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You feel things again. You can’t really move, but you can remember. Your name is Anne Boonchuy. Everything else fades after that, but you know who you were and who you are now.
When Anne wakes up, it’s to the sound of constant beeping from a nearby monitor. The ceiling and walls are white, glaringly so. She wished it was more colorful, more lively maybe, but she had no idea where she was. Simply thinking was hard, and besides her name, everything else was blurry.
There are two people next to her. One is sitting on a chair that looked like it’d been pulled over, long blonde hair framing her face as she rested her head on the corner of Anne’s bedside. The other person was standing, with dark, ruffled hair barely pushed back by a single green hair clip. Their eyes were hazel with flecks of green in them that Anne thought looked pretty cool. They wore a blue cloak, which was sort of weird, but they looked good in it.
Both of them felt familiar, but Anne didn’t recognize them. She decided just to stay and watch for a while, the sleeping blonde looks like she needs it. The one eye uncovered by her arms had eye bags underneath them and her heart pained to see someone suffer like that.
It’s the person standing that first realizes she’s woken up and those hazel eyes brighten up considerably as a wide grin stretched across their lips. Anne can’t help but smile back, there’s something about that grin that makes it infectious.
Then, a split second later, the blonde immediately jolts upright, multi-colored eyes flicking from Anne to the room before realization dawns upon her and she practically lunges forward.
“Anne!” The blonde cries out in relief and happiness, tears escape from her eyes as she smiles almost as bright as the other person. “You’re awake! Thank frog!”
It’s a bit weird for the blonde to thank frogs. Maybe she liked frogs? She tried to recall, something in her heart latched onto this information like a lifeline. Something about frogs, what was it?
A strike of pain rammed itself into her head as she winced, one hand immediately going up to her head, feeling the fabric of what she’d assumed to be bandages around her head.
“Anne, be careful,” The dark haired person chides worriedly, hand reaching out to stop Anne. “Don’t pick at your bandages.”
Anne swallows the pain and looks at the two of them, trying to convey her desperation and confusion through a single look. They seem to get it, the dark haired person’s hand recoiling.
“Who… Who are you?” Anne asks.
And just like that, their smiles drop. The blonde looks down at her hands before her fingers curl inwards to form a fist. When she looks back up at Anne, her eyes are filled with desperation and determination, as if she could shove the knowledge and memories back into Anne’s head. Anne wished she did.
“C’mon, Boonchuy,” The blonde scolds, but she’s more fearful than angry, “It’s me Sasha, Sasha Waybright!” The blonde, Sasha, introduces herself hurriedly. “I saved you from some playground bullies and then we were inseparable, remember? We’re co-commanders!” Her voice breaks and it turns to more of a croak, “We’re friends.”
She says they’re friends. Anne smiles at that, because who didn’t want friends? It’s nice to know she has people who care about her, even if she doesn't remember any Sasha, let alone Sasha Waybright.
“Do you remember school? Saint James Middle School? Like the time we ditched school to steal a shopping cart—”
Sasha stops and seems to understand. She seems to realize that despite everything she’s saying, nothing clicks in Anne’s mind, and reaches out a hand and wraps her fingers around Anne’s hand, squeezing it firmly as if to make sure Anne’s real. Anne squeezes back, her hands are really rough and calloused.
Her voice is soft, a clear contrast to her previous desperate loud recollections of their apparent misadventures. “You really don’t remember,” Sasha says, sniffling. “Oh, Anne, how could you forget? I bet you forgot Amphibia too.” The tears are falling uncontrollably now, and she wiped them furiously with her other hand. “Fuck,” She whispers, cursing the gods above. “Fuck.”
Sasha stands up, letting go of Anne with an even more determined look in her eyes as she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up. She reminds Anne of a soldier. Maybe she is one, but Anne doubts she really is, since Sasha’s way too young to be a soldier.
“I–I need to go,” Sasha says, in lieu of a goodbye. “You need a doctor and I’ll tell your parents you finally woke up.” She pauses at the door, sparing Anne one last look, “Your parents are angels, Boonchuy, if you don’t remember them I’ll send you back to your coma yourself.” It’s an empty threat, said with love instead of anger and hatred.
Sasha leaves, a ghost of ‘get better soon, please’ in their wake.
Anne looks at the other person in the room, who’d been quietly thinking to themself. Her heart hurts, because she may not remember them, but she knows she hates it when they cry. She clears her throat, instantly grabbing their attention despite that just a second ago they were buried in their own thoughts.
“I’m sorry for not remembering you guys,” Anne says, only for the other person to shake their head wildly.
“No!” They blurt out, the sudden volume causing Anne to wince a bit. “Shoot, I’m sorry. It’s just that you have nothing to apologize for, Anne. It’s alright if you don’t remember me or Sasha, right now just focus on yourself, Anne.” They sigh, a found look of exasperation taking over their features as they chuckle to themself. “Of course the first thing you’d do is worry for the two strangers by your bedside than worry for your own well being.”
Anne wants to argue; she wants to say she feels fine and that besides her head, everywhere else feels too numb for any pain or discomfort, but there’s something so tender and gentle in their gaze that makes all her arguments disappear.
They’re important, Anne knows. If only she could remember.
Before she could ask for a name or something, the person with the cloak turned towards the door as it opened and Anne perked up at the two familiar figures. It’s her parents; it’s her mom and her dad, who’ve raised her and loved her with everything they have.
“Mom! Dad!” She cries out, holding out her arms because she so desperately wants to feel safe. The whole world is confusing, she’s scared of everything she doesn’t know that lies outside of her hospital room. But her parents have helped her navigate the world and all its wonders and flaws before, and they would do it again in a heartbeat.
Her mother rushes over, strong, fast, and passionate as she wraps her arms carefully around Anne. “Oh, baby…” She murmurs, pressing her cheek against Anne’s head softly. Words cannot describe their reunion. Anne’s home. She’s safe.
“You’re alive!” Her father cheers, a cheer shadowed by worry and fatherly protectiveness. “You’ve scared us one too many times!” He says, also wrapping his arms around them all.
Anne remembers her parents, of course she does. She glances over at the cloaked person, who stands off to the side a bit awkwardly. They notice her looking and offer her a bright grin and wave, as well as a thumbs up. Anne can’t help but think they’re such a dork.
Her mother presses a kiss to her forehead before pulling back, “Now, Sasha said you were having trouble remembering things?”
Anne nods. “Yeah.”
Her mother and father exchange looks, the kind of look that means they’re having a conversation only the two of them understand. It takes them a second, but they soon come to an agreement. Her father gently holds her hand, rubbing his thumb on the back of her palm while her mother sighs.
“There’s a lot of people who want to see you, who care about you. They may seem a bit weird, but they all care about you a lot. Would you be alright with meeting them?” Her mother asks, looking her over carefully.
Anne glances over at the cloaked person, who smiles as if to let them make their own decision. She’s thankful for that. Anne thinks about it, “They… care for me?”
Her father nods, and her mother smiles, “They love you very much.”
“Okay.”
Nothing could have prepared her for the frog-people that arrived the next day, but they felt familiar too. As the three of them gathered around her, crying rivers with their tears as they happily rejoiced. They seem a bit happier than the others, but they too seemed to be weighed down by something. They’re very happy she’s awake now, they’d all been so worried when she apparently defeated an evil king in single combat.
The small lavender pollywog was especially enthusiastic as she recounted the details of the fight from her perspective. To Anne, it all sounded like something out of an anime and she hoped she didn’t crash through five buildings! Paying for repercussions would doom her for life!
“I’m Sprig, you’re my best friend,” Sprig says, tears falling from his eyes as he made a few gestures with his hand. Anne, despite not remembering what or who Sprig is, manages to copy his gestures almost exactly. Muscle-memory remembering despite everything.
Sprig gasps and cries harder as he quite literally croaks out, “Spranne against the world.”
Anne echoes it because she sees that Sprig quite literally needs it, and maybe she needed it too since her heart felt a lot lighter after having said that.
“This is my sister, Polly,” Sprig says, waving towards the purple pollywog with a cute bow on top of her head. “And this is my grandfather, Hop Pop.”
“Nice to meet you, Polly and Hop Pop, again.” Anne chuckles at that. She turns to the elderly orange frog, “Could I call you HP?”
The three of them all burst into tears. “Of course, of course you can, Anne,” Hop Pop says, crying into her bed sheets. It’s a bit weird, and definitely gross but she didn’t mind. She’s only met them for a few minutes, but she knew she’d do anything for these three.
If only she could remember.
Over the next few days, many people came and visited. There was a doctor from the museum, who brought her a get well gift along with a blue haired scientist. Two women, who happily introduced themselves as the IT girls, let her have a cool cat robot that meows whenever she petted its head. Two people, dressed in dark clothes enter her room and bid her their best wishes. They don't visit more than once. Even an FBI agent stopped by to offer their hope for her to get better, there were like, five questions that felt a bit too much like an interrogation, but her mother quickly silenced those with a glare Anne was happy not to be at the end of.
Everyone’s happy that she’s awake now, apparently she’s been sleeping for a long while. They don’t tell her everything that has happened, something about gradually breaking the news to her the doctors had requested. Anne doesn’t mind, she trusts the doctors to know what’s going on and they seem pretty confident that she’ll soon be able to recall her own memories.
Her room is constantly visited by the Planters, her parents, Sasha, and the cloaked person.
Still, they can’t be with her all the time. The hospital had strict visiting hours and time to rest was very important for patients, especially for head injuries in Anne’s case. Sleep might help her recall faster than any medication. When her parents had finally left, Sprig waved goodbye and let Anne hold onto his hat, that’s when the first memory hit.
It’s a horrible pain in her head, like something had bulldozed into the rickety stone wall in her mind. Her thoughts felt like they were being torn apart brick by brick. She couldn’t help the scream in her head as she doubled over in excruciating pain. Gentle arms surrounded her, the cloaked person at her side in an instant, so fast Anne didn’t even see her go burst through the door.
“Anne! What’s happening?” They ask, holding her close and trying to soothe her by reaching a hand to her hair and smoothing out her curls. It feels nice, and distracts her a little from the pain. “That better?” Every move they make is one filled with care, overflowing to the point where Anne does feel better from their gestures.
She feels better, but it doesn’t stop hurting. “My-my head,” Anne says, and their hazel eyes spark with understanding as they nod. They gently move her hands away from the bandages on her head.
“I’ve got you,” They promised, holding Anne’s hands in their own. “The nurses will be here soon. Just try to focus on me, okay?”
Anne tries, she really tries, but her head hurts as she remembers a swirl of feelings and thoughts. It comes in bits and pieces, discordant memories of a young frog with a thrill for adventure. It’s about nearly getting eaten alive, getting into trouble, nearly getting eaten alive again, getting into more trouble, and nearly getting eaten alive for the third time. It’s about quiet nights on a hill where the stars are overhead and the moon is a crimson color overseeing everything. It’s about handshakes, insects, adventures in the most dangerous places, and friends in the most unlikely places.
They’re all about the same person.
She remembers! Anne remembers Sprig, remembers their promise, remembers the frog that was now more like a brother to her. She remembers the good things, like running around town causing mayhem. She remembers a world unlike her own, but gloriously weird all the same. She remembers missing their parents on the balcony of a castle, remembers hugging them, the slimy skin no longer a bother. She remembers almost losing him as he falls out of a window.
“Sprig…” Anne murmurs before the pain suddenly stops as she falls into unconsciousness, shocked hazel eyes the last thing she sees before the dreams take her.
On Sprig’s next visit, Anne excitedly told him all about their adventures. Sprig cries, leaping into her arms eagerly. “Oh, Anne!” He sobs into her chest, “You remember!”
“Yes, I do,” Anne says, and she smiles because there’s hope for her after all. If she can remember Sprig, then with time, she can no doubt remember everyone else. Even if she’s not looking forward to the headaches, remembering the people who love her is worth it.
They spend hours reminiscing about Amphibia, and Anne may not remember much besides Sprig, but she’s still riding on the high of remembering . Sasha’s there too, she adds a few things, tells Anne about her own adventures in Amphibia. Most of them take place in Toad Tower, which sounds pretty rad. Turns out Sasha was a soldier.
Sasha smiles and says she’s happy, everyone smiles and says they’re happy, but Anne can’t help but wonder why their eyes seem to hold the weight of some crushing sadness she’s not yet aware of. Everyone smiles. Sasha grins as the nurse comes in to politely tell Sasha she's overstayed her welcome.
“Get better, Anne,” Sasha says. “You better remember me soon.” Anne nods, but Sasha’s smile seems off, somehow. It isn’t that she isn’t genuine. It’s just that there’s something else weighing down on her. Something else Anne doesn’t remember.
She leaves, and as she closes the door, the cloaked person slips in well after visiting hours with a mischievous grin. This one doesn’t feel off, it feels whole.
“You really scared me,” They say as they trot over to Anne’s bedside, reaching out a tentative hand which Anne took in a heartbeat. “How are you feeling?” They ask, hazel eyes looking into Anne’s before they sweep over Anne’s entire body, carefully looking over her for any signs of pain or more injuries.
“Pfft,” Anne chuckles, finding comfort in holding their hand. “I’m fine. I’m pretty strong.”
They smile, a fond smile that makes Anne’s heart skip a beat, “Yeah, I know. You’re strong in the real way.”
“I remember Sprig,” Anne says excitedly, and they also brighten up considerably.
“Oh, that’s great! This must mean you’re starting to remember things already. Unfortunately, remembering seems to be causing you a great deal of pain, but not to worry, as you get better the pain should disappear as your memories come back! Though, uh- don’t take my word for it, I’m not a doctor, though I have read many books on the subject,” They ramble, sheepishly rubbing the back of their neck with a hand.
Anne wants to assure them that they’re fine, but realizes a bit late that they never gave her their name. “No worries, dude,” She says instead, looking at them curiously, “What did you say your name was, again?”
She doesn’t remember them telling her their name, but everything’s been so hectic lately, she might’ve forgotten all about it.
They giggle, “That’s because I never told you. Well, not since you woke up from your coma.”
Anne pouts, “Oh, come on. Just tell me your name? It feels weird that you know so much about me and I don’t even have anything to call you.”
They laugh, before looking at Anne with the same tender expression that has Anne’s heart beat faster, as evidenced by her heart monitor. “No, I’d rather you remember me yourself,” They say, “I don’t mind waiting. How about you give me a nickname to call me by? You don’t remember yet, but you used to give me all sorts of nicknames.” They look off, to something Anne can’t see or imagine, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.”
Anne racks her brain for a suitable nickname looking at them again. They’re still wearing the dark blue cloak like the first time, she doubts they switched outfits. But then again, Anne’s been wearing the same hospital clothes for a while. The green hair clip feels familiar, and Anne still finds herself enchanted by those flecks of green she sees flash in their chocolate eyes.
“I’ll call you Green,” Anne decides and she only worries for a second that they would hate it because a second is all it takes for their shock to turn to the same fond look again.
“Green, I like that,” They say, “Why call me that, though?”
Anne shrugs, she doesn’t know, really. “I dunno, it just felt right.”
Green grins, “Cool.”
Green visits more than everyone else. It definitely has something to do with the fact that they slipped into Anne's room every day, undetected by anyone else. They sit next to her, sometimes they don’t do much besides just hang out. Green likes to talk about things, and as long as Anne doesn’t ask questions that are too personal, they can ramble for hours on a niche topic or some interesting thing they thought of. Their voice is nice and soothing, more often than not, Anne found herself falling asleep peacefully to an explanation of the triforce or something. When morning comes, they’re gone, and Anne hopes they’re getting some sleep themselves. She’s seen the number of security that walks by her door, the hospital is heavily guarded. It’s quite commendable that Green can slip in every night.
Anne chuckles as they slip in right before the door closes. “Don't you know visiting hours are over?” She asks, the curve of her lips betraying her happiness as she tries to act stern to no avail. Green just laughs as they walk over, footsteps as silent as a cat's.
“Don't you know I multi-classed as a rogue? Besides, I've been here more than enough times to know this place like the back of my hand.” Green retorts, a question Anne does not understand at all. Seeing Anne's confusion, Green just smiles and lifts a finger to their mouth as if to shush her. “You'll understand when you remember.”
Anne huffs, “I bet it’s the cloak. All the sneaky people have cloaks.”
Green laughs, tugging at their cloak, “I quite like this cloak.”
“Yeah,” Anne says, rolling her eyes, “You only wear it every day.”
“You’re not much better,” Green retorts, “I think you wore the same shirt for an entire summer.”
Anne pauses, because this is a low blow and from the little memories she has recovered, Green is absolutely right. “You find this fun, don't you?” Anne accuses.
"Yeah," Green confesses shamelessly, reaching out to hold Anne's hand again. “I thought I’d never do this again. You here with me is all I ever wanted.”
They say it with such truth that Anne does not doubt it. It's mind-blowing that Green could care for her so much, and despite Anne not remembering them, she knows she cares for them too. Even if they didn't in the past. Was that why Green wanted Anne to remember herself?
She may not remember what happened, but she doesn't think she was the kind of person to hold such a grudge, she doesn't think she'll care now. “You don't want much, do you?” Anne asks, because she wants a lot of things. She wants to remember, wants to eat something other than the horrible bland tasting hospital food they're giving her, and wants to move around more. Unfortunately her doctors say she has too much internal bleeding to even think about it at the moment.
Green ducks their head at the question, “I–I wanted one thing, and I wanted too much.” They sigh, looking up and shaking their head, sorrowfully. “It doesn't matter, now. You're here. I'm here. That's what matters right now.”
Their answer soothes the ache in Anne's heart she didn't know she had. She smiles, letting go of the breath she had been holding unconsciously. “Yup, next time, how about you sneak me some of my mom's cooking? I've been asking, but she says my stomach can't handle it right now.” Anne makes a face, gesturing to the mashed potatoes and fruit juice they've given her for dinner. “This does not suit my tastes.”
Green chuckles, “Oh, do these dishes not appease you, your highness?"
Anne rolls her eyes, but can't help the smile that sneaks itself onto her face, “They do not, loyal servant. I demand the fanciest of caviars and a big steak.”
Green laughed, doubling over in boisterous guffaws, “You think caviar and steak is fancy food?”
Anne scoffs, “Are you questioning my palate?”
“No,” Green says, hiding a small giggle before they bow formally, “Never, your highness. Please forgive this lowly servant for their wrong-doings. I’m just saying that you could go beyond just steak and caviar. Why not have a fountain of chocolate, and an endless supply of your favorite ice cream?”
“Forgiven,” Anne declares, waving her hand. “I don’t think I have a favorite ice cream though.”
“That’s fine, we’ll have all the ice cream presented to you so you can try them all,” Green says without missing a beat.
Anne smiles, “Now go use your sneaky skills and get me some real food, please.”
Green shakes their head, “Sorry, your highness. I'd never want to put you in danger, and I fear you may choke to your demise on a steak.”
“You're no loyal servant,” Anne grumbles, grabbing the tray and shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She didn't have anything against mashed potatoes, honest, but after a while it gets kind of old. “You sneaky assassin, you're going to have me go and get steak myself and when I'm found dead in my room, you'll cover your tracks like the uh- the rogue you are.”
Green laughs, “Oh c'mon Anne. The hospital's food isn't that bad. Just, make sure you eat it, okay? And, I'm sure Sasha and your parents will get you whatever you want when you're better.”
Anne huffs, waving a spoon at Green. “How would you know hospital food tastes bad? Maybe it tastes like cat litter.”
Green lifts up both of their hands in surrender. “Oh, trust me, I've had my fair share of hospital food. C'mon Anne, you've eaten bugs from another world! Your stomach can handle some peas and mashed potatoes.” They wave at Anne's rather disappointing dinner. “See? You're almost done!”
Anne sighs, before an idea flashed through her mind as she grinned up at Green. “Alas, I fear that I can't hold on to my spoon anymore. Feed me?” She asks, not that her hand hurts, a part of her just wants to see their reaction.
It's worth it. Green becomes red. Their cheeks flush and even their ears turn red as they blush. It's adorable, and Anne can't help but chuckle fondly at how Green raises the hood of their cloak, hiding part of their face as they look anywhere but at Anne.
“Anne,” Green whines, though it comes out as more of a pathetic plea, “You can't just-You can’t just do that to me.” Then they look at Anne's hand, scrutinizing it carefully. “Unless your hand really hurts? Please just tell me outright if it does. You know- I mean, I'm terrible at social cues.”
“Another thing I'll remember?” Anne asks, no longer kidding.
Green pauses for a moment and nods, ashamed, “Yeah. I'm always bad at it. Can’t tell sarcasm apart from normal words, takes most things literally, and I’m not good with people like you are. Sometimes it’s hard to look them in the eyes.”
Sensing their embarrassment, Anne gently reached out to comfort them. “I'm sure you're not that bad, you're talking to me just fine.”
Green sighs, “Yeah, but that's because it's you.”
Anne smiles at that, she doesn't remember Green, but she knows Green well enough that she understands them. Maybe this understanding doesn’t hold a candle to how she understood them before, but it still counts and at least Anne knows when they need a hand to hold. She does just that, offering them her hand, which they happily take with a small, sad smile.
“Thank you,” Green says.
Anne laughs, because Green's done so much more for her than whatever she's done for Green. “You're welcome.”
Green is there more often than they’re not, and they are there when the weeks pass and Anne remembers more. She remembers the Polly and Hop Pop, remembers the spunky pollywog and the wise old frog that’s taught her life long lessons she’ll remember forever. Anne remembers the rest of Wartwood, from Ivy, the frog she tried to matchmake with Sprig to Wally, the frog she went off to see the mothman with. She remembers Bessie and the harrowing night she read a book thicker than her arm.
She remembers trying to sneak into the museum. She remembers the IT girls and helping Polly build Frobo. She remembers running from the FBI and she wouldn’t believe she and her parents out ran them if it wasn’t for her very real memory of the entire thing. She remembers the world going red and then turning blue. She remembers power, barely controlled by her own body as she fought.
Anne remembers so many people. She smiles, because she loved them too.
She still can’t remember Sasha or Green.
Green doesn’t mind, waving Anne’s apologies away. “I can wait.” They look off, murmuring in a breathless voice one night as Anne’s about to fall asleep. “It’s a lot.”
Anne is sleepy and tired, she slurs her words together. “Where’dya go?”
Green just smiles, “Sometimes I go bother Sasha too, but don’t worry. I’ll always be here when you need me.” They gently brush away a few stray hairs from Anne’s face. “Sweet dreams, Anne.”
She feels a gentle press on her forehead before the dreams take her.
Anne dreams of blue, green, and pink. She forgets in the morning, because dreams always fade.
Sasha scoffs, plopping herself down in her chair, the chair closest to Anne’s beside. “Well, they do say they leave the best for last,” She quips, but there’s worry, fear, and grief in her eyes.
Anne’s more sure than ever that there’s something no one’s talking about. She’s too afraid to ask.
Weeks pass. It’s late, and Green tells her about the stars to pass the time.
“Capricorn’s one of the zodiacs, but unlike the other zodiacs, I don’t think its most common story, which is about time-traveling goat-fish, is necessarily accurate with the Greek mythos—” Green was saying before Anne stopped them.
“Do you know why I can’t remember you and Sasha?” Anne asks and Green stops.
Green simply thinks for a moment. Anne can tell by the way their eyebrows furrow and their eyes spark green in the evening hospital light that they’re thinking pretty hard about it. She waits, because she trusts Green to give her an answer more than she would the doctors. While the doctors were knowledgeable on her injuries, Green knew her, knew Anne. And Anne’s biggest problem was with herself.
“I can’t say for certain,” Green finally says after much debating with themself, “but it’s most likely something to do with the stones, or your powers. You remember going blue, right?”
Anne nods.
“Going blue definitely has something to do with your sudden memory loss. Either that, or trauma. The mind works in mysterious ways sometimes,” Green says factually. “But no worries, I’m sure you’ll remember Sasha soon.”
Anne sighs, “Alright. I guess all I can do is wait.”
“Trust me, it won’t be long,” Green assures, their eyes flashing green again as they concentrate on something else.
Green hasn’t been wrong before.
Anne leans back against her pillows. She’s tried so hard to wait patiently, but she can’t remember Green. Can’t remember Green’s name even though she feels it on the tip of her tongue every time she calls out for them. She can’t take it anymore, she wants to know more. Wants to know if Green felt the same for them, because Anne remembers so many people now but none of them have made her feel like Green does.
Remembering hasn’t hurt like this in a long time. It was bad with Sprig, the first time, but this is worse. Scenes and words fly at her like bullets and each memory sticks like a bullet wound, pain lodged inside her very flesh. As the memories wash over her, Anne feels herself drowning in the past. Everywhere she turns, Sasha is there. From playground memories to middle school debauchery, Sasha is the only constant as the world stops turning. She catches a glimpse of a green hair clip in her periphery sometimes, Anne notices, but it’s barely noticeable as Sasha shines in the glory of her past.
It’s the end of a discussion. It’s the start of an argument. It’s a duel on top of the tower. It’s dying on top of the world. It’s holding on to the friend she leaned on, and it’s Sasha letting go to fall to her own doom. It’s betrayal and forgiveness. It’s betrayal, and it’s bitter. It’s fighting, swords pointed at the jugular and you were my friend .
You are my friend.
Are you my friend?
Anne remembers looking through the visor of a copper helmet, signifying her role as the commander, of which she was quite terrible at. It takes a while, but Sasha lets herself take back the helmet and Anne is the one who hands it over to her. They fight more, the clanging of swords and steel, but the sword point is no longer pointed at the heart.
It’s a new beginning.
They’re soldiers in a war foretold eons ago. (If only someone bothered to tell them about it. If only someone could save them from it.)
She’s racing towards the ruins of a castle, every atom in her body pressing her forward to go onwards. Anne can not afford to stop, resistance whether it be by other robots or physics is defeated by the thrumming power of blue energy. She disregards the castle’s chambers, which has been demolished and pieces of wires and ancient tech tossed all over the place. Anne doesn’t care about the Core and its power hungry plans.
There, kneeling on the floor is Sasha, bloodied but alive, holding …
Sasha is elated to know Anne remembers her. “Finally! You sure took your sweet time,” She says, but there’s a haunted look in her eyes that doesn’t go away no matter how wide she smiles. She’s happy, but it seems forced as she passes Anne some cookies she snuck into the hospital.
Anne grabs the cookies, munching on them hungrily as she glances over to where Green stood. Green is smiling, staring at Sasha gently before her green gaze turns towards Anne. Anne blushes, can’t believe she got caught looking. Green gestures for the door and mimes drinking a glass of water, Anne nods and Green brushes past Sasha to the door. Sasha glances at Anne confused but then shakes her head, her confused expression turning into one of determination.
“Listen, Anne,” Sasha says, looking down at her hands, “I’m so sorry.”
Anne chuckles, patting her hands comfortably. “You’ve already apologized enough,” She says, though Sasha only seemed to wince even more. “I know you’re trying to be better, and that’s the reason why I forgave you.”
Sasha stares at Anne, and looks away with a grimace. “That’s not what I was-” She stops, letting out a long sigh before burying her face in her hands as she chuckled without any mirth. “I sure have a lot to apologize for.”
“What did you do?” Anne asks, wondering what else Sasha could be apologizing for.
Sasha ducks her head and picks at the invisible lint on her cotton shirt, “I–Can we talk about something else? Anything else?” She wipes the beginnings of a tear away with the back of her hand. “You should get better first.”
Anne nods. “I can’t believe you got two swords,” Anne says, still winded from all the betrayals and fights.
“Yeah, Grimesy gave me another when I overthrew King Andrias,” Sasha says sheepishly. “Speaking of which, I overheard the docs say you’re back to full health. If all goes well, you’ll be released from the hospital tomorrow.”
Anne pauses at that, confused. If she’s all better, then why can’t she remember Green.
Sasha sighs, looking at Anne worriedly. “You okay? Feeling weird? Anything I can help you with?” She asks.
Green was as much an enigma as Anne’s jumbled up memories were. It was annoying that all Anne was missing was one Green-shaped puzzle piece that could make the puzzle complete, and everything would make sense. She’s waiting to remember, but if the doctors say she’s practically all good to go by now, then Anne might never remember Green on her own. Green has done so much for Anne, the least Anne can do is remember them. Especially since Green seemed to be crucial to the entire puzzle that was Amphibia, to her battle, and to the reason why she was in this hospital to begin with.
“Actually, you can,” Anne says, making up her mind and catching Sasha’s undivided attention. “I’m still forgetting someone,” She starts, watching as Sasha’s face turns paler than the hospital walls. “They’re important.”
Sasha licks her lips, trying to swallow as if she’s been burning under the Californian afternoon sun for too long. “How would you describe them?” She asks, voice wavering with the tinges of terror and relief. “What do you remember about them?”
Anne blushes, half out of embarrassment because that’s the thing, she doesn’t remember them. She just knows there’s something missing and her heart aches for understanding, for remembrance. “It’s more of a feeling than a memory,” Anne admits, clutching at her bedsheets. “And it’s hard to describe it.”
Anne struggles to find the words to describe it, but when she looks up, Sasha’s looking at her with a knowing look in her eyes. The Thai girl pauses, remembering that if Green knew Sasha then Sasha must’ve known Green, and Sasha must’ve known about Green and Anne. Her memories were muddled, and she knew some of them were incomplete, especially ones with Sasha. The ones where Sasha stood in the center of the past, something–someone–lurking in the corner.
“Do you like them?” Sasha asks.
Anne does not answer because they both know the answer to that question. “You know who I’m talking about, right?” Anne asks, partially begging.
It does the trick, because even though Sasha’s so close to pulling the hair out of her head and her teeth grind against each other as her head shakily nods, Sasha answers honestly without deceit. “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about.”
“Can you help me remember?”
Sasha looks at her with a hurricane of emotions in her eyes, she bite her lip as she glances away, to a place where Anne can’t see. “It’s a lot,” Sasha says instead of blatantly refusing and Anne takes it as further proof that the blonde has changed. “Are you sure?” She asks, hands formed into fists as she doubled down on stalling.
“Yes,” Anne says without hesitation. “I need to understand. I need to remember.”
“And then what?” Sasha asks, the question laced with poison and helplessness. “What do you do after you remember?”
Anne stops. She hasn’t thought that far. It’s true, with all these secrets and diversions, she knows Green isn’t who she thinks they are. She hopes Green is a friend, because Green is her friend now, but would that change when she remembers them? What did Green do? What did she do?
Sasha sighs, stopping Anne’s thoughts from spiraling deeper into an unanswered abyss of questions. The blonde runs her hand through her hair, looking Anne in the eyes, bravely. “I may have something that’ll help,” Sasha says and Anne stares back, shocked.
Wasn’t Sasha trying to stop her literal seconds before?
Sasha continues, “I’ll bring it with me when you’re finally free of this accursed place.” She scoffed disdainfully at Anne’s hospital room, “This place sucks. When you get out of here, let’s go walk around, have fun at that old playground like old times, just the three of us—” Sasha stops, her voice breaks, snaps and crumbles. “Just, us,” She murmurs before putting on a smile again, “So, get better soon, Anne.”
Anne hopes Sasha’s okay, but despite it, she can’t help looking forward to it all, grinning wide as she pulls Sasha into a hug. “You bet!”
Ever since Anne’s remembered Sasha, Green’s been strange.
Green seems a little upset, they’re smiling but their thumbs are fiddling around together. A worried tick that Anne had observed over the past few weeks. They’ve been a bit strange, sadder. They glance at the clock worriedly, but they spend most of their time staring at Anne. It’s not that Anne minds the attention, she actually quite enjoys it, but it’s a bit concerning that Green isn’t rambling anymore. Now, without the constant barrage of fun facts and stories, Anne realizes that Green may talk a lot but they hardly say anything.
“The doc said I’m good to go tomorrow. What about you?” Anne asks, grasping Green’s hand tightly. “Are you mad I can’t remember you?” She searches Green’s eyes, seeing the hazel she loves so much flicker into the background when the green shines.
Green shakes their head. “I could never be mad at you, Anne. And of course I’m not mad that you don’t remember, you can’t help it.” They smile at their intertwined hands before looking back up into Anne’s eyes. “You could forget my existence completely, and I’d still be in… I’d still not be mad at you.” They cough into their fist before trying to change the subject, “I used to be so afraid of you forgetting, in fact, it was my greatest fear.”
“Sorry,” Anne apologized again.
“Don’t worry,” Green says, “You’ll remember, I believe in you.”
“Even after all these months?”
“Always.”
Seeing Anne’s disbelieving look, Green confessed, “I’m just a little annoyed, I guess, that it is taking you so long to remember me because I know I could never forget you.”
Anne huffs, ignoring how their words light her cheeks on fire, “I’m trying, I swear! Are you sure I can’t just ask you questions and have you answer them for me?”
Green chuckles, and goes back to looking at Anne’s heart monitor in mild fascination. “I’m sure. It’ll all make sense when you remember, promise.”
Anne rolls her eyes, “Alright, alright, keep your mysterious secrets. Why don’t you tell me things I don’t know about you?” She’s quite proud of herself for coming up with that roundabout way of learning more about Green.
Green considers it for a moment before they shrug, “You know me pretty well.”
“Pretty sure I don’t,” Anne jokes, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Right,” Green says, a slight blush on their cheeks as they acknowledge their mistake. “I guess you knew me pretty well, so it’s hard for me to figure out what you don’t know about me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you’re my best friend,” Green says, their hazel and green eyes looking at Anne with so much feeling that Anne’s pretty sure ‘best friend’ could mean something else entirely. She hopes it means what she thinks it means. Her heart rejoices.
They could be something more than that when Anne remembers. The feelings have not gone away, and the feeling will not waver to time, distance, or space.
“You should sleep,” Green comments, glancing at the clock again. “You’ve a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Anne sighs, “Easier said than done, besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep once.” She leans back against her pillows. “Is that another thing I’ll understand when I remember?”
Green chuckles, “Yes.”
“Right, well,” Anne keeps talking, something about how loud the second hand of the clock ticks is making her rush, as if time is running out. “Maybe you can sing me a song to sleep?”
“Oh,” Green pauses, “I don’t usually sing, so I’m not that good.”
Their eyes meet. Green smiles, the tender kind of smile just for Anne. “Alright, I’ve got the perfect song in mind. This is actually your song, I’m sure you remember this. I hope I can do it justice.”
And for Anne’s last night at the hospital, she falls asleep to the gentle, soothing notes of her song.
There’s little fanfare when she’s dismissed from the hospital, but that’s only because the hospital did not allow party confetti and balloon animals. Her parents wrap her up in a hug and the Plantars tell her all about their misadventures on Earth without her. Apparently, Polly got herself stuck in a vending machine. The ride home is uneventful, but it’s nice. Anne watches the world unravel before her at a safe distance. She can see construction going on in the main city, and watches her face on giant billboards as the hero of LA. It’s a bit disorientating to see her face in the same places where the president or some famous celebrity would be.
California traffic is still as bad as it usually is, so by the time they made it back home, Sasha was done with her appointment and waiting on the steps to the Boonchuys house. The Plantars and her parents exchange glances and give her one last hug before they enter the house and leave Anne outside with Sasha.
“You have an hour at most outside, okay?” Her mom says strictly, hand in her dad’s as they paused at the doorstep.
“Got it, Mrs. B,” Sasha salutes.
Her mom laughs, ruffling Anne’s hair before slowly closing the door.
“Hey, Sash,” Anne says with a grin. “So, you were going to show me something?”
Sasha nods, “Yeah.” She slowly takes out a ragged piece of clothing. As Anne takes it, she wraps her finger around the beloved threads of fabric. It’s mainly dark blue, with a hood on top of white fluffy fur that lined the edges. There’s a familiar pink seashell that was a clasp, Anne knows. It’s hauntingly familiar, patches and scorch marks included.
After all, Green wore it every day.
No, not Green, Marcy, she corrects herself as she remembers a half of her life in a moment. Marcy Wu.
There is no concrete start to the beginning of Anne’s memories of Marcy. Perhaps it’s when they met, perhaps it goes beyond that to the time where they are mere specks of space dust in the giant ephemeral universe. Marcy was always there, on the swing right next to Anne as Sasha arrived. Marcy’s sitting beside Anne as she focuses on the lecture the day math starts to make no sense. Marcy’s right by Anne’s side, talking about cats as Domino curls up between the two girls. There’s no doubt about it, Anne’s been in love with Marcy her whole life.
From sunny days and ice cream, especially mint-chocolate chip ice cream since that was Marcy’s favorite flavor, to the sidewalks they’d paint into all sorts of ungodly abominations fueled by the imagination of two small children whose only livelihood was dreaming, it was Marcy and Anne, and later, Sasha.
She remembers Marcy in all her glory and all her lovable flaws. Anne remembers the time they got banned from using the ice cream machine since Marcy was paying too much attention on surpassing her game’s high score to realize she was drowning the restaurant in strawberry ice cream. She remembers Marcy listening to her theories on Suspicion Island and making some of her own, which she gets correct come next season.
Kind eyes, rambles, and an unbridled curiosity for the world, that was Marcy Wu.
She remembers meeting Marcy at the gates of Newtopia, and thinking the entire luxurious city was no match for the way Marcy presented herself. No longer slouching in her gray sweater, Marcy had let her hood down with a cloak and nifty crossbow she designed herself. She remembers dark caverns and scavenger hunts. She remembers going through the castle’s dungeons with Marcy by her side. Anne remembers singing her song, backed by Marcy and the beats she provided with her drum set.
She remembers when the world burned down.
Marcy who found the Calamity Box. Marcy who knew they might be zapped into a whole other world. Marcy, Marcy, Marcy who couldn’t bear to say goodbye.
Desperate times, excuses, and a crippling fear of being alone, that was Marcy Wu.
Her heart titters in her chest, and remembering everything, remembering Marcy Wu hurts . It’s not a splitting headache like before, she wishes the heartache was a headache instead, but it’s not. She presses the cloak against her chest as she breathes through the throbbing pain as all she sees is the large, sword-sized tear going through the old cloak.
A chill runs down her back as she realizes that the cloak has not been worn since that day.
She punched a hole through Andrias’ entire torso. She doesn’t care about California or Earth as she races towards the castle in the sky. She can’t be late. She can’t waste a single second because Marcy’s under the control of that accursed helmet and why is it that the one moment Anne should be by Marcy’s side, she isn’t?
Anne grabs the cloak close to her chest as she runs. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but her soul tells her to run, to follow her heart. Sasha’s bewildered shouts do not deter her as Anne runs to a familiar neighborhood, barely letting her feet hit the ground as she passes a familiar house and an unfamiliar ‘For Sale’ sign.
There, kneeling on the floor is Sasha, bloodied but alive, holding her sword as a burnt gash was split across the blonde’s back. Darcy was a formidable opponent, and though their helmet’s cord was cut, the horde of dead minds still did not release their hold on Marcy. The battle seems to be at a standstill, Sasha had pushed all her strength to this last gamble and the odds were not in her favor. Darcy cackles, a familiar laugh turned cold and cruel as they surge forward with bloody intentions, swinging their scythe like the Grim Reaper.
Anne charges forward, sword in her hand as she rushes to Sasha’s aid.
Her blade, enforced with her own power is enough to take the brunt of a burning blade. Once Anne has Darcy’s stupid, sacrilidgeous face, she rears back a calamity-powered fist and punches it forward through their locked blades.
It hits true and Anne can feel the helmet break under her fist even as Darcy leaps back to dodge the blow. Half of the helmet seems to fall off, revealing the hazel eyes that Anne has been looking into her whole life. Darcy sneers, but Anne knows those eyes and can see Marcy, staring back at her, clear as day.
“Pathetic, is this all you can really do?” Darcy asks, taunts as Anne hesitates upon seeing Marcy.
Anne swings her sword again, because there’s nothing worse than this fucker parading around in Marcy’s body, making her do things she didn’t want, making her powerless, and making her just an observer in its wicked fantasy.
Darcy laughs as they let the scythe deflect Anne’s slash, the strength behind their block has Anne face to face with the Darcy half of the face. “Anne Boonchuy, what was so special about you that made her love you?” Darcy croons before Sasha returns with a vengeance.
“Get out of Marcy’s head, you bitch!” Sasha howls, letting out an angry war-cry that forces Darcy away from Anne, giving her a chance to regain her composure after that revelation. It’s too much to process and she can’t afford to be distracted by what-ifs, not when one false move will have her slaughtered by the hand she once held in playgrounds and crowded school hallways.
“Upset you’re no longer in control, Sashy?” Darcy snickers, the scythe whirling around in a hypnotizing dance of death. They’re turning around, and Anne sees those hazel eyes beg her. “You’re too late to save her, not that you ever tried to.” Darcy laughs, “She’s a part of us now, whether she wants to or not. We’re a part of her, forever.”
She stands there and eternity passes where she doesn’t know what she has to do. Except, well, she does. Anne hates it. She hates this ultimatum. There has to be another way, and maybe there was, but it’s too late for that now. Marcy’s eyes twinkle in understanding, shining green for a split second.
In that second, Sasha disarms Darcy, knocking the scythe across the entire room. In that second, Marcy’s hand reaches out to grab Anne’s arm. In that second, Anne can’t tell if it’s her pushing her sword into Marcy’s chest, or Marcy pulling the sword closer. It might be both. In that second, Anne wonders what will haunt her more?
The light leaving Marcy’s eyes for the final time? Or knowing that Marcy fell from Anne’s sword?
Darcy screams out, in pain, but Marcy’s eyes are happy as two hazel eyes stare back at her. The Core, what’s left of the helmet, falls off Marcy’s head and tries to scurry off, but Sasha’s faster, screaming just as loud as she slams her blade on the piece of technology.
It cracks.
It’s over.
Anne can’t bring herself to look away from Marcy as she struggles to breathe. Marcy’s hand is softly gripping Anne’s with the gentlest of holds. Her bloodied lips curl up into a dazzling smile, a whirlwind of emotions that causes Marcy’s knees to buckle as she falls, Anne falling as well. Her world is falling down, and there’s no take-backsies in war and split-second decisions. Anne’s hands stay on her sword hilt, because moving it now would only end things faster as she drops to her knees in an effort to keep the sword in place. Marcy’s in pain, but Anne’s selfishly holding on the best she can to spend just a bit more time with her.
Sasha drops to the ground beside Marcy, whispering her name over and over again.
Marcy’s mouth opens, as if she’s trying to say something. They hear gurgling in the back of her throat.
“We love you,” Anne says, interrupting Marcy’s attempts to speak. She tries to ignore how Marcy’s hands fall limp on top of her own.
“And we forgive you,” Sasha says without missing a beat as they all huddle together as close as they can without disturbing the sword through Marcy’s chest.
“Stay with me,” Anne begs, reaching out with her powers in a desperate attempt to save her. “You promised…” She leans forward, pressing her forehead against Marcy’s, intimately feeling Marcy’s body turn colder as the cold, green blood trickles down her sword and onto her hands.
Anne can’t see what’s in front of her anymore, everything’s blurry from tears or maybe she’s just too far gone. Her heart pounds in her chest, but it feels hollow. Her feet stomp on the concrete with almost enough force to break it. She’s running and running, following instinct and trying to bring herself closer to where Marcy is. It doesn’t stop her from remembering the final scene.
Her hands stretch out with the last bit of energy she can muster to give them her best attempt at a hug. Marcy’s lips twitch upwards, their voice is raspy and rough, but Anne and Sasha hear it clear as day.
“Thank you, for everything.”
Everything makes sense. The final piece fits perfectly in Anne’s puzzle.
Anne doesn’t know how long she’s been running when a child’s cry shocks her out of her stupor. She looks around, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, careful not to get Marcy’s cloak wet. From the rusty swings to the slide that seemed much more impressive in her memories, she’s back at the playground.
A kid is crying, sitting on the floor nursing a hurt leg while another kid furtively tries to comfort them. The tears come back, full force, as Anne’s sight gets blurry once again. All she can see is Marcy, having clumsily scraped her knee and herself, worriedly hovering over her and promising that kisses make all boo-boos feel better.
She blinks and the tears fall from her eyes once more, she can see clearly now.
Anne hates it.
The wind blows, and green leaves shower her as a familiar figure stands before her.
“Marcy—” Anne whispers in disbelief.
Standing before her, Marcy smiles, “You remembered.”
She’s wearing her ranger gear, minus the cape. Her hair is scruffy, but it looks more windswept than ruffled by a tight helmet. She’s there, right in front of Anne, but she’s also not. Her eyes are green, though, a far cry from the hazel brown Anne’s so used to seeing.
Marcy wraps her cloak around Anne’s shoulders, carefully tucking her trusty cape around Anne’s shoulders. She walks in front of Anne, close enough for Anne to see that those familiar hazel eyes are now completely green. Anne’s close enough to see the scar on the side of Marcy’s face where Sasha’s sword had hit true. She’s close enough to see the dimples on Marcy’s face as she smiles, close enough to count the lashes on Marcy’s eyebrow.
“I love you,” Anne sobs, tears falling from her eyes. “Please don’t stand there like you’re leaving me.”
Marcy’s hands deftly tie the spiraling seashell. She reaches out to wipe Anne’s tears, using her cloak to dab at the tears falling down. “I love you, too. That’s how you’ll never lose me.”
Marcy smiles, proud of her work as she steps back a bit, leaving Anne desperately trying to get closer but it doesn’t work. The other girl grabs Anne’s outstretched hands, sandwiching them in her own with a forlorn smile on her face, “I promised that you’re not going to lose me, remember?”
“I know,” Anne nods tearily, she knows what Marcy means. Her hand holds onto Marcy’s hands like a lifeline. She could hold them forever—she’d gladly hold them forever—if it meant Marcy could stay by her side. Anne’s tears fall onto Marcy’s hands.
They hit the ground. Marcy stays still, waiting.
They both know, and Marcy’s known for a long time. She’s been waiting for so long, Anne realizes. How long has it been since Marcy died? When did she lose her? Was it when Sasha and Anne defeated the Core, and in turn, destroyed half of their own souls? Was it when King Andrias broke Marcy’s heart, burning it with the reveal of secrets and an ungodly sword covered in the death of a child? Was it when Sasha became embarrassed for being Marcy’s friend? Was it when Anne started listening to Marcy’s rambles because she had to rather than she wanted to?
Anne should’ve lost Marcy a long time ago. She didn’t.
She knew what that tender look in their eyes meant now. Marcy would do anything for her. All Anne needed to do was ask. Anne wants to say it again, wants to beg and use the god-forsaken powers in her to drag Marcy back to the land of the living if she has to.
It’s at this moment, Anne knows that if she’d asked for Marcy to stay, they would’ve stayed forever even though they knew it would be a disaster. She knows she’s let Marcy go now, but Anne still reaches out, hopelessly praying for something else. She knows it is Marcy’s decision to leave. It’s at this moment, when the yearning for more accumulates into desperation and infinite grief, Anne knows why so many people have tried to bring people back from death. She gets it, in that moment, why the Core would want to live forever. The lengths they took to keep their minds intact, to be remembered, to stay.
Stay, I still need you…
“Go,” She whispers instead, gently turning Marcy around and giving her a slight push away and remembers she’s done it all before. Anne lets go.
Marcy smiles thankfully, as she walks away.
Of course, Marcy’s smarter than those millennium old lizards. Staying is the easy path. Leaving is hard. Didn’t Marcy send them all to Amphibia just to prolong the inevitable? They’ve made that mistake before. But Marcy always owns up to their mistakes. She turns away, green eyes blazing with the calamity powers—the embodiment of metamorphosis, of wit—walking off to somewhere Anne can’t follow, can’t protect her from. Always three steps ahead of Anne, Marcy’s facing the music with a smile on her face.
Anne’s fingers curl around her palm. She’s screaming for Marcy not to leave her, but she knows Marcy would never. Anne’s running out of time, Marcy’s walking further away…
“You’ve got this,” Anne says, deciding to put all her faith in Marcy.
The wind blows by, harsh and cold enough to force Anne to blink. In that split second, she already knows Marcy’s gone, and when she opens her eyes again she stands there on her own. She sobs, falling to her knees in the middle of the playground where it all started, where it ended.
Sasha catches up to her finally, kneeling down next to Anne, understanding and worry in her eyes as she pulls Anne into a hug, burying her head into all they had left of Marcy besides their memories.
A warm breeze ruffles her hair affectionately, carefully blowing on her tears as they fall down her face. It cradles the both of them, as if it’s Marcy again, embracing the both of them.
Three kids, who loved each other despite their flaws, opened a box to a world beyond their imaginations in the place where it all began…
As the breeze blows past them, it’s Marcy’s voice that whispers into their ears just as clear and bright as the day they lost her.
“See you on the other side.”
Two kids, broken and rebuilt again, returned to the place where their journey ended.
The other, starting a journey without them.