Chapter Eleven

Friends

Richard debriefs Ace on the functions of the Seablite. He explains, in detail, what panning is and how difficult it is for the first time. He explains what the hole is and what a terrible place it is. Ace takes all the information in and doesn't ask too many questions. Richard thinks it's because he's still in shock from learning about Dark Gifts and what Doc does to the inmates here.

When it's time to start panning, he leads Ace to the dive room and begins to explain the gear and the proper use of Liquigen.

"You have to inhale all the way," he says as Ace looks at the green packet with interest. "Otherwise your lungs won't be fully covered and they'll be crushed by the water pressure."

"Wonderful," he says and slips the green packet into his helmet. "Does this happen everyday?"

Richard nods and tugs on his dive boots. "We go until lunch, have a break, and go back out again for a couple hours. Five days a week until you're released."

"And who knows when that will be," Ace says miserably. "Has anyone been released yet?"

"No," he answers and pulls on his gloves. "Not yet. I doubt anyone will be released until they turn twenty-one. Which means we have a lot of time to spend in here."

Richard closes his locker door and takes his helmet to the moon pool where he waits alongside the others. Ace looks at him questioningly as he steps beside him. The guards walk up and begin the long process of locking leg shackles around each of the inmates' ankles. Ace frowns when they're locked around his. He tugs on them. Richard only smiles. "There's no getting out of them."

"Just testing," he says.

"Aren't you going to take out those earrings of yours?"

Ace shakes his head. "I'll lose them if I do." He pulls on his helmet and inhales the Liquigen deeply. Richard watches him as he jumps into the moon pool with the others. He's about to follow them when he notices Peter off to his right. Two guards are walking towards them.

"You," one says. "Come with us."

Richards watches helplessly as his friend is confronted by the guards. Colour drains from Peter's face. So there is a reason to cutting Peter's hair. It's his turn to be subjected to the scalpel. He can't let this happen. He shuffles over to Peter and shoves back a guard with force. "Leave him be," he says as strongly as he can.

"Get back in line, you sea scum," one of the guards says and shoves him away.

"Don't touch him," Richard growls. Peter gives him a gratefully look, knowing that his cellmate just bought him a few minutes.

"You got pannin' to do, boy. Or would you like to spend a week in the hole."

Richards takes a moment to look back at Peter. The blonde bows his head in submission and moves off to change back into his prison jumper. He simply gave up.

Realizing that there is nothing he can do, Richard pulls on his helmet and jumps into the moon pool. He floats down to the murky bottom and wades off to an empty sifter. Eli is set up beside him and signs to him quickly, Where's Peter?

Doc got to him, he signs back and picks up a shovel. He'll be gone for a few days.

Eli drops his hands to his side. He picks up his shovel and sets off to scoop up another shovelful of muck. Richard does the same and repeats the tedious task he's been doing for the past two years. His thoughts drift as he works. Peter will never be the same. The inmates never are when they return from the infirmary. Even Richard feels different. He feels less cheerful and more broken. It's no use to resist Doc and his medical team. In the end they get what they want. They always do.

Break comes and goes and at the lunch table, all are quiet. One spot remains open for Peter, who won't return for a few days. Richard rubs his hand over his scar and sighs. What could they be doing to Peter in that room? How is holding up? He knew Doc would never kill one of the inmates here. They're too valuable to him. All the information he can learn from them. No, Doc will keep them all alive for as long as he keeps them. They all know there's no escape from Seablite, not ever.

They return back to the muck pits and pan for black pearls until their backs are sore and their hands red and raw from the shovel. It's an unusually tough day for the inmates. After working the muck pits for weeks and months, they are usually chipper about the work day ending so they can catch up on some rest before dinner. Today their spirits are broken and what remained of the happy young boys is replaced by bitter souls and hardened young men who are much changed from when they entered Seablite.

Richard works hard that night, trying to get his mind off of Peter and back onto the strenuous push-ups and sit-ups. He thinks about Gemma instead. He's missing out on much of her life. What will she be like when he gets out? Will she still be the same optimistic, little girl he knows of, or will she be grown up and serious, having no remnants of childhood left in her like him? It's always the questions that run through his mind. There are never any answers. There are no answers in this place. There never will be.

Two days pass when Peter is led back to his cell. The inmates of cell one are preparing for night when the blonde walks into the cell, eyes downcast on the floor. The cell door slides shut behind him, making him flinch. Richard steps down from his top bunk and faces him. Peter doesn't smile. He doesn't say anything and sits down on his bed. With no long hair in their way, they all see the white gauzes taped to his neck, protecting a very long scar that stretches from his collarbone all the way behind his ear.

"Are you okay, Peter?" Eli asks softly.

Peter thinks about it for a moment. He shakes his head. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He's absolutely terrified. "It was awful," he breathes. "I… I feel… sick." He gags twice and stumbles off into the bathroom to empty his stomach of what little lies inside it.

Richard leans against the wall near the bathroom entrance as he listens to his friend's retches and sobs. He didn't think Peter would react like this, but everyone does react to the same situation differently. Richard thinks it reminds the poor boy of the drunken uncle that took care of him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Peter was probably slapped around a bit.

"He's having a panic attack," Ace says and moves to the bathroom to help him out.

"What does that mean?" Richard asks and watches Ace move to Peter's side.

"When someone suffers from a panic attack, it means that they are so afraid of something and that fear becomes disabling." Ace grips Peter gently by the back of his neck and pushes his head downwards, towards his knees. "Breathe deeply, okay? Relax and take in deep breaths." The shaking in Peter's thin frame begins to subside. He gulps in the air deeply as his breathing begins to even out and he starts to clam down. "That's better," the dark haired boy answers. "Just take it easy, Peter. Panic attacks are easy to overcome."

Peter nods and keeps his head down. "Thanks," he whispers and brings his knees up to his chest and surrounds them with shaky arms. Ace nods and comes out of the bathroom to leave him with his thoughts, giving him a moment to himself.

"Where'd you learn that?" Richard asks and walks towards the piercing clad boy.

"One of my brothers suffered from panic attacks all the time," he explains and settles down underneath his blankets for the night. "Things just stick with you, you know? Anyway, goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Richard looks into the bathroom at Peter before he also gets into bed. His head is still down on his knees. "Are you going to be okay now, Peter?"

He nods and brings his head up. "Sorry for freaking out like that," he says.

"There's no need to apologize. We can all understand why you freaked out like you did."

Peter wrings his hands together. "I just want this nightmare to end. I don't want to live another year or two in Seablite. I just can't take it anymore."

Richard kneels down beside him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll get through this together, alright? It takes a few days to get over what happened in there but you can do it."

Peter looks up at him and sighs, putting on a mask of ice to hide his true feelings. "It's going to take time isn't it?"

He nods. "A week or two. That's when I started feeling a little bit better. But not one hundred percent fine but better than I did when I came out of the infirmary. They won't make you work tomorrow. Get some sleep, that's usually the best thing you can do."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll be sure to take it." Richard helps Peter to his feet and makes sure he doesn't fall as he makes it to his bed.

"Don't fall off during the night. You don't want to hurt your stitches."

"Got it." He settles down slowly on his bed, wincing as he shifts to find a comfortable spot to sleep for the night.

Richard moves towards his bunk and jumps up to sit down on the mattress. Eli has long since fallen asleep and Ace is deep in slumber as well. He sits up on his bed, watching as Peter slowly falls asleep and grows still. Hopefully the boy won't have any nightmares. Richard knows that most inmates who have been operated on suffer from nightmares. Peter needs a few days of rest to recover. He won't be the same but he can at least be well enough to get himself through this captivity.

Once he's sure that Peter is fine on his own, Richard collapses onto his bed. For once he actually feels tired. He slowly closes his eyes and lets the welcoming darkness of sleep overcome him. Just one less day in this awful place.