimney-like spires. Smaller streams appeared to shimmer from the temperature differential, dancing around the larger columns.

It was incredible. Here the gaps in the Earth's crust allowed sea water to seep down into the spaces between tectonic plates, where it was heated by the magma within— the very lifeblood of the world. Complex chemical interactions stripped oxygen from the water and made it acidic, leaching minerals from the surrounding rock, heavy in iron sulfide which gave it that rich black color.

Without thinking, Rock reached out and grabbed Forte's hand.

He hadn't meant anything by it. He really hadn't. It was simply a natural gesture, one of friendship or family affection, the way he and his brother held hands all the time. If Netto had been there, Rock would've reached out for him, but he wasn't and Forte was and…

…and the instant he did it, Rock realized it was nothing like holding Netto's hand. The tiny lights on his body flickered and brightened in embarrassment and… and something else. He couldn't have explained it if he wanted to.

Forte ripped his hand away like he'd been burnt, and gave Rock a baleful glare.

Tensing, Rock prepared for the worst. He knew what would come next. This sort of slip up could only end in violence. As long as Forte didn't shoot at him, he could just take the abuse and avoid escalating things any further.

But.

Nothing came. Aside from the dirty look, Forte did… nothing.

It struck Rock in a funny way. There was this feeling that… that for now, this was the closest thing to approval he was going to get from Forte. He wasn't about to push, but that this also wasn't the end of it.

After that, Forte moved towards the nearest vent. The deep ocean pressure prevented the water from boiling, allowing it to become superheated. Like an undisciplined child playing with matches, he couldn't help but reach out towards the jet of water.

"Don't do it," Rock said.

Forte scoffed. "I'm not going to touch it." But even as he spoke, he stretched out a little further, fingers inching closer to the smokey looking stream. He pulled back a little, hesitant, then reached out again, determined to find out just how close he could get to the intense heat.

"Dooon't do it…"

"Shut u— tt!"

Forte jerked back, and he didn't scream but his expression made it clear he'd wanted to.

The liquid nitrogen was just for a navi's internal cooling functions, in case of a truly horrific accident, and wouldn't help with topical burns. The only thing to do for that was to use cold water, which they were already surrounded by. Forte still vigorously shook his hand out of instinct.

Rock choked back a laugh and covered his mouth to hide his grin. Not that he ever wanted to see his friend hurt, but… frankly, this was the kind of thing that Netto would do. Or even Rock himself, if he was being honest. For Forte to make such a boneheaded move… well… it was pretty hilarious.

"'Ha, ha'," Forte said sarcastically. "Go on, laugh. Jerk."

"I warned you!" Then, Rock smiled reassuringly. "You're just as bad as Netto. Here," he said as he gestured, "let me see."

Once again Rock found himself holding Forte's hand, although this time it was to check for injury. Sure enough, the extreme heat had caused some rippling distortion along the surface of his plating.

"Ouch. You're probably gonna need a repair for that."

He scowled. "Whatever. It's fine."

Rock brushed his fingers against the sore spot, still hot to the touch, and Forte winced.

"If you say so…"

They hung around for a while longer, admiring the majestic view. Not too much longer, though… because they were adolescent boys and easily bored. With Forte taking the lead, they prodded and harassed giant tube worms, and threw small stones at ghostly pale crabs. Rock scooped up a handful of tiny shrimp, laughing as they scampered along his arm before jumping back onto the stone pillar.

On the way back Forte started complaining. "I can't believe we swam all that way just for that."

"Told you it's better when you're in a shoal," Rock replied.

Forte huffed, but a few moments later said, "I guess. Those guys are okay. Annoying… but okay." There was a brief pause, and when he continued it was in the most apathetic tone he could muster. "You're slightly more tolerable than the others."

It felt like Rock's circulation pump had somehow dislodged and throttled up into his throat.

"Slightly."

"I'm surprised," Blues said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I didn't think you'd scuttle yourself for Forte's sake."

Roll glanced from Blues to Netto— who hovered there with arms bent, hands on either side of his neck, tail fin flared, just radiating displeasure— and tapped her chin.

"Look, I'm telling you, I really did have to 'fry sit' my cousin Axl the past three days. That little spitfire was glued to my side the whole time. They're a good kid, but yikes— believe me, they'd have ended up in cooked in one of those streams for certain."

"I didn't miss out on the hydrothermal vents for this, Roll!"

"No one asked you to," she told Netto. Then she shook her head again. "I mean, really. We all see where this is going, right? But there's no way— no way— those two could ever work together for any length of time. So…" She flicked her fin. "Let Saito get it out of his system now."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you're always calling him Saito neither," Netto muttered to himself.

Blues chuckled, then gestured to the distance. "And here they come."

They stopped well before reaching the group, and it was hard to tell from that distance, but it looked almost as if Forte had reached out to touch Rockman's helm. Surly it was just the currents playing tricks on them. He then took off in the other direction— heading to the island to see Dr. Cossack, no doubt.

When Rock approached his friends, he was beaming. He enthusiastically greeted each of them, then threw an arm across Blues' shoulders as they headed back towards home, sharing every last detail about the trip and what the trench was like and how beautiful the vents were.

(Well, almost every detail.)

Later that night, Netto started teasingly pressing him, literally swimming over his shoulder and jabbing him in the back and side with a scrawny unforgiving finger.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well well?"

"You're not even making sense right— would you stop poking me?"

"Whhheeeellllll?"

Rock gently swatted at Netto with his tail, then hid his face. "I, um, held his hand by mistake."

"Ohh, 'by mistake'. Right. And?"

"And… he didn't attack me…"

Netto burst into laughter. "That's basically a confession of undying love from that angry mantis shrimp." Then he grew somber. "Aw no. Rockman, you can't hook up with Forte, he's the worst."

"Shh, don't say that. We're— it's not like that, anyway." He made a dismissive gesture. "We're way to young for any of that stuff, and I don't think he's interest in, in, you know…"

Sighing, Netto patted Rock on the shoulder.

"Yeah right. At this rate, you two are gonna run off and get on each other's pod registry the moment your I/O gear kicks online."

"Oh, come on, Netto… don't be ridiculous…"

But Rock's plating clamped down and he wouldn't look Netto in the eye. Typical Rock. He should've known there was no hiding your crush from your twin brother— and Netto could tell he had it bad.

What he couldn't have known was just how terrifyingly on-point his prediction was.