"... Yours, Mermaid Man," finished SpongeBob. Before tackling the letter he had slid to a sitting position on the floor, back propped against Barnacle Boy's bed and spindly legs splayed out in front of him. Barnacle Boy, in an act of camaraderie, had followed suit and seated himself next to the youngster, though the journey down had been nerve-racking and he wasn't entirely confident that he would be able to make it back up again without dislocating a joint or two.

It was late afternoon now and strangely calm. A gentle current carried a steady stream of bubbles past the porthole window and Barnacle Boy watched this for a while in order to give SpongeBob some time to re-read the litter silently, if he wished to do so. When he glanced back to his right, he noticed that SpongeBob's attention, too, had been captured by the bubble stream.

"He was a lot more lucid in writing, huh?" said Barnacle Boy, in an attempt to keep things moving. He knew from experience how easy it would be to fall into a long, unproductive rumination session. In fact, he'd likely still be in the midst of one had SpongeBob not arrived to break the monotony that morning. Such was life in a retirement home … even when Mermaid Man had been alive.

SpongeBob shrugged. "I always thought he was pretty lucid in real life, too. It was just a different kind of lucid. Well, maybe not lucid in the conventional sense. But you could still understand him if you put a little effort into it, right?"

"Right," agreed Barnacle Boy. He couldn't help but smile. As much of a pain in the hindquarters the kid usually was, with his obnoxious over-enthusiasm and disrespect for personal space, he could also be surprisingly and unintentionally profound.

"I still haven't told Patrick," blurted SpongeBob suddenly, springing to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth distractedly, clutching the letter with a pained expression on his face.

"Your pink friend?"

"Yeah."

Upon noticing that Barnacle Boy was still stranded on the floor, SpongeBob came to a halt in front of him and offered his hand. Barnacle Boy took it gratefully and heaved himself upright. He was careful not to snap the sponge's rail-thin arm clean in two; it wouldn't be the first time.

"Well, it's been all over the news," said Barnacle Boy. He brushed himself down and sat on the bed with a sigh of relief. "He probably already knows. He watches a lot of television, right?" Barnacle Boy didn't know this for sure but felt that it was a fair assumption to make based on the sea star's less than athletic physique.

"He does. But he mainly just watches the Eating Channel."

More anxious pacing ensued. Barnacle Boy began began to wonder if he'd made the right decision by giving the kid his letter so soon and re-opening what was still a very sore wound. The grief was still raw for him, too, but he was perhaps better equipped to deal with it given his years of life experience and the hours that he and Mermaid Man had spent planning for this inevitable situation. In theory. In reality he was struggling much more than he'd care to let on. As a superhero, he was supposed to be a symbol of strength and solidarity.

An ominous smashing sound broke his train of thought and he leapt to his feet in surprise, suddenly agile and ready to fight. "What-? Who-?"

"Oh gosh!" SpongeBob dropped to his knees and began to carefully scoop something off the floor. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to look at it and I -"

Barnacle Boy gave a cry of shock as he noticed what it was that SpongeBob had broken: the very first photograph of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy as a newly formed crime-fighting duo, which had been displayed in pride of place on top of the dresser. He pushed the sponge aside and took the pieces into his own hands, heart thumping as he inspected the damage.

SpongeBob continued to apologize tearfully. "I didn't mean to … I can fix it, I promise."

Barnacle Boy was hugely relieved to find that the photograph itself remained perfectly intact. The shattered glass of the frame was beyond repair, but frames were replaceable. He tipped the shards into the wastebasket.

Sinking back onto the bed with the photograph cradled in his lap, he felt his anger ebb away as he examined the picture closely for the first time in years. He had been in great shape back then; lean, youthful, and much better looking in a skimpy costume. But the biggest difference between the young man in the picture and his present day self was the positive attitude, clear even within this still image. His posture radiated confidence and dependability; his wide grin sparkled with enthusiasm. And how he had looked up to Mermaid Man …

He had been far from perfect, but Mermaid Man had nurtured his passion for doing good and righting wrongs. Barnacle Boy remembered those early days fondly and wondered when exactly he had become such an irritable, cynical stick-in-the-sand.

"Barnacle Boy?"

The piping voice came from so closely behind Barnacle Boy that he could feel the breath on his neck and, for the second time in only a few minutes, he yelped and almost jumped out of his skin.

"How many times have I told you not to creep up on me like that?" he snapped, rubbing his neck and turning to fix SpongeBob, who was stood on the bed only inches behind him, with a glare.

"Sorry," said SpongeBob. He seated himself next to Barnacle Boy and glanced guiltily at the broken picture frame. "I just wanted to know if you were OK. I'll bring a new frame next time I come or – or I could run down to the store right now if you -"

"It doesn't matter," reassured Barnacle Boy, "There's probably a whole case of them in the storage room. Old people love looking at photographs, you know? It helps us to remember how much better things were back then and how terrible being old is in comparison."

The hyperbole was lost on SpongeBob, who nodded understandingly.

"Um, Barnacle Boy?"

"What is it now, kid?" mumbled Barnacle Boy. It came out harsher than he had intended, but he was starting to wish SpongeBob would just leave him in peace. Although well-intentioned, he was exhausting enough to deal with on a good day, never mind what was possibly the worst day of his life. Add in the destruction of personal property and anybody's patience would wear thin.

"What are you going to do now?" asked SpongeBob. "Mermaid Man was your best friend in the whole world. You did everything together. You were a team."

"Yes … we were," said Barnacle Boy. He pondered for a moment, analysing a sudden idea, then decided to roll with it and crept over to the door to check the peephole for potential eavesdroppers. Once he sure that they were alone, he pulled a surprised SpongeBob close and dropped his voice to a conspirational whisper. "Listen closely. Meet me in the Mermalair, 8pm tonight. Tell no-one. Got it?"

SpongeBob nodded eagerly.