Part 1: Bringing Them Together

Chapter 1: Dissolving into the Blue

Hi! This is my first fanfiction, so please be easy on me :) Each chapter will be about a particular character, moment, or some subject (or at least I'm planning it to be; we'll see how it goes.) These moments will then propel the plot forward and mainly show the Octonauts' lives, from their origin and onwards.

Hope you like it!

The ocean. A large expanse of blue, silent to the ear of the average land dweller. The blue was scattered with life, schools of fish swimming in the higher altitudes, dolphins playing tag. The rocky floor was filled with sea urchins and star fish, eels and anemones. Rising from this floor was a great sea mount, as high as any land mountain. It was composed of multiple layers of different rock, some lighter than others. Ridges and smaller peaks gave way to the highest point of the mountain, it's crown, so high up that it nearly reached the ocean's surface.

And from far away, in contrast to the sea mount was what looked like a pink speck coming towards it. This speck, upon closer inspection, was an octopus. His eight powerful legs curled in and out, propelling him forward. He had a monocle, which rested on his left eye, attached to a white collar worn around what would be his neck. A blue bow tie was in front of this collar. He had always liked to look his best, even before he started his current career. Although octopuses were smart, this one, Inkling, was exceptionally intelligent. He was a professor from an university located in England. He taught marine biology (which he thought was fitting, considering what type of animal he was) there for ten years. He loved his occupation, and he enjoyed the company of the young college students.

Sometimes he daydreamed that one day he might bring a group of creatures - either other marine biology professors or his top pupils - down to the ocean to study marine life up close. They would probably come down in a submarine, since most of his peers needed air to breath. Only a few students, like Inkling, could go both on land and in water. They would study known animals, and maybe even find new species as well. Inkling smiled at the idea, but it soon faded from his mind again. Maybe he would do it in a couple years; for now, he was content with where he was.

He looked at the sea mount. Although it would still take an hour to reach there, his heart quickened in anticipation. It was summer vacation, and every year he would come to his homeland. He would visit his little nephew, Squirt, and his friends there. He loved them all dearly, and although Inkling had a family (Squirt included) that he loved, his friends also seemed like a family.

Professor Inkling swam merrily through the ocean, humming a tune as he thought of what he would do once he reached home. But then something caught his attention. It was a dolphin. He didn't know what exactly, but there was something off with the way he was swimming. Inkling stopped, staring at the creature. "Strange how the fellow is without his pod," Inkling thought, a feeling of dread rising in him. Looking at the dolphin a little more, the professor realized that he was coughing. Inkling started to swim quickly, trying to come to the dolphin. Inkling gasped when the dolphin, seeming to lose his strength, crashed into the sea floor.

After what seemed like forever, Inkling finally caught up to the creature. The dolphin lay on its side; other than coughing every now and then, it was still. Inkling came close to it, and the dolphin started to writhe, trying to get up.

"Don't hurt me!" the dolphin said weakly.

"Don't worry, I mean you no harm," Inkling said in the most soothing tone he could muster. He touched the dolphin's side with two of his arms. He had never been in this kind of situation, and he did not know how to handle it. But he just couldn't leave the creature there. He asked, "What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"

The dolphin coughed before answering, "I've been sick for a while. At first I got tired all the time; then I started coughing a little. It grew worse over the last few weeks, and I started to have trouble breathing through my air hole."

Pity formed in Inkling's chest. The sickly dolphin continued, "This illness has gotten so bad that it can't be fixed now. I can't breathe through my air hole anymore. I'm living off the last air supply I was able to get." He had a far away look in his eye. "I'll be passing soon."

Inkling jumped back a little at this. He quickly went around the dolphin to where his back was. The octopus looked on with horror. The dolphin's air hole was completely swollen shut. There was no way Inkling can cure that, especially when he knew so little of medicine. He swam back where the dolphin's face was. "B-but, there must be someone nearby, a doctor that..." His words slowed as the dolphin shook his head, and he remembered the truth. There weren't many doctors in the ocean. Most of them were land animals, so they lived near beaches. Sick sea creatures would come to them. But, what if they are in the middle of the ocean?

Like him and the dolphin were now.

The dolphin's words began to slur, "I didn' make it. But a' least th' res' of the pod isn't sick."

"No, there must be some way for you to be cured," Inkling said. The dolphin could hear the desperation in his voice.

He wrapped his arms around the dolphin and haphazardly tried to lift him up. There must be some way to save him, Inkling thought desperately. But after a few tries Inkling had to stop. The dolphin was just too large and heavy for him to carry. The professor ended up slowly floating to the floor, panting. He could only stare in shock. The situation had finally hit him. The dolphin was dying, and he was the only one there who could save him. Yet he could not even do anything.

"I wish I could help you," Inkling murmured.

The dolphin looked at the octopus's face. "Please don' feel guilty," the dolphin said. "This couldn' be helped." His voice started to get quieter. "A' least you were kin' enough to stay with me."

Inkling looked into the dolphin's fading eyes. "And I will stay with you until the end," Inkling said.

He grabbed the dolphin's flipper in a comforting gesture. He never let go, even when panic seized the dolphin when the air ran out, or when the dolphin writhed, driven by his instincts, trying to get air even when he couldn't. Inkling held on when the dolphin finally quieted down, with a calm look in his eyes, and when he finally passed on. Only after ten minutes of looking at the dead body did Inkling finally let go of the stiff flipper and swim away. He could feel the tears forming, but they would always dissolve into the blue. He couldn't really think; he felt too numb. All that was in his mind was, "That poor dolphin couldn't receive medical attention in time."

He soon arrived at the base of the sea mount. His friends ecstatically greeted him, glad he was finally home. He said hello to them, there but not really. He came mostly back to reality when Squirt swam up to him excitedly, wanting to show him his growing rock collection. Inkling paid attention to him, joining in his conversation about his rocks and even laughing when his nephew said something funny. But sorrow never left him.

After a couple hours, Squirt went off to play with the other children in the community. Inkling floated next to Adeline, a gold coral who was the oldest creature around the sea mount. Standing erect, like a tree would be on land, she was the most respected creature in the community. With the biggest heart, she was the most loved too. Adeline looked at Inkling. She had known Inkling since he was a child and could read his emotions pretty easily. The professor was staring at the kids, but it was obvious that his mind was on other matters. By the look of subtle grief on his face, she knew it was something serious.

"Inkling?" Adeline asked gently. The professor roused from his thoughts and looked at her. "Are you all right? You seem upset."

He sighed; he should have known he'd be asked sooner or later. He began telling her what happened when he was coming to the seamount. It did not go by unnoticed that Inkling's voice choked a little towards the end.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Adeline said. She looked ahead of her, not looking at the children. "That's terrible."

"And do you know the worst part?" Inkling asked. "It could have been prevented if there was a doctor close enough to help him."

She looked at him sadly; the expression on his face was almost unbearable. "Inkling..."

"There are many dangerous things that happen in the ocean, not just sickness. There are tremors, rock slides, storms, volcanic eruptions, the list is endless. And while the creatures on land have systems that help the victims of these disasters, there is not anything like that here."

"Yes, but our ways of life are different. On land, everyone has jobs, and they have the time and resources to build these type of systems.

In the sea, everyone has to find food and not be food. They are separated in pods or herds, and sometimes creatures live alone. Everyone has to take care of themselves and survive, and they don't have the time or ability to help entire ecosystems that are impacted with disaster."

"That's true, but how I wish things were different!" Inkling exclaimed. The coral was surprised at his outburst. But he quieted again, leaving a pleading tone in his voice, "Please understand, I do not want sea creatures to change their way of life, but I wish there was some way to help those who are in danger, those who cannot take care of themselves."

"There are times when I also want things to change," she said gently, quietly. "But I don't think that can happen. The ocean is just too vast."

They both lapsed into silence. Inkling stared at the ground, deep in thought. Adeline was also thinking, recalling those close to her that had passed away centuries ago...

"Maybe there is something that can be done," Inkling said. Adeline pulled out of her recollections and paid attention to him. There was something in his voice, something subdued, but it caught her ear. "Before, I fancied the idea of bringing down a group of professors or students to study the ocean. My career has left me a large enough fortune to have a submarine built, so it is entirely doable. But instead of scholars, I could bring together an actual crew." He turned to face her, and that subdued tone in his voice finally broke through. "Because I want people that won't only explore, but also rescue and protect. And although one crew can't take care of everyone in the world's oceans, they can still prevent many deaths."

Adeline saw the fire in his eyes, that spark that propelled creatures to do what they were talking about, to accomplish their dreams. It was the same look he had many years ago when Inkling, as a young adult, told her that he wanted to become a professor. She admired this determination, and said, "I know you will bring together a valiant crew, and I know you will change many creature's lives."

He thanked her, touched that she so readily supported him. "I shall start the search in a couple days. I will travel the world until I find members fit for the task. Each one will be assigned different positions and will undoubtedly have different strengths, but they will also work together. They will explore, rescue, and protect the ocean; and through their efforts, they will make a difference."