Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hadn’t thought he’d be gone this long. Sure he’d said ‘goodbye forever’, but he’d not meant it. Not really. Although as the time had passed it had seemed more and more like the truth; he’d been too busy to think about his family, about his Grandma, his brothers. The Neverglade trail was tough, he’d thought he’d been prepared, thought he’d excel. He hadn’t, well not at first. He’d been humbled that’s for sure, and he was a hell of a lot better at first aid as a result. He’d considered turning back more than a few times in that first year; he’d always talked himself out of it pretty easily. His brothers were fine, they were better than fine (because he wasn’t there). It had been his pride that had the final say. He couldn’t go back and face them, he knew they’d be better off without him but to have it confirmed…he didn’t have it in him.
He’d always been prone to impulsive decisions, particularly if things didn’t go exactly how he’d planned them (they had to be perfect, it had to be); he can remember Clay saying once that he could imagine him ‘cutting off his nose to spite his face’. At the time he’d laughed, refusing to take offence at something so clearly untrue, but isn’t that exactly what he’d done? Things had gone badly and what had he done? He’d left, leaving everything he’d worked so hard to build behind him. A soft churr pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Hey girl,” he whispers, allowing the small Armadillo creature to lick his hand. Rough shards of glitter pull across his fur, glistening in the sunlight. She was getting big. When he’d found her she was just larger than his hand, now she came just up to his thigh.

It wasn’t surprising she was growing so fast. From what he could gather, her species was designed for transportation; she’d be getting a lot bigger than this, maybe even big enough to ride. She was a lifesaver honestly. Figuratively, but maybe even literally. When he’d found her just under a year ago, he’d been in a really bad place (again, both figuratively and literally). He’d been near breaking point, hungry, tired. He’d hurt his hand trying to light a fire; the wood was damp and his hands had been shaking as he’d struck his short blade against the well-worn rock. It had slipped, the knife slicing into his thumb. It hadn’t been deep but the flap of skin had been painful; he’d been swearing and biting back tears as he’d haphazardly wrapped the wound.

He’d been breathing heavily, forcing back the tears he knew were coming (he was not allowed to cry, he was not allowed to cry…) when he’d heard it. A soft sound, a chirp? It was quiet, but John Dory had found himself drawn to the sound, pushing through the undergrowth to find it…there. A small creature, newly hatched surrounded by crushed eggs. He looked around. Was it alone? It trilled again, wriggling slightly. Its eyes were closed and if he was being honest it looked pathetic. Pitiful. Alone. Next thing he knew he’d grabbed it, tucking it gently into the fabric of his coat. He knew it was selfish, its egg layer would no doubt be back soon but…John-Dory was selfish. He knew this. Everyone had said so. So he’d taken the creature and decided to raise it.

Her. He was pretty sure she was a she; her anatomy had seemed similar enough to the other transportation creatures he’d read about. So he’d called her Rhonda, and she’d given him a second purpose. It dulled the ache and ignited other aches he thought he’d forgotten about. Caring for her had brought back uncomfortable memories of caring for his brothers…it was fine, they were grown now (not all of them) they were fine (they had to be).

Having someone else to focus on felt natural, it was like something had shifted. It was funny, he’d left the pressure of leading (caring) behind but he’d still ended up falling back into that role. It was comfortable. It was hard. It was worth it though, Rhonda was easy to love.

“You hungry?” he asks. It’s obvious; she’s chewing on his fingers gently, tongue lapping between his nails. He reaches into his pack, pulling out the bag holding his berries. Before he can even hand her one she’s already devouring it, juice splashing across his fur. He chuckles, wiping it haphazardly across the grass. He'd have to let her have a run later to catch some bugs or small birds; she loved berries, but she was definitely an omnivore.

He basks for a moment, enjoying the slight breeze before the peace is broken by Rhonda huffing and galloping towards what he's assuming is her next meal but…wait, what exactly was that? Was that a bloodhound?

It’s clearly in bad shape, flying haphazardly towards him. Its small round body is filthy and it’s visibly panting, a small bag tied securely across its stomach.

“Hey hey,” he beckons Rhonda close, petting her firmly in an attempt to keep her from trying to eat the poor thing. It stops directly in front of him, sniffing deeply before dropping suddenly. John Dory jolts, grabbing it before it can hit the ground.

“Hey it’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing it gently. He leans in closer, his expression puzzling as he takes in the small strip of clothing clipped to its fur in the vicinity of its snout.

“Is this..?” he pulls it away gently. It’s from his shirt, one of his favourites, and it’s been cut into a neat square. He pulls the bag from its body, settling it beside him, and reaches into his own bag to grab his water skin. He drips the water into the creature's mouth, wincing at the veracity that it drinks. He settles it beside him, letting it rest.

“What are you carrying?” he mutters, turning his attention to the bag. Opening it reveals a letter. He unrolls it, his heart jolting at the familiar handwriting.

Grandma?

John Dory

I didn’t know how else to reach you, no one knows exactly where you are, but King Peppy recommended I try one of the flying bloodhound bugs to see if it could trace your scent. He said that when they are following a scent, they will follow it until they find it (so I hope you aren’t too far away for the sake of this little thing!)

I’ll start with this: I hope you’re doing well, and I hope your adventure is shaping up to be everything you expected and more. I know you had your reasons for leaving, you always put so much pressure on yourself and I’m sorry that I didn’t step in to tell you how proud I was of you. I’m asking you this because I love you, and because I love Branch. Please come visit. Even for a short while. Since the four of you left, Branch has struggled. He spends every day waiting for you all to return, and I know you had your reasons for leaving but it’s been so many years now.
We haven’t heard from you and at the very least I’d like to know you’re safe. Trollstice is coming up and I suspect the King is planning something but I don'tsorry I lost my train of thought, Branch was panicking over losing his vest. He’s so anxious lately it’s
I hope you don’t mind, I had to cut a patch from your shirt for the bloodhound, I promise I’ll repair it when you come home! I’m so sorry for putting this on you John-Dory, but we only have the one bloodhound left and of all my Grandsons you’re the one I can rely on the most (though please don’t tell your brothers this!) There’s more I want to say but I’ll say it when you’re here. We miss you.

Lots of love, Grandma

JD feels his heart drop. They left? His brothers actually left too? Sure they’d said something about quitting and finding themselves or something but he didn’t think they’d actually leave! No, no, this wasn’t how he’d planned it (not that he’d actually planned anything for once), they were supposed to-to…fuck. Where were they? He’s been content with the knowledge they were home, together, safe. Now? They could be anywhere. He drags a hand down his face, looking at the letter again. This, this couldn’t be right. It was dated over a year ago. He thinks. It was hard to judge time but he’d been aware he’d been away four years just about. Branch would be…would he be seven now? Okay. Okay, he had to plan.

He had to head back that much was clear. His body ached with the sudden weight of responsibility and guilt; he hadn’t thought they’d all leave. They all left? When? Why? Even Floyd had left? They were supposed to be better without him, not this. It was fine. He’d go home, see Branch and his Grandma were okay and see if he could find his brothers, just to check they were okay. Then again, would they even want to see him? No, he was selfish, he needed to know.

“Rhonda, come on girl,” he calls, stretching his arms. It was going to be a long walk back. It had taken him months to reach this far (though he hadn't been hurrying). He turns to check on the bloodhound, and almost startles when he sees it’s gone. It must have left whilst he was ruminating. Has the poor thing been trailing him for over a year? He hoped it would be okay now; it had done its job, was it free to live its life and rest now its burden had been removed? He hoped so.

They were gone. Everything, everything was gone. It had felt wrong as soon as he’d been near the tree, the silence. It was oppressive, suffocating. There was no singing, no talking, not even the trills of critters. He’d torn towards the pod, hands shaking as he’d taken in the disarray, the emptiness.

“Grandma? Branch?” he whispers, repeating their names like a mantra, gradually rising in volume until it almost became a guttural scream. They couldn’t be, not-

A note. Coated in dust in the centre of the macrame tablecloth. He snatches its with trembling fingers, eyes raking the page.

Floyd. King Peppy is making us leave. Please don’t be long, please I-

The writing turns illegible, Branch’s uneven handwriting appearing frantic.

This, this gives him no answers at all, only more questions. Where is his Grandma? Where is his little brother? He forces himself to take a breath, pocketing the note. He has to take this at face value; they left. King Peppy and the trolls left, he has to assume his family went with him. So where are they? Why was Branch writing to Floyd?

He climbs out of the pod, descending the tree almost numb. Rhonda is waiting patiently at the base, excitable as soon as she sees him. He pats her absently, mind running a mile a minute.
The pop trolls couldn’t be close, King Peppy wouldn’t be that stupid. He couldn’t see them travelling further than they had to though, which means he’d have to start searching, he didn’t even have a direction. He knew one thing though, he’d be able to hear them. They were notoriously loud.

Sure enough, he heard them before he saw them. It had taken a few days, a few sleepless nights but before long he’d heard the distant drone of upbeat music and began practically sprinting towards it. As he reaches what must be the outskirts of the village he turns to Rhonda.

“Stay here girl, just for now,” he says, rubbing her head. She looks confused for a second, before spinning in place and making herself comfortable in the grass. He takes her bowl from his hair, filling it to the brim with water from his flask. He doesn’t want to leave her, but he won’t risk taking her in until he’s scoped it out, and made sure it's safe. She’ll stay, he knows this. She’s loyal to a fault.

As he pushes through the clearing into what appears to be the main plaza of a village, he can't help but smile. He’d missed music. Singing. He’d still sang, he couldn’t help it, but he’d missed the intensity of his fellow trolls. The village too, it's bright, colourful, the whole place is buzzing with energy. He feels out of place, too used to the solitude of the Neverglade Trail.

He recognised a number of trolls but they barely paused in their singing and conversations, glancing at him strangely then continuing. He steels himself, passing through, looking for anyone he could speak to. Ah. There, Mags Gumdrop; the red-haired troll was chatting to a younger unfamiliar troll. He remembers her, a good deal younger than his Grandma, but a good deal older than him, she’d given him and his brothers cupcakes whenever she happened to bake a batch.

“Mags?” John interrupts, as gently as he can. Her eyes narrow, then widen.

“John-Dory? My goodness, it’s been a while!” she gasps, reaching forward to embrace the other troll. JD chuckles awkwardly, hugging back half-heartedly. it's his first hug in four years from another troll and it feels surreal.

“It has indeed! Listen,” he swiftly changes the subject “I’m looking for my Grandma and Branch, do you know where they might be?”

Her face visibly drops, and it’s like a vice is gripping his heart.

“Listen John-Dory, I-I think you’re better speaking to the King,” she stutters.

“What do you mean? Are they here or not?” he’s trying hard to keep his cool, but the longer the other troll is silent, the harder it gets.

“I really don’t think I’m the one to…” she pauses, clearly taking in his expression “okay, come inside for a moment,” she relents, pulling him gently towards the pod behind her. She pulls herself inside by her hair, JD following closely behind, for some semblance of privacy.

He stands awkwardly, feeling tense.

“Would you like a drink?” she asks, manners above anything else.

“No thank you,” he replies tersely, through gritted teeth. This was torture.

“Right, okay. So-“ she continues, wringing her hands “Branch-Branch is fine. I think. He’s in the village somewhere.”

“He is!?” JD asks, his heart jumping. He’s okay? Was this for nothing, this fear, this—

“Your Grandmother is gone.”

“Gone? Gone where? She-"

“Gone John Dory. We-“ she reaches a hand over, gently squeezing his shoulder “we don’t know the exact details. Branch he, he was the only witness, and he refuses to talk about it, but as far as we can gather it was a Bergen. She was…” she trails off. There’s a heavy silence whilst JD tries to wrap his head around the news.

His Grandma is dead. She’s gone. He hadn’t even said goodbye to her, he’d just left, and Branch he-Branch. Branch! He reaches over gripping Mag’s shoulders, harder than he probably should.
“Where is Branch?” he asks, though it’s more of a demand. Mag appears to take it in her stride, gripping his hands.

“You need to ask King Peppy, I’m not sure where Branch is exactly,” she says. She sounds remorseful, but there’s something in the way she refuses to meet his eye. He lets her go.

“Where can I find him?”

“He’ll be near his pod, just head right and keep walking straight. If you struggle someone’s bound to have seen him.”

“Okay, I’ll find him,” he says, stepping back to exit the pod.

“John-Dory…” he looks over at her deflated figure “I’m sorry.”

He nods. He should probably say something but his mind is far too busy, instead swiftly lowering himself to the ground.

It’s almost too much to take; his Grandma is dead. Instead, he shoves those thoughts, that grief, to the back of his mind. He has a brother to find.

Chapter Text

King Peppy looks almost the same as when he’d left, a few more wrinkles perhaps but his pink hair is as bright as ever. John pays little attention to his appearance however, hell-bent on getting information on Branch.

“King Peppy-“ he begins breathlessly. The King’s brow furrows.

“John Dory?” he says.

“Yes, yes it’s me, I’m back, it’s been a long time, now where is Branch?” JD says, effectively steamrolling over the King's next sentence. Peppy sighs.

“Poppy, run along and find your friends,” he says, and at this JD notices the small pink troll milling around their ankles. She looks about four or five (not that John is any good with ages), and if he thinks about it he can just about recall the King having an egg before he'd left.

“Daddy who is this? Is this your friend? I’ve not seen him before ever, so has he been away? Why is he back? Why does he have goggles on his head?” The little troll peppers the King with questions, barely taking a breath.

“This is John Dory, yes he’s a friend and he’s just got back, but we need to have a little chat sweetheart so can you go and find your friends for me please?” the King replies, unending patience that JD isn’t sure he could display. She thinks for a moment before grinning.

“Okay Daddy,” she practically shrieks, before running off, to find said friends JD assumes. She’s like a ball of energy; it’s endearing but seems draining. He’s only had Rhonda for company for a long time now, he’s beginning to feel overwhelmed, and it’s not helped by the fact he still doesn’t know where his brother is.

“Did you want to come inside?” Peppy asks. JD shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I just need to know where he is and I’ll head on over. My-my brothers left too right? Like me? Clay, Floyd and Spruce?” he asks. He has to be sure.

King Peppy nods.
“Ah yes, I would have thought you'd known. They left the very same night as you.”

Okay, that’s something he’d not expected. The same night? He hadn’t thought they’d…okay not the time, there were more pressing matters, and he could deal with this revelation later. Privately.

“Okay. So who was Branch placed with? Who is he living with?” he asks. He has a plan now, he’ll find out who he’s with, see how he is, maybe even-

“Oh uh, he wasn’t?”

“…What?”

“He was briefly staying with one of the families, but due to Branches-well due to some issues with the family's children he didn’t stay for very long.”

“He only-they kicked out a grieving child?” John asks, incredulous. He forces his fists to relax.

“Not exactly. Well, actually um I suppose, I suppose they did,” the King sounds sheepish, trailing off, refusing to meet his eyes.

“So he’s living alone? You are letting a child live alone? Is anyone checking on him at least?” JD asks, forcing his voice to stay level. It only half works, his disbelief leaking though.

“I mean when we can someone will pop by to check he’s ali-okay. It’s difficult, he’s very…” King Peppy trails off, as though unsure what to say. JD sighs, wiping a hand down his face in frustration.

“It’s fine, it’s fine just tell me where his pod is and I’ll be on my way.”

“Well…”

Oh god now what? He just stares at the King, waiting for him to continue. He can’t help but feel vindicated when the other troll visibly squirms.

“He doesn’t live in a pod. He’s been living on the outskirts of the village, they’ve told me he’s been doing a lot of digging but we’re not sure exactly where he’s been…living as such,” the King visibly wilts under JD’s glare.

“So let me get this straight, you are knowingly neglecting a child, letting them stay in the wilderness, not knowing if they’re okay or if they’re safe and that-that’s okay to you?” JD hisses, his hair practically vibrating with fury. King Peppy raises his hands.

“Now John-Dory I wouldn’t go so far to say we’re neglecting him, he’s choosing to live there, and I have to say from what I’ve seen he’s very resourceful-"

“Branch is a child, King Peppy, he shouldn’t have to be resourceful. He should be being taken care of, by an adult not- no, I’m not even getting into this now. Where is he Peppy. Where is my brother?” JD hisses. The King points.

“Keep heading that way through the undergrowth; you should come across him soon enough, but wait there’s something you should-"

JD ignores him, turning heel and stalking in the direction indicated.

The King appeared shocked. It’s unsurprising; JD had always been friendly and charismatic when speaking to the other troll, but this was different. He was different. The troll he’d respected had essentially abandoned his brother.

Just like he had.

No, no he was back. He’d come back. It’s what counts. He can’t help the guilt though, eating away at him, it physically hurts, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He had to find Branch, he just had to find his baby brother and it would be okay. It would be okay. It had to be okay.

He doesn’t recognise him at first. He sees him, but it’s as though his brain refuses to accept that the child in front of him is his brother.

He’s grey. He small, and thin, and dirty and he’s grey. His ears, once upright, are downturned and- oh god he’s grey. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, he doesn’t know what to do. So he fakes it. He pushes his anxiety back, deep (deep, deep) down into the back of his mind and forces himself to smile gently.

“Bitty B?” he says gently, walking towards the small troll. He’s slow, deliberate, eyes quickly taking in his surroundings, assessing. Branch looks confused and wary, but more than anything he looks sad. It’s practically radiating from him and JD’s heart clenches painfully.

“John-Dory?” Branch finally replies. His voice cracks, quiet and confused.

“Yeah, it’s me Bitty. I came back,” he replies softly. He sits down beside the kid, hell he was still practically a baby in size.

“I-I don’t- I thought you said you were gone, forever?”

“Yeah I did say that didn’t I. Well, I’m back now,” he says, attempting to sound casual. Confident.

“Are you going to stay?” Branch asks.

If that isn’t the question to end all questions. He hadn’t even thought about it, not even considered the fact that all of his brothers would have absconded and his Grandma would be…would be gone. Now he knew, he hadn’t even considered the fact that Branch had no one else.

It seems he took too long to answer; Branch’s expression dims even further and he looks down, anywhere but at JD.

“Is-is because I did bad?” he asks before JD can even consider answering the initial question.

“Bad? What-no of course not! What do you mean bad, Bits?”

“I didn’t take good care of Grandma. It was my fault she was eaten,” he says, finality in every word. Fuck, the kid really thought it was his fault.

“Bitty, it really wasn’t, I promise you. Besides it wasn’t your job to take care of Grandma kiddo, you are-you were a baby,” JD reassures gently.

“But-but Floyd said it was my job to take care of Grandma, he told me that before he left. It’s what he said to me, and I tried really hard but I wasn’t good enough so please, please don’t be mad,” Branch says, his little fists trembling in his lap. JD was not qualified for this, this was way beyond what he’d expected. Had Floyd really told him that? Obviously, he hadn’t known Grandma was going to be-but it was still a bad idea to say it to a toddler.

“Hey I promise you, I’m not mad. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? When Floyd said that, he probably meant you had to make sure you gave her lots of hugs, not that you had to keep her safe. That wasn’t your job okay?”

Branch glances at him briefly, his eyes red. He doesn’t answer. It’s awkward, JD has no real idea how to deal with kids. He forges on.

“Anyway, I’m staying here now. I’m gonna stay with you, and take care of you okay?” JD says, ignoring his hammering heart. He needs to. He can’t walk away from this. It’s scary, it’s like the rug has been pulled out from under him but he can’t imagine how it feels for his little brother. Branch lifts his head so suddenly JD is almost worried about whiplash.

“You’re staying?”

“Yes. I promise,” he implores, hoping his brother will see how serious he’s being. There’s no going back now.

“Floyd promised me too. He promised he’d be back too, but he hasn’t and I know he didn’t say when and it might make me bad not to believe him anymore but it’s getting hard to believe him,” Branch rambles, words blurring into one. JD gets the gist. Of all his brothers he thought would be causing the most issues, he’s surprised it’s Floyd.

“Floyd might be back soon, and he might not,” he hedges, wary to make any more promises that can’t be kept “but I’m staying. I’m definitely staying, and when everything’s more settled I’ll see if I can find out where he went and I’ll find out for sure when he’s coming back.”

Branch nods. JD watches as his fingers twitch, like he’s reaching for something he can’t have. JD opens his arms.

“Can I have a hug?” he asks quietly; Branch is acting like a spooked critter and as much as he wants to comfort him, he knows he needs to tread carefully.

It’s like a switch has been flipped, and the next moment his arms are full of Bitty B. He’s shaking, his breath hitching; he’s crying silently, this much is obvious. The Bitty B he remembers cried loudly and fiercely, this new cry is worrying. It’s heartbreaking. He wraps his arms around the small (too small) troll, cradling his grey body to his, finding himself uttering nonsensical reassurances. He doesn’t cry, he can’t cry yet. He knows when it happens it will be messy and unstable, and right now he needs to be strong. It hurts though, his throat is aching and his eyes are burning with unshed tears.

It seems like hours. Realistically it’s been minutes. Still, enough time for his legs to go numb.

“Bitty,” he coaxes gently “can you show me where you’ve been staying?”

Branch seems to perk up slightly.

“Yes! I’ve been making-I mean I’ve been trying to-“ he trails off, looking sheepish.

“Do you want to show me?” JD asks. Branch deliberates for a moment before nodding, gently grasping his brother’s hand and leading him. His hand is so small; JD remembers how small it had been when he’d hatched, watching the way his tiny blue fingers curled around his Grandma's thumb. Looking at the small grey hand nestled in his palm, his worry intensifies.

He’s grey. How is he doing to-

“It’s here!” Branch's quiet voice interrupts his worrying, the other troll pointing to what is essentially a hole.

“Is this-what is this Bitty?” he asks.

“It’s my bunker. Well it’s going to be my bunker. I’ve been digging it out, bits of it every day, but the rain kept getting in and some of it was collapsing so I need to figure out how to add more support and stuff,” Branch explains, a tinge of pride in his voice.

“Oh wow Bits this is-it’s really impressive,” he replies, hoping he’s hiding his distress.

A hole. His brother has been living in a hole, not just that but a hole that has been collapsing!?

“Are you going to live here with me? Only I don’t think I made it big enough yet,” he sounds almost distraught at the realisation.

“No, no, I mean,” he has to read carefully here, this is clearly his pride and joy “I think it might be best if I see if there’s somewhere else we can live while we make it big enough for us both to live in.”

“You mean the village?” Branch asks. His hands are curling nervously.

“Do you not like the village?” JD asks. He’ll admit, the villagers are loud and excitable, and the Bitty-B of the past would have loved it but this new Bitty maybe not.

“The village doesn’t like me,” Branch replies, with that absolute certainty. JD’s eyes narrow.

“What do you mean they don’t like you?”

“They think I’m weird because I’m grey. They’re also really loud and they never listen when I tell them they have to be quiet, I told them that the Bergens would be able to hear them but no one wanted to listen to me,” Branch replies.

This is a lot to unpack.

“Okay. Right. Well first off, you’re not weird Branch, okay? They shouldn’t be saying that at all, and if anyone says anything like that to you again I want you to tell me. Is that okay?”

“But I am weird though? All the other trolls, they like dancing and s-singing and stuff and I just can’t be like that anymore. I don’t want to dance and sing, and I don’t want the Bergens to come back, but they don’t like it when I talk about the Bergens because they think we’re safe now, but it doesn’t feel safe.”

That-okay as far as trolls go, that is weird. It’s almost unheard of for a Troll to refuse to dance, especially to sing. There was no way he was saying this to Branch however.

“You’re not weird Bitty, it’s okay not to want to sing or dance right now. You’re being cautious, I get that, but I want you to know that you are safe now, okay? I’m here, I’m not going to let anything get you. I promise,” JD says. He can almost physically feel the weight of his promise, heavy on his shoulders, but it seems to work. The small troll nods, squeezing his hand. JD takes a shaky breath.

“We’re gonna head back to village and I’m gonna speak to the King and see where we can stay,” he says, almost as much to himself. Branch nods once more, and when it’s evident he’ll say no more JD begins to lead him back towards the village. He had questions, and King Peppy better have some god-damn answers.

“It might be best for Branch to go inside the pod with Poppy,” King Peppy suggests. JD agrees; he’s going to be grilling the other troll and if he’s honest he doesn’t want Branch listening, he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold his tongue even if his brother were there. Still, taking in Branch’s reluctant expression, he was almost going to disagree, until the grey troll nodded.

“Okay,” he mutters, more of a whisper. The Princess beams, immediately taking Branch’s hand.

“Really? You never wanted to play with me, or any of our friends, or any of the critters, or me, so what do you want to do? Should we play tag, or or maybe we can-"

“Poppy!” King Peppy interrupts, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder “maybe something a little quieter? Branch is feeling a bit unwell.”

“Oh, oh, okay! How about we make up a new song? Or colouring? Or we can make a scrapbook? I have the bestest new glitter it’s maybe over a hundred different colours!” she spins, directing her blinding at smile at Branch, who’s beginning to look a little nauseous.

“Colouring sounds good?” he replies, shifting awkwardly, letting himself be pulled towards the pod.

“Hey,” JD calls “you sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but check, his little brother looks so nervous and uncomfortable.

“I’m okay,” he assures, and JD watches the two disappear into the pod.

JD himself follows the King, ascending into the upper branches of the tree, away from prying eyes and ears.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Peppy begins, expression resigned.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ve got questions. Why is my little brother grey?” JD asks, the colour uttered as though a curse. King Peppy sighs.

“You really need to ask?”

“Well obviously! Do you know how serious-"

“Yes. Yes I do. I’m very aware of the seriousness of losing one's true colour. As for why? He witnessed the death of his Grandmother, it must have been extremely traumatic.”

“But plenty of Trolls lose somebody and we’re-they’re not all of a sudden turning grey!” JD exclaims.

“True. Branch is very young, however, and in addition to the loss of his Grandmother, he also had to experience the loss of his brothers, in a sense. From what I know about losing colour, it happens when trolls feel a complete sense of loss, but more importantly a complete loss of hope. Not to mention actually leaving the tree itself must have been traumatic, which would have made his situation even more bleak” Peppy’s expression darkens.

“Leaving the tree?”

“There were…casualties. I'm not sure how much of it Branch may have witnessed. This must stay between you and I as Poppy has no idea, no memories of her sister and has no need to know this but, my own daughter was a casualty,” he continues, voice pained.

“Viva?” JD can remember the troll vaguely, always happy, smiling, friendly.

“Yes. We escaped via tunnels, however there was a collapse.”

When it’s obvious the King is not going to elaborate JD clears his throat.

“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter,” he offers, voice rough.

“And I’m sorry about your Grandmother,” King Peppy returns. JD takes a brief moment to collect himself before continuing.

“Okay, so sorry to Segway to another topic but…how did Branch end up living on the outskirts, and not with another troll family.”

“Branch is…” the King sighs “very troubled. Paranoid. The family he was staying with were concerned about the things he was saying to their children about the Bergen’s returning, and they found his depressive mood…difficult to manage.”

“So they what, kicked him out?” JD can’t keep his voice level, he’s far too stressed, overwhelmed, and angry.

“They assumed he’d be taken in by another family but unfortunately, no one offered. The things he was saying were disturbing the other children and despite what I was telling them, certain people were concerned that his condition may be-well it may be contagious. Which it’s not, obviously,” Peppy adds at JD’s thunderous expression.

“So what, you let him live outside?”

“He-I mean he insisted! I even offered for him to live with Poppy and me but he refused outright!”

“He is seven years old and you are an adult, I’m sorry but he is in no position to be making decisions like that-"

“Should I have forced him? Made him stay? You can see how fragile he is, you think removing all the choice in his life would have done him well?” King Peppy retorts.

“I see the point you’re trying to make, but again. Seven. Seven years old. In fact how long has he been out there?” JD asks, the thought just hitting him.

“I’m not sure of, um, the exact amount of time but if I had to calculate it, I’d have to say maybe perhaps nearly around um-two years? Probably less?” King Peppy replies, face full of shame.

JD short circuits.

“Two-did you say two years? Plural? As in since he was five years old?” he hisses; his tone is venomous, but it’s either that or outright shrieking. He's resisting the urge to strangle the other troll, but he's aware the consequences of regicide are probably not great.

“I-I know it sounds bad but, I had an entire village to rebuild. I had so many requests, so many demands, and by the time I realised Branch had-had slipped through the cracks, he’d already been living by himself. I checked in on him at first, as often as I could but it was clear he had his own agenda-"

“Stopping you there. Five years old. Child. Look, I can’t-" JD pinches the bridge of his nose; he can feel a headache forming “I can’t think straight right now, I have too many things to consider I just need to know two things. One, is there somewhere we can both stay?”

“Yes! Yes I can help with that, there is plenty of space for a new pod, it’ll only take a few days of crafting. In the meantime, I can offer you and Branch space in my own pod.”

“Are you sure you’re alright with us intruding?” JD asks, (not that he was going to turn it down regardless, the more inconvenient he could be the better, angry as he was at the King).

“Of course, it’s my ‘official business’ pod, essentially a spare if I’m honest,” King Peppy trails off, muttering almost to himself.

“Right. Okay, great, thank you,” he says through gritted teeth “My second question then: are you going to do better. By Branch I mean,” he asks, staring the King down.

“Yes, I swear. I-I definitely could have done more. Should have done more. I am sorry, truly,” he says, expression nothing but truthful.

“Right. This conversation isn’t over by the way, I have more questions, but right now I need to think. And I’m going to hold you to that promise your highness.”

“As you should. But yes, um I hope that the space will be suitable for the two of you,” King Peppy says, clearly changing the subject.

“Three,” JD corrects “there’s also Rhonda-oh sh-“ JD cuts himself off eyes widening “I’m gonna need to go, I’ll be right back!”

Ignoring King Peppy’s spluttered questions he practically vaults from the tree, dashing as fast as he could to the clearing where he’d left his friend. Wow, he was a terrible friend, a terrible brother; was there something he wasn’t currently failing at?

Relief hits him as he sees she’s still there, still okay, almost exactly where he’d left her, with the addition of a few feathers splattering the grass and her face. Ah, she must have been hungry.

“Rhonda,” he calls, arms held wide. She trills on seeing him, diving into his arms, knocking him backwards.

“I’m sorry girl, I’m sorry I’ve been so long,” he mutters, scratching the plating along her head. She churrs happily, rough tongue dragging across his coat and chest. He squeezes her tight, breathing in her earthy scent heavily through his nose.

“I don’t know what to do Rhonda,” he whispers “Bitty is hurting, he hurting so bad and Grandma, she’s-"

Memories hit him; his Grandma singing with him, hugging him, teaching him card games, baking fluffleberry pie- how she’d tried to keep him grounded when Brozone became popular. How he’d shrugged her off when she’d wanted to spend time with him (they’d been busy, he’d been busy, the band took too much time, he’d had to get it right, get it perfect).

How he’d left.

The pent-up anguish he’d been holding in, hanging by a thread, snapped. He snapped.

He’s sobbing, ugly tears dripping through his fur, practically cascading onto Rhonda’s shielded body. He can’t do this, he can’t. He’s gone from no responsibility, no one to worry about but himself and Rhonda, to raising a child. Branch doesn’t deserve this, he deserves better than John-Dory and his selfish, broken brain.

He could leave. He could leave right now, the option is there…except it’s not. He promised he’d stay. If he were to leave now, he would be the worst brother in the world, the worst troll period. He would hate himself even more than he already did, and he wasn’t sure that was even possible. No, he-he had to do this.

Mini breakdown over, he hastily wipes a hand across his eyes, tears smearing into his fur. Good enough. He has to make a plan. Planning was something he’d always been good at, the reason (other than age) he’d been the default leader for the band. He needed to think short term, but also long term-no start with short term, his brain was far too fried to think of the bigger picture right now. They were being given a pod, they had shelter. Food? When was the last time (he) Branch had eaten? He’d need to sort that, sort some provisions, and lastly he needed to get Branch checked out by a professional. He was most definitely not equipped to deal with the physical and psychological changes his brother was dealing with so he’d need a second opinion and fast. Following that, he’d start thinking more long-term. Right. Nodding to himself, he stands, gently dropping Rhonda beside him.

“Come on girl, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Chapter Text

He feels unsettled as they head to the king's pod; Rhonda had garnered some odd looks as they’d walked through clusters of trolls milling around, but they’d been otherwise unbothered. It’s as they near the pod, the unease builds.

“-but where did he go!?” it’s Branch, his voice distraught, the loudest he’s heard since he’s been back. JD grabs Rhonda, launching them both up into the pod.

Branch is stood, back to the wall, vibrating with anxiety. King Peppy is crouched down, clearly attempting to calm the young troll, and Poppy is hiding behind her father, confusion etched across her face.

“Branch!” JD exclaims, out of breath from the speed in which he’d clambered inside.

“John-Dory?” Branch says, his eyes darting to his older brother. JD shares a meaningful look at the King.

“Come on Poppy, let’s get some fresh air,” he murmurs, nodding at JD before beginning to descend from the pod.

“Daddy is Branch okay?” Poppy asks.

“He’ll be fine sweetheart, he just needs…” their voices gradually taper off, leaving only the sounds of Branch’s heavy breathing and Rhonda’s gentle panting.

“I thought you’d left.”

JD has to strain to hear his brother, who’s dropped to his knees, face in his hands. He peeks up, face full of anguish and shame.

“Hey, hey it’s okay Bitty, I should have told you where I was going,” JD placates, depositing Rhonda to the floor and squatting next to his brother.

“I know you promised, but I thought you’d left, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t believe you!” Branch continues, his tiny paws gripping his dark hair.

“You don’t have to say sorry Branch, you haven’t done anything wrong,” JD reassures, gently reaching out to pry the tangled hair from his brother’s grip. Unsure what to do with the now free hands he’s grasping, he places them gently on Branch's knees, patting them semi-awkwardly.

Great. He’d been here five minutes and he’d already screwed up. Disappointing, but not surprising; of course the kid was going to think he’d abandoned him. The lack of trust stings, but in retrospect is thoroughly predictable. Why would he believe him?

“Where were you?” Bitty’s quiet question breaks him from his self-flagellation.

“Oh, I was just fetching Rhonda here,” he replies. He whistles, and she trots over at speed.

“Rhonda?” Branch asks, his eyes wide. He seems more awed than afraid, which is a relief.

“Yup!” JD grins, scratching her head “I met Rhonda here on my travels when she’d just hatched, and we’ve been together ever since. Did you want to say hi?” he asks. Branch nods.

“Can I touch her? Will she bite?” he asks nervously.

“She won’t bite, don’t worry, at most she’ll give you a good lick. Just stick to her head,” JD reassures, secretly praying that he’s right (she’d only bitten him when he’d touched her stomach and even that had been when she was newly hatched).

He watches as Branch stretches a single digit towards her, gently stroking her head. She pants, tongue lolling out dramatically and tail wagging. Branch gasps, and to JD’s delight, he smiles. It’s small and brief, but it’s the first positive expression he’s seen and for the first time since arriving, he feels some semblance of real relief. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be okay.

“What is she?” Branch asks, eyes darting across her tail and body.

“An Armadillo-Bus. I think. I’ve not been able to find much information about her other than what I’ve learned spending time with her. See this?” he points to her back “this is armoured, and see here? How it almost splits into compartments? I’m pretty sure she’s a transportation critter.”

“Like a Caterbus?” Branch asks.

“Yeah exactly,” JD grins enthusiastically “but Rhonda here will probably grow even bigger.”

“Even bigger?!” Branch repeats, as though he can’t believe it. He’s silent for a moment, expression thoughtful. “We’ll have to make the bunker even bigger than I planned,” he adds.

Ah. The bunker. He’d forgotten about the hole Branch had been digging.

“Yeah, good idea kiddo,” JD says, grin fixed in place.

“Will Rhonda have a wheel? Will we be able to ride inside her like the Caterbus? She’s really going to be big enough to ride in?” Branch continues.

“We won’t know until she’s bigger Bits, we’ll have to wait and see,” JD shrugs, absently scratching Rhonda’s side.

“I want to write this down!” Branch exclaims, eyes wide. JD raises a brow.

“Yeah? You wanna make some notes?” he asks, amused at the child’s enthusiasm. Branch nods, almost frantically.

“Yes! I have notes on all the critters I’ve seen and found and what they like and don’t like and how I can stop them if they want to eat me,” Branch continues, unaware of the way JD’s heart clenches painfully.

“Oh yeah?” he says, aiming for nonchalant.

“Yeah, I want to make sure I’m safe and everyone in the village is safe so I’ve made lots and lots and lots of notes and plans,” Branch says, words running together. He's wringing his hands together, and JD makes a mental note to trim his claws soon, any longer and they’ll be hazardous.

“That sounds-“ he’s not sure what to say; he doesn’t want to feed into Bitty’s paranoia but he can’t exactly be negative “-really interesting. You’ll have to let me read them sometime,” he settles on.

“You want to read my notes?” Branch asks, clearly sceptical.

“Yeah, I do. Maybe you can read some of mine too, I made tonnes of notes when I was travelling about all the critters and places I saw,” JD is exaggerating, but he definitely jotted some important information down. He’ll have to keep the more unhinged stuff out of the way (the detailed first aid, and frankly terrifying descriptions of the larger critters, plus that deranged entry from when he ate some mushrooms he definitely shouldn’t have), but he can show him some of the earlier stuff he wrote when travelling was all shiny and new.

“Yes, please. I’d like that,” Branch says, that small smile appearing for just a moment. JD grins back.

“Come on then, shall we go find the King and Princess?” he says, standing with a flare and reaching a hand out for Branch to take. He grips it, JD pulling him up, startled at the ease he can practically lift him with one hand.

“We should get some food too,” he adds, stifling his worry, making sure to convey as much enthusiasm as possible as he leads the small troll towards the door.

“What does this word mean?” Branch asks, holding up a page. JD looks up from his reading. Bitty’s cross-legged on the floor of their new pod, reading through the notes JD had made about Rhonda. JD squints at where Bitty is pointing.

“Carapace? It’s like an armoured shell, see Rhonda’s back?” he explains. Bitty nods, listening closely.

“That’s a carapace. It protects her and keeps her safe,” he adds. Branch nods, turning back to his notes, tongue protruding slightly as he carefully adds the word to his own page. His hair is still damp from bathing, flopping to the side. When he'd first bathed and the layers of grime were washed away, John had been shocked. The grime had been adding colour where there was none, without it his grey skin had been even more glaringly obvious.

JD turns back to his own readings. He swallows down his sigh at the words. They’d headed back to Branch’s ‘bunker’ a couple of days after his initial arrival, Branch anxious to leave his possessions unattended. They’d tracked back to the hole and JD had refused to let Branch enter alone. Branch himself had been eager to show JD his work, and when JD had wriggled into the opening behind him he’d been surprised at what he’d seen.

Branch had actually managed to carve out some semblance of a cave, it was frankly impressive how much he’d managed to dig; the walls had been smooth and even, and there were several large sticks acting as support beams. Branch had explained how he’d used water to smooth the walls and had been experimenting mixing the mud with sand and grass to see if it hardened. It was-it was really impressive, to be honest. To top it off, he’d managed to cultivate several glowing mushrooms, each one drenching the area in bright blue light. Branch had scuttled to the back of the cave, grabbing his bag of items, and after JD promised they would be back to work on the bunker together, they’d left, JD hauling the heavy bag on his shoulder, despite Branch’s insistence he could carry it himself.

It wasn’t until now that Branch had offered his notes to JD to read, and in turn JD had given him the few safe pages from his own writings.

There were so. Many. Pages. All written in crayon, Branch’s age glaring back at him in every misspelt word and shaky drawing. He’d started with the bunker plans first; the pictures beginning both fantastical and impractical, until they’d been crossed out and replaced with surprisingly competent ideas. The maths was way off and a good deal of the ideas needed tweaking but with a lot of research and the right equipment, JD hated to admit it was actually looking possible to do, especially from what he’d seen of the area already.

The critter notes were worrying. Cute drawings labelled with approximate anatomy, details of observed behaviour and worrying ways to disable each and every creature.

-Soft stomach - easy to stab. Makes high pitched noise before it bites - can’t regrow legs (traps to target legs?)

How many critters had Branch seen, how many had he been observing? How many near misses had he had to know these things? He shuffles the pages, thumbing through to see how many-wait. Were these envelopes? They were four, each labelled to one of his brothers, including himself. He clears his throat.

“Hey buddy, did you mean to give me these?” he asks, holding them up so the small troll can see. Branch's eyes widen and he scrambles off the floor, practically snatching them out of his grip. He looks sheepish.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s fine Bits, don't worry,” JD reassures. He admits though that his curiosity is peaked.

“I didn't realise I'd put them with my notes. They’re letters I wrote. To everyone. And stuff I drew,” Branch explains, shuffling his feet.

“Well we’ll have to make sure they get to read them yeah? When everything’s a bit more settled,” JD explains. He’s been saying that a lot. When things settle. When things calm down. He’s not sure he’s even going to know when things ‘settle’, but it’s reassuring to Branch (and to himself).

“Really?”

“Yeah. I said we’d find out where they are, didn’t I? We’re going to figure it out…”

“When things settle,” Branch finishes, nodding. Wow, he really has been saying it a lot.

“Yeah. So just keep them safe for now, okay?”

“…”

“You okay Branch?” He prompts.

“Did you want to read yours now?” he asks. He seems shy.

“Seriously? I’d love to!” JD says, forcing as much enthusiasm as he can. Of course he wants to read them, he’s just worried about what they’re going to say.

“Okay. Okay that’s fine, you can have yours now then. Just know that I drew these when I was really little, so it’s not going to be very good,” Branch warns, handing him the envelope.

“I’m sure it’ll be great Bits. Besides you were really smart even when you were a baby so I bet it’s going to be really good,” JD reassures, taking the envelope.

“Okay. Thanks, JD, um can I read that book you were talking about? The new one King Peppy gave you with the maths?” Branch asks.

JD had been hunting for some more educational books for the kid considering he’d basically spent the last two years living in isolation; his writing was good considering but his maths was atrocious and JD was definitely going to have to start teaching him at least the basics. Branch had been particularly enthused when he realised how vital it would be when building his bunker, so he’d been pouring over the very few books JD had procured.

“Sure Bits, it’s the pink one on the shelf,” he pointed; Branch has to reach on tiptoes to grab it, but sure enough as soon as it's in his hands he heads to the sofa to pour through the writing, pencil at the ready for additional notes. JD watches fondly, before turning his attention to the task at hand.

He opens it carefully, pulling out the sheets of folded paper gently, unfurling them to reveal the first page. He chokes down a laugh. It’s a drawing. He thinks it’s supposed to be him, he thinks the blue/green blob is supposed to be his hair? It’s so childish and cute, it takes everything in him not to squeal. He flips it over, heart jolting at the sight of familiar handwriting. His Grandma had clearly labelled the back ‘John-Dory stuck in a spiral (this is his new favourite word) by Branch age 3’. Oh sure enough, turning it back round there does seem to be a spiral; the frowning face on the blob like image makes more sense now.
He chuckles quietly, placing the page on the desk; he’ll definitely need to hang it up somewhere.

The next page is written in chunky crayon, barely legible, but he can still just about make it out.

To John Dory

I miss you lots Im sorry I mesd up the show and made you leave forevr I hope you can com home even thow you said forevr. Im sorry I shud hav tuk took it more seereeosly and I made evryone leave. I dont want to show this to Grandma so sorree sory for the rong words.

Love you lots from Branch p.s I drew evryone doing the perfeckt harmunee like we tried but we did it so mayb you can imagyn like Grandma says to do?

John feels like he’s been dropped in ice water. Branch thought…? This whole time he-he thought it was his fault. Look at the handwriting, this was Branch at his youngest, and he was convinced he was the reason they all left? That he’d messed up the show? Oh fuck. JD fucked up. Not only that, his fuck ups predated the fuck ups he thought he’d made. The wonky smiling faces sitting at the bottom of the page mock him; this is clearly the ‘perfect harmony’ Branch drew, the members only distinguishable by their bright blobs of hair. He glances up at his brother; does he even remember what he wrote? Would he have given it to him if he had? He stares back down at the childish font.

‘Took it more seriously?’ That was something he’d been constantly telling his brothers, not Branch as such, but definitely Clay and Spruce. How many times had Branch heard him essentially berating them, pushing them, using his own insecurities as an excuse to lash out? He never should have had Branch in the band to start with. The idea should have stayed just that, an idea. He’d been too incensed with the idea of success, with the idea of that-that fucking perfect harmony, that he’d made mistake after mistake, and he was only just seeing it. What was he supposed to say? Sorry guys, I view this band as a reflection of my worth and if it’s anything less than perfect then it feels worthless, and by default so do I? No, no, he couldn’t be that vulnerable with his brothers, he was the leader, he couldn’t show weakness, how would anyone rely on him? How would anyone take him seriously?

So instead he’d enrolled the very troll he should have been protecting, into his personal little pet project, his attempt to convince himself that he was worth something. Yes, his brothers had also left. They’d also abandoned Branch, but JD? He got the ball rolling, he actually left first. Not only that but he’d created the very environment that had his brothers convinced their only viable option was to leave.
He had to address this, he had to set this right. Instead he stalls, reading the next letter.

John-Dory

I don’t think your going to read this but Grandma says I should rite write anyway to practice and she said it might make me feel better.
I’ve been reading lots and lots of books so my spelling is way better then when I was a baby anyway so I don’t know why I need to practise but I’ll do it because grandma said so. She said to write to evryone and tell you what I’m doing but I don’t really want to because I think i feel mad when I think about evryone and because I don’t want to make anyone mad at me. I don't think your going to read this anyway beacause you said goodbye forever which means I don't think you want to come back???
Grandma said to tell you about stuff I like but I don’t know if you will think it’s boring and I can’t remember a lot about what you like so I’ll have to ask Grandma. I asked Grandma and she said that I didn’t spend a lot of time with you as a baby so that’s why I don’t remember a lot and she said not to write that bit but I already wrote it so just don’t read that bit and she said you like the outside and stuff which is why you went outside.
I don’t really like outside so I don’t know why you would want to spend all the time out there I don’t like it when it gets dark because the trees make scary shapes. She said I should ask what your doing and questions but don’t think your going to read this but I will ask you a question anyway so what is your favorit color? Grandma said she was going to see how to send evryone letters so meybe you will read this??
I drew a picture of the puzzle me and Grandma did but the picture I did for Floyd was better sorry!!! This is an exclamation mark and it means I’m really really sorry!!

Love you lots from Branch

Sure enough there’s a barely legible drawing of what must be said puzzle. JD takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

Had he really spent so little time with Branch before he left? Yes. He’d been so busy with the band, wrapped up in his own ideals, that he’d barely seen the baby until it was clear he’d had talent, raw talent. He’d been a part-time brother, patting him on the head, watching him learn to walk and crawl out the corner of his eye, spending maybe five minutes throwing him in the air and catching him when he was in a particularly good mood, but it had always been Floyd or his Grandma who did any of the actual child-rearing. He’d done enough of that with the rest of his brothers, making sure they were safe, happy, grown. His parents had been busy so he’d stepped up, and when they lost their lives he was left with three mourning brothers and an egg. So he’d focused on the brothers he knew, not the one he had yet to meet and when Branch had hatched the band had been in full swing and he was just. Too busy.

Then it was clear Branch was talented, and if JD was being completely honest it was the first time he’d noticed him, actually noticed him, and not even as a brother, more as a rare commodity.

Thats it. That’s all the letters and drawings. His envelope felt a lot thinner than the others, but what did he expect? He feels guilty and hasn’t stopped feeling guilty since he came back, but this level of guilt makes him nauseous. How was he supposed to fix this?

“JD? Were the drawings okay?” Branch’s quiet voice breaks him from his reverie.

“Okay? They were better than okay, just look at this?” he laughs, plastering a grin on his face and grabbing the spiral drawing. If Branch’s face had any colour, he’s sure he’d be blushing.

“Oh no, I knew they were bad,” he gasps, stumbling off the sofa to look at the picture in horror “I didn’t even give you any legs!”

“Bad? Branch this is great! See you got my hair the right colour and just look at that spiral, it’s so-“ JD wiggles his fingers with flair “artsy!”

“I can draw way better than that now though,” Branch protests.

“Then why don’t you draw me another?” JD suggests “for now, this is definitely going up on the wall!”

“Really? You like it that much?” Branch asks. He looks hopeful, like he’s trying hard not to smile.

“Yup! In fact as soon as we’re done seeing Dr Moonbloom later, I’ll see about getting some pins to stick it up.”

“Okay,” Brach replies, looking simultaneously happy about his picture, and nervous about seeing the Doctor. It’s an odd facial expression to witness.

“Right,” JD makes a show of standing, stretching his arms above his head “should we go take Rhonda for some fresh air?”

At the mention of her name, Rhonda trills from the comfort of her padded bed.

“Can we go for a walk near our bunker? Just to make sure it’s still safe?” Branch asks, chewing his lip nervously.

Our bunker. As much as he sort of hates the hole in the ground it’s a ridiculously nice feeling to be included in something he knows is so precious to his brother.

“Sure Bitty-B, let me just grab my bag and we’ll head out.”

The small grin he’s rewarded with makes the idea of having to crouch in a dark cave almost worth it (who was he kidding, more than worth it).

Chapter Text

“So Branch, how are you feeling?” the Doctor asks. She’s more stern than John-Dory had expected, her circular glasses framing an unsmiling face. It’s making John-Dory nervous, so he has no idea how it’s making Branch feel.

“Okay?” Branch replies, voice small. He looks tiny on the chair he’s sitting, legs dangling in the air and hands tightly clasped together.

“Can I ask how old you are?” Doctor Moonbloom questions.

“Six.”

“Okay, and how has your appetite been recently…”

JD tunes her out because he’s pretty sure Branch just said he was six. Has he forgotten his own age? Or…wait. He left when Branch was three right? He’d been gone four years, that would make him seven? Unless…was he definitely three when he left? Surely he hadn’t been two, no way would JD have let a two year old join the band. He knew some trolls hit their milestones extremely fast but to be performing to that standard at that age, surely not?

He tunes back into the conversation, just as the Doctor is re-confirming Bits date of birth and wow. JD feels like a terrible brother, he couldn't even remember his age correctly. He is six. Six. He was living alone since he was four. That-that is insane, he can barely wrap his head around it, by all rights he shouldn’t even be here, the sheer amount of things that could have gone wrong.

Six though. It’s only a year, but he almost seems to shrink before his very eyes. He’s basically a baby.

“-and how is your singing at the moment?” the Doctor asks.

“Um, I don’t sing,” Branch replies, awkwardly.

“At all?” Doctor Moonbloom's eyes widen.

“No. I just, can’t. I don’t want to,” Branch continues.

“Oh, well that’s not good at all!” the Doctor gasps. At Branch’s growing alarm JD clears his throat.

“Any chance we can leave the prognosis until the end of the appointment? Preferably with me, so I can explain it to him in a more child-friendly way?” he asks. It’s more of a demand; he’s smiling, but it’s not friendly. The Doctor looks sheepish.

“Right, yes of course.”

JD makes sure to pay close attention to the rest of the appointment, watching carefully as she checks his ears, weight, and hair, the small critter above her head illuminating her studies. It’s not too long until she appears to wrap up, turning to JD.

“Is he alright to wait outside?” she asks.

“Is that okay Bits? Would you mind waiting outside with Rhonda while I have a quick chat with the Doctor?” he asks, hoping his smile comes across as reassuring. It seems to work as Branch only takes a moment to think.

“Can I feed her some of the berries she likes?” he asks, gripping his vest tightly.

“Sure, you know what bag they’re in?”

Branch nods, heading to exit, turning at the last second to pause, “See you in a minute?”

“Yeah, it won’t be long,” JD reassures. He waits until Bitty is out of earshot before swivelling towards the Doctor, smile dropping from his face. “How is he?”

“It’s not good, not good at all,” she replies, expression forlorn.

“What does that mean?” JD asks, his heart pounding fiercely.

“I’ve been told by my patients that I’m prone to exaggeration-however, I have never seen a Troll that young lose their true colour, nor have I seen a troll last this long without it.”

“Meaning what? What do you mean last this long?” JD rambles, resisting the urge to pace.

“Meaning trolls who lose their colour tend to regain it shortly after.”

“Oh, okay,” JD exhales, relaxing slightly.

“…or die.”

“I’m sorry what!? What do you mean die?” he cries, stress levels jumping.

“Well it tends to happen in very elderly trolls, so the theory is it’s a precursor to passing.”

“Well? Why are they dying? Is it an age thing or a-a grey thing then?”

“More likely an age thing,” she muses, after a moment's thought. JD buries thoughts of strangling the troll (because why even bring it up if it wasn’t relevant?) instead, forging on with his questions.

“Okay. Okay, can you just tell me, related to Branch what this means? What can I do? Is he healthy otherwise?”

“Yes and no. His vitals seem fine, but he’s very short for his age and also underweight; trolls tend to lose their appetite alongside their true colour so this is to be expected, but it’s important to encourage him to eat regardless, else his growth may be permanently stunted.”

“Right. Eat more. Okay, I can do that, what else?” JD continues, a mental list forming.

“You’ve likely already noticed his downturned ears; as you know they normally respond to intense emotion,” John knows this; trolls ears are particularly sensitive to mood, making it exceptionally hard to lie when under pressure.

“Will they ever straighten?” he asks.

“You say he’s been grey for around two years now? The longer they remain in this position, the more likely they will permanently deform. Unfortunately, only time will tell if they will return upright. I’m more concerned about his hair to be honest.”

“Meaning?” JD asks, tersely.

“Its condition is worrying; even ignoring the colour, the texture and length indicate several deficiencies. Has he been brushing it? No, don’t answer, it’s obvious he hasn’t. I’m going to mix a brew for you to take away, and Branch will need to drink one cup a day if he’s able. It should last a week, and then you’ll need to come by to collect another batch,” she steps away, talking over her shoulder as she heads towards her desk “Regarding his anxiety and low mood, unfortunately, this is not my forte. I’d recommend getting in touch with someone who specialises in psychological issues,” she adds bluntly.

“Right, I can do that. Anyone you’d recommend?” JD asks.

“Hmm Dr Plimsy may be your best bet. She’s been studying psychology ever since Dr Grovemite was killed during the escape. She’s young but she knows her medicine, so I can imagine she’s taking the whole ‘psychology’ thing very seriously,” Doctor Moonbloom muses.

John makes another mental note; he really ought to start carrying around an actual notebook, the amount of things he was having to remember.

“Here,” she hands him a jar of suspicious-looking liquid “here’s the brew. Bring him in next month if you’re still worried, and I can see how he’s progressing, and come by next week for another batch. Try and get him to brush his hair before the matting gets any worse, he’ll probably need help,” she adds.

He hadn’t even realised she’d been making the brew but sure enough, the ingredients are scattered across her desk, pestle and mortar clearly used. Wow, he was out of it.

“Thank you. Yeah, I will do, I’ll be seeing you in a week,” he adds awkwardly, walking towards the door.

“Wait…”

He pauses.

“You were in Brozone, right? The boy band?” she asks, expression curious.

He plasters on a winning smile, muscle memory kicking in “Yeah, yeah I was.”

“Hmm. Bring an autograph with you when you come next week, then we’ll consider your favour settled,” she says, leaving no room to even consider saying no.

“Uh, sure?” he says, smile turning to grimace, hastily retreating from the room.

Well that was awkward. Kind of rude too, but she was helping his brother so there was no way he would consider declining, especially considering it had been requested as a favour. Not that he would have declined anyway. Autographs used to make him feel successful, happy and noticed, but with his current reservations regarding the band, it only felt awkward and strange. He wasn’t sure she’d even recognised which member of the band he was, which made it even weirder. Maybe it was for someone else?

As far as favours went it was an easy one to achieve. He remembers a number of complicated baking favours his Grandma had owed from John’s own doctor visits as a child.

He hears Branch before he sees him; he can’t make out the words but the child is speaking in hushed tones, face close to Rhonda as he strokes her face.

“-and I’ll need to make you a room. A really big one, because John-Dory says you’re going to grow really really big. Can I tell you a secret?”

JD moves quietly, telling himself it’s to avoid startling the kid, but if he’s honest he really wants to know what Branch is going to say.

“It kind of scares me that you’re going to be so big. Because you might be big enough to eat me, even by accident. You-you wouldn’t eat me would you?” he asks, voice quiet and imploring. It’s heartbreaking, and now JD thinks about it, makes complete sense.

He makes sure to make his steps louder, alerting his brother to his presence, calling out as though he’s only just arrived.

“Hey Branch, ready to go?” he asks, voice purposefully cheerful. Branch still startles, his movement halting as he turns, standing to face his brother.

“I’m ready. What did the Doctor say? Am I going to be okay?” he asks, radiating nerves.

They begin to walk, JD slowing his pace for Branch to keep up, Rhonda running circles around them.

“Well, she said you’re going to be fine, you just need to try and eat a bit more and take some medicine.”

“Medicine?”

“Not even medicine really, just a drink that’s going to help you keep healthy. That and we’re gonna need to brush your hair later.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Branch mutters.

“For what?” JD asks, keeping his tone light.

“For not brushing my hair. I didn’t do it for a long time, then it was too hard to get the brush through properly,” he explains, radiating shame.

John stops, making sure to give him his full attention.

“It’s fine Bitty. We’ll brush it later together and we’ll be really gentle,” he reassures. Branch seems mollified and the two begin the trek back to the pod.

John-Dory wakes to a scream.

He startles, disorientated, wondering where his tent was, and why he was in a bed of all places, until his memory kicks in; he wasn’t on the trail anymore. He was in an actual bed, in a pod he was sharing with Branch.

Wait-

At the realisation of who had been screaming, John practically flings himself from the bed, haphazardly kicking the covers from his legs. He tears past Rhonda’s plush bed, into the other bedroom, stumbling, heart pounding, not even knowing what he might find. Every worst-case scenario is running through his mind simultaneously.

When he sees Branch, safe in his bed, he sighs with relief. It’s as he hears the small whimpers coming from the bundle of covers that his anxiety begins to rise.

“Bitty-B?” he walks over, the small nightlight illuminating his brother’s distressed face. He quickly drops to his knees by the bed, a hand placed gently atop the covers.

“Hey, hey Bitty what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Branch’s face is twisted in fear, his lip quivering as he struggles to speak.

“Dream,” he finally manages to whisper, tears slowly dripping into his pillow.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, come here Bitty,” JD prompts, arms reaching in invitation.

Branch looks like he has to physically force himself to move, and he jerkily falls into JD’s embrace. He’s crying those silent tears, shoulders shaking so violently it could almost be mistaken for a seizure.

In over his head, John begins to ramble “It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe, nothing's gonna get you now okay?”

He starts rocking the troll in his arms subconsciously, humming the first tune that comes to mind. It’s the lullaby his Grandma used to sing, and he knows his panicked humming isn’t doing it any justice but it seems to work well enough as Branch’s tears slow, and his breathing returns to semi-normal. He runs a hand through Bitty’s recently de-tangled hair, maintaining the humming until he’s interrupted.

“I couldn’t move.”

“In the dream?” John-Dory probes gently. He feels Branch’s head shake against his chest.

“No, when I woke up. It felt like there was someone sitting on the bed, on my chest, and I could see-I could see a-a Bergen hand reaching for me but I couldn’t move!”

It sounded like he’d had an incredibly vivid dream, as there was no way anything as large as a Bergen hand would fit anywhere near the room, but JD keeps this to himself. Poor kid. He’d had his own share of nightmares vivid enough that they had felt like they’d been real, like he’d been awake, and they were always rough.

“There’s nothing here Branch, nothing that big would fit in here and I wouldn’t let anything get to you anyway,” he reassures.

“But, it felt so real,” Branch sounds unsure, leaning back to rub at his chest.

“Nightmares can buddy. But I’ve got you now, you’re safe.”

“Oh. Okay,” Branch concedes, burrowing back into John-Dory’s chest.

What time was it anyway? JD was so used to relying on the position of the sun and stars for time and direction, that he was a little lost inside the comfort of the pod. He decided it didn’t really matter.

“Tell you what, shall me and you go grab a hot drink, then if you want you can stay in my bed tonight,” he suggests, noting the way Branch’s arms tighten in response.

“Is that okay?” Bitty asks, voice small.

“Of course it’s okay! We can try out that tea I mentioned earl-“

“No, I mean are you sure I can stay with you? Grandma said you always liked to have your own space,” Bits sounds like he’s parroting a direct quote here. JD winces.

“I mean, I do. But this is different, you’re scared and you’ve just had a nightmare, what kind of brother would I be if I left you on your own,” he attempts to joke. It’s a poor joke, fuck he’s an idiot.

“You don’t have to though. Let me stay with you, I mean, if you don’t want to. I’ll be okay,” Branch insists, but his shoulders are still shaking and it’s evident he’s lying.

“Of course I want you to! I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to Branch, I’d love to have you stay with me! It’ll be nice to have some company for once, if you can put up with my snoring,” he winks, tone jovial. Inside he’s wincing. The poor kid seems convinced John-Dory is forcing himself to spend time with him, like he’s putting up with him. Maybe he remembers more than he lets on about how JD used to act, or even if he remembers it subconsciously. Back then he definitely didn’t filter himself around the baby; if his crying was annoying him, he made it very evident.

The sooner he gets a professional opinion on how to move forward with this, the better, he would hate to think he could be doing or saying anything to make his brother worse.

“If you’re sure,” Branch relents quietly.

“More than sure! It’ll be like a sleepover! Now come on, let’s go get that tea!” he says, far too loudly for how late it must be.

He stands, lifting Branch and carrying him into the kitchen (oh god, he’s so small), one hand securing him to his chest and the other turning on the light. He almost expects him to object, but instead he holds tightly to his shoulders, head tucked in against his neck.

“Right!” he says cheerfully, gently depositing his brother on the counter, “we have a choice of sleepy tea, extra extra sleepy tea, or maaaaaybe we can have some chocolate whip?”

“Chocolate whip,” Branch answers immediately, unable to hide his enthusiasm, his feet kicking lightly against the counter.

“One chocolate whip coming right up my good sir!” John-Dory declares, striking a pose that is purposefully dramatic. The small, barely audible giggle is worth the theatrics. It’s the first time he’s heard anything close to a laugh from his brother since he’s arrived.

He hastily grabs a pan and ingredients, snatching a couple of mugs from the cupboard; they’re basic, provided by King Peppy who seemed to be working overtime to accommodate, (likely due to his guilt) and he really needs to replace them. They don’t fit his vibe at all.

“Did you have chocolate whip when you were on your adventure?” Branch asks, his eyes glued to the chocolate concoction cooking on the stove.

“Oh yeah, all the time,” JD lies casually; this was the first he’d made in years. If he was being honest it was looking kind of lumpy and weird; he adds more cream and sugar to compensate. His perfectionist side is screaming at him to make it perfect, it should be smooth and buttery, not his failure of a-

“Was it a lot of fun?”

“Oh definitely. Loads and loads of fun,” he replies, turning back to the stove so Branch can’t see his grimace.

“Oh,” Branch replies, enthusiasm waning.

Confused, JD turns mid-stir. “You okay Bits?”

“Mmm just thinking.”

“About anything good?-fuck!” JD curses; the mixture has bubbled, splashing molten chocolate onto his hand. He quickly runs it under the tap, shaking his hand in pain, before looking up at Branch in horror “don’t repeat that!”

Branch just nods, eyes wide.

He briefly inspects his hand; the pain’s already gone and it seems fine enough to just ignore for now.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure it’s done,” JD declares, turning off the stove and settling the pan to the side to grab the mugs. “It’s pretty thick though, we might even need a spoon,” he warns.

“That’s okay, that’s how Grandma used to make it,” Branch replies.

“Okay, just wait a sec and I’ll help you dowww-“ he’s about to offer to lift Branch down, when to his horror, the six year old leaps from the counter, stumbling as he lands “-or you can do that? That works too?”

John retracts his hands from where he’d made an aborted attempt to catch him, instead grabbing the mugs as Branch heads towards the small table. He scrambles up onto the chair, clearly eager to drink his chocolate whip. Was John too young to die of a heart attack? He’s pretty sure he’s too young…

As soon as the mugs are placed on the table, Branch grabs the closest one, pulling it to his face and breathing deeply.

“Careful, it’s still really hot,” John warns, gently grasping his own.

“I know. Thank you,” Branch replies, lips twitching into a small and grateful smile.

“You’re welcome Bitty. Let me know how it tastes, I added extra sugar for a bit of a kick.”

Branch nods, blowing into his drink to cool it. He takes a small sip, eyes widening.

“It’s really good!” he gasps, going back for a large gulp, “I haven’t had chocolate whip in ages and ages,” he adds, raising his head from the mug.

JD stifles a laugh at the prominent chocolate moustache his brother is now sporting. He has a swig of his own drink, eyes watering at the heat and taste. Wow, Bitty must have an asbestos tongue or something, because that was hot. And sweet. Way too sweet. Branch must have a ridiculous sweet tooth to be enjoying this.

“Sooo…did you want to talk about your dream? It might make you feel better?” John asks.

Branch’s eyes remain fixed on his drink.

“Can we talk about something else?” he replies after a beat of silence.

“Sure, we can do that? Um, well-“ JD struggles to think of a topic; his sleep-addled brain was blank, “do you want to start?”

“Oh okay,” Branch’s face screws in thought before brightening, “can we build some traps tomorrow?” he asks.

“Traps?”

“Yeah! For the pod and maybe we can put some at the edge of the village in case?”

“I mean, what do you mean by traps?” JD asks carefully.

“Did you not read my notes?” Branch sounds affronted.

“I did! I definitely did! I’m just wondering which ones because, I mean there were a lot of them…” some of which were definitely too elaborate, or deadly to even consider making.

“Ohhh,” Branch seems to accept this, “maybe the snare traps? Or a pit trap!” He enthuses.

“I think the worry here Bits is, what if Rhonda here is accidentally caught in one? Or even another troll; it might be too dangerous,” JD gently reasons. Branch looks horrified at the mention of Rhonda (less so at the other trolls).

“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe-“ he thinks, “maybe instead we can build something to alert us, in case something comes to the village? Like an alarm?”

“I think we’d have to run that by King Peppy first-but!” he continues at Branch’s disappointed expression, “I don’t see why we can’t try and rig something like that for our own pod,” he has no idea how they were going to actually achieve this, but at Branch’s bright expression, he’s determined to figure something out. “Great, now finish your chocolate and we can head back to bed, it’s still super late so we should probably try and grab some sleep.”

“Okay!” Branch nods, busily slurping the rest of his drink. John hopes he’s not going to have a sudden surge of energy from the sugar, as he can feel his own eyes begging to close.

He slowly sips his own drink, ignoring the sweetness, his brain fuzzy and tired.

Fuck he needs some sleep.

Chapter Text

John Dory wakes to a small arm strewn across his face, and dark hair in his mouth. He spits it out, craning his neck to see his brother splayed out across him and the bed, snoring softly. It’s so cute he almost doesn’t want to move, but his arm has gone numb from acting as a makeshift pillow, and he really needs to stretch before his legs start cramping.

He carefully maneuvers himself from the bed, mindful not to wake his brother who immediately wiggles into the now-empty space, burying his face into the pillow.

He watches fondly, mentally reviewing the events of the previous night. As far as things go, he hadn’t done too badly. He’d calmed Bits down, cheered him up, and hopefully kept trauma to a minimum. When they’d climbed into bed it had taken the small troll a while to sleep; he’d whispered that he’d never actually had a proper sleepover, and the last time he’d shared a bed it had been with Floyd, and his hair had kept Branch awake as it had kept wriggling into his face. JD had conversed best he could, but he’d been exhausted. He’s pretty sure he’d promised Branch he'd arrange a sleepover with Poppy, and he can’t remember if his brother had looked more excited or annoyed at the prospect of spending more time with the younger troll.

He leaves his brother to sleep, stepping around Rhonda’s sleeping form, and heads to brush his teeth. Branch had been adamant about brushing his own teeth before they’d headed to bed rattling off some facts about decay and cavities he’d read somewhere, but John had been far too tired. He regretted it now, his teeth felt like they were coated in chocolate fuzz. Gross.

Anyway, he had a lot to do, a lot to plan. It was reaching a point where he could no longer put off thinking long-term. He had to at least shape a vague idea of what he was going to be aiming for, and what he needed to be doing. His whole life had shifted on his axis; it was scary and draining knowing he was now the sole provider for a small child. The JD of four years ago wouldn’t have been able to do it. He knows this. He’d have found someone to take in Branch and he’d have left. The years of solitude had given him plenty of time to self-reflect though, a hell of a lot of time to regret.

No, he now fully accepted he had to step up and do the best he could, and for the sake of Branch he was going to be positive. Really fucking positive. He had things he had to address (the ‘bunker’, that Doctor he needed to find, he had to somehow figure out how to rig an Alarm system) and he really needed to set Branch up with sort of stability in his life, some routine. Then, and only then, he could work on seeing where his other brothers had disappeared to.

They were old enough and smart enough to be okay on their own, he reasons. He exits the bathroom, smiling as he spots the numerous drawings now pinned proudly to the walls.

Branch had added several new pictures to his repertoire, (he was right when he’d said he had improved) but ‘JD in a spiral’ still had pride of place.

——————————-
How the hell was he supposed to rig an alarm system? It was the first thing his brother had asked about, so he couldn't exactly brush it under the rug like he'd initially planned, but he had no idea where to even start. He'd managed to delay it by insisting they find the Doctor that Doctor Moonbloom had recommended, but the conversation had been brief, with the explanation that she'd like to see Branch in a couple of weeks time so she could brush up on child psychology, and do some research into the effects of losing colour. He couldn't exactly complain; he'd rather she knew what she was doing. All they'd gained from the experience at the time however, was a particularly anxious Branch. He was clearly uncomfortable around the other trolls, sticking close to JD's side as they'd passed through the village. The way he'd visibly relaxed as they'd retreated to their pod was worrying, but JD couldn't deny he'd had the same reaction. Four years of isolation would do that to a person, he supposed.

"...and we can use magnets to make the bell ring when someone enters. John Dory are you listening?" Branch sounds indignant. He's cross-legged on the other side of the sofa, paper and pencils in hand, and he's visibly pouting.

"Oh yeah, just thinking about how we're gonna get magnets," JD lies; he'd not been listening at all.

"Oh, okay. Well, it'll be harder to figure out how to make the circuit, and put it on the door," Branch accepts this, moving along with his ideas.

"The what now?" JD asks, genuinely clueless. Branch's face drops.

"You weren't listening."

"No, I was, I was-"

"Please don't lie," Branch replies, voice quiet. JD takes a breath.

"You're right. I was thinking about the Doctor we saw earlier. Did you want to go over your plan again, and this time I'll make sure I'm listening?" he says, voice apologetic. There's an awkward moment where Branch just stares at his notes, expression forlorn, and JD could just kick himself. Why couldn't he just pay attention to the kid for five minutes?

"Do you not want to make an alarm?" Branch finally asks, voice so fucking sad.

"No, no I do!" he lies, "I just don't really understand a lot of the ideas Bits, and I'm not sure what we're supposed to alarming against here? Other trolls?" he asks.

JD is cautious, he's had to be for the last four years, and he'd set up no end of his own intruder alerts when camping (mainly with cans, wire, things that would make audible noise and wake him if they passed the perimeter). He didn't see how it was necessary now, as much as he may not like the village trolls who neglected his brother he didn't see them breaking and entering, and he'd already installed a pretty hefty lock (unusual by village standards as they seemed to have some sort of open door policy going on).

"I dont...I don't know," Branch replies, gripping his pencil so tightly his knuckles are white, "I just want to feel safe."

"Tell you what," JD begins, ignoring the sensation of his heart breaking, "why don't we add a couple more locks? Make sure the door is really secure? And maybe, when we get y-our bunker up and running we can think of adding a proper alarm system? Give me more time to understand your notes," he jokes.

He's not sure he should be feeding into his brother's paranoia, but at the palpable relief on his brother's face, he can't say he feels bad about it.

"That would be good," Bitty says, enthusiasm clear, "um, to be honest, I don't really understand how the magnets work either, I just copied it from the book," he adds sheepishly.

JD can't help but laugh, reaching over to ruffle Bitty's hair lightly. Branch shoves his hand off, disgruntled, but immediately shuffles over to lean against JD. JD raises his arm and he settles into a half hug, surprised at how hard Branch squeezes back.

"I know you don't feel safe Bits, but I want you to know that you are. Okay? You're safe, I'm not gonna let anything get to you here," he reassures. Maybe if he says it enough, Bitty will believe him? The realist in him says that it'll take time, fear like this won't go away overnight.

"Me neither."

"Hmm?"

"I won't let anything get to you either JD. Promise."

JD just holds him tighter; yeah, he's not going to let anything happen to this kid, and if god forbid something did? The world better be ready to burn.

When John-Dory had drowsily agreed for Branch to have a sleepover with Poppy, he had assumed that it would have been hosted at King Peppy’s own pod. The King, however, had jumped at the opportunity for a night to ‘catch up with his fellow H.U.G.G members (whatever that was). This, coupled with Branch’s heel turn into indifference towards the whole thing, almost made John call the whole thing off, but he figured it would be good to get Branch interacting with other trolls, and Poppy seemed nice enough, if a little overbearing. Well, she was only four, it’d probably tone down as she grew older right?

“-no, no no it needs more glitter!”

He glances up from his book. Poppy and Branch are at the table, colouring, and Poppy has brought with her more art supplies than he was sure could fit in her hair.

“But I don’t want to add any more glitter-“

“No, you need more glitter for sure it’ll make it look so much more better, see?!” The pink-haired troll begins dumping copious amounts of the stuff atop Branch’s art, “see, see? Isn’t it so much prettier?” she asks, holding it up.

“I guess,” Branch replies, eyes averted and tone resigned.

John has been re-reading the same sentence for the last five minutes, but he’s too distracted by the activity at the table. He’s debating stepping in; Branch is clearly uncomfortable, but he wants to see if Bitty can handle it himself first.

“What are you drawing now?” He hears Poppy ask. He risks a look; she’s practically crawling across the table to see Branch’s drawing.

“It’s Rhonda,” Branch replies, not even glancing up.

“Rhonda? Oh your brother’s pet? She’s so cute and weird,” Poppy giggles.

“Rhonda’s not weird,” Branch protests, pausing in his drawing, “and she’s our friend, she’s not a pet,” he insists.

“Really? My Daddy said she was your pet,” Poppy sounds confused.

“Well your Daddy’s wrong,” Brach retorts, face furrowing in anger.

Okay, seems like a good time to step in here.

“Hey kids,” he calls loudly, standing to his feet and walking over faux casually, “are you guys hungry yet? What do you fancy to eat?”

“I ate before I came because my Daddy said to Mags that he didn’t think you’d be able to cook very well,” Poppy replies innocently.

“Oh, he said that did he? How…presumptuous of him,” he responds through gritted teeth, “how about you Bitty?”

“Can I have the noodles we had last week but with more spiciness please?” he asks.

“You sure? It was already pretty spicy last week.”

“Oh, I didn’t think it was that spicy?”

John’s surprised; he could barely tolerate the heat, but now he thinks about it Branch didn’t seem at all bothered at the time. He shrugs, “sure, I’ll add more spice.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, oh, can I have a snack though?” Poppy shouts, just as he enters the kitchen.

“You have to say please!” he can hear Branch hiss.

“Please!”

He chuckles, “Blueberry muffin okay?”

“Yes!…please!”

Snack delivered, he begins cooking the noodles, half his attention spent listening in on the activity in the other room.

“Is your name Bitty or Branch?”

“It’s Branch.”

“Why did John-Dory call you Bitty then?”

“It’s what he’s always called me.”

“Can I call you Bitty?”

“No, only my brother can call me that.”

“Oh okay. Do you want to sing? We should sing! And we can make up our own dance to the song!”

“I don’t like singing... or dancing.”

“What really? But it’s so much fun, and it makes me so happy when I just-“ she breaks off into random song, “sitting here singing! It’s so much fun, when you take a break and make-"

“Can you stop please?”

“Oh. Okay.”

There’s an awkward silence filled only with the sound of boiling water. Oh Branch, JD worries.

“Sorry.” Branch sounds genuinely remorseful.

“Um, it’s okay, we can do some other fun stuff! I think, my Daddy told me all the fun things he does at sleepovers, but most of it is singing and dancing so I don’t know, but I bet we can come up with something!”

“We could…do a jigsaw?”

Oh god his brother was so boring. He immediately feels guilty for thinking this; Branch is dealing with a lot, it's not surprising he-

“-or maybe we could build a glitter bomb?”

Sorry, what? Did Branch just say bomb?

“Oooh that sounds exciting, what’s that?”

“It’s a bomb, but there’s glitter on the inside, and when it explodes the glitter flies out like, um I think it’s called shrapnel? And it gets stuck inside the critter's eyes and stuff. And I bet if you get super pointy glitter or add some sequins it would work even better and maybe even go through their skin!”

“Eww! That’s gross! Can we build one now?” Poppy sounds delighted at the idea, and so does Branch.

On the one hand, Branch sounds like he’s having fun for the first time that night. On the other hand: bomb.

“Foods almost ready Branch, can you clear a space,” JD shouts through, glad for the timing.

“Okay! Can I put the spice on myself?” Branch calls back.

“Uh, sure?” JD replies, grabbing the spice jar along with the noodles.

He gives Branch his food and the jar, settling into one of the chairs at the table.

“So guys, up to anything interesting?” he asks, aiming for nonchalant.

“We’re gonna build a bomb!” Poppy shrieks, throwing her arms in the air in excitement. Branch nods.

“I’ve read a lot about how to make them so I think we’ll be okay,” he says sagely.

Okay, JD really needs to start paying attention to the books Bitty is reading, maybe start filtering them for, well instructions on how to build a freaking bomb.

“Okay, hold up, this doesn’t sound exactly safe,” he protests.

“But I made really detailed notes on it,” Branch sounds heartbroken. It’s gut-wrenching, but John is going to stand firm.

“I know you did Bits, but it’s still a bomb? Where would you even, um, blow it up?”

“Oh we wouldn’t blow it up, it’s just in case,” Branch explains.

“Aww really?” Poppy sounds very disappointed. JD ignores her, forging forwards.

“It’s still dangerous though. Bombs are really volatile, they can go off from a simple knock,” JD has no idea if this is true but he’s assuming it’s the case.

“Even if we kept it far away from the village?” Branch pleads.

“Sorry kiddo, it’s just not worth the risk.”

“Fine,” Branch huffs, turning his attention to his noodles. John watches in horror as he grabs the jar and begins slathering the spice onto his dish.

“Hey, you might want to slow down Bits, that’s a really hot spice…” John watches as he pours out practically half the jar. Branch looks defiant, stabbing his fork into the noodles and taking a large bite. John watches his face, ready to leap up and grab him a drink, but he doesn’t even flinch, just continues eating his ridiculously spicy meal.

“Hey, can I try a bit?” John asks; were the spices defective or something? There was no way a six-year-old was eating this without even breaking a sweat.

“Sure,” Branch says, twirling a spice-coated noodle around his fork and passing it across the table.

John pops it in his mouth, eyes immediately watering. Holy shit that was spicy; he clambers from the table, fork clattering and chair squeaking back as he runs to grab some milk.

“Is your brother okay? His eyes were crying.”

“I think so? I don’t think he’s very good with spicy food.”

“I’m fine!” John-Dory calls over his shoulder mid-swig.

“See, he’s fine,” Branch repeats in an attempt to awkwardly reassure Poppy.

John, heads back to the table, sniffing. “How are you eating this Bits?” he asks, incredulously.

“I don’t know?” Branch sounds confused, “it’s just nice to be able to taste something for once.”

“What do you mean for once?” JD asks, internal alarm bells ringing.

“Well most food just tastes really…um, like it doesn’t taste of anything?” Branch tries to explain.

“What, nothing at all?”

“Well sometimes I can taste it, like these noodles taste of something. Oh, and that chocolate whip you made was nice too!” Branch brightens up at the memory of the drink.

The chocolate whip that John had destroyed by adding ridiculous amounts of sugar. Huh. Okay, this was definitely something he needed to bring up to Doctor Moonbloom.
It explains why he drinks his supplement with no complaint; JD had tried it out of curiosity and it tasted as disgusting as it looked.

“I didn’t have any spices when I was living in the outside, so everything tasted really bleh,” Branch continues, sticking his tongue out, face disgusted.

Wait…

“What did you eat when you were out there?” JD asks, steeling himself for the answer.

“Lots of stuff? There were lots of berries and sometimes someone would leave a basket of stuff like bread, but not all the time so sometimes I ate some of the legs that got caught in the traps, but only when my stomach really hurt, because they’re really crunchy and the sound made me feel yucky,” Branch continues, eating his noodles as though he’s not casually horrifying JD (he feels sick, his brother was so hungry he resorted to eating...)

“Ewww did they not taste bad?” Poppy interjects, mouth agape.

“Nope, they didn’t really taste of anything.”

“How did you cook them?” JD asks, hiding his horror.

“Cook them?” Branch asks, expression confused.

Ah. That answers that. He feels like he might vomit. He too had eaten his share of critter on the Trail, but he’d at least cooked and prepared it! He can’t imagine eating it raw.

“Anyway, we’ll have to think about getting some more spices in if you like them that much,” JD forges forward (oh he was going to have another word with the King when he next saw him).

Branch nods, smile small and pleased.

“I’m gonna go carry on reading while you eat, you guys let me know if you need any help,” JD excuses himself, heading back to the sofa to grab his book.

It’s too hard to read, his mind too busy with the mental image of his brother, essentially starving to the point of eating raw critter. How did this happen? How could anyone let it get that bad, someone was clearly leaving food, but obviously not enough. He busies his mind instead, trying to think of recipes with more powerful flavours.

“So if we can’t do the bomb, what can we do?” He hears Poppy ask.

“Um, we can still do a jigsaw? I have one I never started because I was going to do it with my Grandma, but we can try and do it if you want?”

“Yeah, okay! And we can see how fast we can make it all fit together!” Poppy replies; JD feels a surge of appreciation for the small child.

“Okay! I’ll go grab it.”

JD watches from the corner of his eye as Branch struggles to place his empty plate on the counter; he’s about to offer to help when Bitty jumps, pushing the plate onto the countertop with a clang. It’s one way to do it, he supposes. He winces when his brother hurries past the table, knocking his toes into the leg with an audible crack. Branch doesn't even flinch, hurrying towards his room before JD can even ask if he's okay. He appears a couple beats later brandishing a large puzzle box (no wonder his bag had been so heavy and uneven); his foot clearly isn't bothering him so JD decides to leave it, the table was wooden after all, it probably sounded worse than it was.

“It’s one-hundred pieces so it won’t fit on the table, we’ll have to do it on the floor,” Branch explains, dropping into a cross-legged position.

JD watches as Poppy immediately drops down, mirroring his pose. He wishes he had a camera with him; they look so cute sat pretzel style on the floor. He’ll have to think about getting one; he has an urge to take photos of his brother, knowing he won’t be this small forever (he wishes he had more photos of his brothers, his Grandma…)

A soft churr breaks him from his reverie. He whistles, a now wide awake Rhonda trotting from his room to jump up on his knees. God, she was getting heavy now. It was always a background worry what they were going to do when she got too big for the pod, but for now, her growing seemed to have slowed, leaving her just above hip height. If she was anything like a Caterbus, she’d have her main growth spurt at around five years, with a few more following. Caterbus could live well past thirty years, so he was hoping (praying) she’d have a similarly long lifespan.

“JD?” Branch’s quiet voice calls for him.

“Yeah buddy?” he replies, book abandoned in favour of scritching Rhonda’s plated back.

“What are you going to have to eat?” Branch asks, voice concerned.

To be honest he’d completely forgotten about his own meal, too focused on the kids to even think about it.

“Oh, I’m just gonna grab some soup,” he says; there’s some left over from the day before so it’ll be easy enough to reheat.

Branch just watches him, eyes narrow. “Go get it now, you have to have something to eat before your stomach starts to hurt.”

Oh this kid. He smiles fondly.

“Sure thing Bitty. Want anything else to eat while I’m grabbing it?” he asks, but Branch is already absorbed in his puzzle.

Resigning himself to the fact he has to actually move, he gently shoves Rhonda off his knees to stand. She follows him towards the kitchen, stopping when she sees Branch, trilling whilst she licks his knee.

“She’s so cute! Is she gonna help us? Will she eat the puzzle? Can I touch her?” Poppy fires questions at breakneck speed.

“She won’t eat the puzzle, she’s really smart,” Branch declares.

JD stifles a snort from the kitchen; she definitely would if given a chance, smart or not.

When he wanders back to the table, steaming soup in hand, Branch is showing Poppy how best to pet her.

“-and this is her carapace, she likes if you scratch just above the first compartment, like this.”

“On her ca-ra-piss? Like this?”

JD snickers at the mispronunciation, watching as the two take turns scratching Rhonda’s head, jigsaw abandoned. She looks like she’s in heaven, tail wagging and tongue lolling, wriggling happily.

Yeah, he definitely needs to get a camera.

Chapter Text

“-Dory? John Dory?”

He flinches awake at the harsh pokes to his cheek and panicked whisper. He blinks blearily; he can just about make out a blurry shape next to his bed.

“Poppy?" he asks through a yawn, “everything good?”

“Branch is making weird noises,” she replies; she sounds seconds away from crying.

At this he sits up, hastily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He doesn’t bother to answer, instead heading swiftly into his brother’s room. Was he having another nightmare?

“Bitty? You okay buddy?” he asks, crouching down to get a better look at his brother.

Branch had insisted on sleeping on the floor whilst Poppy had his bed because ‘he was used to it’, so JD had made a plush nest for him to lie on. JD leans in to get a better look; Branch is atop the covers, lying ramrod straight, eyes wide. Ah, another nightmare.

“Did you have a bad dream?” JD asks. There’s no answer, only that wide-eyed stare.

“Bitty?” he continues, heart rate picking up at the lack of response, when he hears it; a panicked moan, or more of a whimper, like he’s trying to speak. He’s still staring though, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He’s not moving at all, and just as JD’s heart drops into his stomach, his hand spasms violently slapping against the cover.

At this JD panics, gripping his small shoulders to better see his face, “Branch, hey Branch look at me!”

He’s seconds away from grabbing his brother and booking it to find a Doctor, when Branch blinks, gasping, letting out a garbled scream. His movements are still jerky, but his face screws up and his breath hitches as he’s finally able to move. He begins to cry silently, sniffing heavily.

“Hey, hey you’re okay,” JD says, lifting him onto his lap, “deep breaths.”

Branch nods jerkily, taking in an exaggerated shaky inhale. JD’s heart is pounding, for a split second that vacant stare had made him look-he can’t even think it, gripping his brother tight, rocking gently.

“I couldn’t move again JD,” Branch whispers, voice shaky with tears, “I felt some-something sitting on me again and there were shadows on the ceiling a-and they leaned in to get me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Okay this-this was not a normal nightmare. This was definitely not just a vivid dream. This was like, the opposite of sleepwalking, he was unable to move while awake.

“John Dory, is Branch okay?” a scared little voice asks from the doorway. He’s forgotten Poppy was there, completely wrapped up in his own fears. Shit.

“I’m okay,” Branch replies, saving him an answer, popping his head out of John’s embrace.

“That was really scary,” she replies, an audible wobble to her voice. Oh god, another crying child.

“Hey now, Branch is okay, he just had a bad dream,” JD reassures, hoping to ward off the inevitable tears. Poppy sniffs loudly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay!” JD says desperately, “do you want me to-um I mean I can-"

“Can we have chocolate whip?” Branch’s small request barely audible from the safety of JD’s chest.

“Yes. Yes! I can do that!” He replies, relieved at the hopefully successful solution. Poppy seems to cheer up at this.

“Like the one you said was really good?” she asks.

Branch leans back to answer. “It was really nice, it wasn’t as sweet as how Grandma used to make, but it tasted good.”

Not as sweet as…!? Okay. Doctor. First thing.

“Want me to carry you?” JD asks, voice low. Branch’s eyes dart to Poppy. “She won’t mind, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” he reassures. Branch nods, biting his lip.

“Right then, up we go,” John hefts Branch up with one arm; as he reaches Poppy she grabs hold of his hand, tightly.

He leads her into the kitchen, depositing Branch to the floor and turning on the light.

“Do you kids want to carry on with your puzzle while I make the whip?” he asks. They both nod, Poppy switching hands to Branch, leading him over to the puzzle.

“Are you okay?” he can hear Poppy whisper. It’s not really a whisper, she seems to have trouble controlling her volume.

“I’m okay.”

Branch seems reluctant to talk about his dream, or otherwise, so the two sit quietly the occasional click of puzzle piercing the silence.

John Dory adds a normal amount of sugar this time, opting to pour additional sugar into Branch’s drink directly.

“Do you want a hug?” Poppy asks; JD can see her fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. JD had been on the receiving end of all the hugs so far; every time the ‘Hug Time’ bracelet pinged Branch had looked distressed and pointed to his brother as an offering.

“No…thank you.”

“Are you sure? I always feel better when I’ve had a hug,” she continues; JD’s a little irked at her pushing of boundaries, but he reminds himself she’s only four. It’s to be expected, although probably not encouraged.

“Um, a really short one then,” Branch acquiesces, to JD’s surprise. When he makes no move to start, Poppy shuffles around the jigsaw, squeezing the other troll tightly, but only for a second.

“Did that help?” she asks. Branch looks overstimulated, and predicting a less-than-positive answer, JD decides this is the perfect moment to interrupt.

“Chocolate whip’s ready guys! Come grab it at the table!”

“Coming!” Poppy calls, bounding over.

Branch follows, much more subdued; he looks exhausted, blinking heavily.

“How is it?” JD asks.

“You were right Branch,” Poppy turns to the other troll, “it’s really, really good!”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Branch replies. He sounds dejected, his eyes drooping; he blinks hard, as though fighting off sleep.

“Oh!” Poppy gasps, clearly remembering her manners as she quickly turns to JD, “thank you!”

JD chuckles, “You’re welcome.”

“Mmm, thanks JD,” Branch murmurs, face basically resting on his mug.

“Right, soon as you guys are finished you need to go straight to sleep. You okay to sleep in your room again Branch? You can always stay with me, or I can figure out some way for all of us to sleep in the living room?” JD asks, wary to leave his brother on his own.

Branch shakes his head. “I’ll be fine going back, I just-“ he glances at Poppy, “I’ll be okay.”

JD has a feeling if the other troll wasn’t here, it’d be a different story.

“That’s fine then. Do you want me to tuck you guys in?”

“We need to brush our teeth first,” Branch states, eyes almost closed. He’s swaying in his seat.

“You sure? One night won’t make a difference Bits.”

“No, I don’t want to get ca-“ Branch yawns “-vities.”

JD watches as he stumbles from the chair, wobbling towards the bathroom, Poppy trailing behind like a duckling. The two enter the bathroom and JD can hear the telltale squeak of Branch moving the stool in front of the mirror. He busies himself with the empty mugs, listening out for any mischief.

“What’s a caaavity?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Oh, okay.”

John Dory wakes to the familiar weight of Rhonda on his chest. She panting, waiting patiently, but he knows it won’t last.

“Mornin’ girl,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep, tiredly scratching her head.

It’s quiet, but following the events of the previous night, he wouldn’t be surprised if the kids slept in. He shifts, Rhonda leaping from him in excitement. She’s clearly hungry, ready for her morning meal (three raw eggs, cracked into her bowl; he used to give it to her shell and all, but the mess it made had JD deciding it was for special occasions only).

“Urghh,” he groans, stretching until his shoulders pop, “come on then Rhonda, let's get some food. And coffee. Definitely need some coffee.”

He’s surprised to see that Poppy is already awake. The small troll is lying on her belly in the living room, doodling some sort of rainbow contraption.

“Morning Poppy! Where’s Branch?” he asks.

She sighs, “Branch won’t wake up.”

He pushes down the panic, his mind flashing back to his brother’s dead-eyed stare. “What do you mean he won’t wake up?”

“He keeps saying he’s too tired,” she replies, sounding annoyed.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “He’s probably tired from last night,” he explains.

“I know, I just really want to show him my idea,” she says, kicking her legs.

“I’m sure he’ll be up soon, don’t worry. Um, what did you fancy for breakfast?” he asks, suddenly aware of his status as host and adult, “I can make you some eggs if you want?”

“Ooh yes! Um, please!” Poppy replies, brightening.

“Lemme just get Rhonda hers, and I’ll fix you some up. Do you like scrambled?”

“Uhuh, that’s how Daddy makes them sometimes and he adds butter to make them extra nice!” she announces.

“Well I’ll be sure to add some butter then,” JD responds, smiling. It was evident how much she loved her Father; if he wasn’t so conflicted about the man it would probably be cute.

He grabs the eggs, cracking three into Rhonda’s bowl; as soon as it’s on the floor she’s in, devouring the yolk with vigor.

“I’m just gonna ask if Branch wants any,” he calls to Poppy.

He feels bad waking him up, but the kid can’t afford to miss any meals. He creeps into the bedroom, heading for the bundle of covers that is his little brother.

“Bitty,” he reaches out, gently running a hand through his hair, “I’m making eggs, do you want any?”

Branch’s face screws up, and he turns his face into the pillow.

“You can say no, I just need an answer.”

Branch groans, turning back around with bleary eyes.

“I’m so tired,” he whispers.

“I know, you were up really late.”

“I didn’t go back to sleep for ages. I was too scared it was going to happen again,” Bitty continues, his face a picture of abject misery.

“Well, you can get some more sleep now if you want? And I’m gonna see if we can see Doctor Moonbloom later today to get an opinion,” John suggests. Branch's face disgruntles further.

“Yeah,” JD chuckles, “she wasn’t the most approachable was she? But it’s important we find out what’s happening Bits.”

“Yeah,” Branch seems deep in thought, “I guess.”

His hands are pawing at the cover, like he’s not sure what to do with himself.

“So, eggs? You can have them in here if you want?”

“Is Poppy gone?” Branch asks.

“Nah, she’s in the living room drawing, I’m making her some too.”

“Isn’t it rude to have them here then? When, when there’s a,” he ponders the word tiredly, “guest?”

Well, JD supposes it sort of is? He doesn’t exactly care though, Branch’s health takes priority over Poppy’s boredom any day.

“She won’t mind,” he says instead.

Branch thinks for a moment, chewing his lip.

“I’ll get up,” he declares finally, “and can I have something spicy on the eggs?”

Oh yeah, JD can mention the taste thing later too. Two critters, one stone and all that.

“Sure! Just head out when you’re ready and they’ll be on the table!” and with that he stands, giving the covers a light pat. As he’s heading back into the open-plan living area he hears Branch’s quiet voice murmur a thank you.

“It’s fine Bitty, see you when you’re ready,” he replies over his shoulder.

“Is he getting up?!” Poppy asks, as soon as he enters the room.

“In a bit he is, yeah,” John replies, reaching for a pan and ingredients.

“Yess! I can show him my idea for my own trap, like the ones he told me about last night, but, but instead of making it so the critters hurt, it’s all soft and squishy, see?” she holds up an indecipherable image with vigor.

“Oh wow, that looks great!” JD says; inside he’s cringing, he hopes the King won’t take objection to his daughter’s sudden interest in traps.

“Yup! And it’s got to be super colourful so that people don’t step in it by accident!”

“Yup! Sounds important,” he replies, only half listening.

“And I think that’s-oh hi Branch! Are you feeling better?”

JD looks up at this, sending his brother an encouraging smile. He’s dressed, but his clothes are ruffled (he really needs to get that vest off him so he can wash it) and he yawns widely as he heads to the table, bypassing Poppy entirely.

“Hey, I want to show you my trap!” Poppy, sounds indignant, slapping the design onto the table in front of the tired troll.

“What is it?” Branch asks blankly.

“Um it’s…it’s a…um well it’s supposed to trap the critters but-but ,I thought about what you said about it hurting their skin and I didn’t actually want to do that so I thought instead it would be soft and stuff.”

“So how does it trap them?” Branch asks, pulling his legs up to his chest.

“Oh, well it-what happened to your foot?”

At this JD looks up from his own eggs, leaning to glance at Branch’s foot. The outer two digits are swollen and stained a dark grey.

“Oh I don’t know? It hurts a little bit but not a lot,” Branch muses, poking his own toes in fascination.

“Eww, they look really bad and sore!” Poppy exclaims, and JD shuffles his chair closer to Branch.

“Let me see Bitty,” he asks, hand out. Branch accepts, passing JD his foot. JD turns it gently in his lap; they look broken, or at the very least very badly sprained.

“Do they really not hurt?” he asks, surprised. Branch shakes his head.

“Not really? A bit? Almost like a bruise, but it feels okay,” he replies, shrugging.

“Was this when you kicked the table?” JD asks, racking his mind for anything else that could have hurt him this badly.

“Maybe? It didn’t hurt though, so I didn’t pay attention.”

Ohhh this was not good, and the whole thing was painting a worrying picture. At least Branch doesn’t seem bothered by it, he thinks, surely that’s a positive? Though is it? This should be hurting, it should be hurting a lot.

“Right, okay then, well we’ll show it to Doctor Moonbloom later today and see what she says, but for now I don’t want you walking on it,” JD explains, gently letting go of his brother’s foot.

Branch retracts his leg, pulling it back against his body, expression disgruntled, “but it feels fine?”

“I know, but I don’t want you to make it any worse, okay?” JD replies, semi-sternly.

“Okay,” Branch replies, his attention turning to his spicy eggs.

JD begins to eat his own meal, but he's lost his appetite. He's got a really bad feeling he can't shake. At least when they saw the Doctor they'd get some answers, right?

Right?

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you have to carry me?” Branch asks; he’s clearly nervous.

“Yeah Bits, I don’t want you putting weight on your foot until we get you checked out by the Doctor,” JD insists. Branch is silent for a moment, his hands twisting nervously before finally nodding.

“Okay,” he says, opening his arms in invitation.

JD grabs under his armpits, lifting him onto his hip, mindful of his foot. He makes sure he has him held securely, before descending from the pod. He lands, more gently than he’d ever done before, heading in the direction of the Doctor’s clinical pod. He’d dropped Poppy off earlier that morning; with Branch unable to walk their activities had dried up pretty quickly, and JD had dropped her off at the King’s pod shortly after whilst Branch had lay on his bed, his leg propped up on their fluffiest pillow. He’d been curt when speaking with the King, but there was no time for actual confrontation. It would have to wait.

Branch had been reluctant to be carried through the village, embarrassed to be seen as a baby. JD didn’t point out that if anyone were to see him, they’d mistake him for much younger anyway, instead reassuring him it was necessary and people would be too busy to notice anyway.

He was relieved that Branch had decided to tuck his face into his shoulder; the small troll had missed the many trolls actively staring at the two. Apparently, people weren’t too busy, but trolls were notoriously nosy, so it made sense. JD just ignored them, shooting the occasional dirty glance at the trolls who were particularly obvious.

He swings up into the Doctors clinic, heading through into the main area, falling short as he realises she’s alone.

“Oh, er, should we wait outside?” he asks, Branch peeking out to survey the room.

Doctor Moonbloom glances up from where she’s stood, blinking with surprise. She appears to be walking a troll either in, or out of her office; John can’t get a good look at the patient, but they appear pretty short.

“Oh, no that’s fine, we’ve just finished,” she replies, turning back to her patient.

“Okay Cooper, did you understand the instructions?” she asks; JD gets a proper glance at said patient and wow okay, that is the strangest looking troll he’s ever seen, no wonder they’re seeing a Doctor.

“I did yeah, thanks Doc!” the quadruped replies. The large green hat atop his head skews, as he bounces with enthusiasm. With a closer look, he’s clearly a child, and JD feels a little guilty at his initial thoughts.

The unusual troll bids goodbye to the Doctor, bounding past JD towards the exit.

“Um, hi? I know this is an unexpected visit, but it was sort of an emergency?” JD says, vaguely gesturing to his brother.

“Hmm,” there’s an awkward moment where no one speaks, before Moonbloom nods, “okay, follow me into the office,” she replies, immediately heading into the room behind her. That was…abrupt?

Branch’s hands tighten around his shoulders, and JD squeezes back as they follow into the room. JD deposits his brother onto the available seat, standing closely beside him, a hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder.

“So, how can I help? Is there an issue with the brew he’s taking?” Doctor Moonbloom asks JD. She’s made herself comfortable in her chair, expression distracted. JD’s irked; she hasn’t even said hi to Branch and is talking as though he’s not even there.

“Do you want me to explain?” JD asks Bitty, ignoring the Doctor for a moment. Branch just nods.

“Okay so a few things, he’s injured his toes, but he can’t feel much pain-“

“Then why is that a concern? If there’s no pain, it sounds like a minor injury?” she interrupts, leaning forward in her chair.

JD grits his teeth. “They’re clearly broken, or at least sprained. It’s not the only thing either,” he continues rapidly before she can interject, “he has almost no sense of taste, and he’s been having nightmares where he wakes up, unable to move, and seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Hmm,” Doctor Moonbloom hums, finally looking at Branch and not JD. She’s watching him like he’s a riddle she can solve. It’s disconcerting. Her eyes rake his leg, studying, and she scoots forward, “may I?” she asks, gesturing towards Branch’s leg.

“Yeah,” Branch replies warily, allowing her to grip his foot.

She gently moves the swollen digits, “Can you feel this?”

“A bit?”

“Interesting,” she lowers his foot, “they certainly look broken. Let me just try something,” she reaches into her desk, pulling out a needle. JD tenses, and he can feel Branch twitch in alarm.

“I’m going to gently poke his finger, to see how he responds,” she explains to JD.

“You should be telling Branch, it’s not my finger,” JD retorts, irritated at the way she’s bypassing his brother.

“Oh, of course, sorry,” she responds sheepishly, turning to Branch, “just tell me if you can feel it, okay?”

“Okay,” Branch agrees, but his hands have started shaking. JD squeezes his shoulder in a way he hopes is grounding.

“It’ll be okay Bitty, if you want her to stop just say so. Right?” he says pointedly to the Doctor.

“Of course,” she sounds affronted, “just let me know what you can feel,” she continues, addressing Branch directly.

She gently takes his hand, prodding the needle against his skin.

“Can you feel that? Does it hurt?” She asks.

“No?”

She reaches out, gently pinching the skin of his arm, “and this?”

“I can feel you touching me, but it doesn’t hurt,” Branch explains.

“And now?” she increases her grip.

“It hurt maybe a tiny little bit? I think?” Branch replies. JD is about to step in because she is visibly squeezing his arm, but she immediately releases it, leaning back with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m going to look to see if your toes are broken, but I think I’m going to check a few other areas too,” she says; although directed at Branch, it’s said more to herself.

She grabs his foot one more, palpating his swollen toes, looking closely as she gently moves them. “Can I examine your arm please?” she asks.

Branch nods, holding out a shaking hand. JD watches as she moves her hand along his arm, gently bending it at the elbow, checking the mobility maybe?

“Your other arm?”

“Um, okay.”

She does the same, her expression pinched. She moves onto his legs, pressing her fingers into his knee as she bends it, running her fingers along his shin.

“Hmm okay, well in my opinion his…I mean your-,” she turns her attention from JD, back to Branch, “-toes are definitely broken. You have reduced mobility in your right arm which may suggest an incorrectly healed break. Do you remember injuring your arm?”

“I think I fell on it, but it was a long time ago,” Branch explains, “I thought broken bones were supposed to really hurt?” he asks. He sounds so confused.

“Well I suspect that losing your colour has dulled, almost completely removed your sense of pain,” she turns to JD, “you mentioned his sense of taste was reduced?”

“Uh, yeah, he can only taste things that are drenched in spice…or sugar,” JD replies, still attempting to wrap his mind around the fact that his brother had been walking around with a broken arm, no idea of the fact it was broken.

“Yes, this checks out. Branch, have you noticed any issues with your hearing or vision?”

“No? I can see fine and I can hear really well,” Branch replies. He’s rubbing his arm, looking at it as though it’s a foreign object.

“Well, that’s good at least. He’s-you’re going to have to be extremely careful from now on, if there’s any chance you may have injured yourself you’ll need to come see me immediately, as you won’t be able to tell if it’s a serious injury or not. Same goes with illness; we have no idea if you’ll present with typical symptoms,” she explains.

JD’s stomach drops; this is serious, this is really fucking serious. He grabs at his shorts, hand clenching and unclenching; he has to remain calm, he can’t let Bitty see his anxiety.

“Do you feel the cold? Heat? Hunger?” Doctor Moonbloom continues.

“I used to feel hungry sometimes when I didn’t eat for a really long time, but the heat and stuff I don’t remember?” Branch replies (he looks overwhelmed, moments away from crying).

“Let me just grab an ice pack, I want to check,” she explains, rising from her chair and heading out of the office without a backward glance.

As soon as she’s left Branch’s head swivels to JD, barely suppressed panic in his eyes “JD, what’s wrong with me?”

JD lowers himself to eye level, resting his hands on Branch’s shoulders, “Hey, hey Bitty I’ve got you. We’re gonna figure this out, and we’re gonna do what we can to make you better, okay?” he reassures. He’s not sure he believes it himself, but he refuses to think otherwise.

The Doctor returns, ice pack in hand. JD stands, one hand remaining on Branch’s shoulder, waiting with bated breath until she presses the pack against the skin of Branch’s wrist.

“Can you feel the cold?”

“I feel it the ice thing, but it doesn’t feel cold,” Branch replies, eyes widening in horror.

“Hmm, as I suspected. You’ve made contact with Dr Plimsy, correct?” she asks JD, grabbing a pencil and notepad from her desk.

“Yeah, we’re seeing her in a week,” JD answers.

“Good. I think it’s in Branch’s best interest to begin attempting to regain his colour; as the catalyst was clearly psychological, she will be better equipped to help you manage this. Obviously, this was the aim all along, but with these recent revelations it should be an absolute priority.”

She says this was the aim all along, but JD can’t remember her mentioning this once, and he’s trusting her judgment less and less considering she’d already examined Branch and still managed to miss

this.

“He feels a very small degree of pain, and extreme hunger presents as casual hunger. You say you’ve not felt hungry recently, have you been having regular meals?” the Doctor continues; she’s writing rapidly in her book, eyes focused on her notes.

“Yes?”

“That’ll be why; you’re no longer starving. This is fascinating; there’s a theory that trolls can lose colour as a form of self-preservation, to numb mental pain, but this would suggest that it also applies to physical pain. I’ve never seen losing colour present itself quite like this before though-“ she rests the pen on her chin, “-all the patients I’ve seen with it have died shortly after so I’ve never had the time to-”

“Of old age! Right?” JD rapidly interjects, cognisant of the way he can feel Branch shaking. His little brother looks close to crying, face paler than he thought possible, and as she spoke, he’d reached for JD’s hand, squeezing so hard his nails were sure to leave indents.

“Well of course,” Moonbloom replies, looking unimpressed, “I mentioned this to you last time.”

“Not to Branch though,” he hisses. Her eyes widen, mouth opening as she realises her mistake.

“Ah. Yes, I apologise Branch. It’s very likely they died of old age, not because they lost their true colour.”

Branch gives a shaky nod at the halfhearted reassurance, and JD grinds his teeth in anger. Before he can rebuke her, she continues.

“As for your toes, it’d be wise to stay off your feet for a few days, until the swelling reduces. If you’re careful you can still walk very short distances, but keep your foot raised when you can, and you may use ice, but be cautious with this as you can’t gauge the temperature. There’s not a lot else you can do, we don’t need to splint or cast them, but take it very easy, especially as you won’t necessarily feel if you re-damage them,” she continues, returning to her notes as she speaks.

“When you say cautious, what do you mean? With the ice?” JD asks; he needs clarity here, the more he knows the less he can fuck up.

“Ice applied directly to the skin can cause a burn. In Branch’s case, it’s unlikely he’d even notice he was injured, so you’re best off wrapping it inside a towel before placing it on the skin,” she answers, eyes meeting JD’s momentarily before she continues writing.

The sounds of her pencil scratching amplify her blase attitude; JD wants to rip it from her hands, snap it, and-

“You mentioned issues with your sleep? Waking up and being unable to move?” Moonbloom interrupts his violent thoughts. She’s halted in her note-taking, leaning in towards his brother.

“Y-yes. I feel like someone is sitting on my chest. I, um, it feels hard-hard to breathe and um-" It’s clear Branch is panicking, his eyes blinking rapidly.

“And you’re unable to move at all?” Moonbloom asks.

“No. I mean yes? I can’t move anything, but then if I-I try really hard I can start moving maybe my hand or I can some-sometimes make some noise or…” Branch trails off, his fingers digging into his shorts repetitively. JD begins rubbing his hand across his back soothingly; this needs to end soon, his brother is getting more and more panicked the longer it continues.

“Ah. It sounds like simple sleep paralysis,” Moonbloom says, with finality, “nothing to really worry about; it’s not harmful, although it can be frightening.”

JD blinks.

“Gonna need more info than that Doctor, that doesn’t really tell us anything. What can we do to stop it happening?”

She looks at Branch warily for a moment, “Would you rather he be out of the room whilst we discuss it, or is he okay to stay this time?”

JD’s brows raise; she’d had no issue discussing everything else in front of the kid with no tact or filter so why now? He almost says yes, at the implication it will be less than positive news, but the way Bitty is gripping his hand like a lifeline…he can’t leave him like this.

“No, he can stay. I’m sure you’re going to tell us the details in a nice child-friendly way, right?” the ‘or else’s is plain in his unfriendly grin.

Moonbloom huffs through her nose, “Right, yes of course. Branch,” she turns, addressing his brother directly, “sleep paralysis is when your mind wakes up before your body does, meaning you’re unable to move. There’s no certain way of knowing what’s causing this, or how long you’ll be getting these episodes, but there is every chance you’ll grow out of them. It’s important to remember that when this happens, it will not hurt you. Not that you’d feel the pain even if it did,” she adds, as though an afterthought.

Okay so, that was good, no actual danger with the sleep thing, one very small weight off JD’s mind-

“You will however,” oh she wasn’t finished, “likely experience extremely frightening hallucinations, like an intruder entering your room, or some sort of figure at the foot of your bed, and like you said, the sensation of something very heavy on your chest-“

“We’re leaving,” JD interrupts, voice dark.

Moonbloom looks surprised, “Sorry, was-“

JD ignores her, instead swiftly but gently grabbing his brother and stalking out of the room.

JD was furious, Bitty was terrified enough without the unnecessarily detailed descriptions of the horrors he may or may not experience. Was she fucking stupid?

He could only hope to do some sort of damage control of the situation when they got back; Branch was refusing to talk, and he himself was barely hanging on by a thread he could only imagine how Bitty was feeling.

For now, JD holds him tight, unsure if the shaking is Branch, or him.

It was bad. Worse than he’d thought. His traitorous mind can’t stop thinking of what would have happened if he’d never received the letter, if he’d never come home; would Branch have stayed out by himself? Unable to feel anything, what would have happened to him? All he can see is the mental image of a tiny, starving Branch, digging his hole, alone. He feels sick.

As soon as they’d got back to the pod JD had got to work, setting up a comfortable space on the sofa for his brother. He’d overcompensated for his worry, grabbing almost every pillow to create a sofa nest, fluffing them just so, until they were perfect. He’d propped Bitty’s leg up (gently, so so gently), wrapping him in a light blanket; he couldn’t feel the cold, so JD wanted to be cautious… but then again what if he overheated? Fuck, he had so much to think about, so much to worry about and he’d already had more than enough to fill his anxiety meter to the maximum, even before the revelation of Bitty’s health.

He sat, squished into the corner of the sofa, wary of Branch’s foot, watching his brother’s face. Rhonda was snoozing in his room, her snoring audible even through the wall; he’d been tempted to bring her in as a distraction for Bitty, but he was wary of her boisterous nature near his brother’s injury.

“Right Bitty, can we talk?” he begins, firm but gentle.

“I’m tired,” Branch replies instead, staring off into the distance.

“I know Bitty, but you can sleep after we talk, okay? You don’t even have to say much, if you don’t want to, you just have to listen.”

“Okay,” Branch agrees, his eyes flicking briefly to meet JD.

“I know what the Doctor said is scary, it’s really really scary. But I’m gonna do everything I can to make it okay, we’re gonna see that other Doctor instead, and we’ll…” JD pauses. What exactly is he going to do, “wait. First, do you have any questions?” Scratch what he said about Branch just listening, if he could start there, he could work off Branch’s concerns.

There’s a brief silence.

“Am I going to die?” he asks, fear drenched in every word.

“No! No, no, you’re not going to die, okay, all it means is that we have to be a bit more careful. If you think you might have hurt yourself, or you feel ill at all you need to tell me. Alright?” JD explains frantically.

“Am I going to get my colour back?” Bitty asks, mollified at the previous answer.

“Yes,” JD doesn’t know this for sure, but the Doctor had said it was a priority; this means it could be done, it would be done, “we’re gonna work together with the other Doctor, she knows a lot about this, so we’ll get more answers when we see her,” she better have answers, or JD’s thinly held together veil of positivity was going shatter. She had to know, and Branch had to get better, and he couldn’t accept otherwise.

He had to hold it together, push down his worries because his little brother was relying on him, and in that moment was looking at him like he held all the answers to the universe. He had to be strong because Branch was depending on him. When he was alone, and he was sure Branch was asleep, he could panic.

Branch opens his mouth, then closes it. He’s clearly thinking.

“How long do I have to stay on the sofa?” he asks.

JD feels relief at the easy-to-answer question, “A few days; until the swellings gone down.”

“But I can’t stay on here the whole time!” Branch protests.

“I mean you can walk to the bathroom and back, but I want you resting it as much as possible Bitty.”

“Oh, okay,” Branch replies, relieved. He’d clearly thought JD had meant he couldn’t get up at all.

“I don’t want to have the sleep paralilosis again,” he adds.

“Paralysis. But yeah, I know, it doesn’t sound fun Bits,” JD says with a wince.

“It’s so scary! And the Doctor said that it could be even scarier, I don’t want to see someone at the end of my bed!” Bitty says, building into near hysterics.

Fucking Moonbloom; JD is regretting not stabbing her with her pencil when he’d had the chance.

“I know, but ignore that part, the most important thing to remember is that it can’t hurt you,” JD emphasises.

“But it’s still scary, and I only just stopped being scared all the time!” Branch sniffs, “when you got here things got less scary, and I don’t want to go back to…” he trails off.

“Being scared all the time?” JD finishes, gently.

“Yeah.”

Branch seems to shrink into the pillows.

“Well,” JD leans as closely towards Bitty as he can, mindful of his foot, “why don’t we put your bed in my room for a bit? So you’re not on your own?”

“Is that okay? Will I not get in the way?” Branch asks, concern evident.

“Hey, I told you before, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. You don’t get in the way Bitty, you’re my brother not a-a rock!” awful example, but he’s working under stress here.

“So it’s really okay?”

“Yup! More than okay.”

“Okay…but only until I get used to it. So not for very long,” Branch decides.

JD wants to add that it can be for as long as it needs to be, but he can tell that Branch is determined; he doesn’t want to push it.

“Great! I’ll sort that out in a bit, but for now, do you want me to get you anything?” JD asks, slapping his knees as he stands.

“Um, can you get me my maths books? Please?” Bitty asks.

“Sure.”

He stands, heading toward the bookcase. He should probably grab Bitty a drink too, something to eat. He’s taken back to when his other brothers had been injured or ill, and he’d done his best to make them comfortable and keep them entertained. He’d had his Grandma back then though, doing a majority of the actual caring, but he can remember holding Floyd as he’d cried through fever, and launching berries into Spruce’s mouth when he’d been bed-bound and bored. He’d read stories to Clay, giving the characters increasingly bad accents until the laughing made his brother’s cough so bad he’d been forced to switch to his normal voice.

God, he misses them. He’s got some complicated hypocritical feelings regarding them abandoning Branch, but they’re his little brothers. He’ll find out if they’re okay, but with Branch’s extensive list of health issues, it’ll have to wait a bit longer than he expected.

They’ll be fine. They’re old enough now. They’re smart. They’ll be fine. They have to be.

JD had successfully managed a small breakdown in the shower that morning. Well, he’d had several shower breakdowns that week, but this one may have been the most successful considering he actually felt a little…better? Since he’d moved Bitty’s bed into his room, he’d had practically no time alone at all, which would normally be fine if he wasn’t actively fighting off an impending meltdown. At least the shower had covered the sounds of his sobbing, and the hot water had helped keep him grounded.

He allowed himself that short space of time to wallow and ruminate.

Grandma is dead.

Branch is grey.

My brother’s left.

It’s my fault.

My fault.

My fault.

Branch had been surprisingly good-spirited despite his confinement to the sofa/bed. He’d spent the next few days working through his maths, making his notes and drawings, and there had been no paralysis incidents to JD’s relief. Shortly after their initial conversation, he’d noticed dark finger-shaped bruises circling Bitty’s arm. He’d realised, with dismay, that it had come from Moonbloom, gripping his little brother’s arm to check for pain, and it just cemented the fact that they would be finding a different Doctor. The appointment with Dr Plimsy was in a couple of days, and though Branch would be seeing her primarily for her psychiatric expertise, JD would be asking about seeing her for regular checks, instead of Moonbloom.

“Is this right?” Branch asks; he’s holding up his workbook, where he’d been steadily working through maths questions.

JD looks through the pages, eyes widening as he realises he has no idea if they’re all correct. It had been a long time since he’d done any real math, and sure with a pencil and a bit of time he could figure it out, but hopefully…he flicks to the end; oh thank god they have the answers. He checks them against Branch’s work and is surprised to find that every one of them is correct, and he’d completed almost all of the proposed questions. Either Branch had been working harder than he’d thought, or his younger brother had a natural aptitude for the subject (once he had an understanding of the fundamentals).

“These are all right Bitty, you’re doing great!” JD praises. He means it. He hasn’t expected his brother to be doing anything close to this level of maths at his age, and he feels warm with pride.

Branch smiles, taking back his book.

“I want to learn as much as I can about engineering, so I want to practice algebra and geometry.”

“Well, you may have noticed I had to check the answers in the back,” JD replies, owning his ignorance, “so I think we’re gonna have to get you some more books.”

“That’s fine!” Branch shoots, hurrying back to the table with his book.

JD winces as he narrowly misses the table leg (again), forcing himself to calm down. Since the revelation that Bitty felt little to no pain, he’d been on almost constant edge, worried that Branch had unknowingly sustained an injury, or was walking around, unaware he was ill. It would probably be overkill to repeatedly take his temperature, so JD had taken to watching him like a hawk.

He’d been able to occupy Branch with books, and gentle walks with Rhonda, but the kid was anxious to begin work on his hole bunker, and it was only a matter of time before he grew impatient. If it weren’t for the fact that Rhonda was undoubtedly going to outgrow the pod, he’d be working on convincing Branch against building it, but if he was honest it was a sensible idea to build something for Rhonda out in the open, and the paranoid part of JD can’t deny that a bunker would be a safe alternative should anything happen to the village. If he could, he’d ban Branch from helping build, but he knew how hurt the young troll would be. Plus, it probably wouldn’t help with his already low self-esteem; he’d probably think JD had deemed him useless or more of a burden, and he was already working double time to reassure him he wasn’t.

The thought of Branch helping him dig, saw, lift, hammer…it made him feel ill. What if his hand slipped? What if he lifted something too heavy and pulled a muscle; would he have no idea he’d even done so, and carry on lifting?

He’d been worried about it earlier that morning when he’d been doing sit-ups in the living room. He’d made the conscious decision since living in the pod, to stay in shape (because he was a paranoid bastard and didn’t want to be caught off guard), and when he’d moved onto some stretching, Branch had taken interest, wondering if he too could become that flexible one day. JD had said that when they could be sure his foot was one hundred percent okay, then he’d teach him some simple poses and stretches, but almost as soon as he said it he’d started thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

Luckily, when it comes to the bunker, he can use the ultimate excuse to keep him from the particularly dangerous things, the fact he was only six. Then it wasn’t about his lack of colour, it was his age, and maybe he’d take less offence. Regarding the yoga, he’d have to carefully monitor his brother throughout, to make sure he wasn’t overextending.

He’d casually mentioned wanting a camera to Branch, and the small trolls eyes had lit up at the idea of taking photos, so they were planning on heading to the village later that week to see if they could acquire one through a favour or two. Hopefully, the photography would prove to be a distracting (and less dangerous) hobby, until JD could figure out how to approach the bunker.

“John Dory?” Branch asks.

JD looks to his brother. He’s sat, pencil abandoned in favour of scratching Rhonda’s head.

“Yeah Bits?”

“Are things settled yet?”

Ah. He sees where this is going, though was Branch concerned about starting the bunker, or was he referring to finding his brothers?

“Nearly Bitty. We need to visit Dr Plimsy and see what she says,” he says.

“Oh. And after that? Will we be settled then?” Branch asks, undeterred.

“It’s not got an exact date Bits. It’ll be when things are sorted and we’ve got an actual routine. When things feel normal, you know?” JD attempts to explain.

“But what if that isn’t for ages? What if it doesn’t ever feel normal? I keep making things bad and-"

“Hey,” JD interrupts, “you’re not making things bad Bitty.”

“But I am!” Branch interjects, “all the problems are because I’m grey and because I ki-“ he stops mid-word, swallowing, “you’re staying because of me when you could be on your adventure, and it’s not fair.”

Oh Bitty. He walks to where Branch is sat, placing his hands on his shoulders to look him in the eyes.

“You being grey is not your fault. Okay? It’s not. And yes, I’m staying here because of you, but I’m choosing to. I want to stay here, because you’re my brother and I love you, and you don’t need to feel guilty about that,” JD says, firmly.

Branch sniffles, rubbing his eyes as though he can force the tears back in.

“I love you too JD,” he says, reaching his arms out. JD meets him halfway, pulling him into a hug; he practically envelopes him, his dark hair tickling his face, but he pays it no mind.

“JD?” Bitty asks, voice small.

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay that I don’t sing?”

It’s an odd segway from the previous conversation, but JD answers regardless.

“Of course it is Bits. Why’d you ask?”

“I remember how important it was to you when I was a baby, that I could sing really good. I don’t remember lots, but I think I remember that it was important,” Bitty’s grip tightens, “and then I did bad, and we all did bad in the show and you left. And now I can’t sing at all, and you still want to stay. So I just wanted to check,” Branch says this, muffled into his coat, like he doesn’t want to see JD’s face as he speaks.

JD has never wanted to hit his past self in the face more than at that moment. If he’d just not been so selfish he could have looked around and seen who his actions were really affecting. He should write a book on how to successfully traumatise your younger brother(s), because at this point it seemed like he was an expert. He had to make this right, it was a desperate need, and the guilt was almost physically painful at this point.

He pulls Bitty back, so he can see his face, “Branch, look at me. I do not care that you can’t sing. Not at all. What I care about is you, I want you to be happy, and healthy, and what I was like in the past? I had the wrong priorities. I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you to perform, on any of us to perform to such…such high standards. I was too focused on my role as leader of the band, and not of my role as a brother. I’m not leaving, and nothing is your fault,” he’s aware he’s rambling at this point, and he’s not sure Branch will even understand the finer details, but he can’t help it. He has to say it.

Branch seems to get the gist though; his expression is lighter, and he’s no longer crying.

“Okay,” he says. Like that. Just accepting everything, with innocence only a child can have.

He had accepted JD’s initial conversation too, when he’d just come back. John Dory had been saying constantly that he wasn’t leaving, that he was staying, and Bitty still thought there was a chance he’d leave. The lack of trust stings, but it’s outweighed by the guilt. Fuck, how deep did Bitty’s fears go? He must have been concerned about his singing for weeks, and he was only just bringing it up to John now. It was like getting blood out of a stone, only the blood was trauma, and the stone was a traumatised child.

“Can we go walk Rhonda now?” Bitty’s question almost makes him jump. His voice seems normal; if it weren’t for the red eyes you’d never have guessed he’d just been crying. Was he really okay? Or was he just deflecting?

“Sure thing Bits. Are…are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything else you’re worried about?” he asks imploringly.

“No, no I’m okay,” Branch insists, averting his eyes. He’s looking at the card pinned to the wall again.

Poppy had briefly come over, to drop off a heavily glittered ‘Get Well Soon’ card, and Branch had seemed shocked that she’d bothered making him anything. JD had caught him looking at the card periodically in confusion. JD was glad that she was turning out to be such a good friend (well, as good as a four-year-old could be he supposed). He really needs to properly hash things out with King Peppy soon if the two kids are going to be spending as much time together as they were. Peppy had to be aware of how bad Branch had been, if only so that something like this wouldn’t happen to another child.

“Right, well grab your coat and we’ll head out,” JD insists despite Branch’s disgruntled expression. He’d been refusing to wash his vest for some reason and had been insisting on wearing it every day. Not wanting to push, JD had compromised by suggesting he wore a coat over the top of the vest. It was getting colder, and JD was painfully aware of Branch’s inability to feel temperature, so he was playing it safe.

He’d managed to procure a small puffy jacket; the market that was held several days a week as a swap and trade had been surprisingly eclectic in supply, and it had made him think a camera may not be too hard to find. They’d have to go again next week to see if anyone had one available.

The jacket itself had only cost him a few hours of assembling shelves, and the troll (Cybil he thinks her name was) had been meditating almost the entire time, so he’d skipped out on awkward conversation. An evenings labour almost seemed too steep a price, but the coat itself was good quality, and only a little big on Branch (which was good, he could grow into it).

Coat now on, Bitty waits by the door, Rhonda persistently butting him with her head. JD grabs his bag, double-checking the flask is full of water.

“Come on then, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Dr Plimsy was already above Doctor Moonbloom in JD’s eyes by the mere fact she wasn’t Doctor Moonbloom, but the first meeting had so far cemented this. She spoke to Branch directly, tone of voice kind and professional, and it had taken a load off JD’s shoulders as his brother had visibly relaxed. They’d gone over some basic family history, most of which JD had to answer. It was strange mentioning his parents after all these years. He spent so much time actively not thinking about them, that even a casual mention was jarring.

She’d explained to Branch that she wanted to get to know him a little bit, and if he was okay she’d like to spend some time, one on one, to ask some questions. It had made JD nervous to leave him alone, but he knew it made sense; there were some things you could only say to an unbiased party.

He was currently waiting outside, as Dr Plimsy spoke with Branch, left only to his own thoughts. How was he going to find his brothers? Could they find more bloodhound bugs? Even if they did, would there be any clothing left for them to pick up a scent? How strong was their sense of smell; he assumed it was pretty good considering one had found him using only a square of a shirt he’d not worn for years. Did he even have anything of his brothers (other than the ‘funderpants’ that had belonged to Clay, stuffed in a bag amongst other miscellaneous items, that he probably should have washed)? Maybe he could ask around to see if anyone had any idea about the bloodhounds, or even better maybe the King would be interested in some sort of postal service. Was there already a postal service? How else was the King getting hold of so many items from outside the village? His pod was full of-

“John Dory?”

He looks up at the bright voice. Dr Plimsy is leaning her head out of her office, expression bright.

“Would you like to come back in?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he replies awkwardly, making to follow her. He pushes his thoughts to the back of his mind; he needs to be fully present for this.

“Come and sit down,” Plimsy offers, another improvement on Moonbloom; he had an actual chair to sit in. No more awkward hovering while they discussed life-changing medical information, now he could be seated as he panicked.

“So Branch, am I okay to discuss what we mentioned to your brother?” she asks kindly.

“The bits you said you would, yeah,” Branch replies, nodding. He seems much more at ease.

“And am I okay to talk to JD on his own when we’re finished? To go into the details about regular appointments and to explain a little bit about what we want to work towards?”

“Yeah, that’s fine as long as you don’t…” Bitty trails off.

“I won’t say anything else, okay?” Dr Plimsy reassures.

What could she be talking about?

“Right, okay then,” she turns to JD “so, your brother’s been telling me a little about the events that led to him losing colour, and a little bit about what happened afterward. There are a few specific events that we’re going to really explore in further appointments, but what we’re going to try to do is challenge some of the things that Branch has been thinking towards himself. Can you tell me a little about what Doctor Moonbloom told you during his checkup?”

“Well, she said, um, because of losing colour, he’s also lost pretty much lost all his sense of touch and taste. As like, a self-preservation thing? She wasn’t very absolute with what she said, a lot of guesswork. She also diagnosed him with sleep paralysis, oh and he’s been taking a brew regularly with additional vitamins, because of his malnourishment. You okay Bits?” he checks in with his brother; he doesn’t want him to think they’re ignoring him.

“Yeah. I also have a broken foot,” Branch adds, matter of fact. It’s a testament to how relaxed he is, that he feels he can add to the conversation.

“Toes, Bitty, and they’re supposedly meant to be healing?”

“I can check them if you’d like?” Dr Plimsy asks.

“I thought you were a mind Doctor?” Branch asks, sounding suspicious.

“Well I’m also a medical Doctor,” she explains.

“Oh okay, do you want to see it now?” Branch asks, suspicion satiated.

“If that’s okay?” she checks.

In answer, Branch raises his leg. She takes his foot, tilting it slightly, gently examining the toes.

“Well I won’t ask you about the pain, but the swelling looks almost fully gone, and they’re both straight. They look like they’re healing nicely,” she releases his foot.

That’s a relief. JD had been worried; despite Branch staying off his feet until the swelling had gone down, he kept forgetting to take it easy, running through the house and landing harshly when leaving the pod.

“So, as for the sleep paralysis, what did Doctor Moonbloom suggest?” Dr Plimsy asks JD.

“Suggest? She said there was no cure.”

“Oh. Well that’s true, but there are still things Branch can try to implement during an episode. She didn’t mention any of this?” she asks, turning between JD and Branch.

“She said there would be people at the foot of my bed,” Branch adds, tone surprisingly blasé.

“Ah. Okay. Well Branch, let’s ignore that for now,” Dr Plimsy doesn’t look surprised, but she doesn’t look impressed, “when you wake up, and you can’t move, I want you to try moving something small, like a finger. Or try to clench your fist, but really focus on that one small movement, okay? It might help you snap out of the paralysis more quickly,” she explains.

JD begins mentally noting this, anything to make Branch feel like he has more control over the situation will be beneficial.

“Stress can also make the episodes more likely, just so you’re aware,” she adds.

“Right, okay,” JD replies. Limit stress. Well, he can try.

“Branch,” she turns to his brother, “would you be alright if I spoke to your brother for a moment now? Are you okay to wait outside?”

“That’s fine, I can see Rhonda?” he asks, pointed at JD, who nods.

“Sure Bits, we won’t be long. And no running please!”

Branch says his goodbyes and leaves, walking quickly, as close as he can get to running without actually running.

“So, what’s going on?” JD asks, after a beat.

“Well I can’t tell you everything he told me, only the parts he agreed to. I like to remain confidential, it’s important he can trust me,” she explains.

“Fair enough.”

“I also want you to know, that even though I am relatively new to psychiatry, I am doing everything I can to ensure I am being thorough, and I have done copious amounts of research prior to this. We-we lost a majority of our medical professionals during the Trollstice, a majority of our people, and we're all trying desperately to catch up. I just want to be transparent with you,” she explains. She looks almost ashamed, at her lack of experience, but the way she’d spoken to Bitty had ensured JD’s confidence.

“I understand.”

“From the conversation I had with Branch there are several things I think you need to know. The first is that he has severe trauma regarding his Grandmother’s death-"

“Our.”

“Sorry?”

“Um-our Grandmother,” he repeats. He’s not sure why he interjected in the first place.

“Of course. Well, regarding the event. He also has some complicated feelings surrounding being left alone. There’s a lot of misdirected anger here towards himself.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, he’s said a few times he thinks everything is his fault.”

“Regarding his colour; I’ve done as much research as I can considering we were never able to completely recover the old archive. I believe that Doctor Moonbloom was right in suggesting that it’s a method of self-preservation, but the research suggests it’s a combination of this and total loss of hope. I think the key here is to continue reassuring Branch that he is safe, verbally but more importantly through action. From what he’s said, you’ve been doing an amazing job so far,” she reassures.

“I don’t think so,” John replies sardonically, “it’s my fault he’s like this in the first place.”

She looks at him for a moment; he feels like he’s under a microscope.

“You’ve been doing a good job John. Branch has told me what you’ve done for him so far, and honestly, you’re dealing with it far better than many would in your situation.”

“I mean, okay, even if I have,” he pushes the praise aside; it’s undeserved, “what do we do now?”

“Exactly as you’re doing. True colours can return gradually, or all at once, each case is different, but our best bet is to give him hope, safety, and closure,” she leans back in her chair, attention focused on his reaction, “I’d recommend incorporating some soothing routines, such as stories before bed, cooking together, that sort of thing. The most important thing here is patience; recovery is never linear.”

“Okay. Okay I can do all that,” JD says, almost as much to himself.

“I’d like to see him once a week if that’s alright. To discuss how things are going and to work on building his confidence, and help him with some coping methods,” she adds.

“That’s fine,” JD agrees.

“We’re going to be exploring the trauma through a few different activities, like drawing; it’ll make it easier for Branch to process. So it won’t be just talking. I understand Branch has some…concerns with Doctor Moonbloom?”

“Yeah, he won’t be going back to her,” JD replies, tone dark.

“Understood. You’re not the first-“ she stops herself, “sorry, I shouldn’t say anymore,” she looks embarrassed for the first time, purple cheeks darkening.

“I mean I can guess; she’s not exactly personable,” JD jokes. That's putting it lightly.

“Right. Well regardless, if you’d like me to take over Branch’s physical care as well, that would be more than okay. I’d just need to get the information about the brew he’s currently taking so I can replicate it,” she explains. JD raises a brow.

“You’re okay telling Moonbloom this, or should I?”

“Leave it to me, I’d like to have a word with her about her practice anyway,” she smiles falsely.

“Yeah, okay,” well he wishes he could be there to hear that particular conversation.

“I also want to apologise to you on her behalf, we’re not exactly colleagues but, I’m so sorry she’s made what is already a difficult time, even more so.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Hanlon’s razor and all that,” JD waves his hand, brushing her concerns away. It’s not Dr Plimsy’s fault Moonbloom has a terrible bedside manner.

“So, what favour do I owe you?” he adds.

“Nothing. I can’t in good conscience accept anything when I’m not formally trained, this is essentially work experience, which fulfills the favour in itself,” Plimsy replies frankly.

“Come on, something small,” JD insists. He’d not pushed Moonbloom when she’d suggested a mere autograph, but he’d been unimpressed with her rapport. Dr Plismy on the other hand was clearly trying her hardest to accommodate.

“Hmm...” she thinks for a moment, “okay then, a cake. A carrot cake maybe, but I’d like the both of you to bake it,” she decides.

“Great! We can do that,” JD agrees, feeling less unbalanced. He disliked handouts, even during Band times he always felt something had to be earned to feel right.

“That’s everything then, bring him in same time next week. Oh, and John, you’re always welcome to some sessions yourself,” she looks at him knowingly. Like she knows how broken he is. He hates it.

“Yeah, huh, well if I need any I’ll let you know but right now I’m good. I’m good,” he repeats awkwardly, standing.

He leaves, feeling a little off balance. He knows he could do with therapy, but it doesn’t mean he has to do it. Or like it. Or even-he doesn’t even really need it. He’s not that bad.

Right? Right.

“Hold still Rhonda!”

JD smiles. Branch is trying very hard to take a photo of the armadillo-bus, but she’s making it almost impossible, clambering around the grass and attempting to eat tree bark.

JD had managed to acquire a camera off a troll named Milton Moss, who as far as JD was aware was acting as the village vet. He’d been at the market, handing out eggs and milk from the critters he was housing. JD had asked if he knew anyone with a camera to spare, (as he’d had no luck so far) and was surprised when the yellow-haired troll had offered one of his own. He only asked that when JD swung by to pick it up, he could have a look at Rhonda and take some photos of his own of the critter.

JD figured this was a win in both ways; he got a camera, and the village vet would have a better understanding of his beloved friend. When he’d gone to pick up the camera, he’d been pleasantly shocked to see that the troll had cultivated an entire sanctuary, with various critters free-roaming the grounds, and it explained the village's ample supply of eggs and milk. It was clear despite his young age (he must have been pushing 16? 17?) that the troll knew and dearly loved his critters, and he made a note to come back to look around the place properly.

Branch had seemed wary to see the critters, but as it became clear they were friendly, he’d warmed up, Milton even letting the small child pet one of the flopper-hoppers. Seeing how Milton, and several other trolls they’d spoken to, had interacted with Branch, it became clear to JD that a majority of the village had no idea about Branch’s living situation, in fact, most trolls barely recognised him.

The camera worked well considering it was secondhand, and Milton had handed them a large stack of film. JD had asked where he’d managed to get hold of a camera in the first place, and he’d explained that it was from the King, although Peppy had been pretty cagey about where he’d got it.

Regardless of the King’s taciturn attitude, the camera was working great, and Bitty had taken to bringing it along on their walks with Rhonda. He seemed lighter since starting the therapy four weeks ago, and the photography had given him something else to focus on.

“JD, stand next to that bush,” Branch demands, pointing towards some particularly spiky foliage.

“What, here?” JD asks, shifting awkwardly in front of the bush.

“Mmm, that way a bit,” Branch gestures, peering through the viewfinder.

JD shuffles a bit to the left, posing awkwardly.

“Can you smile?” Branch asks. He plasters on a winning grin, his boyband days of posing for the camera like muscle memory.

“No, I mean a real smile!” Branch demands.

The grin slips off JD’s face, replaced with something more fond; trust Bitty to notice how fake it really was.

click

“Yes! Okay, that’s done,” Branch says, grabbing the photo as it prints out.

“Any good?” JD asks, striding over.

Branch examines the photo as the image slowly appears.

“Yup! The bushes made it look like you had horns, see?”

“Wait, really?” JD asks, turning back at the bush.

Sure enough, there’s two gnarled twigs curling out. Very horn-like. Branch hands him the photo; his pose is still awkward, but his smile is natural, and sure enough, he has horns.

“Ha, nice spot Bitty B,” he says, grinning, “we’ll have to add it to the wall.”

“We’re running out of space though?” Branch points out.

“Well, there’s always the ceiling,” JD jokes, though if Branch really wants to, there’s no way he’d say no. Not that they really had much of a ceiling anyway, with the way the pod bent upwards in its spherical shape.

“We’ll have to use a ladder…or our hair,” Bitty muses, so that’s that, photos on the ceiling it is.

They’d decided to use the living room wall as a gallery, with ‘John Dory in a spiral’ as the centerpiece; the photos were placed haphazardly around it, mainly by Branch (provided he could reach), and it was a mix of various photos of scenery, Rhonda, JD, Poppy and Branch. Branch wasn’t keen on his photo being taken, so a majority of his photos were candid, but there were a few selfies of him and JD (and Rhonda), and some cute photos of him and Poppy drawing.

“Maybe we can put some in a book, like Grandma did?” Branch asks.

It’s not a bad idea. They would run out of space if they didn’t run out of film first.

“Yeah okay. Maybe you could write what they are underneath too, decorate them a bit? Add some,” JD wiggles his fingers, “glitter.”

Branch wrinkles his nose, “ew no.”

“Wait, give me the camera a sec?"

“Uhh okay?” Branch hands him the camera, confused.

“Okay, now pull that face again, it was adorable,” JD demands, steadying the camera.

Branch doesn’t, but the unimpressed glare he gets is just as good, and JD’s cackle echoes through the trees.

Chapter Text

JD hasn’t baked a cake in years. The last cake he’d baked had been Clay’s hatchday cake, and even then it was long before the final year of Brozone. They’d been far too busy with rehearsals and media for cakes. Looking back, he could have made time. He should have made time.

Anyway, he’d never made a carrot cake before regardless. He’d managed to get some from the market; the giant veg had been pre-sliced into smaller more manageable chunks, around the size of his hand. He had no idea where they were even cultivating the fruit and veg for the villagers, but he wasn’t one to look a gift critter in the mouth.

He was vaguely aware of the farming that occurred, but he’d never visited, although he had gone back to Miltons’s sanctuary a fair few times to help tend the critters. He enjoyed it, it gave him a sense of accomplishment, and Branch was ecstatic to take photos of the flopper-hoppers and glitter worms (although one of Milton’s shutter-beetles had taken to photo-bombing every photo, to Branch’s dismay).

“And Floyd would burn it?” Branch asks.

JD had managed to get hold of a couple of aprons (mainly for Branch’s benefit), and his brother was stood on his stool, apron-clad, excited to be helping bake. They’d purposefully waited until Rhonda was asleep, as JD knew as soon as she saw the eggs she’d be going crazy, trying to attack them. The mixing bowl was larger than Branch’s head, and even with his stool he still barely reached the counter. JD had to stop himself audibly ‘awwing’ when he’d first seen it.

“Yeah, he used to burn everything, we could never figure out how he managed it,” JD laughs.

Branch had asked about JD’s previous baking experience, and he’d explained how he used to bake and cook with their brothers, although Floyd and Spruce he’d eventually banned from the kitchen.

“And why was Spruce banned?” Bitty asks, wooden spoon in hand.

“He could not follow a recipe to save his life.”

“His life?”

“Oh, uh, it’s just an expression. He always had to add a little something extra to whatever he cooked and it either turned out amazing or reeeally bad,” JD explains. They used to call him the 50/50 chef, because there was always that chance it was perfect, or inedible, no in between.

“And Clay? What was he like?” Branch asks, enthralled in the stories about their brothers.

“Well Clay would follow the recipe to a T, so it always turned out okay. He’d be busy messing around though,” JD laughs, “he’d make up these really awful songs about flour, god how did that one go…it’s the hour, for some flour power, so make it rain, go insane, have a powder shower’,” he’d had that particular rhyme in his head for weeks afterwards.

Branch giggles.

“Right,” JD refocuses on the task at hand, “so we have all the ingredients now, we just need to measure them and put them all together.”

“Can I mix?” Branch asks.

“Can you reach?”

“You can lift me up,” Branch says, matter of fact.

“Yeah, sure,” JD agrees, Branch is so light that holding him for a few minutes is a non-issue, “I just need to grate the carrot chunks and we can start measuring and adding it to the bowl.”

JD grabs a sliced chunk, reaching for the grater. He’s unable to resist popping a piece in his mouth, chewing it with a loud crunch. “Oh man, I forgot how good carrot is. Do you want any Bitty?” he asks, more out of politeness than anything else, aware that other troll won’t taste it.

As he faces his brother it’s clear something's wrong. Branch has frozen, eyes wide, terrified and unseeing. His breath is shallow, and he’s begun to visibly shake.

“Woah, hey Bits are you-?” he reaches for his brother’s shoulder, but to his shock the child rears back violently, screaming. JD dives with a yelp, grabbing him by the apron before he can fall completely backwards off the stool, but he thrashes from his grip, landing with a thud.

What the fuck, what the fuck was that?!

“Branch, hey, Branch?!” he lowers himself, trying to get his brother’s attention, but Branch skitters backward until his back hits the wall.

“Nono no no nonononono,” his brother is mumbling under his breath, forcing his face into his knees, his hands gripping tightly to his hair.

JD doesn’t know what to do. He crawls towards him slowly, speaking softly, ignoring the sounds of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Bitty’s going to rip his hair out if he pulls any harder; he wants to stop him but he’s wary of touching him. It had made him panic, hysterical, it was like he wasn’t even there.

JD continues speaking softly, watching for any changes. If his brother does anything to seriously hurt himself, he’ll have to step in. For now Branch is shaking, his face hidden. He thinks he’s crying, and his words have become indecipherable.

It lasts maybe five minutes, though it feels a lot longer. Branch slowly dissolves into steadier silent crying, lifting his head and looking at JD in confusion.

“JD?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“Can I come closer Bitty,” JD asks.

“Y-Yeah,” Bits replies, voice shaking. JD inches forward, eyes focusing on Branch’s face for any change of expression. Eventually, he reaches the wall, kneeling next to his brother.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, wary of how Bitty had reacted before. Instead of replying, Branch grabs his hand with lightning speed.

They sit, holding hands for a moment before Branch speaks.

“Sorry. I’m sorry I-,”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise.”

“But I-“

“No buts! It’s fine. What happened though Bitty, did something scare you?” JD asks, he’s determined to prevent this from happening again. The fear on his brother’s face had been visceral.

“I can’t say,” Branch mutters, voice distraught.

“What do you mean you can’t say?”

“I just can’t.”

“Branch, you can tell me anything right?” JD attempts to reassure.

“No I can’t!” Branch is begging at this point.

“Okay! Okay, that’s fine! Just-just tell me why though Bitty,” JD concedes, he’s imploring him here to explain, he’s so confused and he just wants to help Branch stop hurting.

“Because she was your Grandma too!” Branch shouts, eyes wild.

There’s a beat of silence where JD wraps his head around what Branch just said. This…this was to do with Grandma?

“Grandma?”

“I don’t want to make you sad. She was your Grandma too,” Branch repeats, voice broken.

JD takes a shaky breath.

“Branch, whatever you’re talking about, you can say it. I’ll be okay, if you want to talk about it,” JD affirms.

“It was…it was my fault-"

“Branch-"

“No! Let me finish!”, he removes his hand from JD’s grip, pawing at his own chest.

JD just nods, trying to slow his own breathing.

“I wa s-singing. I used to sing all the time, because, because I thought if I practiced hard enough then when Floyd came back and we, we went to find you guys, you-everyone would be happy and I wouldn’t mess up anymore, and if I sung enough I thought maybe everyone would come home,” his voice cracks, “but I was stupid and I was singing and I didn’t hear the…” he takes shuttered breaths, “bergen. So Grandma she, she pushed me out the way. And it grabbed her and it-" his eyes go wide, “the sound, it bit down on her and I could hear it, and she was screaming until she wasn’t and-" he shudders, lilting to the side and vomiting.

“Woah!” JD’s hand darts out, steadying him so he doesn’t fall into his own sick, pulling him back up into an upright position. His eyes are glassy and wet, and JD can see him retreating into his own head.

“Hey, I’m here Bitty, I’ve got you, you’re in our pod,” he reassures. He doesn’t know what to do.

“I was on my own,” Bitty whispers, tears dripping down his face.

“Bitty…” he doesn’t know what to say, “I shouldn’t have left. There’s nothing I regret more,” he implores.

“Then why haven’t you said sorry?” Branch asks, looking into his eyes for the first time, the betrayal clear.

Wait. Of course he’s said sorry. Branch is wrong, he had to have said sorry, right? He’s thinking back to every conversation they’ve had, everything he can remember saying. No. No, he realises with horror that he hasn’t, he hasn’t once apologised to his brother. Not for this, maybe in casual conversation, but he’d not once apologised for leaving him, abandoning him. How was Bitty supposed to move on, when he’d not even got an apology from the person who was basically the catalyst to everything?

“Oh god, Bitty, I am! I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” he says, unable to stop his own tears gathering.

“I’m sorry, my singing killed Grandma,” Branch replies, huddling closer to JD.

“It didn’t Bitty, it didn’t. It wasn’t your fault, Grandma chose to save you, okay?” JD says through his tears. They’re coming now, no stopping them, but he can at least ignore them.

“But if I wasn’t singing-"

“You didn’t know! No one knew there would be a Bergen that close, and who’s to say even if you had noticed, that the thing wouldn’t have broken into the pod to grab both of you?”

Branch doesn’t reply, just sniffles, shuffling closer to JD.

“It’s not your fault Bitty,” he continues, wrapping an arm around his small shoulders, “I am so sorry I left. I’m wasn’t thinking straight, but that’s on me. None of this is your fault.”

“Can we…can we not use carrots? For the cake? The sound…”

With horror, JD realises that the crunching sound when he bit the carrot had triggered, whatever this episode was. He feels ill at the connotations, pushing his nausea away. He can panic about the violence surrounding his Grandma’s death later, alone, in the shower, where the sound of the water would hide his sobbing.

“Of course Bitty. Dr Plimsy won’t mind at all,” he leans over, burying his face into his brother’s hair. Branch holds onto the arm around his shoulder, squeezing.

His shoulders shake more violently, his sobs picking up, and with shock, JD realises he can hear him. For the first time, he’s crying loudly, almost wailing. As awful as it is to hear, it’s almost a relief. How long had this been bottled up? How long had Branch been scared, too afraid to even cry loudly, no one around to even hear him?

“Shhh, it’s okay, you can cry Branch. Get it all out,” he soothes.

Eventually, the sobs peter out, becoming heartbreaking sniffles and hiccups. JD remains awkwardly kneeling, his arm being used as a handkerchief at this point.

“Let me grab you some tissues and a drink, and I’ll clean this up,” he says softly, nodding towards the vomit, “then if you want we can go see Dr Plimsy?” he’s hoping she’ll give some insight into this, some ideas on what to do.

“Because I fell off the stool?” Branch asks, rubbing his eyes.

Oh shit, in the panic of it, JD hadn’t even remembered. How hard had he fallen? It wasn’t very tall, but all it would take was an awkward landing.

“Yeah, and if you want you can talk to her about this?” JD attempts to explain.

“Maybe. I’m seeing her soon anyway, right?”

“Yeeeah,” JD could do with talking to her about this, but he doesn’t mention that, instead gently untangling himself from Branch’s arm and heading to grab some tissues. His legs are painfully numb, but he ignores them, focusing on his goal. Rhonda will wake soon, and he just knows she’ll try to eat the vomit; it turns his stomach just thinking about it.

He needs to take it slow. Focus on the smaller things, to stave off the ensuing panic. Tissues. Clean the floor. Drink. Dr Plimsy. He could do this.

Chapter Text

Dr Plimsy had called it post-traumatic stress disorder. She had said it was unsurprising for Branch to have it, considering what he’d witnessed, and after giving him a thorough physical, had spoken about the disorder and the next steps in a way that both JD and Branch could understand. John had been concerned about the vomiting, but Plimsy had reassured him that he seemed fine and that it was probably a stress response.
She’d also told them not to worry about the cake, but Branch had been insistent that they make one, just not carrot, and she’d agreed to any cake as long as it was sweet.

She’d given JD a couple of books on the subject she’d thought might help, and he’d asked if she had any medical books he could read. He wanted to have as much knowledge as possible, to make sure he could accurately keep an eye on Branch; it made him feel like he had more control over the situation, and he was happy to have something practical to do, to keep his mind busy.

He’d been on edge for weeks following the flashback (as Dr Plimsy had described it), but there had been no severe episodes since. So far. Branch had spaced out a few times, but he’d been present before long, and it seemed like the therapy was having a positive effect. It became clear that Branch didn’t necessarily not want to sing, rather he was terrified of doing so. Still, John buried himself in his books when he had the chance; he needed to be prepared.

JD had arranged for Branch to play with Poppy at the King’s pod, whilst he and Peppy had a ‘chat’ in the other room. He needed a blank slate here; the man was the King after all, he had to at the very least tolerate him.

“Smile Daddy!” Poppy calls.

JD looks over from where he’s seated; Poppy has run into the room with the camera, Branch close behind.

“Oh, of course!” Peppy replies, smiling from his own seat at the table.

click

“Poppy they’re meant to be talking!” Branch admonishes.

“Oh. Sorry!” she replies cheerfully, immediately turning to exit the room. Branch follows, and JD thinks he sees him roll his eyes.

“Right, sorry, where were we?” King Peppy asks, when it’s clear they’re once again alone. JD resists the urge to sigh.

“I was asking if you’d had any idea? What Branch was eating out there?”

“Well, I provided baskets of food when I had the chance,” Peppy replies, thinking, “and they were always empty when I returned.”

“Did you even see him get the food?” JD asks, incredulous.

“I was trying to rebuild a village John Dory. You have to understand, I had no spare time at all, barely any time to bring the food in the first place. People were grieving, we lost so many. Grieving mothers, fathers, children, and I was all they had as a pillar, as their leader. I had no time to seek out Branch every day and ensure he ate, as callous as it sounds, but I should have made sure that he was staying with someone. I should have enforced it,” King Peppy concedes, expression regretful.

“Did you know, the Doctor has said he feels little to no pain? That includes hot, cold…hunger,” JD begins, faux casually.

“As a result of being grey? No, I didn’t know this,” Peppy replies, in shock.

“Yeah. Well, Branch told me, that when his stomach hurt, he resorted to eating raw critter,” JD continues, tone falsely light. The King looks disgusted.

“What, but I thought you said-"

“Do you know-“ JD interjects harshly, “how hungry he would have been to actually feel it? He was starving. My little brother was starving.”

“I assure you John Dory, I had no idea that it was that bad. None, the basket was empty and he seemed fine when we saw him from a distance-"

“Did he even get the food? Who’s to say it wasn’t taken by a critter? You wouldn’t know, because you never checked,” JD points out.

“You’re…you’re right. But John Dory, I…I don’t know what you want to achieve here? I have already apologised, I don’t know what more I can do,” the King replies, expression mournful.

JD places his fist to his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose. “Okay. I get why you say that. I do. But I need you to understand that…” how to explain this? “I need you to know how bad it was so that it doesn’t happen again. To anyone’s kid, like I understand that the circumstances were unusual but you can’t have the possibility of child neglect occurring under your nose with nothing in place to-to prevent this!? Also,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m really angry. At you, to clarify. And to eventually be, um, ‘not-angry’ at you, I need all my cards on the table. For closure, or something.”

It’s not as eloquently put as he'd like, but his brain is practically mush from stress so it’ll have to do.

“I understand,” King Peppy looks thoughtful. Understanding. He almost wishes he was angry, would shout a little, just so JD can blow off some steam in an argument. This is obviously a better outcome though.

“Good. Branch and Poppy are seeing a lot of each other so we can’t have this, this tension forever,” JD adds.

“You’re right. Poppy adores Branch. I’ve been so worried that she was somehow missing her,” Peppy’s voice goes almost inaudible, “sister, that seeing her playing with your brother is a huge relief.”

“She doesn’t remember her though does she?” JD asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Not consciously. But she had been lonely. Her other friends are lovely, but she hasn’t clicked with any of them in the same way she has with Branch.”

“Which is good, because it’s the same with Branch,” JD replies. Branch gets annoyed with the small troll, but it’s clear he enjoys her company despite this; she was very much his best friend.

“I’m sorry. Again. I had no idea that Branch had been doing that badly. If I could go back and do things differently, I would,” King Peppy replies, regret etched into his face.

“Yeah well, wouldn’t we all,” JD admits. He pauses for a moment, while he has the King one-on-one, and feeling guilty, he might as well ask some questions.

“I’ve got a question, where are you getting all the village equipment? Some of it’s clearly not from the village as it is?”

“Oh, uh,” Peppy appears sheepish, “well a select number of trolls have been doing some reconnaissance and retrieval missions. Some have been collecting from the old archive back at the old tree, and others have been journeying beyond the forest…they have been sworn to secrecy at all they have found.”

“Why? What’s to hide?” JD asks.

“You must not tell anyone else this, you understand?” Peppy replies, seriously.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I won’t,” JD agrees.

“We are not the only trolls in existence.”

There’s silence.

“I mean, surely that obvious?” JD replies. He knows there have to be more trolls out there, it doesn’t make sense for them to be the only ones.

“No, no you don’t understand. We are not the only tribe out there,” Peppy emphasizes.

“Okaaay? And what, why is this a secret?” JD asks.

“They’re not friendly. We have history with them, and to protect ourselves we have been in hiding for many many years.”

“And why is this related to the stuff coming into the village?”

“The team I have been sending out has been acquiring items from these other tribes.” Peppy continues.

“What, like trading…stealing!?” JD asks, turning incredulous at the King’s guilty expression.

“We have no choice. These tribes took almost everything from us, they drove us into hiding,” he explains.

“So what, you think stealing from them is a good idea? Won’t that just alert them to where we are? Piss them off?” JD needs clarity here because it seems stupid even for the King.

“We’re not taking anything they’ll miss. Tools. Equipment. We had next to nothing when we abandoned the tree. And my team is very discreet. It’s not just the tribes, there are several other species we are now actively trading with, but no one must know of this, you understand. There would be panic,” King Peppy insists.

“Okay. Okay that’s fine, I won’t tell anyone,” JD agrees. This is useful though, as the King has information beyond the forest. This could be helpful when finding his brothers.

There’s a crash in the other room, followed by giggles.

“Rhonda you’re too big!” Poppy’s shrill voice exclaims.

“Well,” JD stands, dusting his knees, “that’s our queue I think?”

He walks into the other room, King following behind flustered. Rhonda has managed to fit herself underneath the sofa, raising it at an angle, and Branch is hurriedly taking photos while Poppy giggles frantically.

“Branch, why is Rhonda under the sofa?” JD asks, brow raised. The camera flies from Bitty’s face as faces his brother.

“She’s been our model! But she got bored? I think? Or she saw something under there?” Branch muses.

“Look, look how cute she is!” Poppy squeals, running and thrusting a pile of photos into JD’s hand. They’re all of Rhonda, wearing various hats, and looking overly excited. Where did they even get this many hats?

“She looks great Poppy!” JD enthuses, “but maybe we should give her a little break?” he suggests, to both children.

“Okay, that’s fine. Um, are you finished your talk?” Branch asks nervously, hands playing with the camera. He must have picked up on some of JD’s anxiety regarding the whole thing.

“Yeah, we’re finished,” JD reassures. The relief on Branch’s face is palpable, and JD feels bad at subconsciously adding to his brother’s stress.

“Did Branch want to stay here a little longer?” The King asks, “I know you mentioned you were seeing Milton, but he’s welcome to stay whilst you head over?”

“Is that what you want to do Bitty?” he asks his brother. He seems torn. “It’s fine if you want to stay, me and Rhonda won’t be long.”

“Yeah. Okay, okay then,” Branch replies, nodding. JD was almost hoping he’d refuse, this will be the furthest and longest they’ve been apart since he arrived, but with that knowledge comes the realisation that this is a needed break for Branch (and him).

“Right, that’s fine then,” he whistles to Rhonda, and she bolts out from under the sofa; it clatters back to the floor, “we won’t be long,” he repeats.

He walks over, pulling Branch into a firm hug. He squeezes back almost desperately.

“Love you JD,” he mumbles.

“Love you too Bits,” JD replies, heart warm.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” the King says, and they leave the children playing with the camera.

“Right,” JD whips towards the King as they reach the door, making the older troll startle, “be careful with anything hot or cold, and if you think he’s hurt himself in any way, take him to Dr Plimsy, then come find me.”

“Oh, not Doctor Moonbloom?” The King asks curiously.

“No,” JD doesn’t elaborate.

“That’s, that’s fine! I’ll take good care of him!” King Peppy reassures.

JD just nods, electing not to bring up his track record of the very opposite; they were starting fresh after all. Instead, he bids him farewell and descends from the pod, Rhonda heavy in his grip.

He had to see Milton, the man had mentioned that he had something JD would want to see, and he was beyond curious to see what it was.

“They just hatched last week, I thought you’d want to see them,” Milton explains. The troll is holding a tiny bloodhound bug, it’s nestling into his armpit making tiny squeaks and snuffles.

“Oh man, they’re cute,” JD says, reaching out a hand to gently stroke the pup.

“I know right!?” Milton grins toothily, “I wasn’t sure they were all going to hatch, what with the random drop in weather, but they all seem fine.”

“How many hatched?”

“Five; this one here’s the runt of the litter but he’s doing really well. He’s called Geronimo,” Milton adds, sheepishly.

“Geronimo?”

“He keeps trying to jump out my arms,” Milton explains, the bug attempting to do just that with a determined wiggle.

“Yeah, very apt,” JD laughs, “Branch is going to love these guys.”

“Where is the little guy?” Milton asks, gently depositing the bug to the floor, where he immediately begins trying to fly (unsuccessfully).

“He’s having a play date with the Princess, taking photos, the usual,” JD explains.

“Well, I’m glad he’s enjoying the camera!” Milton says, smiling.

“Enjoying is too weak a word, he practically sleeps with the thing,” JD leans back against the fence, watching the bloodhound bugs yip and chase one another. “Sooo….” He begins, “you know what I’m gonna ask.”

Milton nods.

“I do. You mentioned needing to send some letters to your brothers, and obviously I thought of you when these guys hatched. It’ll be a while until they’re ready though,” he explains.

“How long?” JD asks.

“Truthfully? I’m not sure. They need to mature, obviously, and even then I’m gonna have to train them to follow specific scents. I’ve er, I’ve not actually done it before,” Milton adds awkwardly.

“Oh? Who trained the bloodhound bugs from the tree?”

“My Dad.”

Ah. Yeah. JD was aware that the teen’s father was the previous village vet. It’s obvious what happened to the troll; he attempts to change the subject.

“Well that’s fine! It’ll take as long as it takes, just let me know if I can help,” he says, slapping a firm hand on the other troll's shoulder.

“Will do,” Milton replies, having buckled a little from the slap.

“I’ll bring Branch here soon, to see them. He’ll no doubt take hundreds of photos of the things,” JD chuckles.

“Yes, please do. Anyway, I’ll keep you updated on the progress, but you’re here enough of the time anyway,” Milton shrugs.

“Is it an issue?” JD doesn’t want to intrude.

“No, no, it’s nice to have some help to be honest. Speaking of which, is there any chance you can help feed the glitter worms while I tend to the subtle sloth? I’ve got some more film for the camera you can grab while you’re at it?” Miltons asks, expression hopeful.

John pushes himself from the fence with a groan, “You drive a hard bargain kid. Lead the way.”

“You can wash my vest if you want,” Branch states.

“Are you sure?” John asks. The kid's been coveting it for the whole five months since he’d arrived, it’s very out of character for him to just hand it over.

“Yeah. It needs it and…it was Floyd’s. His vest. It hasn’t smelt like him in ages now so, you might as well wash it,” Branch explains, avoiding his eyes.

JD suspects there’s more to it than this, but he’s unwilling to push, relief at being able to tend to the filthy article of clothing outweighing his curiosity.

“I’ll be careful,” he reassures, taking the vest like a (very very dirty) precious heirloom.

“I know,” Branch says, grinning. He hurries back to rearranging the photos on the desk, and JD finally gets a look at the vest. He doesn’t attempt to look at what Branch is doing; he’s been very secretive about some sort of project he’s working on, and JD has been banned from even peeking. He instead looks closely at the vest.

It’s no wonder he didn’t recognise it, it had almost turned completely brown from dirt. It’s disgusting. It’s also very delicate, crafted with fabric made to look like leaves. He’ll need to soak it and heavily disinfect it.

“Hey Branch,” he calls, curiosity getting the better of him, “how come you have Floyd’s vest?”

“Oh, he gave it to me. Just before he left,” Branch replies, not even looking up from his photos, “he told me to wear it when I missed him.”

Oh. If the connotations of that aren’t heartbreaking enough…why is he taking it off now then?

“Any reason you want to clean it now?” he asks.

“It’s dirty.”

“Anything else?” John probes.

“Well I was talking to Dr Plimsy,” Branch continues shuffling through the pile of photos, “and I was feeling bad because I think I feel angry? At Floyd? Because he promised he would come back, but I don’t think he is going to come back anymore. And she said it was okay to be angry. And I still really miss him, but I think I want to wash it now because it’s really dirty.”

Ahh, okay. It’s glad he’s talking through his feelings, but JD can’t help the spike of anger at Floyd for breaking his promise. Branch has basically accepted he’s not coming back, which is probably for the best, but it’s still heartbreaking to watch him lose faith.

“It’s okay to be angry Bitty. We all left you,” John replies.

“Yeah, but you came back,” Branch says, looking up at JD briefly.

He did. He did come back, but not of his own volition. It took a letter from his Grandma to even consider returning, and sure he hadn’t known that all his brothers had also left, but…if Floyd had got the letter instead of him, he’d have returned too right? He’d be here instead of John, and John would still be on the trail, oblivious.

He can’t say anything to defend Floyd, he doesn’t want to undermine Bitty’s feelings, so instead he begins searching for a bucket to soak the vest. They’d know soon enough. The bloodhound bugs were maturing fast, they’d reach adulthood in a couple of months, and Milton would be able to begin properly training them. All he had to do was provide the scent.

He looks at the vest. Should he wash it, or can he use it for the bloodhound bugs to track? No. It’s far too dirty. He’ll have to find something else of Floyd’s, even if that means returning to their old pod.

Chapter Text

“JD! John Dory, wake up!” Branch’s voice pierces through his sleep. He doesn’t sound panicked though, if anything he sounds excited, so JD takes his time rolling over. He wonders if he’d seen another songbird through the window, and he forces his eyes open, vision bleary. He can make out a blurry Branch, who’s climbed up onto the covers.

Branch had been sleeping in his own room the last few weeks, his sleep paralysis episodes ebbing out to very occasionally. When it happened, he’d come to find John, but he was no longer terrified to go to sleep alone, and JD was thankful for the space.

“No, you can’t close your eyes again, you need to wake up!”

“Immawake I’m awake,” JD says, through a yawn, “what time is it?”

“I don’t know, but I know the day!” Branch replies. He looks excited, and JD’s stomach sinks. Had he forgotten something important?

“Yeah?” he asks, aiming for casual.

“It’s fireworks day! And, and that also means it’s your Hatchday! Happy Hatchday John Dory!” he says, thrusting something into his hands.

Oh shit, was it that time already? JD hadn’t celebrated at all whilst on the trail, he barely kept track of the year never mind the month and day. Even before he'd left, his last couple of Hatchday's had been forgotten in place of band practice, and celebrating Fireworks Day. Branch had somehow remembered though, and he peers down at the card in his hands.

“Oh wow, thanks Bitty! This is awesome!” he says jovially; he’s fully awake now, sitting up so he can look at the card in detail.

It’s handmade, a drawing of what JD suspects is him and Rhonda on the front.

“This is you and Rhonda,” Branch points, confirming this, “and you’re both wearing party hats see? But we’re not having a proper party with lots of people though, because I didn’t think you’d want to have one. And I added a little bit of glitter here, because Poppy said you can’t have a card without glitter, and I never made one before so--"

“Bitty,” JD interrupts his brother rambling, “I love it. Thank you,” he pulls him into a one-armed hug, releasing him to open the card.

JD

Happy Hatchday!!! I know you never used to celebrate your Hatchday but Poppy says that they are very special. I never wrote a Hatchday card before so I asked Poppy and she didn't know ether either so I asked King Peppy and he said to say have a nice day!
Have a nice day! I love you thank you for being here and being the best brother ever
Love Branch

It’s so cute. Aww man, John feels so happy and proud of his brother, he’d done this all off his own back. He almost wants to tear up.

“Love you too Bits,” he says instead, pulling him for another hug, this time with additional squeezing. Branch giggles, wriggling out.

“Wait! I got you breakfast!”

Oh shit.

“You did? That’s great Bitty, thanks!”

The troll who can’t taste made him breakfast. He’s also panicking about him using any sharp knives, how did he even reach the counter-

“Here!” Branch reaches to the floor, then thrusts a plate of toast into his lap. He sighs with relief. It’s just toast. Wait, he'd of had to have used the grill...he's sure it's fine. Either way, he subtly inspects his brother's hands as he grabs the bread.

“Oh wow, it looks great!”

He gingerly takes a bite, being careful not to crunch. It’s cold but edible, and he makes a show of eating it all, praising Branch for his meal. Branch looks so proud of himself, it’s a far cry from the nervous wreck of a child all those months ago.

Rhonda has woken up at this point, she’s milling at the side of the bed, sniffing Branch’s feet that stick out off the side.

“Oh, oh wait, there’s something else I got you,” Branch adds, just as JD’s about to get up out of the bed.

“Do I need to have it in bed?” he asks.

“No? Do you want it in bed?”

JD laughs, “Let me get up then and I’ll have it at the table.”

“Okay!” Branch replies, scrambling from the bed and tearing into the kitchen, Rhonda close at his heels.

JD can’t believe it. He’d completely forgotten the date and had not been particularly bothered even if he had remembered. He can’t remember the last time he’d got a card. Well, he can. The last Hatchday before he’d left, he’d got a card from his Grandma and his brothers had signed it, but they’d been too busy to make a deal out of it, especially with his Hatchday coinciding with Fireworks day; they’d been performing that night. When he was little he’d thought the fireworks were for him, it wasn’t until he was older that he realised it was an actual holiday.

“Here!” as soon as he reaches the table, Branch is thrusting a heavily wrapped gift into his hands. There’s so much tape he struggles to open it.

He peels it back, revealing a small book. He opens it. It’s an album. Branch had clearly made it himself; the photos are wonky, and there’s messy annotations and drawings on each page. It’s perfect.

“I was taking pictures for it of things I think you like, so there’s lots of Rhonda, and I took a photo of your goggles, and you like sleeping so I got a picture of you asleep-“ Branch explains as JD thumbs through the book.

Okay, this is hilarious, when did Bitty even get these photos of him?

“-and I had to ask King Peppy for the glue, and he said to put pictures of me and you in there too-“

He’d been wondering what Branch had been doing that meant he’d had to go to Poppy’s house alone; he’d worried they were going to try and build that bomb after all, and he’d warned Branch against doing anything dangerous. Branch had just said he was doing something secret, and JD had pushed down his suspicion when the King had reassured him it was nothing bad.

“-and I left some pages at the back empty, in case you want to add some more! Do you like it?” Branch finally finishes his ramble.

JD traces a hand over the last photo, it’s of him and Branch on one of their walks. His smile is tender and Branch’s is small but bright.

“Branch, I love this. Thank you. It’s the best present I’ve ever got,” he says, sincerely. There’s no exaggeration here, he doesn’t think anyone has put as much effort into a present for him, ever. Maybe his Grandma.

“Um, I know that you like the fireworks they do later so if you want we can go see them?” Branch suggests. He’s clearly nervous at the idea; every party the trolls had thrown had made him panic, nervous the Bergens would hear, and JD had gone so far as to add more cladding to their pod as soundproofing.

“Nah,” JD grins lazily, “I’d rather stay in and start that puzzle you were talking about.”

“Really?” Branch asks, he’s clearly suspicious.

“Yeah! I don’t fancy all the firework fuss, and you said this puzzle was what, 250 pieces?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Well I’m not the best at puzzles,” it’s a lie, he’s fantastic, “so I’ll definitely need some help. You up for it?”

“If you’re sure?” Branch asks. He’s clearly worked himself up to seeing the fireworks.

“More than sure,” and he is. If you’d told him four years ago he’d be spending his 24th Hatchday doing puzzles with his youngest brother he’d have laughed in his own face. Yeah right.

Right now though, there’s nothing he’d like more. He’s content in a way he hasn’t felt in a long long time.

“Poppy said Hatchday’s are supposed to be special though?” Branch continues, voice confused.

“This

is special! You made me breakfast, got me a card, the best gift ever!” he wants to add that just seeing Branch here and happy, is more special than he could have hoped, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm the kid. “Besides,” he adds, “I don’t think Rhonda will be a fan of the fireworks either.”

At the mention of Rhonda, Bitty nods. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted with a loud HONK.

They both jump, turning to Rhonda, who’s looking very pleased with herself.

“What was that noise!?” Bitty gasps.

“I think she just honked,” JD replies, beckoning her over.

“Is she supposed to?”

“Well she’s a transportation critter so I assume so. She must be getting so big! Aren’t you girl? Yes you are!” JD leans down, babying his voice as he rubs her face vigorously. She’s up to his elbows now, and it’s getting to be a squeeze getting her out of the pod. They’d already had to replace her bed with a larger one (and softer, at Bitty’s insistence).

“Look! Look! JD, is that…?” Bitty points to the side of her carapace.

“Oh wow, she’s getting her windows!”

He’s excited. She’s getting so big now. Too big. They need to get started on the bunker ASAP.

click

Bitty’s pulled his camera out of thin air and is enthusiastically photographing her.

“Hold up your book JD!” He requests.

“Sir, yes sir,” John jokes, holding his album to the camera and giving a wide grin.

“Now crouch next to Rhonda.”

“Like this?”

“Mmm, be more cool looking.”

“Excuse me!” JD replies, mock offended. He pulls an exaggerated bad-boy pose, arms crossed and face purposefully mean. Branch giggles, snapping the photo.

“Let me see,” JD asks. Branch hands him the photos. Oh wow, he looks so stupid, but at Branch’s cheeky expression, he can’t regret it. Rhonda just looks happy to be there.

“Come on, one of both of us now,” he says, beckoning Branch over. As is custom, he takes the photo, long arms more equipped to take the selfie.

It may have been the light, but as they smiled, he swore Branch was looking a little less grey.

He hated the bunker. He loathed it with every fiber of his being. John Dory thought he was a fit man. Keyword thought. It was proving far more difficult than he’d thought to properly dig and secure the space, and he’s yet again amazed at the fact his brother had done as much as he had. Branch was adamant that they needed an elevator, but JD had managed to talk him down to a ladder, with the promise they could always upgrade in the future when they had a better idea of what they were doing. The structure for Rhonda was far more easy to assemble, as they’d decided to keep it top-side.

When he’d explained to King Peppy what they were building, he’d framed it more along the lines that they were wanting to live close to Rhonda, and less like they were building a survival bunker. King Peppy seemed the type to panic a little at the connotations attached to a survival bunker; he was adamant he didn’t want his people worrying. It was fine by JD though, he wasn’t exactly building a communal bunker. Nope, it was for him and Branch. Well, Branch wanted to make it large enough to accommodate more people, and John suspected he was talking about their brothers, though he was purposefully vague, and JD couldn’t exactly say no. Peppy had mentioned getting in some of the fuzzlings to help with the construction, and at first JD had refused. He didn't need the extra help, they'd be fine on their own. Now though, it became clear how much of an undertaking it really was, and he was considering letting the King get him the help. He'd swallow his pride if it meant the place was built safely.
He was frustrated. They were nearly at four rooms fully dug, each leading down with a makeshift ladder (which would be replaced with a much better ladder at a later date). He was currently installing the luminescent fauna in one of the rooms, attempting to transfer it into the ground from its original pot. And it wasn’t right.

It was leaning, jutting awkwardly to the side, no matter how hard he tried to manoeuvre it, the other mushrooms hadn’t given him this much trouble so why was this one refusing to cooperate? He needed it to stay, he needed it perfect!

“John…”

“What?” he asks, not even turning to face Branch. Maybe if he replanted it he could-

“Are you nearly finished?”

“Yes, I’m nearly finished,” maybe he should throw this one away and get a less fucked up one, find a perfectly straight one and-

“Because you said that we were--"

“Can I have five fucking minutes Branch where you’re not-“ he cuts himself off, having finally turned to Branch. His small body is coiled, like he’s expecting a hit, and his face is distraught.

The anger leaves immediately, followed by a deep and heavy guilt.

“Oh sh-, sorry, I’m sorry Branch, I shouldn’t have said that,” he implores.

What was wrong with him? Well, lots. He knew this. He was overwhelmed. This was no excuse though.

“It’s okay,” Branch replies, voice small.

“It’s not. I don’t get to talk to you like that,” he doesn’t get to take his anger out on his brother’s anymore. It’s not fair. He sees that now.

“You swore,” Branch accuses.

“I did,” JD nods, “I shouldn’t have.”

“Are you okay?” Bitty asks, face a picture of concern.

He was the adult. He shouldn’t be worrying Branch like this, it wasn’t fair.

“I’m okay,” he reassures. He will be. This can’t get any worse. He might even need to pay Dr Plimsy a visit. Not for therapy! No, no he wasn’t that bad! Maybe he could have a chat or two with her though…get some stuff off his chest. Speak with an adult and not a child.

“Come on,” he says standing, the scent of mud and sweat is overbearing, “let's get out of here and get something to eat.”

They head out of the bunker, JD behind Branch in case he slips on the ladders. He doesn’t even glance at the mushroom.

“This isn’t therapy,” he insists. He’s sat opposite Plimsy, he’s tense, awkward, and out of his depth.

“That’s fine. We don’t have to call this anything,” Dr Plimsy shrugs, “can I ask why you’re so reluctant to have therapy though?”

“I don’t need therapy. I’m not that bad, it’s not necessary, there’s nothing wrong with me,” he explains.

“Is there something wrong with Branch?” she asks.

“What?! No!” he’s indignant, hackles raised at the suggestion.

“He’s having therapy though?”

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“I’m not allowed to have…you know. Issues.”

“Were you allowed to be vulnerable when growing up?” Plimsy asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

“What? Yes! I mean, sort of. I was the oldest, I didn’t want to be, you know. Weak? In front of any of them, they had to be able to rely on me,” he explains.

“So would you say you were their primary caregiver?” She asks.

“No,” he laughs bitterly, “that was Grandma. I just helped out where I could.”

“Where were your parents?” she asks.

“Busy. Traveling. They came back when they could,” he defends, “then they came back with an egg and that’s the last we saw them. Grandma said they’d um, they’d died.”

He refuses to think about it, shoved deep in the back of his mind. He loved his parents, he did, but they were almost strangers. He remembers wondering what he’d done wrong every time they left but felt unsettled whenever they returned. They’d turn up, disrupt the routine, then just when there seemed to be a new routine, they’d up and leave again, leaving his Grandma to clean up the mess.

“Okay,” Plimsy looks thoughtful. “What did you want to talk about today?” she asks.

“Well, just stress and stuff I guess. I er, I snapped at Branch. I can’t be doing stuff like that, not anymore.”

“Why did you ‘snap’?” she asks. There’s no judgment in her tone, just curiosity.

“Well, it’s stupid. It was really stupid, it was this mushroom, I,” he laughs. It’s not funny. “It wasn’t straight. I needed it to be straight, it wasn’t like…perfect. And it pissed me off.”

“Is that important to you? That things are ‘perfect’ I mean?”

“Well yeah,” he scoffs, “look. I get it. I know my flaws, everything has to be perfect because it’s a reflection of my self worth blah blah blah. Hell, I can’t even apologise because it’s like admitting I’m wrong, and I can’t be wrong. It’s fucked up, I know this. I just can’t be taking this shit out on Branch, it’s not okay.”

“It’s good that you’re self-aware John,” she praises.

“Yeah, well I’ve had a lot of time to self-reflect,” he huffs. Those four years alone he did nothing but self-reflect, and analyse every mistake he ever made.

“Look-“ he continues, “honestly? All I want from this thing is to be able to bitch to an adult and complain about my problems,” he might as well be honest. He’s not looking for a fix as such, more as a vent.

“We can do that then. That’s fine,” Plimsy agrees, smiling.

“Yeah?” John asks, suspiciously.

“Yeah. Are you okay with me adding suggestions though? Or do you just want me to listen?” She asks.

JD thinks, “I mean, if I ask? For advice I mean.”

“That’s fine then. So what did you want to talk about first?”

JD opens his mouth, and his worries tumble out like shards of glass.

Chapter Text

“So Branch, what were you wanting to do for your Hatchday?” JD asks.

They’ve just got back from visiting Milton; almost all of the bloodhound bugs were obsessed every time they saw Branch, crowding him and licking him, and Branch always took it in his stride, cuddling back as hard as he could. He was currently brushing his hair, the rough playing of the pups having completely tangled the ends.

JD had been thinking about Branch’s Hatchday for a while now; his brother had put such effort into his Hatchday, that he had to pull out all the stops. The kid deserved it after all. He didn’t want to spring anything on him though, Branch hated being unprepared and he very much relied on routine and preparation throughout the day. So a surprise was out.

“I don’t know?” Branch replies. He’s thinking now, face screwed up in contemplation, “when is it?”

“Next month,” JD replies. It’s not too surprising Branch has no idea, he hadn’t celebrated it since he was four.

“Oh. Okay. Can I think about it?” Branch asks.

“Sure. I had an idea though,” JD begins, he’s not sure what Branch will think of it, “if you wanted we could go camping?”

“For my Hatchday?”

“If you wanted?” JD suggests.

He doesn’t know if Branch would even want to go, having lived outside for two years, but he’s been wanting to take his brother for a while and get out of the village for a bit. He wouldn’t take them too far, he wouldn’t want to risk anything going wrong too far from medical help, and he would be conscious of critters but…he missed sleeping outside. There was something suffocating about the village, and it would be good for Branch to experience something new.

“We can do some swimming, fishing, relaxing,” he continues, listing on his hand.

“Would we stay in a tent?” Branch asks; he seems interested.

“Yeah, I’d make it really comfy with bedrolls too,” JD assures.

“Could we bring a light?” Branch asks, ever conscious of the dark.

“Of course! Plus we always have Rhonda,” JD is referring to the fact that her eyes had recently begun to glow at night, shining two bright beams across the pod. It was annoying, he wasn’t going to lie, but it was to be expected with her species.

“And we can go swimming?” Branch asks warily.

“Course. There’s bound to be lakes nearby,” the King would know for sure, or rather the trolls who traveled out of the village on his behalf would know.

Bitty thinks for a moment. “I can’t swim,” he says finally.

“Well, I can teach you if you’d like? We don’t have to go Bits, it’s your Hatchday. Just a suggestion, no pressure,” JD reassures.

“I think…I think I’d like that. As long as we weren’t sleeping outside, and maybe you can teach me to swim?” Branch seems to come around to the idea.

“I promise, we’ll be in a tent. And yeah, I’ll teach you to swim, and we can make a fire pit, and you can take your camera,” JD says, thinking aloud.

“Yeah! We need to bring lots and lots of film,” Bitty agrees, enthusiastically.

“Yup! We’ll bring more film than you can carry,” JD promises, striding over to ruffle Bitty’s hair. Branch giggles, swatting him away.

Great. This is an actual thing he can do for Branch. He just has to figure out a gift and make sure the whole thing goes perfect as well as it can.

John Dory was excited. They were finally leaving the village for a while; camping for Branch’s Hatchday. They were only going for a few days, but his Hatchday fell right in the middle; Poppy had been upset she wouldn’t see him on the day, but JD had promised Branch that they could do something together when he got back.

Considering they’re only going for five days max, the amount of stuff he was packing seems excessive. He wasn’t taking any risks though, so he’d stocked up on food (including spices) and first aid, plus he had to carefully wrap Branch’s cake in a way it wouldn’t be squished.

He’d just baked it, waiting until just before they left, whilst Branch had spent the afternoon with Poppy, and he was certain it was a cake Branch (and only Branch) would like. He’d been experimenting with flavours, and found that Branch could also taste extremely sour flavours as well as sweet and spicy, so he had made the sourest cake to ever exist. No doubt it tasted disgusting, but Branch would like it. Bitty had taken to chewing bits of lemon, and JD had to stop himself gagging every time he saw it.

The gift was harder to think of. He’d initially thought of getting him something for the camera, but when he’d spoken to Peppy about equipment for their bunker, the King had mentioned he had some welding goggles available. He’d looked through the selection and found a pair that looked perfect for Branch, the lenses were round and separate, but they were a similar pink to JD’s own goggles. They’d be useful for when Branch no doubt upgraded to more manual building and experimentation (he’d seen his notes, it was only a matter of time), and they were a subtle nod to JD’s own pair. Branch had already expressed his love of JD’s, giggling whenever he’d been able to try them on. They were always far too large though, this pair Peppy produced was adjustable. He’d also managed to snag a few books he knew Branch would like, a couple on critter biology and a large book of fairytales. The pages were illustrated, and JD had scribbled a message into the first page of the book, the sanctity of it be damned.

So everything was ready: tent, first aid, enough of Branch’s brew to last, present, cake, stuff to swim in. He packed Branch’s new light jacket; it was too hot for his coat, and he’d managed to snag a couple at the last market. He’d decided to bring matches, as fun as manually starting a fire would be, he wanted everything to run as smoothly as possible. The only thing he couldn’t control was the weather, but so far it looked promising. Now all he had to do was take Rhonda and collect his brother from the King's pod.

“Stand next to the tent please!” Branch calls.

JD complies, ever the obedient model. He’d accepted his role as the subject of Branch’s impromptu photoshoots many moons ago.

“Again? Didn’t you take one already?” he asks, even as he heads towards the tent.

Bitty shakes his head, “It didn’t come out right, I missed some of your head.”

“Well obviously I need a head,” JD agrees, posing, “face?” he asks. Branch is going through a stage of directing his expressions, and coming up with scenarios for every photo. It’s hilarious to see the little troll come up with his ideas.

“Mmm, thoughtful, like you just lost something special,” Branch finally decides.

JD snorts, before schooling his face into the desired expression. It was like having acting lessons, and the photos always turned out hysterical. The scenarios were getting more and more outlandish, and if it weren’t for the fact he knew he’d be the prime actor, he’d consider getting the kid a moving film camera.

click

“Perfect!” Branch exclaims. JD pushes down his unease at Bitty using the description (please, please say he won’t pick up JD’s issues with perfection), instead holding his hand out for the photo.

“Oh wow Bits it’s…” he looks constipated, he’d never claim to be an actor, “great! It looks great! Did you want to take a break from photos and head to the lake?” he asks, desperate for a break from modeling.

They’d set up camp a short walk from a small lake, far enough away it wasn’t dangerous; he was conscious of critters using it for a water source, but JD had packed his knife just in case.

“Oh okay,” Branch replies, a bit more subdued. The silence is broken by Rhonda’s loud honking; she’s running in a circle around the camp.

“We don’t have to swim if you don’t want to?” JD reassures.

“No, I want to! I’m just nervous,” Bitty replies, fiddling with his camera.

“Hey, we’ll take it slow. We won’t be in very long anyway, it might get cold,” JD was more than aware of the temperature, and was prepared with several towels to wrap his brother in once they were finished. The water wouldn’t be too cold anyway, the sun was hot and at least the surface would be lukewarm.

“Okay then, let's do it,” Branch says, expression determined.

“Sweet! Go on and change into your shorts and we’ll head over.”

“Will the camp be okay?” Branch asks, concerned.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll shut everything in the tent.”

Branch had insisted on setting up various alert systems around their camp site; JD had thought he might be concerned, so had packed empty cans and rope, and the two had set up a perimeter that would wake them, should anything cross. JD watches as Branch ducks under the rope nimbly, making his way to the tent to change.

It’s a short walk once they’re both in suitable clothing, and JD brings their clothes to change back into afterward so Branch won’t be walking around in wet shorts.

Rhonda situates herself next to the lake, basking in the sunlight.

JD steps into the water, easing himself in. It really isn’t that cold, not that Branch will tell. He holds a hand out to help his brother into the water, and Branch slowly steps into the lake. JD guides his brother out until the water is at Branch’s shoulders, aware of how tightly he’s gripping at his hands.

“Okay, so I think it’s probably best to get used to floating first,” he thinks aloud. He can barely remember when he learnt to swim, and it had been years since he’d helped his other brothers master the art.

“How?”

“Well if you lean back like a star, I’ll put my hands underneath you. You should just naturally float on the surface,” John explains.

“You won’t let me go?” Branch asks, fearful.

“No, not yet. I will at some point but I’ll let you know beforehand and I’ll do it reeeally slowly,” he reassures, dragging out the word.

Branch leans himself back, and JD props his body up in the water, holding him until he’s balanced. He keeps his hands under his back, letting Bitty acclimatize.

“Mmm this is weird. It’s nice though,” Bitty says. His hair is floating around him like dark seaweed, and JD is glad he brought their brush.

“Okay I’m gonna remove my hands now,” he warns.

“Will I sink?” Branch panics.

“I won’t let you, I’ll keep my hands underneath, okay?”

“Okay.”

JD slowly removes his hands; Branch looks close to flailing but when it’s clear he’s still floating his face breaks into a grin.

“You’re doing it Bits!” JD encourages.

“You sound really weird,” Branch replies.

“That’s the water, it muffles everything,” he explains.

“I sound really weird!” Branch sounds delighted at this.

Branch floats for a minute, JD watching fondly.

“Did you want to try some swimming?” he asks.

Bitty hums; he’s clearly relaxed. “Okay,” he says finally.

JD helps him back to standing.

“Put your hands here,” he points to his elbows, Bitty grabs on, and JD secures his own hands under Branch’s arms, locking them into place.

“Okay, now try and lift your legs…I’ve got you! Just start trying to kick.”

Branch begins to kick, his legs flailing beneath the water. He’s unbalanced, and JD holds tight.

“That’s good! Just practice kicking!”

“I’m gonna go under!” Branch panics, his nails digging into JD’s arm.

“You’re not! I’ve got you!” JD reassures. Branch shakes his head.

“No, no I don’t like it!”

JD immediately stops, pulling him close and perching him on his hip.

“That’s fine! We can stop, you did really well,” he says; Branch looks ashamed.

“But I didn’t even use my arms.”

“Yeah well you can do that another time! It took me ages to learn to swim,” John says. To be fair, it did, he didn’t like getting his hair wet which had been a major obstacle.

“Did you want to head out?” he adds at Bitty’s dejected expression.

“Yeah, can we make a sand castle?” Branch asks.

“Um, nice idea Bits, but there’s no sand, not really, it’s more like gravel. It’s not a beach.”

“Oh yeah…” Branch’s face drops.

“Maybe we can make a mud castle?” JD suggests, eager to remove the crestfallen expression from his brother’s face. It works, Bitty perks up immediately.

“Yeah! Good plan.”

They began wading back to shore, JD staying close to Bitty who insists on walking by himself instead of being carried. They’re close when Rhonda seems to notice them, perking up with a trill. She leaps up, bounding into the water directly towards them.

“WAIT Rhonda--" JD calls, but it’s too late; she’s leapt up at Branch, barreling into him. JD attempts to grab his brother, but Rhonda has already tipped him backwards into the lake with a huge splash, the two of them disappearing under the ripples.

Panic hits him, and he dives under, tearing Rhonda from his brother and pulling him to the surface.

“You’re okay, you’reokayyou’reokay!” his words are rushed; he must sound hysterical, but he’s focused on his brother’s panicked face as he coughs and splutters.

He’s aware of Rhonda surfacing, paddling further out, but he ignores her, marching to the shore, Bitty tight in his grip. He needs to calm down, he can’t afford to panic, he needs to reassure Branch. He places him gently down, taking his face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did you breathe in any water?” he asks, keeping his voice steady.

“N-no,” Branch replies, but he’s coughing again. JD rubs his back, reaching into their bag to grab a towel. He wraps him inside, sitting him down, reaching for another towel.

“I’m okay JD,” Bitty reassures, and if that doesn’t make him feel worse, because his little brother should not be having to comfort him.

“I know, I know you are,” he replies, huffing out an awkward laugh, “gave me a fright though.”

He’s read too many first aid and medical books recently to not be concerned about drowning, secondary drowning, pneumonia…

“I think Rhonda just wanted a swim,” Branch reasons. JD takes a calming breath, forcing a grin.

“Yeah well, she went about it in the wrong way,” he chuckles nervously.

“Did you teach her to swim?” Branch asks, clearly curious.

He’s clearly unbothered by his near-drowning experience, and it helps JD calm his nerves.

“No, a lot of critters know how to swim intrinsically,” he explains. He begins gently drying Bitty’s hair with the towel, rubbing the towel into his tangled strands.

“In-trin-sickly?” Branch sounds out the word.

“Oh, uh, naturally. She just knows how to do it.”

“Like how we know how to breathe?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” he guesses, unsurprised his brother immediately grasps the concept.

“Hmm,” Bitty’s clearly in thought.

JD dries him off, passing him his dry shorts.

“Can you start the mud castle while I change?” Bitty asks. Oh yeah, he’d forgotten about that.

“Sure,” he nods, mourning his clean nails.

He forgoes changing into his own dry clothes; he’s only going to get covered in mud. Instead, he begins arduously grabbing wet dirt, dropping it close to Branch, and attempting to build something castle-like.

“Look!” Branch is dressed, walking over carrying two rocks, “this can be me and you, and I’ll find another one for Rhonda.”

“Which one’s me?” JD asks. Branch compares the two.

“This one!” he holds up an uneven rock, it’s got a tuft of moss on the top.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” JD replies, grinning.

“I think it needs to be taller,” Branch critiques, looking at the pile of mud.

“Yeah, it’s a bit trickier than sand, not going to lie,” John says, attempting to squish the mud higher.

Branch kneels beside him, abandoning the rocks to help him build.

“I read a book where they built sandcastles on a beach,” Branch says, patting the mud, “and it looked really fun. They put shells on top, and made little flags. Can we find some sand one day and make an actual sand castle?” he asks.

“Sure. There’ll be a beach somewhere, and we’ll definitely go one day,” JD promises.

“Good,” Branch nods, “because this looks really bad.”

JD laughs. He takes no offence, it really does look awful.

“Did you want to call it quits?” he asks.

“Let me just add the rocks…” Branch drops the stones atop the pile where they begin to sink, “there.”

HONK

Rhonda bounds towards them, water cascading down her shell; she’s got a large fish in her mouth and John’s surprised it fits.

“Aww looks she’s caught us a-"

She opens her mouth, swallowing it with several concerning-sounding gulps.

“Ah. Never mind,” JD trails off. He should have seen it coming. If he was honest, he’s glad she swallowed it whole; he had no idea how Branch would have reacted to her chewing it up in front of him, especially with the way it was still wriggling. Even now he looks a little ill.

“She ate it while it was alive,” he says, his small voice filled with horror. JD winces.

“Yeeeah. Rhonda’s an omnivore, which means she eats meat and veg,” he tries to explain.

“Are…are the Bergen’s omnivore?” Bitty asks.

Okaaaay, JD needs to change the subject and quick.

“The Bergen’s are just bad Bits. It’s different, okay?”

“But that fish, what if that fish had a family?” Branch asks, he seems so confused. JD has no idea how to go into the nuance of the intelligence of fish, and the food chain.

“It’s not got the same intelligence as us Bitty. It’s…different. Why-why don’t I see if I can get you some books on it? When we get back?” he suggests. Books are always good, Branch is adept at reading the information and forming his own opinions.

“Oh. Okay. When I used to eat critter, when I was alone, I didn’t like it. The sound it made, made me sick sometimes,” he says, casually. JD’s heart stutters at the mental image of Branch suffering a flashback, all alone.

“Yeah? Well you don’t need to eat it anymore now, I’ll make sure you have lots of nice things to eat instead,” JD promises, his chest tightening at the reminder of his brother’s starvation. “Anyway,” he continues, hoping to change the subject, “shall we head back and get a fire started?”

“And you can tell me some more stories?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” Branch nods.

They wash their hands in the lake and JD grabs their items, whistling for Rhonda. He can change back at the tent, it’s warm enough that his shorts are already beginning to dry. He’ll have to keep a close eye on Bitty for illness, he’s hoping he didn’t actually inhale any water, but he can’t be too sure.

The fire illuminates their small camp, the gentle crackles creating a comforting background ambiance. They don’t sit too close, JD wary of the heat, but they’re close enough JD can feel the hot air hit him with every breeze. It’s nice, it reminds him of being on the trail, with much lower stakes. Rhonda’s eyes track beams across the sky as she lumbers around, sniffing at the tent poles.

“And I used to crawl into your hair?” Branch has been asking for stories about their brothers and when he was a baby, and JD was doing his best to answer, pushing aside his melancholy at the memories.

“Yeah, when you were super little. You used to like Spruce’s hair the best, but you tried to climb into everyone’s hair,” he can remember waking up to the baby making a nest in his own hair, remembering the annoyance he’d felt. He feels bad now, Bitty was only doing what was natural, but at the time he’d been nothing but frustrated, passing him to one of his brothers as soon as he could.

“When did you realise I could sing?”

“You were almost two, we didn’t even realise at this point, because you weren’t even speaking in full sentences. You’d only just stopped trying to crawl into our hair, you were that young. I remember we were rehearsing one day and we heard this little voice join in.”

It had shocked him, to the point of him stopping mid-word. He'd turned to his baby brother, and sure enough he was singing along, his voice bright and clear and JD had been impressed at how good it had sounded, harmonising with his brothers.

“You were a natural,” he continues, “you must have been listening to us rehearse the whole time and picked up the song.”

“Then you put me in the band?”

“Um, sort of,” it had taken Floyd and his Grandma a lot of convincing to let Bitty join, JD had been adamant that Branch would give the band an extra edge. “Not straight away. But yeah, you joined.”

“I remember bits of it. Not really clearly but I remember I liked wearing the glasses. Did I have bad eyes?” Branch asks.

“Nah, we just all had a ‘look’ we were going for, and the glasses looked really cute,” JD explains.

“Yeah, and Clay had his weird underwear.”

“Yeah,” JD laughs, “they were kinda weird, weren’t they?”

“Didn’t Clay used to have these um…suits? That were all in one? I saw photos of him wearing them,” Branch asks, struggling for the word.

“His dungarees? Oh yeah, he had loads didn’t he,” JD can remember he had a collection of brightly patterned ones that he’d switch out.

“I don’t remember lots, but I think he had a green one,” Branch muses.

“Yeah that was his favourite. It had a pocket that looked like a face, and when you were really little you liked to feed it crayons.”

It had been so cute. Not that JD had paid it much attention, but he has flashes of the baby posting crayons while Clay made exaggerated eating noises.

“Do you…do you think they’re okay?” Branch asks, his hands nervously bunching into his shorts.

“I’m sure they’re fine Bitty,” JD reassures, as much to himself. The more time passes, the more he convinces himself something must be wrong, something must have happened, because why else would they leave Branch this long? Surely they’d come back? JD had thought his brothers had stayed, that he had four whole people looking out for him, if he’d known he was alone, even with just their Grandma, he’d have returned sooner. So why hadn’t they? Logically he knows, even if they did come back, all they'd return to would be the abandoned pod, but...they'd have looked further right? JD had.

“Are they busy? Is that why they haven’t come home?” Branch asks.

“I don’t know. We’ll find out though, we’re gonna send some letters soon, when the bloodhound bugs are better at sniffing out stuff.”

“Even Geronimo?” Branch asks. He’d gotten fond of the littlest bloodhound, giving it the most cuddles out of all the bugs whenever they visited the sanctuary. They’d definitely formed a little bond, and JD’s heart melted whenever he saw the two interact.

“Well maybe. Maybe we can send Buzz or Jam instead.”

“Jam doesn’t like me very much, he always growls,” Bitty nods, like this is a much better option.

“He’s just grumpy, don’t worry, it’s not just you.”

There’s a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the crackles of the fire and the distant chirps of critters.

“Come on, let’s turn in. Big day tomorrow after all,” JD enthuses. Branch grins in excitement.

“I’m gonna be seven!”

“Nah, no way, you’re only three!” JD jokes.

“Noo, I’m seven!” Branch giggles.

“Ohh so you’re turning eight?”

“Nooo, tomorrow I’m seven!” Branch insists, laughing.

“Oh wow, well that’s such a big Hatchday you definitely need a good night's sleep!” JD insists.

They head into the tent, JD tucking his brother into his bed roll. The small glowfly JD captured bounces within the ventilated jar, dangling above their heads. He’ll release it tomorrow, but there was no way Branch would be sleeping in the dark.

“Night Bitty,” he whispers.

“Night JD. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies, fondly.

He lies back, shutting his eyes, beginning his nightly ritual of rumination over everything that went wrong, and could go wrong.

JD wakes, the light hitting his eyelids with a vengeance. He’s surprised to see Bitty still asleep, but it’s good, it means he can get some stuff ready for him to wake up to. He carefully extracts himself from his bedroll, creeping to grab his bag. The gifts are inside, and carefully wrapped in linen, and a small box, is the cake. He sets them to the side for now; he’s rummaging for something to make for breakfast when he hears his brother’s voice.

“John Dory?” He still sounds half asleep, and JD can see him rubbing his eyes.

“Just here Bitty, looking for some breakfast. Happy Hatchday!” he says brightly, crawling back towards the bedrolls.

“Is it morning?” Bitty asks, shuffling onto his elbows.

“Yup! Well I’m assuming so, it’s pretty bright. Do you want a drink?” JD asks, not that he’d take no for an answer.

“Yes, please. Is that my present?” Branch asks, perking up as he sees the wrapped gifts.

“Sure is! Here,” JD hands him the flask of water, “you can open them now, or in a bit when we’ve eaten. It’s your day so it’s up to you.”

Branch takes a large gulp of water, quickly thrusting the flask back to JD, “Now please!”

JD chuckles, “Sure thing Bits,” he grabs the first present, passing it over. Branch holds it like it’s going to explode, gently removing the tape so it doesn’t tear. JD isn’t sure he’s ever seen a kid open a present so carefully, but Branch is unfolding each part like it’s a piece of priceless art. Even when he reveals the gift, he gasps, placing the paper gently to the side to inspect the goggles.

“They’re for me?” he asks, voice awed.

“Yeah, they’re for when you’re helping with the bunker, and when you start these experiments you’re planning. Plus they look really cool,” JD explains, grinning.

Branch turns them over in his hands, running his fingers along the ridges of each lens. Then they’re on his face, in a flash, as he struggles to try them on.

“Here, let me tighten them,” JD says, reaching for the strap. Branch peers out, looking very beetle-like, but he’s grinning too.

“Everything’s pink!” he says, “it’s so cool! They’re the same colour as yours JD!”

“Yeah, they are aren’t they?” JD agrees. Branch pushes them up, resting them above his forehead.

“Do they look okay?” He asks. He looks so cute, like some sort of miniature scientist.

“They look great Bits,” he replies, giving a double thumbs up for emphasis.

Branch scrambles out his bedroll, attaching himself to JD, “Thank you!”

JD hugs back, cupping the back of his head, “You’re welcome Bits.”

“Wait!” Branch leans back, “you need to take a photo, I want to see what they look like!”

“Sure! Where’s your camera?”

Branch scuttles to the corner of the tent, rummaging through his own bag. He finds the camera, brandishing it with a grin.

“Here!” He says, handing it to JD and leaning back with a grin.

click

JD watches the photo process fondly, the goggles are slightly wonky, and Branch’s hair needs a good brush, but he looks so happy. He passes it over to Branch, who’s making grabby hands.

“Wow, I look like you!” he says, happily.

“You look cooler than me,” JD adds, “is that a good thing?” he adds, self-conscious at the comparison.

“Yup!” Branch nods. It makes JD feel warm, the fact his little brother wants to look like him. It’s surreal, to be looked up to in that way.

“Here,” he says, passing Branch the wrapped books. He’d wrapped them stacked, aware he only had so much paper.

“I get more?” Branch asks, incredulous.

“Sure do!”

“Oh, okay! Um-“ he begins opening the gift, with the same reverence as the first. On seeing the books, his eyes light up.

“These are amazing! Thank you! Is this a storybook?” He asks, referring to the fairytales.

“Yup! I can read some to you later if you’d like?”

“Yes please!” Branch enthuses. He opens the book, reading JD’s note with concentration.

Happy Hatchday Bitty! You deserve the world, love John Dory

He’d been simple with his message, not particularly great at being sentimental. It makes Branch happy though, his fingers trace the words before carefully thumbing through, pausing at the illustrations.

“Thank you,” he says again, his face is so grateful it almost looks like it hurts.

“It’s fine Bitty. You deserve it,” JD replies. There’s a brief silence where JD isn’t sure if Branch is going to cry or laugh.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Branch states. JD almost rolls his eyes; of course he does. He was terrified of cavities, and insisted on brushing his teeth first thing every day. He’s glad he hasn’t started crying though, even though it would probably be happy tears.

“Sure thing Bitty, you do that and I’ll get started on breakfast. Still want spicy beans?”

“Yes please! Can I play with Rhonda while you make it?” he asks.

“Sure, you know where she is.”

He watches as Bitty places his books carefully on his bedroll, before much more hastily grabbing his toothbrush and water to head outside. Branch had tried to convince him to let Rhonda sleep in the tent with them, worried she’d be scared, but JD had reassured him she’d be fine, she was used to sleeping outside and actually enjoyed it. Which, when the weather was good, she did.

He reaches up to grab the dangling jar, taking it with him outside to release the glowfly, watching as it flies away, barely noticeable against the sun's glare. Okay, so today had gone well so far. JD allows himself this win (ignoring the fact they’d been awake barely an hour, it’s still a win). Now he just had to ensure everything else went perfect well.

Bitty enjoyed the cake. He’d actually squeaked with excitement when he’d seen it, vibrating in place until JD had brought it close enough to see. He’d tried really hard to make it presentable, but it had been hard, especially when he had purposefully skewed the ingredients the way he had. The copious amounts of lemon had made it overly soft, and he’d debated covering the top in pure sugar, but he’d worried it would cancel out the sour flavour, and Bitty wouldn’t be able to taste it at all. He didn’t know, he wasn’t a chef or anything, so he left it as is, but had added some colouring to give it a bright blue hue. There were seven candles perfectly evenly spaced in the middle, and JD had lit them with a match.

“Did you want me to sing?” JD asks. He knew Branch had issues with others singing, mainly born from his fear of loud noise and his own internal fears of singing, so he was expecting a no.

“Okay,” Bitty agrees, to his shock. This was surprising…it wasn’t bad though. He clears his throat (wow it had been a while since he sang).

“ Happy Hatchday to you,

Happy Hatchday to you,

Happy Hatchday to Bitty,

May your dreams all come true!”

He sings dramatically, but still in tune, and Branch grins as he blows out the candles.

“I can’t remember doing this before very well, am allowed to tell you my wish?” Branch asks. Of course he struggles to remember, he’d have been four the last time and that’s if his Grandma had even made a cake; JD has no idea what they did leading up to Trollstice, they may have not had the time or resources.

“Well, you’re not supposed to,” JD begins.

“Okay then, it’ll be a secret. Does that mean it will come true?” Branch asks innocently.

“It depends on what it is,” JD replies truthfully. For all he knew, the kid wished for an extra arm, he wants to be realistic.

“Mmm,” Branch hums, “I think it’ll come true. Thanks JD,” he smiles up at his brother, and yet again JD feels so grateful that Branch has reached this point. He’s smiling, he’s talking, he’s happy. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his head wondering, why is he still grey? He reminds himself of what Plimsy had said though, it could be gradual. As long as he was happy, that was the main thing, (can you be grey and happy…?).

“Do you want a slice?” he asks, pushing away that particular train of thought.

“Please,” Bitty replies, nodding enthusiastically. His goggles bounce with the movement; he’d refused to take them off.

JD cuts him a piece, handing it over on some of the linen. Branch looks pleasantly surprised at the taste.

“Is this lemon?” he asks upon swallowing.

“Yup! Lots and lots of lemon.”

“Did-did you want a slice?” Branch asks, nodding to the cake.

“It’s probably too sour for me Bits,” JD answers honestly, “but it’s fine. I made it for you. Just don’t eat it all at once,” he warns, wary that the acidity of the many lemons he’d added will wreak havoc on his brother’s stomach.

“Oh okay,” Branch accepts this, diving back into his slice.

“Sooo…did you want to do any fishing today?” JD had suggested the idea, and Branch had seemed receptive enough, though his run-in with Rhonda and the fish yesterday may have changed his mind.

“Will it hurt the fish?” Branch asks.

“I mean the idea is that you eat the fish you catch so…”

“Oh. I…” Branch thinks, pausing in his eating, “I used to hurt the critters that were caught in my traps. I don’t think they died, but they lost their legs or antennae sometimes, and it was okay because they were really scary and I was worried they’d hurt me, but…the fish won’t hurt me? And I don’t want to be bad, like the Bergens, and hurt them because I can?” Branch attempts to explain.

It’s fair enough. Before JD can add input, Branch continues.

“I feel bad about hurting the critters now? I thought that I had to because otherwise they’d hurt me, but what if I was just being bad?”

“You weren’t being bad, you were being safe. Some critters are really dangerous, you were just being careful.”

“So I wasn’t being like the Bergens?” Branch asks, worried.

“Not at all. The Bergens attack trolls who are defenceless, you were keeping yourself safe.”

“Oh. That’s good. I don’t think I want to hurt the fish though, because aren’t they defenceless too?” Branch asks.

Oh, his brain is too fried for this. “It’s a little different but yeah, I see where you’re coming from. We don’t have to fish if you don’t want to.”

“Can we catch them in a way that won’t hurt them? So I can take their photo?” Branch asks. JD thinks, surely there must be a way?

“Yeeeeah,” he thinks aloud, “maybe we can use the bucket?”

“The one we collected water in for Rhonda?” Branch asks.

“Only bucket we brought Bitty,” JD grins.

“Oh yeah…yeah! Can we do that instead?” Branch asks.

He supposes it could work if they find fish small enough to fit. “We can try! Might not find any though,” he warns.

“That’s okay! It’ll still be fun.”

This is the best Hatchday Branch can remember. One of the only ones he can remember, but it’s still the best. John Dory had got him his own goggles, and some books that looked so much fun to read. He’d even baked him a cake. Branch felt bad; he hadn’t baked JD a cake for his Hatchday, but JD had told him he didn’t really want him using the oven or anything sharp, so he’d figured it was okay. He'd grilled the bread for toast, but was scared it counted as the oven so had only done it for a minute, and JD had seemed fine at the time so it was probably okay. His brother was the best though, he’d come here just for Branch and he’d told him so many stories. He’d woken up in the night, scared, and confused, but as soon as he’d seen JD sleeping next to him he’d calmed himself down. JD was safe, he promised he’d keep him safe and for the first time in a long time, Branch was starting to believe him.

When JD first came back Branch knew he was going to leave again. He just knew everyone left in one way or another, and if he didn’t walk away and leave him then he was going to leave in the other way (like Grandma) and that was way worse. So even though he knew he was going to be sad when he left, at least he wouldn’t leave forever, right? Well, leave the world forever. Not Branch, he might not see Branch again.

He didn’t though, he stayed. He actually stayed, and not only that but he gave Branch food, and hugs and all the stuff that Branch hadn’t thought he’d ever get again because he was alone. And he’d even told him all about how he’d kil-how he’d made Grandma go away. Forever. He knew it was his fault, and he knew Branch was weird and grey and didn’t sing and he still stayed. It was still weird. He was getting used to it though, and now he had more friends than he’d ever had before (not counting family), because he had Rhonda and he had Poppy and he had Geronimo. Well, Rhonda was family so it might not count, but she was still one of his best friends. He liked lying his head on her body, listening to her heart, even when she honked and made him jump.

Things were good. They were really good. JD told him all the time that he wasn’t bad (even though he knew he was, but it was nice that JD didn’t agree), and Dr Plimsy was so nice to talk to. They drew pictures and he got to say some of the stuff he was too scared to say and she was right, it did make him feel better.

He still felt that pain inside when he thought of his other brothers (which was funny, because he didn’t actually feel pain anymore which was actually really nice because even if he was eaten by a Bergen, he wouldn’t feel it, and it sort of made the no taste thing worth it). He was really sad but also really mad. Floyd broke his promise. He’d never broken a promise before, and this was a really big one. He felt guilty for being mad though, because what if something had happened to Floyd? Would it be easier if something had? Because if nothing had happened, then the truth was he just didn’t want to come back, and that was the worst pain he could think of. He wanted to wear Floyd’s vest sometimes, but he still felt too mad. He missed him though.

It was fine. He had his new goggles anyway, they were so shiny and cool and different to JD’s but they were the same colour lens so everything turned pink and pretty. They’d managed to catch a couple of small fish in the bucket, and Branch was watching them swim. They were so pretty, their tails were almost gold and he itched to take a photo.

“You okay Bitty?” JD asks him. His face is doing that thing again where he looks normal but his eyes are all crinkled and concerned. Branch nods, he doesn’t want him to worry.

“Just thinking about how to take the photo,” he admits.

“Want me to grab the camera Bits?” he asks.

Branch had felt weird when JD had called him Bitty to start with, his Grandma only ever called him Branch, or her little peach. So he wasn’t used to it, it felt weird. He decided though that he was okay being called Bitty, as long as it was JD saying it. It gave him the same feeling as when Grandma had called him her little peach.

“Yes please,” he says, smiling. It’s easier to smile now too. He tried to fake it when JD came back, so he would be more likely to stay, but more recently he’s actually felt like smiling for real. It’s weird. It’s nice. He’s felt weird too, he’s started to miss singing. He knows he can’t though, if he sings he knows something bad will happen. He still wants to though. He finds himself humming in his head sometimes. He can’t sing though. He can’t let anything bad to JD, he won’t let anything bad happen to his family, not again. He believes JD when he says he’s not leaving now. But he can always leave in the other way. The permanent way. Branch won’t let it happen, even if he has to glue his mouth shut.

“Hey,” Branch looks up. He’d zoned out again, JD had come over with his camera.

“Thanks!” He says, grinning. He looks through the viewfinder, lining up his shot until it’s perfect then…

click

He waits with bated breath as the photo prints. He thinks he’s getting better at judging his photos, but some of them turn out so bad he can never be sure. Yes. Yes! Just like he wanted it, the tail looks just right!

“Can I see?” JD asks. Branch hands it over, watching his brother’s reaction.

“Oh this is great Bitty,” he says, a relaxed smile on his face. Branch grins back; he liked it! He thought it was good!

He looks back to the fish, watching them swim. If only he’d been able to swim like that, it looked so easy but it had been so hard! He’d have to try again, even though the feeling of water up his nose had made him gag. He’d just not have to go under the water again. His mind drifts.

He sort of wanted to tell JD about the wish he’d made, but he knew he did it probably wouldn’t come true. He really wanted it to come true. He really wanted to see his brothers again.

Branch had been quiet, zoning out as he stared at the fish. JD had initially panicked that he was experiencing some sort of flashback; Plimsy had mentioned that they wouldn’t always appear as violently as the first one JD had witnessed. When she'd mentioned this, he’d been worried that his brother had been experiencing them longer than he’d noticed, and he'd felt his ‘worst-brother-ever’ points stacking in his head. JD says his brother's name several times to no success, and he resorts to placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Branch jumps, confused.

“You ready to go? Sorry, you were deep in thought,” he says in explanation.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Shall we put them back?” Branch asks.

“Yeah, let me do it,” JD says, the bucket is heavier than it looks, “I’ll be really gentle,” he reassures, knowing Bitty will worry.

“I know,” Branch says, a small smile appearing.

JD hauls the bucket into the lake, submerging it until the fish swim away. It had taken him longer than he’d thought to initially catch them; he’d felt like an idiot wading through the water with a bucket whilst Branch and Rhonda watched from the shore, and it had been sheer luck he’d managed to catch the two fish. Bitty had seemed happy though, bright eyes and toothy grin as soon as he’d seen them. He’d looked so cute; his new jacket was green and oversized, and his goggles were perched neatly on his head.

“Ready to head back?” he calls as he walks back.

“Okay! I know it’s early but can we read the storybook?” Branch asks. JD stumbles a little, cursing under his breath.

“I can read it myself if you don’t want to?” Branch asks, taking JD's extended silence for a negative.

“Yes! I mean no, I can read it! Just tripped a little, we can read it when we’re back,” JD hurries to correct.

It seems to satisfy Branch, and as soon as the two are back at camp he’s scrambling over with the book. JD can’t remember being this obsessed with reading when he was Branch’s age. He wasn’t as smart as Branch as a child though, so maybe it was that. He clears his voice once they’re settled, starting at the beginning.

“-I will bet all of my magic that you can’t hit the target!” JD says, giving an exaggerated evil laugh. He’s doing the voices, switching between high-pitched, dramatic, and croaky. Branch is loving it; if Spruce were here he’d be dying of laughter. He could never keep it together when he did voices for Clay, teasing him relentlessly.

“I will hit the target, and your magic will be returned back to the people of Rallentando once and for all, he said, and he pulled back his bowstring with a mighty yell. The arrow flew true,” he lifts his hand, demonstrating, “dancing through the air until…it hit the target!”

“It hit!” Branch gasps.

“The target shattered, and waves of magic travelled through the gathered crowd. No! the Pepperwizard cried, his hands beginning to crack. Lichen held on tight to his bow, as he watched the Pepperwizard drop to his knees in anguish. It was finally over, the evil had been defeated and Rallentando had magic once again. The end,” he finishes, showing Bitty the final illustration. Branch traces his fingers over the drawing of the hero.

“Can I learn to use a bow?” he asks suddenly, head whipping up.

“Um,” it sounded kind of dangerous, “I dunno Bits, I’m not even sure where we’d get one?”

“Please! Please, can we find one, I want to learn just like Lichen!” Branch begs. He’s never begged, or really asked for anything before. Not like this. Despite his better judgement, JD replies.

“Okay. Okay we’ll see if we can get one. But! You have to be very careful! And we can see if anyone in the village has any idea on how to use one…” JD trails off, he has never fired an arrow before so he is essentially useless here.

“Thank you!!” Branch hugs him tight. JD cradles the back of his head.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself Bitty! We might not be able to get one,” he warns.

“You will, you can find one, I just know it,” Branch says. He’s so trusting, he has so much faith in JD, what can he do but match it? He has to live up to Branch’s expectation here, no other options.

“I’ll try,” he says, knowing that he’ll be doing some serious guilt tripping negotiation with the King when they get back. “Want me to read another one?” he asks.

“Can-can you read that one again?” Branch asks. JD ruffles his hair, his goggles shifting.

“Sure Bits,” he flicks back to the beginning taking a deep breath, “In a land far away, there lived a troll. A very brave and adventurous troll called Lichen…”

Chapter Text

JD had taken the King to the side whilst Poppy was busy giving Branch his gift. She was excited, flapping about as his brother opened it, and JD saw an opportunity to speak to Peppy.

“Sooo,” he began, “this is a weird request, but is there any chance I can get hold of a bow?”

“A bow? I’m sure Poppy has some spare, she’s always got one in her hair,” Peppy replies.

“No, no not that kind of bow. Like a bow and arrow kind of bow? You know?” JD explains, miming pulling a bowstring as he speaks.

“Oh! Well, no? Maybe? I haven’t got one right now but I suppose I could see if one of my team could acquire one. Are you interested in picking up archery?” Peppy asks.

“Ah, not me. Branch,” JD clarifies, “so it would have to be a pretty small bow.”

“Branch? Are you sure you want him wielding a weapon?” Peppy seems skeptical.

“Well honestly, no. But he really wants to learn, and I think it would give him something to work towards, keep him busy. Plus, leading to my second question, would there be anyone with any archery experience that could give us some pointers?”

“Hmm, well I can ask around. I can’t promise anything, but I’m aware some of the other,” he begins to whisper, “tribes teach their children these skills.”

“So it’s not impossible to get one?”

“No. But don’t get your hopes up,” Peppy warns.

“Right. Well thanks anyway, just keep me updated.”

“Will do!”

“JD!” Branch calls to him, “look what Poppy got me!” he’s holding up a box. JD strolls over to peer inside.

It’s full to the brim with various items; there’s a puzzle, a book, some new colouring crayons, and what looks like a lens for his camera.

“This is amazing Branch! What does the lens do?” he asks, aimed more towards Peppy than his brother.

“It means you can take up-close photos of things,” Peppy explains.

“Things that are far away?” Branch asks.

“Um, well, more things that are close to you will be in better detail. The camera will focus better,” Peppy explains awkwardly.

“Oh! Okay, thank you!” Branch says, taking the lens out to study.

“You have no idea how it works do you?” JD asks Peppy, expression sly.

“Well, no, but I got the gist off the troll who gave it to me,” Peppy explains, looking embarrassed.

There’s a ding from Poppy and the King’s hug-time bracelets. At seeing the King’s arms reach in his direction,JD immediately speed walks to his brother, embracing him gently. Branch looks relieved as Poppy runs to hug her father.

“I’m so glad we don’t have those,” Branch whispers to him.

“Me too,” JD whispers back. He can’t imagine being prompted to have physical contact every hour on the hour; he loves hugs with his brother but doing it on a timer seemed forced and uncomfortable.

“Do you want to go see Milton now?” JD asks, still whispering.

“Will Poppy be sad we’re leaving so early?” Branch asks, chewing his lip.

“We can ask if she’d like to come over tomorrow?”

“Mmm okay.”

JD detaches from the hug, gesturing at King Peppy.

“Hey, we’re gonna need to head off now, but is it okay if Poppy comes over tomorrow?” he asks.

“Would you like that petal?” Peppy asks his daughter; they’re still hugging, Poppy tight in his embrace.

“Yes!! Yes!” she says, enthusiastic as always.

“Awesome, we’ll see you tomorrow then pink,” JD says, grabbing the box full of Bitty’s gifts.

“Bye Poppy. Um and King Peppy,” Branch waves, following after JD.

“Bye! See you tomorrow! We can do so much stuff it’ll be super amazing!” she squeals.

JD grabs his brother, swinging to the ground with him in one arm.

“I can do it on my own JD,” Branch says, indignant, scowling.

“I know. Maybe I just wanted another hug,” JD jokes, ruffling his hair.

“Oh. Okay,” Branch replies, disgruntled expression vanishing as he reaches out to hug his side, the sarcasm completely eluding him.

JD hugs back, chuckling. This kid…

There’s a frantic tapping at the window. It makes JD startle, but as soon as he sees the culprit he’s unlocking it, opening it wide enough for the bloodhound bugs to drift inside. Rhonda honks excitedly, following the bug's movement with her eyes.

“Branch, you have guests,” he calls. Branch’s head appears from his doorway, but once he sees the bugs he tears into the room.

“Gernonimo! And Jam…” he adds as an afterthought. Geronimo immediately begins nuzzling him, rubbing his face into Branch’s hair. Jam is more subdued, floating to the ground with a sniff. JD notices the attached note, and gently removes it, unfolding it to read.

Hey JD!

Testing out the bloodhounds with some scents, they’re getting much better. Thanks for leaving that shirt here. If you’re reading this then the scent worked, and it means they can pick up on less recent scents so great news! I sent Geronimo too, I know how much Branch loves him. Don’t worry, you can tell him we won’t be sending him on any official missions, I know how sad the kid would be. You should be able to send them home with the attached leaf, just let them sniff it and say ‘home’ and hopefully they’ll head back. If not I’ll hunt for them later. Training’s going much better than I hoped though, those books you got on it helped a lot so thanks!

See you later!

Milton

Sure enough, there’s a leaf attached. JD looks over at Branch. Geronimo is trying to bury himself in his hair and Branch is giggling.

“He’s acting like a baby!” Branch exclaims.

“He sort of is a baby,” JD explains, although he’s pretty sure bloodhound bugs don’t bury in their parent's hair the same as trolls.

“I’m gonna send these guys back now, that okay with you?” he asks. Jam is waiting patiently, the larger critter sniffling by his feet.

“Oh…can Geronimo stay a bit?” Branch asks, eyes wide. At his pouting expression, JD can’t say no, and if he didn’t know Branch as well as he did, he’d say it was purposeful.

“Fine, we can take Geronimo back later…here Jam,” he holds out the leaf, the bug taking a huge sniff, “home,” he says clearly. The critter takes a moment, before zipping off through the open window. Maybe he should have written Milton a note letting him know they were keeping Geronimo, but they’d head over in a bit. He’s sure it’s fine.

He’s feeling good though; the bloodhound bugs are progressing well and it won’t be long until he can send a letter out to his brothers. He’d already decided to contact Clay first; he had his funderpants after all, it would be the easiest option. Milton was reluctant to send more than one at once, protective of his critters as he was, and JD had reluctantly agreed. As good as it would have been to send them all out simultaneously, he could be patient. He just had to figure out what to write. He didn’t want to disclose too much information in case the letter was intercepted (what can he say, he’s paranoid), but he had to give a general gist. He was purposefully keeping Branch in the dark, reluctant to get his brother’s hopes up. It was a good thing he was so distracted with his photography and that storybook; he obsessed over the first story, JD had lost count of how many times he’d read it. He’d gotten good at the voices though, trying to make every reading a little different, a little special.

He was dropping Branch off with the King after they saw Milton, and he hoped he’d have news on the bow. He needed to get a calendar too, with Branch’s therapy and his own…sessions, it would be good to get something to keep track.

Conversing with Plimsy was surprisingly helpful. She’d asked things he’d never even considered, and he was getting better at recognising his own negative thinking. He was trying so hard to recognise his issues with perfectionism, and it was eye-opening to see how ingrained it was in his everyday life, his way of thinking. He’d caught himself obsessing over it more than once, and trying to unlearn the behaviour was near impossible. He was trying though. His self-esteem was shot, he put on this larger-than-life personality, but his own opinion of himself was far more negative than he’d realised. As much as he’d love to ignore it, brush it under the rug and pretend he was fine, it was more and more clear that he was not okay, and he needed to do something about it, if not for him, then for Branch.

Speaking of Branch, he was doing better himself. He was more relaxed when separated from JD, and was spending more time alone with Poppy at the King’s pod, which was great for both of them. JD sorely needed time alone, even just an hour to decompress, and it was a relief that Branch was so comfortable with his friend as JD felt less guilty for needing his own space.

“Come on Bits, let go drop Geronimo off,” he says, beckoning his brother over.

“Do we have to?” Bitty whines. JD isn’t sure he’s heard him whine before; it’s good. He’s acting like a kid, not a nervous wreck.

“Yup! Milton will panic otherwise, we don’t want him to start searching for him,” JD explains. Branch visibly droops.

“Okay…he can stay in my hair though. Can you carry me down?” he asks.

“Uh, sure?” It’s an odd request, Bitty’s fiercely independent, he must really like having the critter in his hair. Maybe it was a comfort thing?

He whistles for Rhonda, tucking her under his arm. She’s getting heavy, really heavy. They needed to get the bunker ready sooner rather than later before she was too big for the pod.

“Hop up,” he says, arm out for his brother. Branch clambers into his free arm, and he descends from the tree, landing with a thud. It’s a good thing he’s been keeping fit or hauling his pet and brother around would be near impossible.

His brother jumps down from his grip, and JD follows close behind as he heads towards the sanctuary.

As much as JD hated to admit it, the bunker was ready to live in. It wasn’t perfect, but that was okay. It was okay, they could always improve at a later point. He was grateful Peppy knew trolls with knowledge regarding gas lines and plumbing; he had no idea how to even begin installing any of the pipes, and if he’d done it alone it would have been shoddy at best. The fuzzlings knew their stuff though, and they’d swept through the bunker installing and assembling. They hadn’t even asked for any favours, ensuring him that Peppy had dealt on his behalf. Without them, the bunker would have been a hole in the ground, but with their help, it had the option of being an actual home.

It was just a matter of transferring their possessions into the bunker and making it more homely. They’d added layers of cladding on the walls to help insulate, and they cultivated enough mushrooms and luminescent plants that it was well-lit and cosy. It was getting close to the colder seasons, and JD could only hope it would be warm enough, but he supposed only time would tell.

Branch was busy adding his photos to the walls. Moving them over had taken more time than JD had hoped, but it was unsurprising considering they’d taken up most of the wall space in the pod. Peppy had agreed to let them keep the pod, at least until they were sure the bunker would be suitable, and JD was grateful they had another option. It still felt strange, being underground. He was glad they’d be taking Rhonda for her walks every day, or he’d have soon felt claustrophobic.

They’d spent a long time ensuring Rhonda’s enclosure was safe and suitable, it functioned more as an outside shack, but JD had made sure to include several soft furnishings for a bed and a large food and water trough. It was big, JD preparing for the eventuality of her being the size of a Caterbus, and it had taken several weeks of building to get it large enough. He’d spent extra care ensuring it was weatherproof, in the eventuality of a storm or snow, and Rhonda seemed to love it, running in circles throughout the building as soon as she’d been let inside.

JD had been trying to arrange his room into something familiar. It was strange. He’d placed his framed photo of him and Branch on his bedside, the album Branch had made him next to it. It had been a nightmare dragging all their furniture down the ladders, he was grateful the King and Milton had offered to help, he wasn’t sure how he’d have managed alone.

He stares at the paper and pen on his bedside table. He was stalling.

“JDeeeee can you help me reach?” Branch calls from his room.

Ah, the perfect excuse to stall some more. JD sighs, looking at his room once more. It’d do. It would have to do.

“Coming,” he says, rising from his bed with a stretch.

He heads into Branch’s room; it’s smaller but brighter, Branch insisting on several mushrooms near his bed. He hated the dark and refused the covers JD had made for the mushrooms to dim the light, insisting he would sleep with the lights on.

“I can’t reach any higher,” he says, dejected.

“Hair still giving you issues?” JD asks. Branch had been struggling with moving it; he’d apparently struggled ever since losing colour, but hadn’t mentioned it until recently.

“Yeah, I just can’t do it right,” he says irritably.

“Give it here then,” JD asks, hand out. It’s a photo of Rhonda, one of the first ones Branch had taken.

“I’m gonna need some of these photos for my own wall you know,” he says casually, reaching up to pin the photo, “we can’t have ‘John Dory in a spiral’ getting lonely.”

“That’s fine. I still don’t know why you like it that much,” Branch mutters.

“‘Cause you drew it. It’s cute,” JD admits, stepping back to admire his pinning, “I’ve got the other drawings you gave me too…but I won’t say no to more of your masterpieces,” he jokes.

“They’re not that good though.”

“I think they’re good! And you get objectively better every drawing, so imagine how good they’re gonna be when you’re eight? Or even nine?”

“I guess,” Branch replies, scuffing his feet. JD glances down; despite being careful, his brother’s always bruised, especially his knees and elbows. His lips were constantly chapped and split from chewing them; he’d even taken to subconsciously chewing his coat when stressed. Plimsy had reassured him it was pretty normal for kids in general to have bruises, but it still made him wince whenever he noticed, and he was glad for the regular checkups Plimsy provided. She’d even given him an oil for his lips; she suspected he didn’t realise he was chewing as hard as he was, unable to feel it, and JD made a habit of stopping him, whenever he noticed it.

“Oh, look!” Branch says, suddenly remembering something; he runs to grab a photo from his pile, “look at how cool this looks! I think I’m getting better with the close-up lens.”

JD takes it, trying to decipher the photo. It’s beautiful, but he’s not sure what it is.

“It’s Geronimo’s eye! Milton was telling me that it’s actually called a macro lens or something because he knows more about photography than King Peppy I think, but I took a really detailed shot of Ron and it looks so cool!”

Ah, he sees it now, the red hues of Geronimo’s iris streak out like lightning. It’s a striking photo, he has to admit.

“I love it! It’s really creative Bits, you’ve got a real talent for this!” he hypes, and Branch grins back. The fact he doesn’t protest this is a testament to his progress.

“You okay carrying on by yourself? I’ve got a few bits I want to do in my room,” he says, gesturing behind him.

“I’ll be okay! I’ll work on sorting my bookshelf out for a bit,” Bitty agrees.

“Sweet! Well, call if you need any help,” JD says, heading back into his room with a jaunty salute. Branch giggles as he leaves, and he finally allows himself to think of the task at hand.

He needed to write a letter. Specifically, a letter to Clay. The bloodhound bugs were as ready as they were ever going to be. It had been over a year since he’d come back, it was long enough, but now he had the option of contacting his brother he was nervous.

He didn’t want to disclose too much information, there were some things better said face to face. The aim here was to check he was alive and well, and let him know where he and Bitty were (vaguely, in case the letter was intercepted).

He picks up the pen.

Clay

It’s John Dory. There’s a lot I want to say, a lot I want to apologise for, but I think you deserve a face-to-face conversation. I will just say, I’m with Branch. We’re both safe in the new Pop Village. Can you let us know that you’re alive and safe? If I receive a response I can send more details about where to find us, but otherwise, I hope you’re well. We miss you.

When you’ve given the bloodhound bug your response, crush the leaf under his nose and say ‘home’. He’ll know what to do.

Love John Dory

There. Vague enough if it’s intercepted it provides no information but relays the main concerns. He purposefully didn’t go into the details about Branch, he’s still adamant it’s a discussion to be had with Clay directly. He can only hope he receives a response, and when he does he can provide more information on where they actually are (he was thinking of drawing up a map). Could he be being too paranoid? Maybe. Peppy was worried about the other tribes though, and it would be just his luck for John Dory to be the one to lead them here. No, he’ll play it safe. He can’t risk anything like that, not anymore.

They’re at the market. King Peppy had asked them to visit, but JD had wanted to pick up some fruit beforehand, and it was always nice to chat to Milton whilst he tended his stall. He’s conversing with the other troll when he hears it.

“…Grey. He…my daughter…unusual…weird.”

His ears twitch, catching the odd word. It’s clear they’re talking about Branch, who is standing next to him, staring at the seeds on offer. He turns subtly, listening more pointedly. Nope, he’ll have to get closer.

“Hey Bits, keep Rhonda here for me a sec, I’m just gonna look at those,” he mutters to his brother, who nods, absorbed in looking at the produce.

He moves towards the gossiping trolls, casually, purposefully looking at the stalls.

“…He stayed with Mildew for a bit and completely freaked her son out too. He’s just so odd, I’ve never seen a grey troll so young. I was worried about my own Creek, so I’ve told him to stay away, I don’t want him catching anything…” JD glances up at the two trolls. They’re not even speaking particularly quietly, it’s a miracle Branch hasn’t overheard them.

“It’s just so weird seeing him in the village. I heard he’d vanished, or even died, and now he’s here all the time with that other troll,” the green troll replies. They’re so invested in their conversation that they don’t see JD stalking towards them.

Yeah. He’s not gonna cause a scene. He’s not (fuck he wants to though). He’s not keeping quiet though, fuck that.

“Hi,” he says, voice sweet, grin mean. They both startle, looking up in shock.

“Oh, hello! I don’t believe we’ve met?” The purple one begins nervously, “I’m Brook-"

“I don’t care,” JD interjects, baring his teeth. There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“O-oh. Um, then how can I help-?”

“You can stop gossiping about my brother,” he says, bluntly.

“What? We weren’t-,”

“I heard you. I can’t stop you thinking your nasty prejudiced ideas about my kid, but you’re not going to say any of it where he can hear. Or I can hear. Preferably where anyone can hear, but I can’t be everywhere all the time,” he says, faux casually.

“I-I mean-“

“I -I mean,” JD mocks, “I personally think it’s pretty disgusting to be talking about a child like that in the first place. I don’t think the King would be too happy hearing how his people are talking about his daughter’s friend either,” his grin drops, face thunderous as he leans in, tone low, “if I ever hear you saying that shit again I’m not gonna be this calm. Do you understand?”

The two trolls nod.

“Great!” He leans back, saccharine grin back in place, “so how much for this?” he grabs an item at random. It’s a strange doll, wooden and kind of ugly.

“Oh, well…” the one named Brook begins to answer.

“Yeah, never mind, it’s kind of tacky actually,” he drops it back to the stall carelessly, “anyway, have a nice day ladies,” he says, giving one last menacing grin, before turning heel and walking back to Branch as casually as he can.

He’s furious. Who do they think they are, saying shit like that about a kid? Keeping their own kids from playing with him? Nice to see the village was raising bullies. He sees Branch chatting with Milton, the older troll seeming to have engaged him in conversation. They share a pointed look, and it’s clear he’s gonna be interrogated later by the vet, but for now, he pats Bitty on the shoulder in greeting.

“Anything you want?” he asks.

“No, Milton was just telling me about the new batch of glitter-worms, they’ve just hatched so they really small!” Branch says, eyes sparkling at the thought.

“Oh wow, we’ll have to check them out sometime,” JD suggests.

“Later?” Branch asks.

“Maybe?” JD hedges. He’s pretty sure the King is going to give him the bow he’d asked about; it had taken him a while, but he’d been keeping JD updated. They’d managed to procure one from another tribe, and JD was purposefully not thinking about it all that hard. He just hoped the King had found someone to give them some pointers on archery.

Chapter Text

“…I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to be careful. These are real arrows John, the last thing I want is for anyone to get injured,” the King implores.

John is too busy looking at the bow; it’s small but well-built, the design unlike anything he’d seen before.

“Which tribe did you say you got this from again?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

“I didn’t. The less you know about the tribes the better…I will say however that they practice a heavier style of music, and it’s reflected in the designs of their weaponry,” Peppy explains.

“That-that tells me nothing, but thank you? And you’re sure this won’t be missed? We’re not gonna get angry trolls banging on our door demanding it back right?” JD asks, still running his hand along the handle.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Or about acquiring a larger one should the time come, we have several in our weapon storage, along with several strings for when it needs changing.”

“You have a weapon storage?”

“Um, yes? But please-"

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” JD interjects. He pulls the bowstring back experimentally.

“There is a troll willing to give Branch the basics on archery by the name of Cirrus. Despite not being particularly…” the King thinks, “personable. Let's go with that. Despite this, he’s come the furthest in mastering archery and has agreed to help whilst he remains in the village. He told me to ask you to meet him at the north edge of the village in two days time.”

“Is there a time for this meeting?” JD asks.

“Um. No? He’s an early riser though so I’d assume morning?” Peppy laughs nervously. JD swallows down a sigh.

“Thank you. For all this,” he means it. The King could have said no; it was a pretty absurd request after all.

“It’s nothing John Dory, it’s the least I can do,” Peppy replies, his guilt glaringly obvious on his face.

“Yeah well, thanks anyway,” JD replies awkwardly, “um anyway. I’m gonna call the kids in.”

Peppy nods and JD calls his brother into the room. The two trollings skid through the doorway, confused by the interruption to their game.

“Hey Branch, we’ve got something for you,” JD says, hiding the bow behind his back.

“Oh, okay? What is it?” Branch asks, trying to peer behind JD. JD unveils the bow, holding it out so Bitty can grab it.

Branch’s eyes light up, his face splitting into the biggest grin JD can remember seeing since arriving home. He grabs his chest, tensing, visibly vibrating with excitement before reaching out and taking the bow with reverence.

“Branch it’s a bow! You’re gonna look just like Lichen!” Poppy exclaims, jumping on the spot in excitement.

“I know! I know! Is this…is this really for me?” Bitty asks, eyes wide.

“Yup! We’re gonna get some help using it, but it’s all yours,” JD explains, his own smile wide. The kid’s joy is contagious.

“Thank you!” Branch gasps, grasping the bow to his chest.

“Well it was the King who got it for you,” JD reluctantly adds.

“Oh…thank you King Peppy!” Branch amends, turning to beam at the King.

Peppy chuckles, “It’s no worry Branch, just be very careful with it!”

“I will!” he says, nodding furiously.

“I was told it’s called a recurve bow, but Cirrus, the troll who will help you, will explain this in more detail,” Peppy adds.

“I know you’re gonna want to try it out straight away, but like the King said, we’re gonna talk to Cirrus in a couple of days to give you some tips first,” JD explains.

“Okay! Do I get arrows?” Branch asks, as an afterthought.

“Yeah, you do,” JD chuckles; Peppy had shown him the quiver full of arrows earlier, and JD had balked at the sharp weapons. He couldn’t back out now though, Branch looked seconds away from dancing with happiness, there was no way he could take that from him. He’d just have to be careful, very careful.

“You also have this,” Peppy adds, raising a finger for them to wait whilst he runs behind his desk, “this target!” he announces, thrusting it towards the troll with a flourish.

It’s heavy and wooden, and JD grabs it in Branch’s stead. He has no idea how Peppy’s ‘team’ have been getting these things with no one noticing; it makes him nervous. He ignores this, spinning the target to face Bitty.

“Oh wow, this looks amazing,” Branch gushes, his grip on the bow tightening in excitement. It’s adorable.

“Yup! So you can practice your aim now,” JD adds.

“I can’t wait!”

“The bow attaches to the quiver, and the straps are adjustable,” Peppy explains. It looked to be made of leather; JD wouldn’t mention this to Branch, his brother more recently being against any sort of critter violence for fear of being ‘bad’ like the Bergen’s.

“It’s so so cool! You look just like Lichen, like in the book you showed me! Can I learn how to fire a bow too? Can I Daddy? Please?” Poppy begs, turning her wide eyes to her father beseechingly.

Peppy falters, “Oh! Well…um…”

“You have to be seven Poppy, you’re too little,” Branch interjects, matter of fact. Poppy’s face drops, but she seems to accept this logic (JD has no idea why Branch has decided that seven is the cut-off point for archery, but he’s not complaining).

“Oh uh, yes! Branch is right!” Peppy agrees. JD smirks, he’s definitely going to regret this when she’s begging for a weapon on her seventh Hatchday.

“Okay that’s fine, I can wait that long!” Poppy replies, determined, “can I hold it though? Can I see it? Please Branch, please?!” she begs.

Branch looks unsure, chewing his lip as he looks at the bow, “Um okay. Just be careful,” he says handing it over. He’s avoiding looking at the pink troll, instead reaching to grip his own arm.

“I will! I will!” She says, holding the bow close to her face as she looks at the detailing on the handle, “It’s so pretty! Look at all these things!”

“They’re musical notes,” JD adds, if he tried he could probably read them, but he doubts it’s music he’s ever heard before.

“Oh, that’s amazing! Isn’t it amazing Branch!” Poppy says, spinning to face Branch, almost clipping him in the face with the lower limb of the bow.

“Care-ful,” JD softens his panicked tone, hand pausing in mid-air where he’d attempted to grab the bow.

“Sorry Branch! Do you want it back?” Poppy asks, holding it more carefully.

“Yes. Please,” Branch replies awkwardly, taking it back from the younger troll. Poppy passes it over, and Branch grabs it back, visibly relaxing.

“Anyway, I think we’re gonna head off, Milton said he had a couple of things he wanted to show Branch at the sanctuary,” JD says, aware of how overstimulated his brother looks.

“Oh, can I come? John Dory, Daddy, can I come too please?” Poppy asks, bouncing on her toes in excitement.

“I thought you’d told Cooper that you were going to play with him this afternoon?” Peppy asks gently. Poppy eyes widen.

“Oh yeah! I did! You can come too Branch, after you see Milton?” Poppy asks, beaming at Branch.

Branch’s eyes dart to JD’s, he’s clearly not sure.

“We’ll see,” JD answers on his behalf.

“Okay! We’ll be in Cooper’s pod, it’s inside a big mushroom!” Poppy explains.

“Head west from where the stalls normally are and you can’t miss it,” Peppy adds.

“Right, sounds good! Well we might see you later then!” JD says, picking up the quiver and target. He whistles Rhonda as they head to the exit; she looks up blearily from her sleep. He hears Branch say his goodbyes, following behind him.

“You okay heading down yourself?” He asks his brother. There’s no way he’ll be able to carry the bow accessories, Rhonda, and Branch down at the same time.

“I’ll be okay,” Branch says, face determined.

Even so, JD watches carefully as his brother descends, arms ready to catch him should he need to. It’s a rough landing, but Branch seems fine, and they begin the trek to the sanctuary.

“…And they were just saying it all in the open?” Milton asks sounding incredulous. JD had been explaining to the vet about the incident in the market, and Branch was occupied playing with the baby glitter-worms.

“Yup! Loud enough for me to hear anyway,” JD clarifies, leaning against the fence.

“That’s…”

“Fucked up?”

“I was gonna say really rude but I guess that works too,” Milton hums, leaning next to JD. “And Branch didn’t hear any of it right?” he continues.

“I don’t think so. He didn’t act like it anyway, but he’s been saying for months now the villagers think he’s weird so who knows what he’s heard in the past.”

“Wow. Well, you’re not making yourself popular; Brook and Flora are pretty prominent trolls, but I think you did the right thing,” Milton commends.

JD laughs, “Like I care if I’m popular.”

“Really? I thought with the…you know? The boyband thing?” Milton says gesturing awkwardly.

“Yeah, well it used to be important,” he looks over at Bitty; the glitter-worm is crawling across his arm, and he’s giggling at the sensation, “things change. Priorities change. I used to care too much about what the wrong people thought of me.”

“Surprisingly wise,” Miltons teases.

JD jokingly shoves his arm, “Hey! I can be wise, kid! I’ve got my moments,” he grins.

“Seriously though, it’s nice to see you sticking up for the little guy, he’s been through too much,” Milton adds, on a sadder note.

“Well, it was the fact they were talking about not letting their kids play with him. Like, who does that?” JD gestures angrily.

“Seriously? Well, at least he’s got Poppy. I mean, she’s the Princess, that’s gotta hold some weight.”

“Shouldn’t have to though. People just…shouldn’t be dicks.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you swear a lot?” Milton asks, expression sly.

“You know, you might be the first,” JD admits.

“Not even your brothers?” Milton asks, then winces, aware it’s a sore subject.

“Nah, never swore round them. Habit I guess, even when they started swearing at me. Just don’t pick up my habit young man,” JD jests.

Milton laughs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Branch could hardly believe it. He was learning archery! Just like Lichen! When JD had first read him the story, he had poured over the illustrations. He knew that Lichen wasn’t grey, he was described as a vibrant green, but when he’d seen the black and white illustrations he couldn’t help but relate, if he pretended hard enough Lichen was grey. Like him. Except Lichen was brave, and he had lots of friends, and he saved everyone. Branch wanted to be just like him.

The troll who was helping them was weird, Cirrus he said his name was. He was a deep green, his hair a pink similar to Floyd’s. Maybe it was this familiarity that made him feel better because even though he reminded him of Moonbloom, it was in a different way. Cirrus just seemed awkward whereas he really didn’t like Moonbloom. He’d taught him all the parts of the bow (the limbs, the bowstring, the nocking points) and the parts of the arrow too, and had even been okay with Branch writing them all down. He’d shown him how he had to maintain movement, about his ‘stance’ and ‘posture’ (he wrote this down too). JD had been worried about him overextending or hurting his fingers, because he couldn’t feel it, and he’d brought up the fact he’d broken his arm ages and ages ago and it might be stiff, and Cirrus hadn’t even complained he’d just said he’d ’bare in it mind’.

The stance was hard to get right, he had to do something called a ‘square stance’, and he had to put his weight on the balls of his feet and keep his back straight and ‘align his shoulders’. It was a lot. He wrote it all down so he could practice, but he thinks he got it right. It was hard, harder than he thought it would be, but he had to get it right. If he could learn how to shoot arrows, he could protect his brother and the village, and maybe he’d feel safer.

Getting his hand position was hard, he had to have different pressure for each finger hooking the bow with a different pressure, and he struggled to register how much to use. Once he’d gotten the position of his hands on the hook and grip right, he’d made JD take photos, so he could look back on them and check he was doing it right.

“The important thing is maintaining your core and posture,” Cirrus explains gruffly.

“Core?” he asks.

Cirrus pokes him in the stomach lightly, “This is your core. You have to engage it.”

Branch has no idea how to do that, but he tries to tense.

“Close enough,” Cirrus concedes. He goes on to explain how to draw the bow, and Branch listens carefully, repeating the words in his head.

“Can you write that down?” He asks JD; he’d taken up scribe duty whilst Branch was holding the bow.

“On it!” JD confirms. Branch smiles; his brother was the best.

“Draw just below your chin, then pull back to your jaw; that’s your anchor point,” Cirrus explains; Branch does his best to follow, holding the pose until Cirrus nods.

“Now in a minute we’re going to release, but this is where it’s a bit tricky. You don’t want to be opening your fingers, you need the string to almost push them out the way whilst maintaining their position. You need to release the arrow at the same time with all your fingers. Your whole arm needs to continue the movement but with no twisting. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Cirrus nocks his own arrow, drawing back with precision and launching the arrow into the target. It looks so cool, Branch wants to physically jump, but he stops himself, paying close attention Cirrus’s arm. He doesn’t quite understand everything he’s saying, but he figures if he practices enough he’ll eventually get better. He’s struggling to draw the bowstring with enough power, but he’ll get stronger the more he does it, he has to.

Eventually, Cirrus lets him have a go firing an actual arrow! He misses the target, and he bites down disappointment.

“Good job Bitty! That was really powerful!” JD calls from behind him. He tries to smile.

“You did fine kid, it takes practice,” Cirrus adds, awkwardly. He tries again. And again. He’s almost at his last arrow when he finally, finally hits the target!

“I hit it!” He beams, turning to JD who is giving an enthusiastic thumbs up, notes abandoned.

“You did! Great job!” He enthuses. Branch turns to Cirrus nervously.

“You did good,” he says, gruffly, and Branch’s grin widens.

“Right, well I’m gonna see if I can collect those stray arrows, take a break,” Cirrus pretty much demands, immediately heading through the forest.

“I hit it!” Branch repeats once he’s out of sight. JD strides over, ruffling his hair in that way that makes him feel all fuzzy inside.

“I know! You’re gonna be so good when you’ve practiced a bit,” JD says.

“Can I come here soon? Every day?” Branch asks enthusiastically. He’s going to get good, he needs to get so so good.

“Mmm not every day, you need a break in between Bitty, I don’t want you pulling anything. But we’ll come as often as we can,” JD promises. Branch nods, that makes sense. JD seems very bothered about him ‘pulling something’ for some reason, he was even taking him to Dr Plimsy afterward to check his arms out. Branch didn’t think he needed it, but it made JD happy so he just agreed. His brother seemed really worried about him hurting himself, and it was nice to have someone worried about him, even if he thought he was okay.

“Do you think there’s any books on archery? I want to make sure my notes have everything in them, and I can practice my stance in the bunker, and Cirrus said he’d tell me how to change the string but you said you’d do that because it was hard and…”

“Breathe Bitty. I’ll see if we can get any books, okay? And don’t worry about the strings, I’ll get Cirrus to show me how to do it, and I’ll teach you when you’re strong enough. You just focus on shooting those arrows,” JD says. His face does that weird thing where his eyebrows furrow.

“Can I see your hands?” he asks. Oh he’s worried again.

Branch gives him a hand, letting JD look at it. He’s really staring at it, and Branch starts to worry.

“You’ve got some proper indents here. I’m gonna ask Cirrus if there’s anything you can use, like a guard,” JD frets.

“Mmm okay,” Branch agrees; his fingers feel fine (not that he’d feel the pain), but if it makes JD happy he’ll agree.

Sure enough, as soon as Cirrus is in view, JD is striding over to ask him. Branch zones out of the conversation; he’s got a lot to remember. He needs to do it perfectly.

If we aren’t perfect, we’re nothing.

“…Branch? Did you hear that? Cirrus agrees you should have one of these, but this one might be too big,” JD interrupts his thoughts, dangling something from his fingers.

“It should do for now, but I can try to…acquire a smaller one on my ‘travels’” Cirrus sounds weird, but Branch nods, not quite sure what they’re talking about.

“Nice! We owe you one,” JD replies.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. King’s already promised a hefty favour for you guys,” Cirrus dismisses.

“Oh, sweet. Thanks though.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” Cirrus says, in that weird grumpy way Branch doesn’t quite get.

Cirrus shows him how to attach and use the finger tab; it feels weird and makes things harder, but it makes JD happy so he doesn’t say anything.

It doesn’t matter if it’s hard. He’s going to do it. He has to.

Chapter Text

As soon as Clay had watched the winged critter fly away he’d been hit with regret. He was pissed. Reading the letter from John Dory had filled him with a rage he thought he’d long forgotten. He wanted to apologise? Now? He’s somehow worked his way back to his brothers and Grandma and thought it would be a good time to re-enter Clay’s life again. He was…fuck, he was relieved. They were okay, at the very least. Not that he’d thought they weren’t, he hadn’t allowed himself to. It still hasn’t stopped the initial anger he’d felt reading John’s letter. Maybe he was being too harsh, he hadn’t said much. A half-assed non-apology and vague explanation that they’d moved. Still…

“Are you okay Mr Clay?” Viva asks, voice unusually soft. She’s clearly followed him up into the heights of the artificial windmill, and was looking at him in concern. He pulls up a smile; she's eighteen now, but he still associates her with that frightened fifteen year old, struggling to rebuild her life.

“I’m good. Just thinking about the letter I sent,” he admits.

“To your brother?” she asks, sitting next to him.

“Yeah. I just think maybe I was a bit…harsh,” he says, wincing.

“Well, what did the letter say? From your brother,” she clarifies.

“Heh, load of nothing really. Said he wanted to apologise, then didn’t apologise. Asked me to come visit. He’s with my brothers now, and my Grandma, said they’re safe in the new pop village—"

“What?” Viva stops him, her voice like ice.

“Um, yeah? He mentioned…”

“Did he mention my Dad? My sister??” she asks, kneeling towards him frantically.

“No! No, just mentioned that’s where they were,” Clay clarifies.

“So, wait they-they,” she takes a shuddering breath, “they could be alive? They got out?”

“I…I guess yeah.”

“And your brother is with them? Your family, he’s with them which means they are alive! Clay, Clay this is amazing! Why are you not more excited?” she asks, eyes wide.

“I…I mean,” why wasn’t he? If he was honest, he hadn’t really thought of it like that. He didn’t know for sure his family were dead, had assumed they’d be okay. It was like he couldn’t entertain the idea they weren’t, so he didn’t. The letter from John Dory had brought him straight back to the time in his life when he was under the thumb of his older brother, a time in his life when he had started to hate himself and everything around him, and he let that rage overtake any other emotions he could should have felt. He wasn’t elated his little brothers were alive, because he never thought they were dead.

“Never mind, did he say where they are? When you send another letter you need to ask about my family, please Clay,” Viva begs.

“You uh, you want to go find them?” he asks.

“I…I mean I want to know they’re okay. We don’t need to leave to do that though. It’s not safe to actually leave,” she says, enthusiasm waning.

“I’m not sure he’s going to send a letter back Viva,” Clay admits.

“What? Why?” she asks, confused.

“Like I said, I was a bit harsh in my reply. Told him I was safe, but that’s about it,” he says glumly, idly picking at his romper.

“So, you can’t ask?” she says quietly, expression shuttering.

“I, I mean he might write again?” he attempts to reassure, “I just don’t expect him to,” he says, wincing.

“Right. Okay,” Viva says, voice uncharacteristically blank.

“I’m sorry,” Clay replies. He wants to place a hand on her shoulder, to comfort her, but he’s the reason she’s so upset. He hadn’t even thought of Viva when he received the letter, hadn’t even considered the fact her family could be there. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. As angry as he was at John, it didn’t mean he didn’t want to see his brothers. He missed them. Even John to a degree, he missed the familiarity. He missed the way Floyd would hum purposefully out of tune whilst brushing his hair, the way Spruce would pull faces behind John’s back during rehearsal. The way Branch would reach for him when he was scared, would nuzzle into his neck and place his hands inside the pocket on his romper for warmth. Fuck. He quickly blinks, dispelling the tears threatening to form.

“We know they moved now,” he says, keeping his voice steady, “there’s nothing stopping us looking for them. Not now!” he back peddles at Viva’s startled expression, “just…it’s an option,” he finishes lamely.

“Right. Well, not now obviously Mr Clay,” Viva replies, face bright, a juxtaposition to her expression moments before, “we have so so so much to do here! The traps need building, and you’re working on sorting all the files we’ve gathered so far on everything, and we need to finish up those last few buildings and make sure they’re up to standard! And you’re still working through all those books we found on the account thing, I don’t know, but it sounds important!” she takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Clay concedes, “someone’s gotta do the maths around here.”

“And it’s definitely not gonna be me! No, not a chance!” Viva laughs, standing and stretching in place. She reaches a hand out for Clay, and he takes it, letting her drag him up. “Let go, second-in-command! Busy day, lots to do!”

Clay follows her, glad she’s feeling more positive. He worries how fast she’d moved on from her despair, but figures if she wants to talk about it, she’ll tell him. He pushes down his own memories, focusing on the pink troll in front of him. She needs him, and he isn’t going to let her down.

JD looks at his brother. He’s woken him, another episode of sleep paralysis having occurred. It’s the first he’s had since living in the bunker, the first he’s had in a while, and his brother was clearly shaken. He’d refused chocolate whip (a red flag in itself), instead crawling into JD’s bed and holding him tight.

“Want me to read you your story?” JD asks quietly. It’s unsettling how little Bitty’s speaking, he normally explains a little about what he’s seen. This time he’s barely said two words, climbing in and nodding when JD had asked if it was paralysis, nodding once more when he’d asked if he wanted the light dimmer removed.

Bitty shakes his head, still clinging, his head tucked against JD’s chest. JD runs his hands through Bitty’s hair, hoping it’ll soothe him back to sleep, but he’s still staring into space, eyes wide.

“Is there anything you want me to do baby B?” JD asks, expecting another shake of the head.

Branch licks his lips, his voice cracking, “Can you sing to me?”

It’s unexpected. JD had been purposefully not singing the entire time he’d been back, occasionally letting loose in the shower, but otherwise stopping his urges to burst into song. “You sure?” he checks. Bitty nods, and he clears his throat, racking his brain for a song. It finally dawns on him; the song his Grandma used to sing.

“ When you think you're all alone,
I'll wrap you up and I'll take you home,
No matter what you're going through,
I will look after you” he continues brushing his hand through Bitty’s hair, watching his face carefully for any discontent, but he just curls up tighter, drumming his fingers along JD’s chest.

“ When you get knocked down and you've had enough,
Oh I'll be there to dust you off,
When you don't know what you're gonna do,
I will look after you…” he trails off into gentle humming as he sees Bitty’s eyes close. His brother’s gentle snores fill the room; he must have been exhausted.

He finishes there, no sense singing whilst he’s asleep after all. This feels important though, the fact he’d asked him to sing. Definitely something to mention to Plimsy; he won’t make a big deal of it himself though, he doesn’t want to make him self-conscious. He places a gentle kiss to the side of Bitty’s head (straining his neck in the process), closing his own eyes to think. The light of the mushroom is piercing through his lids, but there’s no chance he’s gonna move, not when Bitty has just fallen asleep. He’ll sleep. Eventually.

Branch is despondent the next day, setting off every alarm in JD’s head. He expected this though, Plimsy had warned him there may be days like this, Branch wasn’t magically happy after all, healing took time. He does what he can for him, ensuring he eats and drinks, allowing him his space. It gives him time to reflect also, not that he needs it. He spends every night ruminating after all, his brain could use a break from all the reflecting and regretting it's doing. He’s glad when Branch agrees to practice his archery; the fresh air will do him good, as will getting out of the gloomy bunker.

After firing a few arrows (and hitting the target a few times too) he seems in better spirits, talking more and playing with Rhonda. He even agrees to see Poppy, even with Cooper visiting the Princess. He’d decided against joining the two on their last play date, and JD was glad he was agreeing to socialise with another child, especially one he didn’t know. From what Peppy had said, Cooper was being raised by a troll family and had appeared out of nowhere (which JD didn’t buy, but who was he to disagree with the King…again). Once he’d dropped his brother off, and with reassurances he was definitely okay, he left to help out at the sanctuary, giving the kids a chance to get to know one another under Peppy’s watchful eye (he better be keeping watch).

He’d been learning more about veterinary care; it was interesting and Milton was a nice kid. He didn’t mind helping out, and it made him feel useful, like he was helping the village. He and Rhonda pass through the gates of the sanctuary, and he waves at the other troll in greeting. His face lights up as he walks towards him.

“JD! I’ve got good news,” he says, visibly excited.

“Go on then, hit me with it,” he says, watching as Rhonda chases the nearest critter. She seems to be playing rather than hunting, but he doesn’t want to take the risk.

“Here,” Milton replies, removing a letter from his shirt. JD eyes widen.

“Is that…?”

“Yup! Jam got back this morning! In great shape too, didn’t seem hungry or anything,” Milton explains.

JD takes the letter, ignoring the shaking in his fingers. He wants to open it, to read it immediately but he’s nervous. Almost scared. He has no idea what Clay has said, and he almost doesn’t want to find out. He tucks it into his coat. “I’ll read it later,” he says.

“Yeah, I figured you’d want some privacy,” Milton agrees, “did you want to help out? Or do you want to head back and read it, I won’t be offended.”

“Huh, well what needs doing?” JD asks. He’s stalling.

“Subtle sloth needs her claws trimmed and I was gonna weigh the glitter-worms.”

“I can do the weighing if you—Rhonda! Down!” He shouts; Rhonda is jumping enthusiastically on one of the bloodhound bugs. At his call she stops, bounding towards him honking. He leans down to rub her face, “good girl. No squishing the bugs please.”

“She listens to you really well,” Milton observes.

“Yeah well, she’s gonna get a lot bigger. Can’t have her running around jumping on stuff when she’s the size of a Caterbus.”

“That’s true. She’s intelligent though, I’ve noticed her sniffing out the berries every time she’s here. Well, either that or she’s got a great sense of smell,” Milton muses.

“She’s clever all right. Don’t know about her tracking skills though, reckon she could learn?” JD asks. It would be a useful skill for her to have, that’s for sure.

“No harm in trying! Next time you’re over I’ll get some stuff together, see if we can’t experiment. Bring Branch, he can help hide some stuff for her to find.”

“Oh he’ll love that,” JD agrees, especially if it involves setting up a treat treasure hunt for her, “anyway, point me to those worms and I’ll get weighing,” he says, dusting his hands.

“They’re inside at the moment, scales in the normal place and the log is on the shelf,” Milton explains.

“The blue book?”

“Yup,” Milton says, also removing himself from the fence.

JD heads to the worms, his mind still focused on the letter burning a hole in his coat.

He climbs down into the bunker until he reaches his room. Sitting on his bed, JD unfurls the letter, positioning it under the light to see it more clearly.

John

I’m alive. If I were cruel, I’d end it there, but I’m not. I’m glad you guys are okay, I am, but I can’t come. I found someone who needs me, people who need me. Leaving would be complicated. Thank you though, for reaching out. I really am glad you’re okay even if you.

Clay

He doesn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, Clay is safe; it’s definitely his handwriting, he was always very neat. On the other, it’s very dismissive. He’s not sure how to tell Branch his brother won’t be visiting; Bitty is undoubtedly going to take it as a personal slight. Clay hadn’t even mentioned Branch, and this is the thing that annoys him the most, he knows he has his issues with JD (and fair enough), but Branch was innocent. He deserved an acknowledgment at the very least. Was the letter he sent too vague? Maybe if he’d mentioned Branch’s health issues he’d have realised how important it was to contact their little brother? What was he supposed to do now? The initial idea was to establish contact, then send Bitty’s letters or give them to his brother face to face. He’s not sure Clay would want further correspondence, he’d been very dismissive…

Okay. It’s okay. Focus on the positives. He’s safe. One brother is safe, tick it off the mental list (and push down the building resentment). Now he could write to Floyd, and add more details. Just a bit, enough to convey the severity of the situation. He’d have to make the trip back to their old pod to gather some clothing items, and he was not looking forward to it. He wouldn’t be telling Bitty either, that’s for sure. He’d ask Peppy about the easiest way to return, and arrange a sleepover for Branch morning to the next day's evening; if he was quick he’d be back in time. He’d just have to ensure Peppy kept Branch busy.

Chapter Text

“Sure you’re okay watching Rhonds while I’m gone?” JD asks the vet. Milton grins.

“More than! I’m gonna take some photos of her windows, see how her interior is coming along, and maybe weigh her. She’s getting bigger; did you say you think she’ll have a growth spurt at about five?” Milton asks, leaning down to peer at Rhonda’s carapace.

“I mean if we’re going by Caterbus standards sure, but truthfully I’ve no clue,” JD admits.

“Hmm. I’m thinking she’s due one soon you know, there’s more shedding here than normal. Good thing you got her enclosure built already!”

“Yeah, the fuzzlings were surprisingly helpful, for someone so small they pack a lot of power,” JD says, thinking back to the trolls who’d helped build the bunker and shack.

“I know, everyone was surprised how adept they were at building, I remember they swept through the village like some sort of construction tornado,” Milton praises.

“Yeah, we're lucky. Anyway, I ought to get going, it’s gonna take a while to get back to the tree,” JD says, steeling himself for the upcoming journey.

“Did you want to take my flying beetle?” Milton asks.

“Seriously? I mean it’d save time, but I’ve not ridden one in years, not since I was a kid,” JD explains.

“Well with Delia it’s less riding and more enjoying the ride. Up to you though?”

“You know what, go on then. I’ll get back sooner so less chance Branch will freak out at me being gone,” JD thinks aloud.

Milton heads off to get Delia, giving JD a moment to panic. He’s heading back to their old pod. It’s not an option, he needs to get clothing for the bloodhound bugs to scent, but it’s still nerve-wracking to return to his old home. When he’d gone back before, he’d had almost nothing to lose. This time round he has to be careful, he has his little brother at home waiting for him, nothing could go wrong.

“Here she is!” Milton announces, leading the flying beetle towards him. She’s large, her shell an iridescent purple and her face is…well there’s no thoughts going on inside her head, let’s just say that.

“Sweet! So how do I er…control her?”

“Control her? Hah! That’s a good one. Well if you pull the reins in the direction you want to go she’ll know what to do. She’s pretty self-sufficient, just pull them both back to land. If you’re careful she can take you directly into the pod, but please only if there’s no signs of…you know.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” JD promises, walking over to gently pet her shell. Well, no time like the present. He had brothers to find after all.

Branch was suspicious. And nervous, but mainly suspicious. JD had arranged some sort of sleepover at Poppy’s while he did something, but he didn’t say what it was and was acting shifty. There weren’t any holidays coming up he could remember, so he couldn’t be doing anything like that, but it was still really weird.

“Did you want some Branch?” Cooper asks from where he’s perched.

Cooper had invited himself over too. Branch liked Cooper. He hadn’t to start with, because he didn’t know him, and it was weird to get to know another person. He didn’t really like change, it was stressful. Cooper was nice though, and he was also different like him, not grey, but he looked different so Branch could relate. Although the village trolls all seemed to like Cooper, and they didn’t really like Branch…anyway, Cooper was nice, he let him take photos of him and his hat was soft and green.

“No thanks” Branch replies; the chocolate Cooper was offering would be too bland.

“Branch can’t taste it, remember?” Poppy adds. She’s on her stomach on the floor, scrapbooking.

“Oh yeah! Sorry Branch!” Cooper apologises.

“It’s okay. I bet it tastes good…you know. If I could taste it,” he laments. As nice as it is to not be scared of pain, he does miss being able to taste.

“Mmm it does!” Cooper replies, mouth full.

“So guys, we can play hide and seek? Or more scrapbooking? Branch won’t show us his bow and arrow skills so…” Poppy says pouting.

Branch crosses his arms, “I promised JD I’d only do it with him there. It’s dangerous.”

“Urgh fiine,” Poppy sighs, rolling onto her back dramatically.

“ Oh-oh-oh
Dan-danger-dangerous
It's dangerous, so dangerous
I wanna do it again—”

“Cooper! Branch doesn’t like singing!” Poppy interrupts the quadruped’s song.

“Oh! Sorry Branch!” Cooper replies, face shameful.

Branch blushes; he feels so bad. It’s his issue, and he’s making his friends feel bad for things they can’t really help.

“It—it’s okay. You can sing if you want,” he says shyly.

“Wait, really?” Poppy says, sitting up incredulously.

“I guess? I mean, I don’t want to sing, but I feel bad making you guys not sing, if you want to. Um, sometimes it’s a bit overwhelming but…”

“Overwhelming?” Poppy asks, confused.

“Like…too much? Too much sound? Especially with the parties. But if it’s just you guys then I suppose it’s okay,” Branch concedes.

“Awww really?? Yaay, Cooper we can sing! Sometimes!” Poppy kicks her legs in excitement.

Branch smiles at her enthusiasm. She can be so so annoying sometimes, but she’s always fun. She makes him feel normal. It’s weird, he’s never had friends before, but Poppy (and now Cooper) are okay with him being so odd. It’s nice.

“Can we sing now?” Cooper asks, moving side to side with enthusiasm.

“Is that okay Branch?” Poppy asks. Branch nods.

“Go ahead. I’ll just uh…watch?” he says awkwardly. The two cheer, breaking out into song.

Branch watches the two fondly, ignoring the part inside him longing to join in. He won’t risk it, not again. They finish their impromptu song, posing dramatically, and Branch ignores his urge to clap. As much as doesn’t mind the singing, he’s not going to encourage it.

“Right guys! Shall we go play outside?” Poppy asks. Branch shrugs noncommittally.

“Yeah!” Cooper agrees enthusiastically.

“Daddy! Daddy, we’re gonna go play outside!” Poppy calls to her father. King Peppy peers around the corner to answer.

“Where are you going petal?” he asks.

“Mmm just near the bouncy shrooms! We’ll be really careful,” she says, bouncing on her toes.

“Well as long as you are! Your friends definitely want to go?” He asks, but Branch knows he’s referring to him so he nods.

“They do!” Poppy says.

“Well, I’ll see you later then, don’t be too late though!” Peppy requests, and Poppy nods, giving him a quick hug before pulling her friends towards the exit.

Branch allows himself to be dragged to the door, following her as she descends from the pod. This is actually kind of great. JD is always so nervous about letting him out alone, worried he’ll get injured or something (he’s assuming), so he feels rebellious being able to go out without an adult.

“…Branch?” Cooper has been speaking to him as they walk.

“It’s okay, Branch zones out sometimes,” Poppy explains.

“Sorry,” Branch says, sheepishly.

“It’s fine dude, just wanted to know how good you were at shroom bouncing!” Cooper asks.

“Oh uh, I’ve never done it before?” Branch admits.

“Seriously? Oh man, you have to do it, it’s so much fun!” Cooper enthuses.

“Yeah. Yeah! I’m gonna have a go,” he says, determined. He’ll just have to be careful, that’s all.

“Yeah, we can…oh! Creek! Hi!” Poppy interrupts herself as she notices another troll. He’s purple, with bright teal hair, and he looks to be about Branch’s age, if not a little older.

Branch has seen him around a few times, but never interacted with Poppy’s friend before. He’s not so nervous though, if he’s Poppy’s friend he’s bound to be friendly, right?

“Ah, hey Princess!” he replies, walking over to give Poppy a tight hug, “Cooper,” he acknowledges, hugging the other troll. He looks at Branch, his eyes widening a little, “and who is this?”

“Oh, this is our friend Branch!” Poppy introduces.

“Hi,” Branch says, giving a small smile and awkward wave.

“Huh. Okay. What are you doing here anyway?” Creek asks, turning back to the princess. Branch feels irked at the dismissal, but ignores it.

“Oh, um, we were gonna bounce on the shrooms!” she explains, clearly unsure how to react.

“All of you?” Creek asks. Poppy looks confused.

“Yeah?”

“I see. Well, I’ll see you around then Poppy, I’ve got something I need to help my Mum with,” Creeks says. His eyes dart to Branch for a moment, and Branch feels nervous at his blank expression.

“Oh? You don’t want to join us?” Poppy asks.

“Another time! See you Poppy, Cooper…Branch,” and with a final dismissal he walks off.

“Is it just me or was he being really weird?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Poppy agrees. Branch shrugs.

“Maybe he was in a bad mood,” he says.

“Yeah. Yeah, that must be it!” Poppy agrees, perking up.

Branch doesn’t really care. He’s used to people having weird reactions to him, he thinks it’s probably because he’s grey. It makes JD upset though, he’s pretty sure he saw his brother getting mad at some trolls at the market the other week because they were talking about him. It used to bother him, but that was before JD came back and Poppy became his actual friend, and he met Rhonda and started taking photos and doing archery. He has way too much nice stuff to keep him busy, the other villagers don’t bother him anymore. Not really. Only a little.

“Okay, I’m gonna bounce!” Cooper shouts, taking a running jump up onto the mushroom. Poppy hollers as he gains height, scrambling onto her own mushroom.

“Come on Branch!” she shouts.

“Wait!” he says, pulling his camera out of his hair.

click

He snaps a photo, placing both the photo and camera back into the safety of his hair.

He climbs up carefully, bending his knees and propelling himself upwards. The shroom is really bouncy, he doesn’t need to push much as he’s already so high. His goggles bounce, threatening to fall off, and he holds them on with a tight grip.

“It’s so fun!” Poppy shrieks and Branch finds himself grinning alongside her. It really is fun, he feels weightless, his heart pounding frantically.

“Look how—ahh!” Cooper squeals, landing awkwardly and tumbling from the shroom. Branch gasps, jumping from his own shroom to help his friend. He lands awkwardly, his ankle rolling in a way it probably shouldn’t, but he ignores it, helping Cooper to his feet.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah!” Cooper laughs, “I’m fine, did you see that landing?”

“You looked like spaghetti!” Poppy adds, having climbed down herself.

Branch lets out a relieved laugh of his own.

“Let’s go again!” Cooper enthuses, clambering back up. Branch looks at his ankle. It doesn’t look hurt. It was probably fine.

“Okay!” He agrees. The three jump a bit longer, until they’re out of breath. Poppy and Cooper want to try swapping mushrooms mid-jump, but Branch talks them out of it.

“Come on,” Poppy shouts, once off her shroom, “I’m gonna hide! Who wants to count?”

“Um, I can?” Branch volunteers. Cooper whoops, running after Poppy to hide, and Branch begins his countdown. Maybe he should mention his ankle to…no. It’s fine.

He’ll be fine.

JD has grabbed as much as he can from the pod. He was only supposed to be grabbing clothes, but there was far too much there to leave; photos, Brozone albums, his Grandma’s macrame tablecloth. He couldn’t leave it. He hadn’t even thought of the items left behind, but now he saw them it made his eyes burn uncomfortably. Looking at the table where they’d eaten, and the living room where they’d had band rehearsal. He hadn’t had time to look around when he’d last been here, but with Delia saving him some time, he indulges himself, going through each room with melancholy.

Their bedroom…god, the bunk beds. He can remember being woken by Floyd many a night, not even from nightmares. Sometimes his brother just had a ‘really interesting dream’, and he couldn’t wait to share it, and JD was always his go-to victim. He’d indulged him more when he was younger, as he’d grown older he’d been less reluctant to have midnight chats, the stress of the band wringing him dry. And wow, Spruce’s posters were still on the walls. He’d been obsessed with that particular girl group, even wanting to wear their signature eyeshadow. JD had shut that down pretty sharpish…it hadn’t fit with the band’s ‘aesthetic’. Wow. He was such a dick.

The crayon marks were still on the bed posts from where Bitty had graffitied, unwatched for maybe five minutes max. Spruce had burst out laughing when he’d seen it, Clay had frantically tried to wipe it away (to no avail), and Floyd had been exasperated (especially when Bits had tried colouring his brother’s face too). JD had just been annoyed. He remembers it with sharp clarity, deep irritation at the baby and his brothers for allowing it to happen. Why was he so angry? He’d been angry all the time, underneath the surface, the pressure of keeping the family band afloat weighing him down. It was just crayon though. Branch had been a baby. It’s strange, he can’t imagine feeling that level of irritation towards the current Branch, well, without a heavy helping of guilt alongside it anyway. He sighs.

His Grandma and Branch had really changed nothing. Other than the thick layers of dust, it was untouched. Had Branch even slept in here? His cot was by the bunk beds, but he couldn’t have been using it when he was four, right? Did he stay with their Grandma?

He heads to the drawers, rummaging for clothes. Aha, one of Spruce’s shirts and a pair of Floyd’s shorts. He even grabs a few of Clay’s rompers, mainly for nostalgia. Wait, they needed to be worn, for the scent. He packs them in the bag just in case but checks the wash basket on the off chance…yup. Untouched and unwashed. Ignoring how gross it was, he digs around, pulling out something from each of his brothers. Chances were this would work better, disgusting as it was (it would be less gross than using Clay’s literal underwear though).

Wait. There was something different. In the corner of the room, four toys were placed in a circle with space for a fifth member. One of them was his, a ratty old plush, well-worn and loved. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen it. The others, each one belonged to one of his brothers, all except Bitty. Branch must have done this, set up this sad tea party of his brother’s toys. It’s heartbreaking, the connotations of how lonely he’d been staring JD in the face. He blinks back his tears, heading back into the living room, for the last time. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend his Grandma’s at the table, playing rummy. He sniffs, willing his tears back.

“Sorry Grandma,” he mutters, immediately feeling stupid for talking to himself. He ought to go. The longer he was here, the more chance there was of a Bergen finding him, and he wasn’t taking the risk.

“Come on Delia, off we go,” he says swinging onto her back. His bag is heavy, but not unbalanced, and she sets off immediately, her wings buzzing with a frantic hum.

He’d dropped Delia off with Milton, picking up Rhonda and depositing his collected haul at the bunker before he swung by Peppy’s pod to collect Branch. The entire excursion had taken a good few hours, but much less time than he’d expected, so he’d had time to sort through his collected items, placing them in his room. He’s tempted to place the macrame tablecloth on the table, but he doesn’t want any awkward questions from Branch, so he leaves it on his bed where he can decide later (and probably cry). Branch is in good spirits when he arrives to collect him; all three children begin bombarding him with stories about their day.

“…And we bounced!” Poppy shrieks.

“Poppy!” Branch gives her a pointed look.

“Um and I mean we did hide and seek!”

“Branch was a really good finder,” the troll JD assumes is Cooper adds.

“You didn’t hide very well,” Branch adds pragmatically, “your legs stuck out.”

“Nu-uh, my legs were camel-camuf—“

“Camouflaged?” Branch guesses.

“Yeah, that,” Cooper says defiantly.

“But you were hiding in green grass?” Branch sounds confused.

JD stifles a laugh, “Well kids, sounds like you guys had fun!”

“We did, we did! We need another sleepover soon, and can Rhonda come too and we can have a tea party with her and make her all sparkly and stuff!” Poppy asks, Cooper nodding alongside her enthusiasm.

“Sure! Well maybe Rhonda can visit, but she might not want to stay the night,” JD says, aware she might get stressed out being dressed up for an entire evening.

“She’s our friend Poppy, not a doll,” Branch admonishes, arms crossed.

“I know that!” Poppy says, rolling her eyes, “but she can be guest of honour and wear the crown!”

“Mmm maybe for a bit,” Branch agrees.

“Okay! We can do it for a bit, right Cooper?”

“Yeah! I want to see Rhonda, Branch told me lots and lots about her!”

“She’s very cute,” Branch says, tone serious.

“Right,” JD interrupts, aware the conversation has gotten away from him, “say bye Branch, we don’t want to leave Rhonda waiting outside too much longer.”

“Oh! Okay. Bye Poppy, bye Cooper,” he says, turning shy.

“Hug?” Poppy asks, arms open. Branch contemplates.

“Small one.”

She grabs him for a short tight squeeze, and Cooper moves in to join. Branch reaches round, hugging his friends briefly, before stepping back awkwardly.

“Thank you for having me,” he says to Peppy, who has been sitting watching the events unfold from the comfort of the sofa.

“You’re welcome Branch! We’ll see you soon!” He replies jovially.

“Thanks,” JD adds seriously. Peppy waves him off.

“No worries. Branch is welcome any time.”

After a final round of goodbyes, the two leave the pod, Branch immediately smothering Rhonda in cuddles as soon as he sees her.

“…I missed you. Did you have fun with Milton? Did he give you treats?” he asks in a low voice. Rhonda pants in response, licking a stripe of glitter up Branch’s arm.

JD smiles fondly.

“Come on Bitty, let’s get back. You got any new photos to show me?” he asks, as they begin their walk.

“Yeah! I need to sort them though, they’re all a bit muddled,” Branch says, gesturing to his hair.

“So…” JD begins after a brief silence, “what’s Cooper like? You got to spend a lot of time with him last night.”

“He’s really nice! And fun! He liked my camera too, and wasn’t even bothered when I said no to shooting a berry off his head with an arrow cause it was dangerous!”

Okaaay, lots to unpack here. “You didn’t do archery then?” he asks, tone purposefully calm.

“Of course not! You said not to when you weren’t there so I didn’t. I didn’t even have my bow!” Branch sounds offended he even asks.

“Just checking! I didn’t think you would,” JD placates, “I’m glad you’re getting along with Poppy’s friends though!”

Branch just hums in response, and JD hopes he hasn’t offended him.

When they reach the bunker, they take Rhonda to her enclosure, Bitty giving her one last cuddle before they head underground. JD enters first (as is habit, in case Branch slips on the ladder rungs) and sets some water to boil for a tea. He places Bitty'ss bag in his room, heading back to the kitchen area to speak to his brother.

“Did you have your brew this morning?” He asks.

“Um. No?” Branch replies guiltily.

“Hey, it’s not your fault! Is it still in your bag?”

“Yeah, I’ll go grab it!” Branch declares, hurrying off before JD can offer to get it.

It’s not his fault, King Peppy was the adult here. He’d need to remind the King about Branch’s supplement for further sleepovers, it wasn’t something JD was going to risk fucking about with, Branch’s health was his priority.

The water begins to boil, and he pours it into the mug, “you okay there Branch?” he calls, Bitty is taking a while. There’s no reply. He turns off the stove, heading into his bedroom.

“Hey Bit—“

Shit. He’s sat on his bed, holding the macrame blanket, looking like his world has ended.

“Bitty…”

“Where did you get this?” he asks, voice distraught.

“Branch I—"

“It was at the pod. Grandma’s pod, why is-is it here?”

“Branch I…I had to go back. I needed to get items for the bloodhound bugs, so we could send letters—"

“No! No, you shouldn’t have gone! It’s dangerous, it’s dangerous,” Bitty says, his voice steadily rising in volume.

“I had to! It was the only way we could contact our brothers,” JD tries to explain, walking towards his brother slowly.

“I don’t care if it meant you going back we shouldn’t send the letters!” Branch cries, squeezing the blanket in his hands, crawling back in the bed until his back is against the wall.

“You don’t mean that Branch,” JD says softly.

“I do, I do, it’s not worth it if it means you get—you get hurt!”

“I’m fine! I’m fine Bitty, everything’s okay,” JD hurries to reassure. Branch ducks his head down into his knees, giving a low groan in distress. His hair falls to cover his face, and JD settles onto the bed.

“I’m sorry Bitty, I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to worry, I don’t have to go back anymore I got everything we need, okay?” he rambles, he just wants Branch to calm down and look at him.

“Everything’s okay,” he continues, sweeping his brother’s hair back to see his face, “it’s…shit!”

Branch is biting his own wrist, digging deep enough to pierce the skin; blood is pooling around his teeth, dripping lazily down his arm, and his eyes are wide and unfocused.

“Branch, Branch stop!” JD reaches out, like lightning, grasping his brother’s face to gently pry his mouth off his arm. He lets him, his mouth hanging open. His teeth are blood stained, and JD feels sick. He grabs his bed sheet, pressing it against the wound, gently stroking his brother’s face.

“Hey, hey Bitty look at me. You’re safe, I’m safe, we’re in the bunker,” he says, ignoring the heartbeat pounding in his ears; what did Plimsy say to try again? “Can you hear me? Can you say something?”

Branch hums in response, blinking heavily.

“What can you hear Bitty?”

Branch licks his lips, smearing blood as he does so.

“Um, you. Your voice. My heart.”

“And what can you see?”

“Mmm your bed. You. Grandma’s blanket.”

“Good, you’re doing really good okay?” JD reassures, “you had a bit of a panic. Just keep breathing, okay? Don’t worry about it, but in a bit I’m gonna take you to see Dr Plimsy.”

Branch blinks, confused, “for my ankle?”

“Your ankle?” JD asks cautiously. Bitty just nods. He reaches down to look at his leg, telegraphing his movements. Sure enough one of his ankles is swollen. What the fuck, what the actual fuck, why did Peppy not mention this!?

“Yeah, yeah we’ll get your ankle looked at,” JD agrees hurriedly, he can interrogate the King at a later date, “and your arm is a bit…injured.”

“My—my arm?” Branch says, pulling his arm to see. JD grabs the cover-clad limb gently, stopping him from moving it.

“It’s fine, it’s fine Bitty, don’t look okay?”

He takes a steadying breath, “I’m gonna lift you up and carry you, okay?”

He waits until Bitty nods, then manoeuvres him into his bedsheet, wrapping him lightly and ensuring his arm is still covered. Branch is confused, he doesn’t want him to see his injury and freak.

It’s a struggle getting out of the bunker (why are there so many fucking ladders?!), and the walk to Plimsy’s pod is a blur. He does his best to shield Branch from prying eyes, but he’s not sure how successful he is. It doesn’t matter, all that matters is getting him checked out. He swings up into the pod, kicking the door frantically in place of knocking. Plimsy opens the door, confusion making way for shock.

“John Dory?”

“Hey, can you check Branch out please,” he says; he has no idea how he sounds, he’s barely holding it together.

“Of—of course! Bring him in, lie him down!” Plimsy replies, widening the door for him.

Once Branch is settled on the patient bed he turns to Plimsy, speaking in low tones.

“He had an…episode. Bit his arm, not even sure if he realises he did it? His ankle is fucked too, I have no idea when that happened, Peppy didn’t mention anything—"

“John, John sit down. It’s okay, I’ll check him out, just take a few breaths for me,” Plimsy says, her voice calm. JD practically drops into the closest chair, taking a shaky breath.

“Hey Branch, how are you feeling sweetheart?” Plimsy asks.

“Mmm. Foggy. Weird. I don’t know,” he says, voice small. He is small, but god if he doesn’t look it, wrapped up in JD’s sheet.

“Okay, that’s fine! I’m gonna check you out a little alright? You know the drill,” Plimsy jokes, “I need to look at your arm and your ankle if that’s okay?”

“My arm?” Branch asks, voice blank.

“You bit it honey, but it’s okay we’ll get it all sorted out,” she reassures.

“Oh. I didn’t mean to,” Branch replies, beginning to sound distressed.

“I know you didn’t, it’s hard sometimes isn’t it? Especially when you can’t feel it right?”

Branch nods. JD watches as Plimsy unveils Branch’s arm, swallowing harshly. He feels sick. It looks deep. Of course it is. He can’t feel it; he must have bitten hard as he was capable.

“Okay, I’m going to clean this out for you and I’m going to wrap it in a nice clean dressing, alright?” Plimsy asks. Branch just nods, staring at the wound in shock. He’s silent the whole process, watching intently until the bandage covers the wound entirely, and even then he’s still staring.

“You’ll need to clean it every day John, and re-wrap it. We don’t want it getting infected; I’ll give you some sterile bandage and antibacterial soap so don’t worry about that,” Plimsy says, turning to JD.

“Yeah. Great, okay that’s great,” he replies. His tongue feels like lead. He can tell Plimsy is examining him, so he swiftly changes the subject, “can you look at his ankle now? Please?”

She sighs, “Sure. Which one is it Branch?” she asks. Branch hands her a leg in response.

“What happened here?” she asks, gently examining the swollen limb.

“I fell off a mushroom,” Branch replies.

JD blanches, “Wait, wait, why were you up a mushroom? Is anything else hurt? Can he have internal injuries or something?” he says frantically, turning between Plimsy and Branch. Those mushrooms were tall, trolls lived in them for a reason.

Dr Plimsy ignores his tangent, “How big was the mushroom Branch?”

“Oh um, not big. It was a bouncy one.”

“The small ones near the river?”

“Yeah.”

Plimsy gives JD a pointed look, and he forces himself to relax.

“Okay. Okay,” he mutters to himself, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, I think you’ve sprained it. King Peppy has mentioned getting some better medical equipment for the village soon, maybe even something to check for broken bones, but for now, until we can be sure, you’re better staying off your feet for a while, keeping it elevated,” Plimsy explains; she’s looking at Branch, but speaking to JD. He swallows, elevation. Right. Like last time. Branch’s eyes begin to water.

“But how will I do archery? Or see Poppy?” he asks.

JD opens his mouth. He wants to say something along the lines of ‘well you should have thought of that before falling off a mushroom’, but he stops himself. He’s stressed and angry and he refuses to let himself take it out on Branch, more than half the reason they’re even here is because of him, stressing his brother out to the point he bit his own arm open. Instead, he takes a deep breath, calming his voice.

“It’ll be fine Bitty, I’m sure Poppy will visit. And a break from archery won’t do you any harm, you can just read more of those books on it if you’d like?”

“JD,” Bitty says, looking at him, the picture of a kicked critter, “I’m sorry.”

JD stands, walking over to hug his brother, “It’s okay Bitty. It’s fine.”

“I should have said something to someone about my ankle, but it looked okay and I was having so much fun and I’m sorry I got angry about you going back to the pod but I’m scared,” Branch beseeches, his face crumpling. JD hugs him tighter, grateful he’d not spoken in anger. His brother was hurting, he needed compassion and understanding, not the old ‘quick-to-anger’ JD of the past.

“I get it Bitty, it’s fine, I’m not mad. It’s not your fault,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe,” Plimsy gently interrupts, “it might be a good idea to schedule a little chat soon? Sooner than planned?” she’s looking at them, and JD knows she’s referring to them both.

“That sounds like a good idea, right Bits?” He says, forcing enthusiasm. Bitty just nods, sniffling into his coat.

“Let me get you some water Branch, you can rinse your mouth out,” Plimsy says, going to grab the drink.

“Rinse?” Branch asks. Ah, of course, he can’t taste the blood.

“Yeah, just to clean your mouth out a little,” JD explains. Branch accepts this, leaning his head against JD’s chest. Plimsy hands him the water, and bowl to spit in, and Branch does so clumsily. He snuggles back into JD once finished, and JD keeps him balanced, his hand on his shoulder.

“We can talk when I next see you,” Plimsy says pointedly.

“Yeah. Good idea,” JD agreed. This can’t happen again, they need some contingencies in place.

“Come on baby B, let’s get you back,” JD mutters, shifting to hold his brother.

“Bring him back if there’s any sign of a temperature, or you’ve got any concerns okay? If the wound has any spreading discolouration, or is radiating heat? Straight back. And it’s fine to bring him any time John, I don’t mind,” Plimsy reassures. She hands him a small bag, “soap and bandage,” she adds in explanation.

“You’re a life saver Plimsy,” he says sighing, placing the bag into the safety of his hair.

“You know what John? When I’m off the clock, call me Plum,” she says, after a moment's thought.

“Yeah, alright, known each other long enough I suppose,” JD jokes weakly.

JD gives a final farewell before picking up Bitty, who at this point is practically asleep. JD cradles him close, gentle as he descends the pod. He’s aware of every movement, every jostle, regardless of the fact Branch won’t feel the pain, he doesn’t want to risk worsening the injuries.

“Are we nearly home?” Bitty asks, voice quiet and muffled from where he’s pressed against JD’s chest. His eyes are firmly closed; JD had thought him asleep.

“Nearly Bits. Not long,” he reassures, upping the pace. This time around he’s cognisant enough to glare back at the staring villagers. He’s aware he’s probably cementing his place as the crazy villager here, but he couldn’t care less.

He struggles down the ladders, stopping when they reach Branch’s room.

“You okay for me to set you up in here?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Branch replies. He sounds miserable.

“You sure? You can steal my bed for a bit if you want?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just…mad,” Branch says.

“Mad?” JD probes gently.

“At me. If I was more careful then I wouldn’t have hurt myself and now,” his eyes begin to water, “I’m gonna be behind in everything.”

“Hey, hey it won’t be forever! You won’t be behind in anything, I know you, you’re waaay too determined to let something like this stop you um…progressing,” wow he has no idea what to say, “and even if you did get a little rusty, you’ll catch straight back up! Besides, you said you were gonna go through your archery books, get the background knowledge down,” he’s flailing at this point, words are hard, how the hell is he supposed to be encouraging?!

“And Poppy and Cooper won’t leave me behind?” Branch asks, his expression fearful.

“No! Of course not! They’ll probably be over everyday if we let them…which we can’t by the way, I don’t think their parents would be too happy,” JD adds at Branch’s burgeoning sly expression.

“How are you going to tell them I’m hurt?” Branch asks, curious.

“Oh, um…” he really doesn’t want to move Branch anymore than he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave him alone in the bunker. He might have to though, if only to tell Milton he won’t be over to help with the critters.

“I might have to leave you here for a short while,” he says slowly, gauging Bitty’s reaction. Branch just nods.

“I thought so. I’ll be okay, just maybe not right now?” he says, his fingers twitching anxiously in the covers.

“No! No, I’m not going anywhere today. It’ll be tomorrow maybe,” JD clarifies. The thought of leaving Branch alone after arguably one of his worst meltdowns yet is almost enough to make JD panic himself.

“Rhonda needs her walks anyway,” Branch adds.

“Huh, that’s true,” JD hadn’t even been thinking of his shelled friend, as bad as it was. Branch had scared him.

“I know I was mad about the stuff earlier but…can you show me? What you got from the pod?” Branch asks, avoiding his eyes.

“Sure. Sure, just stay here and I’ll bring it in,” he says.

He grabs a drink for Branch too, and his brew. The reason this whole thing happened. Well, sort of. As Branch drinks the concoction of vitamins, JD lays out the items he collected alongside them.

“Before we look through them Bitty, are you okay?” JD asks. It’s a big question, he’s referring to a lot. Branch contemplates.

“I don’t know. I think I just got so overwhelmed, I just wanted everything to stop and I just…I wish I could feel something? Sometimes? It scares me a little because…well, Dr Plimsy said sometimes things can be um, grounding? Like pain, or cold. And I don’t have that? I don’t know, I don’t really remember biting myself very well…” Branch tries to explain, “I feel okay now though? Sad? I think? It’s annoying, having to think about stuff like this all the time,” he says, gesturing to his propped up ankle.

JD nods, “Yeah. I understand Bitty. I’m sorry.”

“Can you show me the stuff now?” Bitty almost begs, looking for a subject change.

“Sure. Okay, well to start with I grabbed some of our old albums,” he takes the sleeved vinyl out the bag, handing one over to Branch.

“I don’t even remember recording this,” Branch mutters.

“You were little. It’s understandable. We can listen to it at some point if we can get hold of a record player,” JD suggests.

“I think I’d like that?” Branch sounds unsure.

“Yeah? Well, we can’t play it yet anyway,” JD says.

Branch traces the faces of the cover, his expression unreadable.

“What’s next?” he says, looking up, placing the record to the side.

“Oh well I grabbed some clothes,” he pulls them out, scrunching his nose at Floyd and Spruce’s dirty garment, “yeah let’s not look at those. They’re dirty, good for Jam to track,” he explains at Branch’s confused expression. He hands over the remaining clothes.

“This is Clay’s,” Branch says, holding the romper. It’s a faded green, and the pocket on the front is a face, “is this the one I used to feed crayons?”

“Sure is. Who knows, maybe you can wear it when you’re older,” JD jokes, he’s not sure it’s Branch’s style. Bitty proves him wrong however, nodding enthusiastically.

“I will! I think it’s nice,” he says, poking the pocket. “JD,” he starts.

“Yeah?” John prompts.

“I think I want to wear Floyd’s vest again,” he explains, still poking the pocket.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m still mad at him, but…I miss him. So I think I want to wear it again,” he says, with finality.

“Whatever you wanna do Bits,” JD encourages.

He’s definitely going to be more specific with this letter to Floyd; he’s hoping his brother will be more responsive than Clay, especially if he knows Bitty is struggling. Spruce…he’s not even thought that far ahead.

“Can we send photos with the letters?” Branch asks.

“We caaaan, but when we get a response first. We need to check the letters are going to the right people,” JD explains.

“Who else would they go to?” Branch asks.

Hmm, tricky territory here. He settles on a semi-truth, “Other trolls not in the forest.”

“I thought we were the only ones?” Branch asks, his face scrunching in confusion.

“We’re not the only trolls.”

“Then why didn’t they come and help us? When we were trapped in the tree?” Branch asks.

“I don’t know,” JD replies honestly, “I never saw anyone else when I was on the trail myself, so I never asked. Anyway, we can send photos after we get an initial response,” JD says, circling the conversation back to the initial topic.

“And can I send my letters? The ones I wrote?” Branch asks.

“Again, it might be worth waiting until we get a response,” he says, neglecting to mention the fact he’d already received a response from Clay.

“Okay, then I can send the pictures and the photos I took,” Branch agrees.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Comfy?” JD asks.

He’s taken Branch out of the bunker, sitting him by Rhonda’s enclosure so that he can see her. He’d been cooped up for a few days now, and with Poppy unable to visit his mood had taken a sharp decline, so JD figured getting him set up in the fresh air would do him some good. He’d explained to the King what had happened, and the guy truly had no idea Branch had been injured. JD was still annoyed he’d let the kids loose unsupervised, but it seemed he was in the minority here as a majority of the village kids ran amok at any given time. Peppy had mentioned starting up the school again, but with a majority of the original educators deceased, it was proving harder than he’d thought.

“I’m comfy,” Branch agrees.

JD had fashioned some sort of nest of pillows, they’d get dirty sure, but he could always wash them. It was more important Branch was getting some daylight.

He releases Rhonda, walking her over to Bitty to ensure she doesn’t immediately jump on him, and seeing Bitty’s face break into a wide smile confirms he’s done the right thing.

“Rhonda! Here, here!” Branch says, beckoning her over. She trills, lumbering towards him and licking a glittering stripe across his face.

“I missed you,” Branch mumbles, face mushed into her side, “when I can walk again we’re gonna go on the longest walks, I know JD only does the boring one.”

“Hey!” JD protests, “it’s the most efficient!”

“Booring,” Branch mocked whispers, stretching out the word and grinning at JD. He rests his head on Rhonda’s back, looking content.

“Yeah yeah, we can go on more exciting walks when you’re better Bits,” JD relents, rolling his eyes.

He settles on the grass next to his brother, watching the forest lazily. He almost startles, as he notices something burst through the foliage. He calms, realising it’s only a bloodhound bug. Milton must have sent it over.

“Hey, Branch?”

“Hmm?” Branch hums in question, eyes closed as he rests on Rhonda.

“Look who it is.”

Branch’s eyes ping open, widening as he notices their guest, “Geronimo!”

Is it? JD can’t tell the difference, now the runt has caught up to the other bugs they’re almost identical. The way it immediately tries to burrow itself in Branch’s hair though is answer enough.

“Wait a sec Ronnie, do you have something?” JD asks, using Branch’s nickname for the bug. He stands, getting a better look; sure enough, his little pouch is full. He opens it, pulling out the contents and letting him resume his nesting.

It’s a note and a small wrapped parcel.

Hey JD

These are for Branch, they’re those peppers I mentioned. They are really really spicy, so don’t be tempted to try one yourself (or if you do, make sure kiddo has his camera ready).
I’ll come by later and grab Geronimo if you want to get your letter for your bro ready.

Milton

Aw man, he was a good kid. They’d need to do something nice for him after these letters were all sent and sorted, he’d put so much effort into helping him.

“Bitty,” JD calls, “Milton got you something to try.”

Branch looks up, Geronimo peeking out from his hair, “oh?” he tilts his head to the side like a critter. It’s freaking adorable.

“Yeah, hang on,” JD opens the cloth haphazardly, pulling out the small fruit? Veg? He has no idea, but it even looks hot. He places one in Bitty’s open hand, watching carefully as he pops it in his mouth, chewing carefully.

“Oh. Oh!” he smiles, “that’s got a taste!”

“Great! I’m gonna try one later when I have some milk ready,” JD says, placing the rest to the side and sitting back down. He’s going to enjoy the peace for a bit before he writes the letter, he needs it to be…well just this once, perfect.

Floyd

It’s John Dory. I’m going to start by saying sorry. I made a lot of mistakes. Lots. I’m not great with words that aren’t song lyrics, but I am sorry I owe you a face-to-face apology. This isn’t about that though, I want to know you’re safe. I’m with Branch. Grandma was eat is dead, and I have Branch at the new Pop village. I’m sorry to have to tell you this way, but I need you to know. I can’t give any details until I know this has reached you safely, but Bitty’s not doing well. If there’s any way you can visit, please let me know and I’ll send more information about our whereabouts, at the very least let us know you’re okay.
When you’ve got a letter ready, crush the leaf under the bloodhound bug’s nose and say ‘home’.

Love John Dory

Okay, it’s probably not great, but it’s more information than he gave Clay, and he’s hoping it relays enough that Floyd will respond, hopefully even visit. He has no idea what kind of life he’s forged for himself, he can only hope he’s safe and happy.

Milton swings by to pick up the letter and collect Geronimo, and JD hands him Floyd’s used shirt with a grimace.

“It’s fine,” Milton waves him off, “it’s got to be done.”

“Do you think we can collect our sweat and use it too?” Branch asks from where he’s propped. They’re still outside, Bitty enjoying being in the sun.

“I don’t see why not?” Milton says, a bit taken aback by the question.

“Maybe we can develop something so you can spray it like a perfume? But it’s the person's ode,” Branch muses.

“Odour Bitty. But yeah, maybe that’d work,” JD agrees. It would be easier than cutting off squares of clothing each time, and the scent would be more prominent for sure.

“Okay,” Bitty says, almost to himself, “next time I do archery I’m gonna collect my sweat in a jar.”

JD shares a look with Milton, but they have to look away; they’re so close to laughing.

“You do that Bitty,” JD agrees.

“And you can collect your sweat after your exercise,” Bitty continues, nodding to JD, “he does these stretches and stuff, and there’s lots of grunting,” he says to Milton, who splutters.

“It’s yoga! Yoga!” JD protests, “not a word,” he hisses to Milton, who raises his hands in defence.

“I’m saying nothing! I think it’s admirable to keep the body fit in its twilight years,” Milton replies smirking.

“T-twilight years?! I’m twenty-four! The very definition of in my prime you little shhhh…” JD trails off, shooting daggers at the vet who merely crosses his arms, grinning smugly. “I don’t know why you sound so puzzled Bitty, you join in!” He continues, turning to his brother.

Branch had been doing some simple yoga alongside him, well up until his injury, and he was surprisingly adept.

“Yeah, but I don’t make weird noises while I do it,” Branch replies innocently.

“That’s because you’re as flexible as a wet noodle,” JD counters.

Branch just shrugs.

“Right guys,” Milton announces, “I’m gonna get off now. Want to pass me Geronimo?” he asks Bitty.

Bitty removes the critter from his hair dejectedly, giving him a final hug before passing him over. Milton smiles, stroking the bug who now appears restless.

“Bye Ronnie,” Branch says, expression deflating.

“You’ll see him soon,” JD reassures.

“I’ll let you know when you get a response,” Milton says to JD.

“Sweet. Thanks kid.”

JD watches Milton disappear into the foliage, settling back to the ground next to Bitty.

“You’re sending a letter?” Branch asks.

Of course he gathered, he’s smart.

“Yeah, sending one to Floyd,” John replies, there’s no point lying.

“Oh okay. How long until he sends a letter back?” Branch asks.

“No idea Bits. We just have to see.”

“Okay. I need to get better at archery so I can show Floyd that I can hit a bullseye,” Bitty adds, matter of factly.

JD’s heart clenches. He’s hoping for Branch’s sake Floyd will reply, and he’s now certain he made the right choice not telling him about Clay’s reply. He’d be heartbroken.

JD is singing under his breath, stirring his coffee.

“We take our pleasure as the Gods allow,
What better place than here?
What better time than now? You- shit,” he winces as it spills over the sides of his mug, his stirring far too enthusiastic.

It had been a couple of months since they’d sent Floyd’s letter. Bitty was all healed, although it looked like his bite was going to scar. All of his focus had gone into his archery, practising whenever JD allowed him. To be fair he was getting good, he was hitting the target almost every time, and edging ever closer to a consistent bullseye. The first time he’d hit it he’d been so excited he’d almost smacked himself in the face with his bow, and the enthusiasm had been infectious.

Poppy and Branch were in Branch’s room, their loud conversation echoing through into the kitchen area.

“…Yeah but Lichen gave his bow a name!” Poppy sounds excited, as per usual.

“Yeah, but it’s not a person though? And Lichen’s bow was magic, so it was different,” Branch just sounds confused.

“It doesn’t matter, not everything has to be a person to have a name! Daddy even named his walking stick!”

“Oh, what did he call it?”

“Miss stick.”

JD splutters into his coffee.

“Oh. I mean I guess I can name my bow?” Branch appears to concede.

JD takes his coffee, sneaking towards the room to eavesdrop.

“Great! Cause I’ve got so many ideas already!”

“Mmm okay?” Branch says, uncertain.

“What about Brenda?” Poppy suggests. Brenda!? There’s no way Branch is going to go for that…

“Why Brenda?”

“Well it’s like a mix between Branch and Rhonda, but Bronda sounded really silly, so - Brenda!”

Yeah, no chance…

“Mmm I mean it makes sense…” what!? “okay! I like it.”

JD devolves into snickers; he can’t believe Bitty’s going along with it.

“Yay! Brenda and Branch, like a team!” Poppy shouts.

“I guess?” Branch still sounds more confused than excited.

“And when I get my bow, when I’m seven, I’m gonna call her Glitter. Oh, or Gumdrop! Or maybe Lemon?”

“Hey,” JD calls into the room, breaking up the conversation, “can I come in?”

“Yeah!” Branch calls out.

He enters, sipping his coffee.

“You guys ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes!” Poppy squeals. Branch nods, looking far less enthusiastic.

King Peppy had been slowly attempting to start up some sort of schooling for the children, and one of the first sessions was beginning shortly. Considering they’d all missed out on years of education, they were sharing introductory lessons, until they could be sure of the different children’s skill sets. JD had been skeptical; he didn’t know the trolls chosen to teach, and he was wary of how much they knew, and how they’d treat Branch. Having him socialise could only be a good thing though. Branch himself was nervous, adamant he wouldn’t be going, at least until he knew he’d be sharing a class with Poppy and Cooper (at least to start with).

Peppy himself had looked over the curriculum, and JD had suggested a few revisions when it was clear there was more focus on troll history and barely any actual math or writing. Yes, scrapbooking was valuable, but so was being able to read (he’d thought this would be common sense, but apparently not…at least Peppy had seemed sheepish).

He got it, the village was recovering. Some things needed to be prioritised though, and education was one of them. He can remember his own school days, boring as they were, had been pretty essential (especially when it came to his songwriting). It had been years now, if JD had been in charge (which, no way would he want to be) it wouldn’t have taken this long to set up schooling. At least it was happening now.

“Come on Branch we have to go!” Poppy gasps, practically vibrating with excitement.

JD had agreed to watch her beforehand as the King was busy with the newly chosen teachers setting up the session. Branch looks subdued.

“Okay…” he replies unenthusiastically.

JD finished his coffee with a loud slurp, “Come on, let’s head up.”

He deposits his mug in the kitchen as they pass, and he lets the children climb above him, ever ready to catch a falling child.

As they begin walking to the designated schooling pod Branch grabs hold of his hand, his small hand squeezing nervously. JD squeezes back, and it’s only a second later that Poppy grabs Branch’s vacant hand. Bitty looks less sure of this, but he allows it, as the small Princess begins chatting excitedly about what they might do at school.

They enter the large pod, and Branch’s hand spasms at the amount of other trolls. The parents were invited, so there was a large crowd of adults along with their offspring. JD feels awkward as he leads the two inside, wary of the questioning looks he’s getting. Once inside Poppy releases Branch, running to her Father who is at the back, and Branch falters at the sudden abandonment.

“Hey, it’s okay she’s just saying hi to her Dad,” JD whispers, leaning down. Branch just nods, avoiding his eyes.

“Right, right, hello!” King Peppy calls, gaining everyone’s attention. The conversations stop as the King begins to speak, “Thank you for all coming today! As you know, we’re starting up our schools again, and I invited you all here beforehand in case you had any questions!”

There’s a brief silence before one of the parents speaks, “Are the classes going to be this large every time?” he asks, gesturing to the huge gathering of children.

“No, no, this is more of an introduction so the children can get to know one another,” Peppy explains.

“They’re all different ages, will the classes be split later?” another adds, a glitter troll who looks vaguely confused.

“Yes, when we know how much they already know we’ll be splitting them with children of a similar range,” Peppy explains.

“Will there be tests?” a yellow troll pipes up, her hand resting on her daughter’s head.

“Oh heaven’s no, nothing so formal. We just want the children to be able to have fun and gain some valuable information,” Peppy says, chuckling.

“Are…all the children expected to attend?” a troll asks, JD recognises her as one of the trolls gossiping about Branch, and his teeth clench subconsciously.

“Well, no? But it is in their best interests if they do attend,” the King adds, “we have three trolls who have taken up the teaching mantle, and I’d like them to introduce themselves,” he forges forward.

JD watches with mild interest as the trolls introduce themselves and explain a bit about what they’d be teaching. It’s very standard, at least there was some vague mention of actual learning, but the main focus was on singing and fun which pleased a majority of the children and the parents alike. Peppy asks the parents if there are any more questions, and with none apparent, he asks the parents to leave and let the children acclimatise.

As the other trolls exit, JD stays, leaning down to whisper, “I’m just gonna speak to your teacher for a second.”

Bitty’s eyes widen, but he nods.

JD heads to the closest teacher, wracking his brain for the name.

“Um, Dew?” He asks. The green troll looks up with a friendly smile.

“Close, June,” he corrects, “can I help you…?”

“John Dory. I’m Branch’s brother. Look, I just want to let you guys know, Branch doesn’t sing. Okay?” he says firmly.

“Oh? Well, I suppose he can be excused from singing…” June says, voice unsure.

“Has Peppy given you any information on the kids? Like, medical information and stuff?” JD asks.

“Um, somewhat? There’s a couple of allergies we know of…” he trails off. JD almost facepalms.

“Right. Okay. Well, Branch can’t feel. Pain, heat, cold, that kind of thing. So you have to be careful with that stuff, keep an eye on it,” JD emphasises. June looks nervous.

“Right, well um, we’ll do our best to make sure everything goes smoothly,” June says, his smile turning nervous.

“Yeah. Okay. Well, thanks,” JD replies gruffly, turning to head back to Branch.

Poppy and Cooper are speaking to his brother, but he still seems nervous at the amount of other children.

“I’m gonna head off now Bits, I’ll pick you up later okay?” he says, leaning down for a tight hug.

“It won’t be long right?” Branch asks.

“Not too long no, this is a short session.”

“Don’t worry Branch, my Daddy is still here, and we’re gonna have lots of fun playing and I’ll introduce you to aaalllll my friends!” Poppy says, practically bouncing with excitement.

Branch doesn’t necessarily look thrilled at this, but he steels himself, looking at JD, “Bye. See you later.”

JD takes his queue, giving the kids a final wave before heading out of the pod.

He’s nervous, he’s nervous something will go wrong and he feels this awful nervousness at Branch’s awkwardness. He wants him to do well, the thought of him being left out or teased is almost painful. He’s heading through the village (avoiding as many of the other parents as he can) when he almost literally runs into Milton.

“Gah!” he squawks, reaching out to steady the shorter troll.

“Sorry, sorry! JD! You’ve got letters!” Milton almost shouts.

“Shh shh shh,” JD shushes him, gesturing his head to the other trolls who have stopped to listen in.

“Oh, sorry. You have letters,” Milton repeats at a lower volume.

“Oh. Oh! Okay, do you have it with you? Wait, letters plural?”

“Yeah,” Milton fishes them out of his pocket, “here.”

JD takes them; there are two, one with his name and one with Branch’s. He swiftly shoves them in his coat. God this must look like such a dodgy deal.

“Thanks Mil,” he says sincerely.

Milton just grins toothily, “No worries man, I just want you guys to be happy. You’ve got me invested now,” he jokes.

“Yeah well regardless, thanks.”

“Where is the little guy today?” Milton asks, looking around as though he’ll pop up.

“Peppy’s starting the school up again, he’s at the ice-breaker session,” JD explains.

“Ohhh, how was he?” Milton asks.

“Ehhh,” JD winces, “he wasn’t looking forward to it that’s for sure.”

“Is he in the class with Brook and Flora’s kids?” Milton asks.

“Who?”

“The ones who were talking about Branch? You know, they were saying they didn’t want their kids playing with him…?” Milton says slowly.

“Oh yeah. Oh! Shit! I didn’t even think of that,” JD panics.

“Hey, I’m sure it’s fine! The King won’t let anything happen,” Milton reassures.

It doesn’t work, because JD knows Peppy, and he’s not the most observant. He’s hoping the trolls wrangled into the teaching positions will actually do their jobs, or he’ll have to go cause some fuss.

“Not like you’ll let anything slide anyway,” Milton adds, as though reading his mind.

“You know me too well kid,” JD grins, “anyways I’m gonna get back, read this, and sort Rhonda.”

“Yeah, alright JD. See you later,” Milton gives a wave, and JD begins heading to the bunker.

He’s on autopilot as he reaches it, peering into the outside enclosure to check on Rhonda. Ah, she’s asleep. That’s good, gives him more time to panic, he supposes. He heads down into the depths of his home, only allowing himself to think when he’s in his room, on the bed, comfortable. Prime panicking position. He finally reaches for the letters, hoping his correspondence has been more positively received than Clay’s. He unfurls the one with his name on the side, placing the one for Branch on his bedside.

John Dory

What do you mean Grandma is dead? What happened? What’s wrong with Branch? I’m glad you guys are safe, and I’m so glad you’re apologising, but I need more information to go off here. I’m staying in Paradise City, and I’m contracted to perform in one of the venues for the next six months, that’s when the lease on my apartment runs out too, so as soon as it does I’ll come and find you, I promise. I’d leave now if I could, but I can’t leave my flatmate high and dry with the rent. Let me know where I need to go and I’ll find you guys, but please write to me in the meantime. I fucked up John, I really did. He probably told you, I promised Bitty I’d be back, and that was the plan, but I got so wrapped up in everything here I didn’t have time to think about returning. I wrote him a separate letter, so please make sure he gets it. Write back soon, I miss you guys so much.

Love Floyd

JD almost cries. He’s safe, he sounds like he’s thriving, and more importantly, he’s coming back. Yes, it’s not for a while, but JD can wait. He’s not seen Floyd in over five years what’s another six months to that? Rent? Where even is Paradise City? He knocks open his bedside drawer, grabbing some fresh paper and a pen, deciding to begin responding immediately. He feels lighter, knowing his brother is okay, and doesn’t actively hate him. He can trust the bug to find him now, which means he feels less paranoid including more details.

Floyd

Oh man it’s good to hear you’re safe. Renting? Where even is Paradise City?
I’ll give you the details about Bitty and Grandma, but fair warning it’s not good, so maybe read this when you’re alone? Grandma was eaten saving Branch. He saw the whole thing, every part of it. It’s fucked him up given him some issues. He was convinced it was his fault because you told him he had to look after her (no blame here, just saying). He’s gone grey Floyd, he’s been grey since it happened and it happened when he was fucking four. Then he was living alone in the fucking wilderness for two years because the trolls of this village are prejudiced bastards and he was starving, when I got here he was starving Floyd he

JD has to stop and take a breath. Writing about his brother is resurfacing his rage at how he was treated, and he’s essentially just ranting to Floyd about it, which isn’t fair. Floyd can’t even do anything to help, it wasn’t a conversation; Floyd would be reading this with no way to convey his own thoughts and feelings. He tries to calm himself, Floyd doesn’t need his angry rambling.

Sorry, I’m just angry at the whole thing. Anyway, he’s not good. He can’t feel pain, heat or cold because of losing his colour, and we’re being really careful because of it, he’s already got hurt and not noticed. He’s doing okay though. Much better, he’s doing therapy and it’s helping. Anyway, I’ll make sure he reads your letter and responds, he’ll probably want to draw you a picture or send a photo or something. I’m going to draw up a map to send with this, to help you find the new village.
Anyway, stay safe, hear from you soon. Miss you kiddo.

Love John Dory

He stands, heading for his photo wall. He picks a couple to send, one of him and Branch, and one of Branch and Rhonda. He hastily scribbles on the back, labeling them with some context. He’s tempted to read Bitty’s letter but decides against it. The kid deserves some privacy, and he’ll probably let him read it anyway.

He makes his way back up through the bunker; Rhonda needs a walk and he wasn’t sure if Bitty would be in the mood to join him after school, or if he’d be too overwhelmed. He was predicting an evening of blankets and puzzles, plus he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a paralysis episode that night; they seemed to come with change and stress, and today was full of both. He sighs. Damn, it’s good to hear from Floyd.

Chapter Text

Poppy’s friends were…a lot. Branch felt like his skin was itching from all the casual gestures and close proximity, they’d been in his face all afternoon asking question after question whenever they’d got a chance. They just kept touching him, putting their hands on his shoulders, trying to hug him during hug-time. He’d stuck close to Poppy, but it hadn’t worked, she just kept bouncing from person to person. Trust him to make friends with the most popular troll in the village, she knew everyone. It seemed really exhausting. How did she have the energy to talk to everyone?

“Okay kids!” the teacher June says, clapping his hands, “everyone form a circle!”

Branch clumsily gets into place, his palms sweating. He can’t feel the heat he’s sure is there, but the moisture is uncomfortable, and he hastily wipes it onto his shorts. His hands bunch into his vest, the fake leaves crumpling between his fingers.

“I want everyone to tell me your favourite song! If you say your name first though, just to let everyone else know who you are,” June says cheerfully. Everyone looks excited, whispering amongst themselves, but Branch feels frozen with dread. Everyone will look at him. Does he even have a favourite song?

“Oh, oh can I go first?” Poppy asks, hand in the air, because of course she does.

“Sure!” June replies, smiling at the Princess. Peppy is looking at his daughter with fondness, as he seems to do a lot, and Branch can’t help but feel more panic build, he’s next to Poppy!

“I’m Poppy, but I think everyone already knows that! My favourite song is…oh this is hard, I love all of the songs! Um, well I reeeally like Wannabe! It’s so happy and makes me want to dance,” at this she does a little wiggle, and the adults laugh affectionately.

“That’s a classic! Good choice Poppy, maybe we can sing it later!” June adds, “now moving on to…” he looks at Branch, who swallows.

“Um, I’m uh, Branch. My uh, my favourite song is…” he hates this he hates it so much…wait, he does have a favourite! “Is the lullaby my Grandma used to sing.”

There’s an awkward silence, and Branch feels embarrassment hit him as he hears a few snickers from the circle.

“That’s great Branch,” June smiles, “sometimes the best songs come from the people we love.”

Branch just nods. He tunes out the rest of the answers, looking firmly at the floor. He thinks his nails are digging into his hands, and he wishes more than anything he could feel it. They’re asked to write a short story, everyone sitting down with a pencil and paper to write. Why don’t they have desks? It would be so much easier to write on, Branch’s pencil keeps poking through the paper.

He wasn’t sure what to write, but decided to write a story about a bloodhound bug who gets lost on the way home, and how he tries everything to find his family. He even added some ‘similes’ like JD had been telling him about, though he uses the same ones his brother had given as examples. It didn’t matter, they worked in the story so he’s sure it’s fine. He writes his name on the top and places his pencil and paper on the floor beside him. He looks over at Poppy. She’s chewing her pencil, and it doesn’t look like she’s written very much. Before he can ask if she’d like any help, June is asking them to give him their stories, and there’s a sudden flurry of movement as all the other children run to the back of the pod, waving their paper.

“That’s great! Everyone pass me their paper and we can get onto something fun!” June enthuses.

Branch just stands, awkwardly.

“You okay?” it’s Cooper. He’s wandered over, expression concerned.

“Y-yeah,” Branch says. Before Cooper can reply, they’re being herded back into a circle.

“Right, we’re gonna sing something now, make some positive energy!” June says, looking around at the growing excitement. He seems to spot Branch, his expression faltering, “Come here a sec Branch.”

Branch breaks from the circle, walking towards the teacher. They’re looking at him, they’re all looking at him, and his skin itches. It doesn’t really, he knows he doesn’t really feel it, but he feels something and it bubbles up inside like how he thinks ice would feel.

“Hey,” June beckons him close to whisper, “your brother told me you’re not a fan of singing, so if you want you can sit this out?”

“Um, okay,” Branch replies. Is this better? Worse? He’s being made to sit to the side, out of place.

“Go stand with Peppy if you’d like,” June suggests. They sound so kind, but Brach still feels the sting of rejection. At least he wouldn’t have to sing.

He stands next to the King, ignoring his pitying expression.

“Why isn’t Branch singing?” one of the trolls asks. He thinks her name is Smidge; she’s tiny, but Branch remembers Poppy mentioning she’s nearly ten.

“Branch doesn’t like singing,” another troll announces. It’s Creek, and he looks weirdly happy about this. Branch wishes he hadn’t blurted it out, he’s already treated oddly because he's grey, he’d been hoping to keep the fact that he didn’t sing a secret just a little longer than a few hours.

“What? That’s so weird!” another troll adds, and Branch looks at his feet.

“That’s not nice to say Suki,” Poppy admonishes.

“She’s just telling the truth Poppy,” Creek adds.

“It’s not nice!” Poppy repeats, her face like thunder. It’s an odd thing to see, she’s normally permanently smiling.

“You’re right Poppy, we don’t say things like that about our friends,” June interjects, looking at Suki pointedly.

“Sorry Branch,” she says, sheepishly. Branch just nods, not sure what he’d even say. It’s okay? It’s not really though…even if what she said was true.

“Now what shall we all sing?” June asks, diverting the conversation. The trolls all talk over themselves, and Branch again tunes them out, his mind drifting to other more interesting things.

He was getting better at archery. He enjoyed it, the feeling when he hit the target was light and accomplished, and he loved the way JD would cheer every time. When he’d first hit the bullseye he’d felt happiness like no other, he’d wanted to dance he was so happy, and JD had made such a big deal of it it made him feel like maybe it was a big deal. He’d even asked Branch to pose next to the target so he could take a picture ‘to remember it’ and Branch had been smiling so much his face had actually begun to twitch. His face probably wasn’t used to it, he hadn’t smiled at all when he’d been living alone, not even when he’d had nice dreams or he’d found something interesting.

“You doing okay there Branch?” King Peppy asks quietly, cutting through his thoughts. They’re still singing in the circle, and Branch leans toward the King so he can hear better.

“Oh um, I’m okay,” he says, his eyes darting briefly to meet Peppy’s.

“Don’t worry, the classes won’t always be this large,” he reassures, “this is just to get to know June, and the other teachers.”

“Where are they?” Branch asks.

“They’re coming back soon, they’re just grabbing a few items for this afternoon,” Peppy explains.

“Items?”

“Mmm, we’re having a little picnic in a bit.”

“Oh,” Branch knows he won’t be able to taste it, but it’s still appreciated, “will we be doing any maths?” he asks, hoping the answer is yes. He likes maths, he’s getting good at it and the answers are either right or wrong. It’s easy to understand that way.

“We will, but not today. We don’t want to overwhelm you guys,” the King explains, “some of the other children haven’t had much opportunity to learn these things.”

That sounds odd to Branch, why wouldn’t they do their own reading? He supposes if they hadn’t asked for the books, they might not know they were there though.

“Are you going to start a library?” he asks. Peppy seems taken aback by the question, so Branch continues, “So that they can find books on learning and maths and stuff? And it’s easier to find?”

“That…that’s not a bad idea,” Peppy says, clearly thinking, “that could be something we do. Yes. Yes! Good thinking Branch, you take after your brother for good ideas you know,” he compliments.

Branch smiles. He likes that.

Branch looks exhausted. JD had arrived at the teaching pod to collect him and as soon as he’d seen his brother, alarm bells went off in his head because he looked so tired. It’s probably normal, he tries to reason, Bitty wasn’t the most social of people and it must have taken a lot out of him. Still…

“Ready to go?” he asks, once he’d waded through the crowd of parents.

“Yeah,” Bitty says, drained and despondent. He doesn’t even say goodbye to his friends, opting to walk straight towards the exit. JD follows, giving a hasty glance at the King who is busy chatting with other parents. He watches as Bitty attempts to connect his hair to the branch, but he’s struggling.

“Hey,” he says, opening his arms, “hop in.”

Branch looks around, as though to check they’re not being watched, before scurrying into his grip. JD takes them both down, gently placing Branch beside him.

“So how was it?” he asks lightly as they walk. For a moment he’s not sure Bitty will answer.

“I don’t know. Okay? There were a lot of people,” he explains. Well, it’s better than what JD had thought he was going to say.

“Yeah, well there won’t always be that many,” he reassures.

“The King said that too. He’s going to make smaller classes,” Bitty adds, his steps unsteady.

“That’s good right?” JD hedges.

“I guess. I’m not sure I’ll be in Poppy’s class though. She’s not as…” he contemplates, “knowledgable about some stuff. I don’t think she does much reading.”

It tracks; Peppy seemed content to let her do her own thing.

“What about Cooper?” JD asks.

Branch shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t know him that well,” he admits.

“So what did you do today?” JD asks, hoping he’s not pushing too hard.

“Um, we wrote a story. And had a picnic, but so don’t know if it was any good ‘cause, you know. They did singing too,” he adds distastefully.

“Was that okay?” JD asks.

“I guess? They weren’t super loud and I just stood to the side while they sang so,” Branch says with a half-hearted shrug.

“They made you stand to the side?” JD asks, brows raised.

“Yeah, I just stood with King Peppy. It was a bit boring.”

When he’d mentioned Branch’s aversion to June he hadn’t expected them to just…exclude his brother entirely.

“Was it okay?” he asks.

“Um, well it was a bit awkward. I felt um…” Branch trails off, “it was a bit embarrassing I guess.”

Yeah. That’s not happening.

“I’ll have a word with Peppy about it, you can’t get shoved to the side every time they decide to sing,” he says, keeping his voice steady.

“I don’t want to make a fuss,” Bitty replies, chewing his lip. JD gently pokes him in the cheek.

“Hey, you’re not making a fuss,” he’ll be the one making a fuss, “I’ll sort it don’t worry.”

“Mmm okay,” Bitty concedes.

“Anyway I’ve got some news,” JD begins, “we got some letters back from Floyd.”

“Really?” Branch whips his head to face him, eyes wide, “what did they say?”

“Well I’m not sure about your letter, but mine said that he was safe and okay, and he’s going to come visit in a few months when his contract ends.”

“Contract?” Bitty asks.

“He’s made a deal with someone to sing at their um…” where is he even singing? “venue,” he settles on, “and he’s committed to it, but when it ends he’s going to come here.”

“Oh,” Bitty says.

“How're you feeling about that?” JD asks cautiously.

“I’m…happy? I think? Did he say why he hasn’t come back before?”

“Not in my letter no,” there was no way he was telling Branch that Floyd had said he was too busy to come back.

“Oh okay. How long did he say he’d be?”

“Well his contract ends in six months,” JD explains, “but he wants to keep sending letters in the meantime.”

“That’s a long time,” Branch mutters.

“It is,” JD agrees, “but think of it as more time to practice your archery. You can show him how good you’ve gotten!”

“Yeah. Yeah okay “ Bitty agrees. He’s not as excited as JD would have hoped, but it’s a lot to process. JD is aware that Branch is still angry at his other brothers, he’s probably feeling conflicted.

He’s so consumed in thought he almost misses Branch’s quiet mutter.

“I’ve got to practise, it’s got to be perfect.”

JD almost trips.

“You know Bitty, it doesn’t have to be perfect,” he starts, ignoring the way his heart stutters at the phrase.

“Yes it does,” Branch says, confused; he’s looking at JD like he’s grown a second head.

“How come?” JD probes, anxiety building.

“Because if it’s not perfect, then I’m nothing,” Branch quotes, so matter of fact. He believes it, he genuinely thinks that…fuck.

If we aren’t perfect, we’re nothing.

He’d said that. He had said that the last night they performed, and Bitty had taken it as gospel. JD thinks in horror, what had he done?

“Branch,” he stops his brother, laying a shaking hand on his shoulder, “that’s not true. You don’t have to be perfect, nothing has to be perfect,” he’s practically begging for his brother to listen to him.

“But…I don’t understand?” Branch looks so conflicted, “that’s what you said? You always said, being perfect was the most important thing?”

“I was wrong, I was wrong Bitty. It’s not important, it’s not even a little bit important,” he implores.

“Then-then why did you say it?” Bitty asks.

JD takes a deep breath, “I used to think that. I used to think it was important, but I’ve learnt now that it’s not. Being happy, having fun, that’s important. As long as you try your best, then you are perfect. To me, okay? But if you fail, or if you can’t do something, then you’re still important, nothing changes,” JD is rambling, he has no idea how to explain.

“So…you won’t be disappointed in me? Or sad? If I’m not perfect?” Bitty asks, like the world is hinging on the answer.

“No. Not at all. You’re my brother and nothing will change that, I love you for you, not what you can or can’t do.”

“Oh,” Bitty still looks confused, and it hurts to see. Had he been thinking this the whole time? That JD’s love was conditional? He wants to smack his past self in the face because, of course he did, he fostered this through his last words and actions, and his baby brother was paying the price. He knows one conversation won’t change this; this is clearly a deeply ingrained way of thinking. He of all people knows this, he’s still working on his own issues regarding perfection. At least he knows now, and he can continue to prove him otherwise.

They’re silent as they head into the bunker, JD giving Bitty time to think. He heads into the kitchen to grab a drink for his brother, finding him curled up on his bed, staring at the wall.

“Hey, do you want your letter?” he asks gently.

“Yeah,” Bitty replies, his gaze not wavering.

JD hurries into his room, grabbing Bitty’s letter, and he’s relieved to see him sat up and alert when he returns. Bitty takes the letter from him, his eyes pouring over the words. JD awkwardly hovers, unsure if he should leave. When he hears his brother start sniffling, he’s glad he stayed. He sits next to him on the bed, ready to provide support if needed.

“Everything okay?” he asks. Bitty just passes him the letter in answer, and JD looks over at what Floyd has written.

Branch

I am so sorry I’ve not come back yet, I’ve been tied up in so many things I promised people I’d do, but that’s no excuse. I’m going to come back and see you, and John Dory, but it won’t be for a little bit. I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you and give you the biggest hug. It’s okay if you’re angry at me, I understand, but I still can’t wait to see you. Can you tell me what you’ve been up to? If you want I can tell you about the places I’ve been and the technology I’ve seen (I have a phone now, and it’s huge, but it’s how the people here talk to each other!).

Lots of love, Floyd

Trust Floyd to get to the crux of the issue immediately. Knowing Branch would be angry too, he really was better at the emotional stuff than JD.

“I miss him,” Bitty says once he finishes reading, “I’m so angry, and I miss him.”

JD lifts his arm, and Bitty scrambles underneath into a side cuddle, “That’s okay Bits, he even said it’s okay if you’re angry. Floyd get’s it, he’s super in tune with his emotions,” he adds jokingly.

Branch ignores his tone, sniffing loudly, wiping his tears onto JD’s jacket.

“Did you want a tissue?” JD asks, “or does my jacket suffice?” he jokes.

“Mmm, your jacket’s okay,” Bitty replies, and JD can’t tell if he’s being sassy, or he didn’t get the sarcasm.

“Nope, I’ll get a tissue. Stay here. Did you want to write a reply now, or later?” he asks, untangling himself.

“In a bit. I can send the letters I wrote before too?” Branch asks.

“Sure, and some drawings if you want? I’m sending a few photos of you and Rhonda too,” JD explains.

“Yeah,” Bitty gives one last sniffle, his expression turning determined, “I’m gonna draw the best picture to send him. And I’ll pick some of my best photos.”

“Good idea baby B,” JD says, ruffling his hair.

Once Branch’s face is sufficiently clean, he leaps up, energised at the prospect of sending his letter. JD watches as he rummages in his bedside drawer, pulling out the familiar stack of old letters he’d written. He hands a small pile over.

“Here, my old drawing’s and stuff, for Floyd” he says, as JD takes them, “you can read them if you want,” he adds casually, as though reading JD’s mind.

He’s a tad nervous, aware of how soul destroying the letters he’d had were. As Bitty busies himself looking through his photo wall, he reads the first letter.

To Floyd

How long are you going to be becas you said you were comin home and you promisd so I no you hav to be comin home soon. I miss you lots and lots and wen you com bac we can bild the bunkr togethr and mayk lots of rooms for evryone even thow they arent comin bac but mayb wen they visit. Grandma and me did a puzzl and it was over 100 peices and it took forevr and I did it! I cant wate to hear your music that you are riting I bet it’s realy good!!! Im a bit sad sometims but I mayd a partee with evry ones cuddlees and i pretendded it was you and JD and Spruce and Clay and me havin a partee. I drawd it for you.

Love Branch

There’s a small incomprehensible doodle below, and with a jolt, JD realises it’s the scene he’d come across at the old pod. How many times did Branch play the game for it to become a permanent fixture? His heart hurts. He almost feels bad for Floyd, he knows his brother’s going to have a meltdown reading this, he’d always been prone to crying, and this was going to break him.

There are a few more letters, each of a similar theme. He reads one with fewer spelling mistakes, assuming it’s more recent.

Floyd

I’m riting writing evryone letters because Grandma says it will make me feel better so I decided to write yours first. I dont know what to say though because I feel really mad at evryone but I miss evryone too. I know that John Dory wont come back because he said goodbye forevr but Clay and Spruce didnt say anything at all. You promised though and I feel really bad but Its getting harder to beleive you so I feel mad but I miss you more then I feel mad. I get bad dreams and your not there to talk to anymore and Grandma is too hard to wake up so Im all alone and it makes me really sad. I didn’t want to brush my hair for ages becase you used to do it and Grandma cant’ do it rite but it got really tangly and Grandma said she had to do it so she did and I cried a bit. Only a bit though! I drew you some pictures and I drew John Dory in a spiral but I want to give that to him even though i think it’s really good. I will draw you in a spiral too so you don’t feel left out. I like drawing spirals because the pencil goes all over the page. What are you doing?? You must be busy Grandma says. I am waring your vest and sometimes I pretend its like your giving me a hug.

Love you lots please come home soon I miss you love Branch

JD blinks back the tears forming at another glaring reminder of how badly he they all fucked up. He forces it down; it’s not the time to cry. He rifles through the pages and sure enough, John Dory in a spiral has a twin, although it looks less hastily drawn, with more detail to the face.

“Did you draw everyone in a spiral?” he asks, holding up the picture.

“Maybe? I don’t know, it was a weird time,” Bitty says, sounding older than he is. JD barks out a laugh, placing the picture with the letters.

“Okay, I think I want to send that one, that one and that one,” Bitty says, pointing at his chosen photos. They’re close to the ceiling, out of his reach, and JD reaches up with his hair to grab them down. One is of Branch and Poppy, posing by Rhonda. JD had no idea what they’re doing; their arms are crossed and they’re crouched over Rhonda like they’re on the cover of a vinyl. The other is of Branch’s goggles, book, and bow; he’d photographed his favourite items all together. The final photo is of JD, posing awkwardly by a tree.

“Uh, are you sure you want to send this one?” he asks, wincing.

“Yes, I want to show him your modeling. Oh, I want to take one more photo to send though, one of me and you,” Branch says.

“Right now?” JD asks.

“No,” Branch shakes his head, “later on our walk with Rhonda.”

“I already walked her Bits, I thought you’d be tired out from school.”

“Oh. Well, I am tired,” he concedes, “tomorrow?”

“Sure,” JD agrees.

Branch was seeing Plimsy tomorrow, so they could walk her afterward. JD could also mention his concerns to the Dr, about Branch’s surfacing issues with perfection. He’d give her a heads up on Floyd too; hopefully, she can get Branch to discuss his feelings in a productive way, or at the very least a way that minimised the trauma. Fuck, they’d all done a number on the kid; they’d made their decisions that night and Bitty was suffering the consequences.

He’s going to need a session with Plimsy for this; the guilt he’s feeling is visceral and sharp, and he can barely stop himself from crying at the thought that he did this. How many times had he casually thrown perfection in his brother’s faces?

"Come on Spruce, fifty more at least, you need the perfect set of abs, you know, for the fans.”

“Clay, you can read later, this choreo has to be perfect!”

“No Floyd, you don’t get it, Branch has to be perfect next week or it’s all for nothing, so make sure he’s practising. And while we’re at it, fix your hair, we don’t want it in your eyes when we’re performing.”

He thinks back to all the instances he can remember saying it, and this is just the ones he can remember. He’s probably said it so many more times before, pushing his own insecurities onto his brothers. He sighs, maybe it’s time to admit he does need therapy. Or rather, that he’s having therapy. He can’t be the best pare- brother to Branch if he’s not at his best.

Floyd was crying. Again. It wasn’t unusual, not by any means. He was labelled ‘the sensitive one’ for a reason, he saw no shame in showing his emotions, better or worse. This though. This hurt. He’d read the reply from John Dory, a pit forming in his stomach with every messy word. Branch was grey. Grandma was dead. The village had abandoned his baby brother, had left him to suffer alone, and as much as he had his issues with John, he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and thank him, because what would have happened if he’d not returned? Branch, his baby, would have been alone, suffering…when he’d read what John had said about Branch starving, he’d felt sick. Just thinking about it fills him with rage so potent he’s not sure what to do with it. He blinks, hot tears streaking down his face. His mascara must be running, he probably looks like a mess, but he sniffs, reaching for the letters from Branch. The first few are old, written in crayon, full of spelling mistakes and drawings. They’re adorable. They’re painful. He’s unintentionally ripped open Floyd’s heart with every sad childish description of his loneliness and guilt. The last letter must be the most recent; it’s neater, less mistakes.

Floyd

I’m really happy that you wrote back and that you’re safe. You were right, I am angry at you because you promised to come home and I waited every day for you to come home. Then I stopped because I didn’t think you were going to come, even though JD said you were probably busy. He was right you told us you were busy and I understand but it still makes me sad because you were too busy to come back, but I think that might be selfish of me because you had other comitmant commitments. I’m sorry I didn’t look after Grandma. JD told me it’s not my fault, because I was only little and I couldn’t do anything about it, but it was still my fault for being distracted and if you’re angry about it it’s okay. Even though I’m angry I miss you more than I’m angry so please come home soon.
I’m learning archery like Lichen from my favourit story. He saves everyone and he’s very brave and I want to be just like him. I can hit the bullseye sometimes now and I’m getting better! I’m taking photos because I have a camera and I am getting better at taking good ones. JD is my model lots and he’s also getting better at being a model. I added some photos I took to show you. I had the best Hatchday ever JD and me went camping and he tried to teach me to swim but I’m not very good. He also told me lots of stories and we made a fire and built a mud castle and he got me the story book with Lichen in it and my goggles which are so so cool.
Can you tell me about the technology? I’ve been reading about solar power and I think we should get it in the village but I don’t know how to do it and I haven’t said anything to the King about it, but it would be a good idea I think?? We had electricity at the tree but I don’t know how I think it was from the Bergens.
I’m still wearing your jacket even though it’s too big, and I got it really dirty but JD washed it and now it’s all new again.

Love you lots and lots and miss you lots and lots

Branch

Floyd can’t help the watery laugh as he looks at the photo’s, John looks like he’s being held at knifepoint, and what is he doing with his hands? He’s glad, from what Branch has said John has clearly stepped up. It’s surprising, but also not. Before the band, Johnny was attentive and still overbearing, but in a concerned older-brother kind of way. It was only after Brozone formed that his personality shifted. It had hurt to see.

He blinks heavily, the bloodhound bug sleeping in his peripheral. It was surprisingly well behaved, for a critter, but Floyd didn’t want to wait too long to reply. John had neglected to mention what to feed it (which was typical), but it had been happy enough with grated vegetables and some water.

“You good?” it’s his flat mate, Caramello. Floyd looks up at his tall friend, his large purple eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m good,” he reassures, “just reading the letters from my bros,” he explains, wiping his hand across his eyes.

Mello drops into the large sofa with a huff, “They making you cry?” he asks, the strands of his purple hair dripping onto the cushions.

“Not intentionally,” Floyd laughs bitterly, “that’s all on me.”

He grabs the photos, swinging himself off the kitchen counter and heading for the sofa.

“Need a-" Mello begins, reaching down to help him up, but Floyd ignores him, swinging himself up onto the cushions, “right, right. Forgot you’re a freaking gymnast dude.”

“You know it,” Floyd winks before handing Mello the photos, “here, have a look.”

Mello takes the photos gently, holding them between his fingers, “Aww man these are so cute…um, not. I mean, not cute, why would they be cute?” he back peddles at Floyd’s disgruntled expression. Floyd took great issue with his friend obsessing over his size, objecting greatly whenever he mentioned it, especially when he called him ‘cute’. He was a man, not a toddler.

He rolls his eyes, “Just look at the photos.”

Mello obliges, holding them close to his face to see, “Aww is this little guy your baby bro?”

“Yeah, that’s Branch. The pink one must be his friend, and the awkward looking one is John Dory,” he explains.

“What…what is he doing?” Mello asks, squinting at the photo.

“I have no idea, I think Branch made him model.”

“Eh, he’s a good sport then. You feeling good about this?” Mello gestures vaguely.

“Sort of. I feel guilty to be honest, Branch went through a lot and no one was there. I promised I’d come back,” he sighs.

“You’re going back though. So it’s fine,” Mello says, handing him back the photos.

Floyd neglects to mention that if he hadn’t received the letter, he hadn’t even thought about returning.

“You going to be okay finding another tenant?” Floyd asks.

“Yeah, no worries dude. Plenty of people out there, though none of them as-will take up as little room so…” Mello jokes, switching his sentence awkwardly.

“And you’re definitely okay helping me get there?” he asks.

“Sure, no sweat. Don’t worry about it dude, I can do with the exercise,” Mello says, flexing his arm and poking it.

Floyd laughs, “You’re joking right? You’re like a twig.”

“Eh, maybe a good long walk will beef me up. What do you think, will I look good hench?” he poses dramatically.

“I think you’re severely estimating how much muscle you’ll build from cardio. But sure!”

“No fun,” Mello complains, wilting into the sofa.

“I just…” Floyd continues, he hates to bring the mood down, “I feel bad. Really bad. Branch has gone grey and I wasn’t even there.”

“That’s bad right?”

“Yes, that’s bad,” Floyd rolls his eyes, “ it’s basically the worst thing that can happen to a troll. It’s like…losing your soul.”

“Sounds spooky.”

“Can you be serious for five minutes Mel, I’m not joking,” Floyd says, voice turning sharp.

“I’m sorry-sorry. You know I’m bad with,” Mello gestures vaguely, “feelings stuff. That’s your forte.”

“I know. I just…don’t know what to do,” Floyd despairs, his hair folding over his face.

“Hey,” Mello leans in, “you’re going back. Focus on that. Anything you need to do you can do then, and you’ve got a while to think it through. You can bring the littlin some souvenirs too, considering I’m gonna be carrying all your stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I owe you.”

“Nah, what’re…friends for,” Mello dismisses.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t even have this job without you. Or this flat,” Floyd points out.

“Hey, I’m sure you’d have found someone else to help you and your dazzling personality,” there’s no hint of sarcasm at least until he continues, “I mean they wouldn’t be as suave or handsome or smart or…”

“Yeah yeah, I get it you megalomaniac,” Floyd laughs.

He feels marginally better. Mello’s right, he can only look forward. He’s going to bring Branch so many souvenirs he won’t know where to fit them.

Chapter Text

A few weeks had passed since sending Jam out with the letters. They’d almost not fit inside the pouch, but Milton assured JD he would be fine with the weight; he was surprisingly strong considering his size. Unfortunately, three of the remaining bugs had become ill shortly after; Branch had almost cried from relief when he’d realised Geronimo was okay, and Milton had agreed to let the critter stay with Branch until the others were illness free, as a sort of quarantine. Which was how JD ended up with the small critter buzzing around his head as he cooked.

“Bitty?” he asks, as Geronimo enters his peripheral vision yet again, “any chance you can call your critter away from the food?”

“Oh!” Branch peaks his head into the kitchen, “Ronnie! Come here!” he calls, cupping his mouth.

The critter immediately flies in his direction, burrowing himself into Bitty’s open arms. Branch hugs him back, rocking him slightly, his face bright, and JD wishes he had the camera to hand.

“So,” he begins, “what’s our plans for today?”

“Well Rhonda needs her walk,” Bitty begins to list, “then I’m going to practice archery, then you said you’d help me think of a Hatchday present for Milton. Oh, and we need to get more of the grub for Ronnie.”

“Sounds good,” JD says, turning off the stove, “did you need anything ready for school tomorrow?” he asks.

The class had been split down, and as Branch had suspected, Poppy was placed in a separate group. He’d mentioned speaking to someone called Biggie briefly, but as Cooper was in the same group as Poppy, he’d been feeling very much alone.

“Branch?” he asks again; his brother is blinking heavily, face slack.

“No, I don’t think so,” Branch replies finally, his face dropping at the thought of school.

JD had spoken to Peppy and the teachers about isolating Branch during singing, and they’d agreed (after a few stern words) that it may not have been the most sensible solution. Branch had agreed to play percussion whilst they sang and though he wasn’t thrilled at the thought of making loud noise, he felt less embarrassed than being excluded, and it meant he didn’t have to sing. He’d even asked JD if it was possible to teach him to play guitar, as he wasn’t a huge fan of the drumming they’d had him doing. JD had promised he would, as soon as they could wrangle a guitar off someone, and Branch had looked relatively excited, even if it meant he’d be making music.

“Well, that’s good. Milton mentioned having an old guitar by the way,” he continues, mixing the spices into the noodles.

“Milton has everything,” Branch says blankly.

JD laughs, “Seems that way, right?”

“Can we train Geronimo?” Branch asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well this is his home now, so we need to train him to come here when he smells the leaf,” Branch explains.

JD winces; he has no idea how to break it to his brother that this is only temporary. Who knows, maybe Milton will let him stay here more permanently?

“I’m sure we can do that,” JD says, “but we need to check with Milton that he can stay here.”

“Oh.”

Branch sounds so disappointed, that JD rushes to add, “I’m sure he will though.”

“Yeah. I still need to figure out how to collect our sweat.”

Ah, he was still on about that? He’d attempted to collect JD’s sweat in a jar, and it had been one of the oddest things he’d ever experienced. Safe to say, it hadn’t worked. JD watches as Branch yawns, his eyes watering from the effort.

“Tired Bits?” he asks. He thought Bitty had slept well last night, it’s unusual for him to be this tired without a paralysis episode.

“Mmm,” Branch hums in answer, blinking slowly.

Maybe some fresh air will help; he’ll keep an eye on him regardless.

Branch felt weird. He’d woke up, but he hadn’t had a bad dream, he just felt…off. The bed was wet; he must have been sweating. He wrinkles his nose at the sensation, it’s sticky and gross. He swings his legs over the bed, heading for the kitchen. Maybe if he has a drink, he’ll feel less…woah. As he stands it’s like the world shifts. Things are moving, he can’t keep himself straight. His legs are shaking, and he doesn’t feel good. He wants JD. Forgoing the kitchen, he heads towards his brother’s room, leaning against the walls for support as he walks. He’s dizzy, he’s dizzy and he feels-he feels weird. Geronimo is asleep at the foot of his bed, and he’s glad he hasn’t woken him. He doesn’t feel in the mood to play with him, he doesn’t feel right, it’s like that time when it had been raining lots and he was wet all the time, he felt the same way. He wasn’t alone this time though.

“JD,” he’s in JD’s room, it’s dark. He turns back to see the light shining from his own bedroom, but dark spots are dancing in front of his eyes, and the next thing he knows is

nothing.

JD wakes to a thud. Well, he thinks it’s a thud; he’d been dreaming about tracking through the Trail, but the longer he’d walked the less ground he’d covered, and he wasn’t sure if it had been in his dream, or if Bitty had knocked something over. He wonders if Bitty had a bad dream, or a paralysis episode, or maybe Geronimo had snuck into his room, and he shuffles up onto his elbows, blinking blearily into the dark.

“Bits?” he calls, his voice gruff from sleep. There’s no reply. Did he dream it after all? He’s tempted to roll over and go back to his odd dream, but he’s got a bad feeling in his gut. He yawns, reaching over to remove the cover on his mushroom, wincing at the sudden surge of light. He glances around the room, checking if anything’s amiss, and-his stomach drops. Bitty. He’s on the floor, he’s lying there, crumpled, and he’s not fucking moving.

He tears out of the bed, heart pounding, skidding to Bitty’s side and dropping to his knees by his brother hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t feel it, not when Bitty is-is…

He grabs Branch’s shoulder, turning him on his back. He’s lifeless, skin pale, his head flopping against the ground, and JD feels like he’s going to be sick. He’s breathing; he can see his chest rise and fall with frantic breaths, but still, he looks…he looks…

“Bitty…Branch come on,” he says, shaking his shoulder, then gripping his face in desperation. He’s burning, heat radiating from his pale (far too pale) skin, “come on baby, open your eyes,” he practically begs. Just as his panic is becoming unbearable and icy hot, Branch groans. “That’s it, come on Bitty,” JD encourages, reaching down to rub his fist along his brother’s sternum.

“JD?” Branch says, his voice quiet and confused, and JD nearly cries from relief.

“Hey, I’m here Bitty, I’m here,” he says, choking down his panic.

Branch opens his eyes, but they drift, unable to focus, “I feel weird.”

“I think you’re sick Bits,” he says, brushing a hand through his brother’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’re okay, don’t move,” he says, lifting his brother’s legs up onto his own knees. He’s wracking his brain for every bit of first aid involving fainting he can remember, and as much as he wants to check him over immediately, he doesn’t want to move him too quickly. He remembers reading that you were prone to fainting again shortly after an initial episode. Bitty’s drenched in sweat, his hair damp and limp. They stay there for a couple of minutes while Branch gets his bearings but when he whimpers, JD decides to get him onto the bed. He lifts him gently, and he makes sure to raise his feet using pillows. On closer inspection he appears uninjured, which is a relief; he’s clearly feverish though.

“I’m gonna grab some of the tea Plimsy gave me,” he explains, “if you need any help at all shout me, okay?”

“Okay,” Bitty replies, licking his lips. He’ll grab him a drink too, he must be dehydrated.

Plimsy had given him some coriander seeds when he’d been asking about fever reducers. He’d been wanting to stock up on first aid equipment, and she’d mentioned this would help.
Peppy had mentioned they were working on replicating some of the more advanced medicines from the other tribes, but it was taking longer than he’d like due to their lack of expertise and equipment, so for now the village was relying on purely herbal medicines and painkillers. Which was working well enough, but with his brother ill, JD couldn’t help but curse the fact they were not further along in the development.

He boils the seeds into the water, straining the seeds and pouring the liquid out to cool, running back to check on Bitty in the meantime. He’s where he left him, looking miserable, but he doesn’t look any worse. He brings a cup of water for him to drink, helping him sit up, and holding the cup steady.

“Hey, small sips,” he encourages when Branch begins to gulp the water; he doesn’t want him being sick.

“My throat feels weird,” Branch says, in answer to his frantic drinking. Hmm, he must have a sore throat, but he can’t feel the soreness. Can he feel the swelling? JD can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“It will do Bitty, you’re not very well. I’m gonna grab you a tea, and it should help the fever,” he explains. He’s not got a thermometer to hand; they’re hard to come by in the village and they were given to those they considered high priority.

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna get your bed all sweaty,” Branch apologises, looking remorseful.

“It’s fine Bitty, I don’t care about the bed, we can always change the sheets,” JD reassures, his heart clenching at Branch’s skewed priorities.

“But…”

“No buts! It’s fine. Besides, you wanted to collect some sweat, didn’t you? You can just wring it out the bed covers,” JD jokes.

“That would work?” Branch asks, voice slurred but serious.

JD laughs, “Maybe Bits, we’ll see.”

It’s a relief to see him more coherent, he’s hoping when his fever breaks he’ll start feeling better, and they won’t need to visit Plimsy in the morning after all. He remembers Floyd being similarly incoherent and dizzy when he’d been ill, but it rarely lasted more than 24 hours before he perked up.

“I felt like this before,” Branch begins to speak, voice unsteady, “when I was by myself. I didn’t know I was sick. I don’t remember it much, I just know I felt weird, and I slept loads. It was scary, not-not knowing.”

JD doesn’t know what to say. Branch didn’t tend to bring up what happened in the time he was living alone on the outskirts, but every time he did it was guaranteed to break JD’s heart, a little piece at a time. He’d been alone. Sick. No one to help, no one to even notice he was ill.

“Well you’re not alone now Bitty,” JD finally replies, “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Branch replies, and he sounds so certain. It’s good. Is he finally realising that JD isn’t going anywhere?

“Let me go get the seed juice,” JD says, for lack of a better word as it’s not really a tea. it’s a good thing Branch can’t taste it as he’s expecting it to be disgusting. Bitty’s looking at him questioningly when he returns, and he holds the mug up in answer. “Plimsy said it can help with fever.”

He helps Bitty drink it, as much as he can bear, then lies him down, pressing a hand to his forehead. He’s boiling.

“I’m gonna get a wet cloth,” he says aloud, standing from the bed with a groan. He doesn’t want to get Bitty too cold; even though he can’t feel it exactly, he’s not sure if his body would react the same way, shivering to compensate, and he knows that will just make his temperature climb.

As he lays the dampened cloth on Branch’s forehead, he speaks up, “JD, am I still going to school tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so, not unless you’re feeling better,” he replies, smoothing Bitty’s hair back.

“That’s good. I don’t want to make anyone else ill,” Branch says, ever thinking of others. JD hadn’t even thought of it like that, and he hoped he wasn’t going to catch it; there was far too much for him to do, and he didn’t have the time to be ill.

“Try and get some sleep Bitty, I’m gonna go change your sheets,” he says, assuming they’re equally as sweaty as his covers are no doubt going to be.

“Put the sweat in a jar?” Bitty asks, already closing his eyes. JD stifles a laugh at his little weirdo.

“Um, I’ll try,” he says. He’s lying; it’s objectively gross and besides that, it won’t work. Bitty doesn’t need to know this though. Branch just nods, mushing his head into the pillow, his dampened cloth falling to the side. JD places it back onto the top of his head, gearing himself up to change the bedding. He needs a coffee…well actually, he could do with something a lot stronger, but he’s not touched the stuff in years, not since working his way through his initial stash on the trail. He wasn’t going to start now, he knew himself, if there was a vice he’d use it as a crutch, and he was not risking it now. Not now he had Bitty.

Bitty had been much better the following morning. There had been a few times in the night when he’d woken, complaining of hearing things that weren’t there (like sword fighting of all things), but JD put that down to the fever. He remembers Floyd complaining of similar things when ill, getting angry at his brothers for singing when they’d all been asleep. Branch had spent most of the day in bed, and JD had been loathe to leave him, so he’d not told anyone he wasn’t going to the school session; he figured he’d explain later when he was more comfortable leaving Branch alone. He wasn’t risking him going to the bathroom on his own and passing out again. He'd run up briefly to check on Rhonda, but she'd been quite content, with plenty of food and water left to tide her over.

At some point in the night, Geronimo had come to find Bitty, snuggling up in his hair. He must have enjoyed the heat, and JD had been worried about him adding to Bitty’s fever, but Branch had been delighted at seeing the bug. Petting him had taken his mind off his illness, so JD let it slide.

It had taken a couple of days for Branch to feel one hundred percent, and JD had taken him to Plimsy for a check-up; he’d also rearranged his therapy session to coincide straight after, so they were killing two critters with one stone.

“He seems fine now,” Plimsy reassures, “he probably passed out from dehydration. It’s quite common in children, especially when they’re ill.”

“Yeah, he was sweating buckets too,” JD adds.

“That’ll do it,” she says.

Bitty’s drawing, sat on the patient bed. Plimsy had asked him to draw his family for her, and he was focusing, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“So I’m worried,” JD starts, voice low. He glances at Bitty, but he’s absorbed in his picture.

“About?” Plimsy asks.

“He’s mentioned his hang-ups about perfection. I-I’m worried about him being like…like me. And I know I’m the one who put it in his head.”

“Mmm. Yes, he’s mentioned it a few times in our sessions,” Plimsy concurs.

“You didn’t mention it,” JD accuses.

“I didn’t,” she agrees, “everything he says is confidential for a reason unless he’s actively going to hurt himself or another.”

“Still…well I know now. What can we do?” he asks.

“Show him. Show him that perfection is not something you have to achieve, and emphasise his achievements when he tries, regardless of the outcome. It’ll take time though,” she says.

“All of it will take time,” JD says bitterly, “I’ve fucked him up so much.”

“Your session’s in a couple of days right?” Plimsy asks.

“Yeah. When he’s at school.”

“Good. We can talk things through in more detail. You’re doing a good job though JD, I promise you,” she implores.

JD doesn’t agree, but he nods.

“Finished!” Branch calls, holding up his picture.

“May I see?” Plimsy asks, taking the picture from Branch when he offers it.

“This is lovely! The colours are so vibrant, and John is looking particularly happy, I love how you drew his goggles” she comments.

“Show JD,” Branch says, nodding his head to his brother, and JD looks over the picture.

It is good, he can tell the figures from just a glance. Branch is in the centre, a small circular blob, with his goggles on what must be his head. JD is next to him, much larger and in much more detail, his goggles coloured in carefully, and Rhonda and Geronimo are beside him, stick-like limbs long and haphazard. There’s a small figure next to them with pink hair; it must be Floyd, though he’s drawn almost as small as Branch, with much less care and detail.

“This is great! You’re right,” he says to Plimsy, “my goggles look amazing.”

Branch beams, absorbing the praise like a little sponge.

“So JD, we’re going to start our session now,” Plimsy says; JD takes that as his queue to leave. Branch was shy about him staying for them, and he appreciated the time alone.

“Okay, well I’ll come by to pick you up in a bit okay?” he says to Bitty, walking over to steal a quick hug.

“See you soon JD, make sure Ronnie is okay please,” he asks.

“I will,” JD promises, giving a final wave before he leaves.

Chapter Text

“Huge question here Milton, my kid's happiness depends on it,” JD says from his position inside the enclosure. He’s helping Milton with the bloodhound bugs, administering medicine, and he figures it’s a good time to ask about Geronimo.

“Okay? Not suspicious at all?” Milton replies, confused.

“Bitty’s convinced you’ve given him Geronimo permanently. Any chance we can actually…make it permanent?” JD asks. He releases his grip on Socks, the critter skittering away.

“Oh. Hmm. Well he is attached to the little guy,” Milton muses, and JD isn’t sure if he’s talking about Bitty or Geronimo.

“He is,” he replies, the answer the same regardless

“Yeah. Yeah okay. I’ll need to give you some more grub, and run through a couple of things to expect but…he really loves him,” Milton concedes, “I know you’ll do a good job looking after him anyway, I’ve seen how you are with Rhonda.”

“Oh man, you have no idea how happy Bitty’s gonna be.”

“As happy as when Rhonda found the treat trail?” Milton asks.

Branch had been ecstatic at how well she’d done, wiggling in place with excitement every time she was successful.

“Trust me, he’s gonna explode with happiness,” JD says grinning.

“Sounds messy and hilarious. Can I tell him?” Milton asks matching his grin.

“Go ahead, I’ll bring him by after his session. I’ll grab Rhonda and Geronimo too, make it a party.”

“Sounds good,” Milton laughs.

There’s a peaceful silence, broken only by the occasional buzz and trill of the surrounding critters.

“I’ve been thinking,” Milton starts, “I know you’re anxious to send that letter to Spruce.”

“Right. Jam’s occupied with Floyd though,” JD points out.

“True. But I was thinking we can send out Socks or Buzz as well?”

“Is that okay?” JD asks, he knows Milton is protective of the critters, and hasn’t wanted to risk sending more than one at once.

“Well when they’re better, yeah. I know you want to keep in contact with Floyd until he arrives, and I know how hard it is waiting to hear if Spruce is okay,” Milton shrugs.

“Thank you,” JD implores.

“No worries. Like I’ve said, I’m invested now, just keep me up to date,” Milton replies, smiling.

He’d written his letter to Spruce similarly to Floyd’s; it had seemed to work well enough after all. There had been a steady correspondence with Floyd throughout the last few months, Branch warming up to the idea of him returning with each received letter. He’d shown JD what Floyd had written, and it was so starkly different to JD’s that he'd had to bite down a laugh. To Branch, he was overflowing with encouragement and positivity, enthusiasm about Branch’s hobbies and details about the technology of Paradise City. To JD he complained no end about his colleagues, the city itself, and the way he was treated as something small and ‘cute’. He was sarcastic and dramatic, and it made him miss him that much more. He’d been worried about his brother being around others so much larger than him; what if they were like the Bergens? Floyd had reassured him that they were nothing alike, even mentioning that his flatmate refused to eat meat at all. John was still concerned, but there was nothing he could do; he was glad however that Floyd hadn’t mentioned any of this in Bitty’s letter. He didn’t know how he’d react to knowing the people of Paradise City were Bergen-sized, so for now it was best he were kept in the dark.

He’d sent Spruce the envelope of Bitty’s old letters too, his trust in the bloodhound bugs growing, and his paranoia about interception lessening. There wasn’t anything Bitty wrote that would give any details about the village anyway, he accepted he was being overly paranoid before. Maybe if he’d sent Clay his letters from Branch, it would have guilted him into…no. No sense in thinking about it. Not right now, not when there’s so much to do.

“I just don’t get it,” Bitty is complaining, “Biggie is different too, but they don’t treat him any differently? Is it because they like him?”

“What do you mean differently?” JD asks. They’re walking Rhonda, Geronimo buzzing around the armadillo-bus excitedly.

“Well, Biggie is…you know. Big. Bigger than other kids his age, hence his nickname” Branch explains.

“No, I mean how do they treat you differently? That’s what you said right?”

“They don’t look at him weird. I mean, some people are nice, but lots of the other kids look at me like they feel sorry for me. And Creek always says stuff, and he’s not saying mean stuff, but it still sounds mean? And I know Poppy said that everyone should be nice to him because he lost his brother a few years ago and he was really sad, but I lost my Grandma, and I don’t think she’s told anyone to be nice to me,” Branch gestures to himself.

As usual, lots to unpack, “So this Creek kid’s being mean to you?” JD asks, his teeth grinding at the thought.

“No? Maybe? I don’t know. Anyway, people don’t look at Biggie differently so, I was wondering why,” he says, circling back to his initial thoughts.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” JD asks; he’s not letting this go.

“Well he said that he thought my vest was really dull, but it suited me, because it matched me, and it was sort of a compliment, but not?” Branch tries to explain.

Ah. One of those. “It wasn’t a compliment Bits, it was a dig. If he keeps saying stuff like that to you, tell your teacher. And me.”

“Won’t that make me a snitch?” Branch asks, nose scrunched. Where had he even heard that?

“No, it makes you sensible. You don’t put up with people being mean to you,” JD wasn’t going to put up with people being mean to his brother, it just wasn’t happening.

“I guess…” Bitty trails off, “Rhonda!” he calls, officially distracted.

The critter stops her aimless circling, bounding over to Bitty with a trill. She’s getting huge; Milton had been right when he’d suggested a growth spurt, and it threw everything he thought he knew about her species out the window. She wasn’t supposed to grow this fast until she was five, but here she was, growing. Fast. The amount of shed they had to remove from her shack daily was phenomenal, and she was eating more than JD thought was possible. He’s lucky Milton provides eggs with no strings attached, or he’d be knee-deep in favours.

“Do you think I can ride her?” Bitty asks.

It sounds like a terrible idea, “Maybe? You are very small,” JD jokes.

Branch ignores his jest, instead clambering onto her back “If I just…” he swings a leg over, perching carefully atop her back like a little King. He looks so pleased with himself.

“B-Bitty! Get down, what if she bolts?!” JD gasps, reaching out to pull his brother off the critter.

“Aww, but I think she likes it,” Bitty replies, referring to Rhonda’s frantic trilling. She begins to trot, and Bitty giggles almost manically.

“Nope! Come back,” JD legs it after them, plucking Branch from her back and placing him back on the ground. “Branch I said no,” he says sternly.

“Sorry,” Bitty replies sheepishly, “I just thought it would be um-cool?” he doesn’t even sound sure of why he did it. On the one hand: Bitty’s acting like an actual kid his age, having fun and pushing boundaries, which is great! On the other: riding on Rhonda.

He sighs, “I know, I just don’t want you getting hurt. You don’t want you getting hurt, I know how boring resting in the bunker can be.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry Rhonda,” Bitty says, hugging his friend, which wasn’t where JD thought his sentence would go, but hey, Bitty can be unpredictable.

“Come on, let’s finish up. I thought you wanted to take some photos?” he asks.

Bitty’s face brightens, “Oh yeah! Can you model for me?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

JD sighs, smiling, “Where do you want me?”

“Oh oh so tell me more about Floyd!” Poppy asks.

Branch is at her pod; she’d invited a few of her friends over to play, and truth be told he’d missed her. He hasn’t seen her as much with school and with archery and stuff, so it was nice. It was less nice having everyone else there, but it wasn’t his pod so…not up to him. He wasn’t even fussed about Cooper or Biggie, but she’d invited Creek and he still wasn’t sure about him. He’s Poppy’s friend though, so he wants to make the effort, even if JD said he was actually being mean to him.

“Um, like what?” Branch asks.

“Um, I don’t know? Is he tall? Does he have any umm…” Poppy trails off in thought.

“Tattoos! I saw some trolls in a book and they had these big tattoos all over their back,” Cooper interrupts in excitement.

“Yeah! Yeah, does he have tattoos?” Poppy asks, nodding excitedly.

“Um no? I don’t think so?” Branch hasn’t seen him in a long time so, “he had an earring though?” he adds, thinking back to his brother’s appearance.

“Oh wow, an earring?” Poppy gasps.

“It’s not that cool,” Creek mutters. He looks weirdly upset. Branch doesn’t get it.

“It’s a little cool though,” Biggie adds.

“Yeah,” Poppy agrees.

“Mmm I always wanted one too when I was little,” Branch says. He had wanted to be just like Floyd, and he remembers him laughing when he’d asked him if he could also get an earring. He still doesn’t know what was so funny.

“Oooh you’d look so cool Branch, you should get one when you’re bigger!” Poppy hypes, Cooper nodding in encouragement.

“Really?” Branch asks, subconsciously pinching his ear lobe.

“Yeah!”

“You should get one now,” Creek cuts in.

“Now?” Branch asks, “But I don’t even have an earring? And I think you need a needle to make the hole?”

“Well Poppy has earrings, and I bet King Peppy has needles,” Creek explains. It’s weird, Branch is suspicious.

“I do! Well my earrings are only clip-on, but my Daddy has some real earrings from when he had his ear pierced, and I think he has needles in his sewing box,” Poppy says.

“It’d be a pretty bad sewing box without needles,” Biggie adds, recrossing his legs.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure JD would be too happy,” Branch explains, chewing his lip before he remembers he’s not supposed to do that anymore.

“But you won’t even feel it, right?” Creek says, gesturing to his ear.

“I guess?”

“And I bet your brother, Floyd? I bet he’d think you’d look cool,” Creek continues.

“Maybe?” Floyd would think he looked cool. And he did really really want to look cool like Floyd.

“Mmm,” he thinks, “okay.”

“Wait, really?” Creek replies, eyes wide like he can’t believe Branch is agreeing.

“Yeah. I can’t feel it anyway so…if Poppy has clean earrings and stuff?” he turns to Poppy.

“Yeah! I’ll go grab them, and I’ll find a needle,” she scurries off the floor to search.

“Is this a good idea guys?” Biggie asks; he looks nervous, his hands bunching into his shorts.

“As long as we clean the needle it should be fine,” Branch reassures. He’s sort of excited. Lichen had an earring in the pictures too, but it was on the hard bit of the ear, and he doesn’t want to try piercing there. It’s close enough. Plus, he wants to impress Floyd. He knows it won’t make him want to stay, but a tiny part of him hopes if he shows him how different he is, then maybe he’ll consider it.

Poppy tears into the room, needle in one hand and earring in the other.

“Careful!” Biggie gasps, “Don’t fall on the needle!”

“I won’t,” Poppy laughs, kneeling next to Branch. She passes him the earring, “Is this okay?”

It’s a silver stud, very simple. It’s perfect.

“I like it. Did you clean the needle?” he asks.

“Clean?” Poppy asks in confusion.

“Just wash it with soap,” Branch explains. That’ll do, right? They don’t have the proper stuff, but it’ll have to do.

“Okay!” she jumps back up to wash the needle, greeting the King with a quick ‘Hi Daddy!’ as she runs past.

Moments later she’s back in the room, grinning excitedly.

“Okay! How do we do it?” she asks, turning to Creek.

“Wh-I mean? You make a hole and put the earring in?” he sounds unsure.

It sounds right though, how hard can it be?

“I’ll do it,” Branch says, “do you have a mirror?”

“Are you sure?” Cooper asks.

“As long as I have a mirror it should be okay,” Branch says, attempting a reassuring smile.

Poppy runs off to grab a mirror, leaving the boys in awkward silence. Creek’s making this odd face that Branch can’t quite figure out, but before he can say anything Poppy’s back, mirror in hand.

“Okay,” she props it onto the sofa for Branch to see, “and you just make a hole?” she asks.

“I think so?” Branch says, looking at his reflection. His goggles reflect the light, but they’re the most colourful thing about him. He takes the needle from Poppy’s hand and begins lining it up where he thinks it’d look good. He chooses the same side as Floyd, because it must be the best side.

“Wait, I don’t think-“ Creek begins, but Branch has already stabbed the needle through his lobe.

There’s gasps; it’s poking through awkwardly, and Branch hurries to follow it through with the earring. It’s harder than he thought; he needs to wiggle it through, and already there’s a beed of blood dripping down his darkening ear, but it only takes a moment and it’s done. He attaches the back, tilting his head to see.

“Mmm, I like it,” he says, smiling, swiping the blood away with a finger.

He finally looks around; Creek looks pale, Biggie looks frightened and Poppy and Cooper are practically buzzing with excitement.

“It looks so so good! Oh wow, we have to take a photo!” Poppy says.

Huh, good idea. Branch reaches into his hair, pulling out his camera with ease, and passes it to Poppy.

“You just carry that thing around with you?” Biggie asks, still looking vaguely nauseous.

“Branch is a photogopher,” Poppy says proudly.

“Photographer. And not really, I just like taking photos,” Branch explains.

click

As Poppy watches the photo develop, Branch looks back to his ear with a smile. It didn’t hurt at all, maybe he could do more?

“Look! It looks so good!” Poppy says thrusting the photo in his hands.

He looks happy in the photo, it’s jarring to see his own smile. He’ll have to send this one to Floyd.

“We need to show Daddy how good it looks!” Poppy says.

“Wait, maybe…” Creek begins.

“Daddy! Daddy come look!” Poppy shouts.

King Peppy stumbles in, surprisingly fast.

“Petal? What’s happening?” he asks, glancing around.

“Look! We gave Branch an earring, doesn’t it look good? It’s not even clipped on, it’s real!” she says, gesturing dramatically at Branch. He preens.

He feels less sure of himself when he sees the King’s face drop into something like panic. Did it look bad?

“Poppy…how-when-what did you do?” Peppy asks in horror.

“Poppy didn’t do it, I did,” Branch cuts in; he doesn’t like how Poppy’s face falls, “I didn’t think I made it wonky?”

“It-why? Why did you do that Branch?” Peppy asks softly.

“Creek said it would look cool, like my brother, and it didn’t hurt so I thought it would be okay,” Branch feels anxious now; he’s made the King upset.

Peppy takes a deep breath, “It…it looks good Branch. But you’re too little to be playing with needles, and it needed to be sterile, we don’t want it getting infected,” King Peppy explains.

“But we washed the needle,” Poppy says, confused, “with soap and everything!”

The King looks weird, his face scrunches up, “It really needed to be sterile Poppy, we’d normally use a flame as it takes a bit more than soap. Did you wash the earring?” he asks.

“No? Is Branch going to get infected?” Poppy gasps.

“Well um, I mean-" Peppy stutters.

“Is his ear going to fall off?” Cooper asks, everyone turning to the King in horror.

“No! No, Branch’s ear won’t fall off!” Peppy says frantically.

Branch is glad, he was beginning to worry. Cooper and Biggie look less convinced, but Poppy calms down at the reassurance. Creek just looks weird, a bit angry, and he’s shooting Branch odd looks.

“Look, Branch you’ll be fine, I’ll just have to…explain it to John Dory when he comes to collect you, you’ll need to keep it clean. Can I have the needle back petal please?” The King asks Poppy. Branch hands it to Poppy, who hands it to her father, “Now please don’t take things like this without asking.”

“Okay Daddy. Sorry,” Poppy says guiltily, shuffling her feet.

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine,” Peppy reassures, patting her head.

“Sorry,” Branch adds, feeling guilty. He didn’t want to get Poppy into trouble.

“It’s fine. I’ll explain everything to your brother,” Peppy says, but he looks nervous at the idea.

Eventually, they’re left alone, though Peppy makes them promise not to do anything else without permission.

“So you really can’t feel pain?” Creek asks, sounding skeptical.

“Not really? I felt it a bit when I broke my toes but it didn’t really hurt,” Branch says, bunching his hands into his vest.

“That’s kind of cool!” Cooper adds.

“Not really?” Branch says, “I have to be careful because I don’t know if I got hurt, and I might make it worse.”

“Oh,” Cooper says, face falling.

“What time is John Dory coming?” Poppy asks. She’s collected her scrapbooking materials and is in the process of laying them out.

“Not sure, in a bit I think?” Branch says, taking the coloured paper she offers.

“Why is he picking you up? Can’t you walk back on your own?” Creek asks.

“John Dory worries lots,” Poppy replies in his stead, passing around scissors.

“That’s weird,” Creek says, beginning to cut out his shapes.

“It’s not weird, JD is just cautious,” Branch defends, brows furrowing.

Creek just shrugs, focusing on his cutting.

“Will he be mad about the earring?” Biggie asks.

“Maybe?” Branch replies; JD will probably be worried, but it’s not unusual.

They continue their scrapbooking, Poppy humming happily.

He hopes he’s not too worried though.

JD was furious.

“So let me get this straight. Your five year old stole a needle from under your nose, and stabbed my kid in the ear while you were supposed to be supervising? Am I missing anything here?” he hisses.

“She didn’t stab him John, he pierced his own ear. But he did a good job considering-“

“Are you seriously saying this?” JD asks, incredulous.

“You’re right, I should have been watching more carefully,” Peppy concedes sheepishly.

“Where did they even get the idea?” JD asks, voice higher than he thought it could go.

“Well, apparently they were talking about your other brother, and Creek suggested that he would look um…'cool’ if he had a piercing just like him.”

Creek. That little…

“So my brother was peer pressured into stabbing himself?!”

“I wouldn’t say that! Branch was more than happy at the idea,” Peppy defends.

“Look. I don’t care. It’s not the point, the point is they managed to do this when you were supposed to be watching them. What if they’d found a knife, and decided to do knife throwing or something?” JD asks, aware of how hysterical he probably sounds.

“You’re right,” Peppy placates, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again—"

“It better not.”

“—And I think it’s important you’re supportive of Branch now, what’s done is done.”

“Oh, I’m not angry at Branch. He’s seven, with terrible impulse control, it’s the adult who should have been supervising that I’m pissed at,” JD explains.

“You’ve made your point John,” Peppy replies, voice miserable.

“Good,” he replies arms crossed, “now where are they?”

“In Poppy’s room,” Peppy gestures.

John heads there without a second glance; Peppy can stew for a bit.

“Hey guys!” he says brightly as he enters, no hint of his annoyance showing.

“Hi John Dory!” Poppy replies; there’s glitter in her hair and she waves her scissors in greeting.

“Hi!” Branch says, grinning.

The other children add their own greetings, Cooper giving an enthusiastic wave, and JD walks fully into the room, eyeing the mess.

“You’ve been busy,” he observes, noting the pile of cut-out card.

“We’ve been scrapbooking, sort of. Poppy has, I’ve just been making stuff for her to stick,” Branch explains, wiping his hand (and the subsequent glitter) across his shorts.

“Branch cuts out the best circles,” Poppy says, beaming, and Branch shoots her a small grin in response.

The kid JD is assuming is Creek is avoiding him, looking firmly at his own paper. Huh.

“You ready to go Bitty? Lots to do.”

“Okay,” Branch replies, standing and brushing the glitter from his legs, “I’ll see you later guys.”

“Bye Branch!” Poppy waves.

As they leave, JD can hear Creek asking “No hugs?”

“Branch doesn’t like them much,” she explains, her voice trailing into nothing as they leave the room.

“Bye King Peppy, thank you for having me,” Branch says politely as they pass the King.

“No worries at all Branch, we’ll see you soon!” he says jovially.

JD waits until they’re walking away from the pod to speak.

“So I see you have a new accessory?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be cool like Floyd. Do you think I look cool?” Bitty asks, eyes wide, and JD reassesses what he wants to say.

“The coolest! But if you want to do something like this again, you need to ask, okay? We’re gonna have to keep it really clean,” JD says firmly.

“Okay!” Bitty agrees, looking around at the pods they pass, distracted.

“Did-did Creek convince you to do it?” JD asks cautiously.

“Mmm?” Branch turns to face him, “Not really. It was his idea, but I wanted to do it.”

That’s a relief. He hates the idea of his brother being easily manipulated; he’s stubborn, but far too eager to gain acceptance.

“Can I get more? I wanted to do the hard bit of my ear like Lichen has, but I thought it would be too hard,” Bitty adds.

JD hides a wince, “Let’s see how this one heals first, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Cooper said my ear might fall off,” he throws out casually.

“I don’t think so Bits,” JD says, stifling a laugh. Kids are hilarious.

“Come on, let’s get back. Geronimo and Rhonda missed you,” he says, placing a hand on Bitty’s shoulder.

“I miss them too,” Branch says, hastening his walk.

Chapter Text

“Brandy my darling, love of my life, berry of my eye,” Bruce begins, perching near his fiancée.

“What have you done,” she asks, voice fond, brushing her hair behind her ear. He’s momentarily distracted by the movement; she’s just so beautiful, the way the light catches her face, the way her eyes practically shimmer in the light—

“Bruce?”

“Oh, well nothing yet. I was hoping to take my board out for a bit, can you cover me?”

“I thought you said it was looking choppy?” Brandy asks leaning on the counter.

“Ehh, Billy said it was pretty clean,” Bruce explains.

“If my Dad told you about it, why are you asking me?” she laughs.

It’s true, her Dad is the restaurant owner, and he’s essentially his boss.

“Because I love you?” Bruce says, attempting a suave pose.

Brandy laughs, leaning down to kiss his face. His heart flutters; it’s been years and she can still make him feel like a nervous teenager.

“Go, have fun,” she says, pushing him lightly.

He blows her one last kiss, before climbing down from the counter. They’d installed ladders, just for him, and every time he saw one of the many adjustments to the restaurant he feels grateful all over again. Brandy and her family had been so accommodating and welcoming, it had been jarring.

“Hey Bruce!” Beau shouts as he passes, his long arm coming up into a pseudo salute from where he reclines in the pool.

“Hey Beau,” he shouts back, cupping his mouth.

“Hitting the waves?”

“You know it!” Bruce replies grinning.

“Try not to eat it bro” Beau teases.

Bruce rolls his eyes, waving him off, “Yeah yeah.”

He hurries past, anxious to grab his board, but before he can get any further he’s almost bowled over by a small buzzing critter.

“Woah!” he reels back, standing still as the thing sniffs him, nudging him with its snout.

“You good bro?” Beau calls, having witnessed the ‘attack’.

“Yeah, yeah, all good.”

“What is it?”

“Dunno, looks like one of those bloodhound bugs…” he trails off; the critter is wearing a small pouch. Curious, he moves towards it. When it's clear the critter won't be biting him, he reaches inside, pulling out a small stack of envelopes. They’re addressed to Spruce.

There aren’t many people left who know him by that name, there’s no doubt it must be from his Grandma or one of his brothers.

“Hey, um, I’m just gonna take these somewhere…else,” he says, unable to focus on anything but the messy scrawl of his past name.

“All good dude,” Beau calls, sinking further into the pool.

Bruce turns around, letters in his grip, heading back to his fiancée. The critter follows lazily as he climbs the ladder to Brandy; she spots him as he reaches the top.

“Was it too choppy after all?” she asks, turning fully once she spots his expression, “hey honey, everything okay? Bodhi being weird about your hair again? I can get my Dad to kick him out if he is?” she immediately stops what she’s doing, coming to lean by him.

“No, no I’ve not even seen Bodhi. I’ve got letters, I think they’re from my brother?” he explains, waving the letters as he speaks.

“Which one?”

“I’ve not opened them yet," he says, pulling at the envelope nervously.

“Did you want to go read them in our room?” she asks.

He nods, “Yeah, no clue what this is all about so…”

“Need a lift?” Brandy asks.

“Nah,” he says stretching, “I can do with the exercise.”

Brandy narrows her eyes.

“Not like that!” he hastens to add, “just, you know. In general.”

He’s had issues with his body image for a long time. Brandy knows this, knows this all too well. He knows that she worries he’ll slip back into more self-destructive exercising habits, but he’s doing better. He’s doing so much better.

She looks suspicious but nods, “Go on then gorgeous. I’ll come find you in a bit.”

He makes his way through the kitchens, heading into the living section of the restaurant. Billy had installed a smaller door inside the original door of their room, and Bruce hurries through, shutting it behind him.

He climbs up into their bed, sitting cross-legged before he allows himself to fully observe the letters. He tears the top one open, reading it fast.

Spruce

It’s John Dory. Look, I’ve got lots I need to apologise for, I know I do. And I will, but I think you deserve it face-to-face. The main reason I’m writing to you is to check you’re safe. That, and I want to catch you up on a few things. I won’t sugarcoat it, Grandma is dead. Branch witnessed her death, and it’s given him all sorts of trauma. I came back to find them and found Branch living alone in basically the wilderness, and he was grey. He is grey. He’s doing better, but not great. We’re both living in the new pop-village. Can you let me know you’re okay? If you want to visit, I can let you know more details about where we are. I’ve managed to reach Clay and Floyd, Clay is safe, Floyd is coming to visit in a few months time. Considering I hadn’t even realised you guys all left after I did, I’ll assume you didn’t know: if it wasn’t already obvious Floyd left too that night. Bitty was on his own with Grandma when everything happened.
I’ve included some letters he wrote when he was living in the old tree. Heads up, if they’re anything like the one he wrote me, it’ll hurt to read.
The bloodhound bug knows his way home, just crush the leaf under his nose and say, ‘home’, preferably with a response, but I know what I was like before we left.

Miss you lots Sprucifer

Love John Dory

Bruce doesn’t know how to feel. Grandma is dead? What was the last thing he said to her? What was it? He didn’t…he didn’t even say goodbye.

He sniffs, feeling the tears build up behind his eyes. He wants to sob, but he's too numb. He just lets the tears drip fall, as he tries to process. He’s not sure how long he sits when the door opens.

“You okay hon…oh god, Bruce what’s happened?” Brandy asks, hurrying to the bed. She sits beside him carefully (she’s always so careful), reaching her hand out for him to hold. He grasps her closest fingers, squeezing tight.

“My,” his voice cracks, and he swallows, trying again, “my Grandma is dead.”

“Oh no,” Brandy gasps, eyes wide, “I’m so sorry honey, I know how worried you were about her.”

“Branch saw it. I don’t even know what happened but he saw it, and he’s grey,” Bruce devolves into sobs, curling up into Brandy’s hand. She cups him, her thumb rubbing soothingly along his back.

He cries for what seems like hours but must have been ten minutes at best. He sniffs, clearing his throat, eyes sore.

“He wants to know if I can visit, but I…I don’t know if I can. Not with your Mother so sick. I can’t not go though, not when Branch is dealing with all—"

“Breathe. Breathe Bruce, big breaths,” Brandy coaches. He copies her breathing, flexing his hand. He’d been holding the letter so hard it ached.

“What else did he say?” she asks gently.

“Um, he- John Dory that is, wanted to know if I was safe. Said he owed me an apology, said he sent some letters from Bitty B. He’s already been in contact with Floyd and Clay.”

“Well, why don’t you write to him and let him know you’re safe, and fill him in a bit on what you've been up to,” Brandy suggests, “and instead of visiting, there’s always that invitation you can actually send?”

She’s referring to the wedding invitations he’d written and never posted. He wasn't sure where his brothers were, where they'd traveled, or if Floyd and Branch would have still been at the tree. Even if he'd known, he’s not sure he would have sent them, not with all the bad blood between them. Writing them felt cathartic though, even if they sat gathering dust.

“I know you want your brothers at the wedding. Don’t try and pretend you don’t,” Brandy adds, no-nonsense.

“You’re right,” he sighs, “as always,” he adds, smiling up at her.

“Come here,” she says, smiling back, and he climbs into her hand allowing her to hold him close. “What did the letters from Branch say?” she asks.

“Oh. I’m not sure, I’ve not read them yet. Mind passing me them?” he asks, gesturing to the letters he'd left on the bed.

She complies, pinching the stack between her fingers and depositing it into his hands.

“Thanks love. Now, let’s see…”

He opens the other envelope, pulling out the first of the letters. He almost coos at the childish handwriting before him.

To Spruce

Im sorry its my folt evryone left. I know you were sad thow so I hope your hapee. Im keepin your ey shadow sayf I no John Dory didnt liyk it but I thort it was cool. I miss you lots and lots and I hope you com home soon. I drew a picshur of ploom plume!

Love you from Branch

“He kept my eyeshadow safe,” Bruce says, giving a watery chuckle.

“He did? Oh, what a sweetheart,” Brandy replies.

“He drew Plume as well, see?” he holds up the small drawing for Brandy to see.

“The girl band?” she asks.

“Yup! He must have copied my poster,” Bruce guesses, “he thought it was his fault. Us leaving. I didn’t even know Floyd left.”

“Was that all the letters?" Brandy asks.

"One more," he replies, glancing at the final letter, "it's from Branch. I think...I think I need to read it later. I've got a lot to process here," he says; he feels like there's static in his head from all the information he's received, and he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and scream.

"Hey, at least you know they’re safe now? You always worried—"

“Not enough to try and find them though,” Bruce says bitterly, “if Johnny hadn’t gone back, who knows what would have happened to Branch? I’d have just gone on living my life, with no idea.”

“You know now though. You can do something about it now,” Brandy asserts.

“You’re right. Obviously. I’ll write back, invite them to the wedding.”

“Maybe warn them about my uh…size. I know the Bergens didn’t leave a particularly good impression of those of a…taller stature,” Brandy suggests.

“Good idea. Yeah, I’ll let them know,” Bruce replies.

“And maybe not so much poetic waxing about my hair?” Brandy jests.

“Hey, I’m a romantic, I can’t not!” Bruce jokes. He will cut down on it though, he was planning on describing his fiancée's beauty (inner and outer), but knowing the recipient is John Dory…mmm, maybe not. He wasn’t sure he’d appreciate the finer details.

“Are you worried? About your little brother being grey?” Brandy asks, face full of concern.

“Well yeah. But you know what? I’m sure Johnny has it handled,” he’s not even lying. He's angry at John, he gave him so many hang-ups about his body, his…everything. He remembers him before though, when he was Johnny the brother, not John the band manager, and he has faith that he’ll be trying his damnedest to help Branch. And if he isn’t, well, he can always suplex him. He’s not as fit as he once was, but he’s sure he can still bring the pain if necessary.

Spruce’s letter had been jarring. Well, it was Bruce now, wasn’t it? It’s confusing. He re-reads, taking in the information.

John Dory

I don’t even know what to say. Branch watched Grandma die? How did it happen? Why did you go back in the first place? I know you, it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. You’re right, apologies can wait until we’re face to face, and we will be face to face. I can’t visit right now though, my let me start over.
I ended up on Vacay Island, (it’s basically a big beach), and shortly after I met the most beautiful being love of my life. Her name is Brandy, and we’re engaged. We work in her parent's restaurant on the island, although they are looking at retiring soon and passing the business on to Brandy (and by default, me) but as her Mother’s health is in swift decline, there’s no way I can in good conscience leave right now. I want you to come to my wedding though, you and Branch. Floyd and Clay too obviously, but I’ve no way of directly contacting them, so I’ve included their invitations on the off chance you can send them for me?
Brandy’s it for me. She’s my soulmate, and I want you to meet her. She’s not a troll though, she’s a Vaycationer, so I want to warn you about the size difference. She’s tall. Really tall, (think Bergen tall) and her hair she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I read Branch’s letters. You better have told him our split was not his fault, and you better be stepping up for him. And tell him it’s okay that he’s angry, his last letter was like you said: heartbreaking.
I mean it though Johnny, you better have left that perfection bullshit in the past, kids are resilient but you can’t be treating him how you did at the end. Not saying you are, just hoping you’re not.

By the way, I go by Bruce now. I don’t want to be attached to my old boyband persona, and it fits me more as a person, so I better not catch you saying my old name or I’ll suplex you like I used to.

I miss you bro, and I miss Branch. Can’t wait to see you guys, I’ll save a beer for you (just you obviously).

Love Bruce

P.S Brandy says she can’t wait to meet you guys and sends her love

Along with the letter are four wedding invitations, decorated with an ocean theme and delicate font. The wedding is next year, in the summer. His little brother is getting married. He changed his name. John had no idea, would have had no idea if he hadn’t taken the plunge and written. He shudders, the thoughts of what he could have missed multiplying. What if he had never returned? He wonders what would have happened, in a different life, if he’d never received the letter from his Grandma.

“What did it say?” Bitty asks. He’s been waiting patiently, drumming his fingers along the back of the sofa absent mindedly.

“So, Sp-Bruce. He’s changed his name to Bruce now,” he explains.

“Oh okay. I like it,” Branch says, unfazed.

“Yup! He’s okay, he’s actually—wow, so he’s getting married.”

“Married? Like when you’re in love? Before you have babies?” Branch asks.

“Yes?” babies, good god, he’s glad he hadn’t missed that particular milestone of his brother, “well no babies yet, but they’re getting married next year and Spr-Bruce wants us to come.”

“Hmm. That good. You have more time to practice his new name,” Bitty replies, matter of fact, unintentionally sassy in that way he tends to be.

“Did he write me a letter?” Bitty asks.

“Well…no,” JD says, “but he says he misses and loves you, and his fiancée Brandy sends her love too,” he hurries to add at Branch’s crestfallen expression. “He also wants you to know that the split wasn’t your fault. Like I said too. No one thinks it was your fault.”

“Oh, okay, that’s good,” Branch says, face unreadable.

“Here,” JD hands over Branch’s wedding invitation.

He reads it, looking up once finished, “Are Floyd and Clay invited too?”

“I have their invites here too.”

“Good! We’ve only got Kay to send letters to, and then I can see everyone again,” Branch says grinning.

Oh shit. There’s no way he can tell him about Clay’s response, everything he says just confirms this, especially with him calling him Kay. It was always Bitty's nickname for Clay, from when he wasn't able to pronounce his name, for him to call him it now...he must really trust he's going to come back.

“Sure Bits,” he says instead, smiling back.

“My Hatchday wish is gonna come true!” Bitty adds, then gasps, turning dramatically. “Oh no, I told you! Does that mean it’s not going to come true now? Did I ruin it?” he looks close to tears.

“No! No, no, it’s fine! Hatchday wishes don’t just not work like that, I’m sure it’ll come true,” JD reassures, heart clenching at the thought that that was what Bitty had wished for.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” JD says, ruffling Branch’s hair, his goggles shifting with the movement. It’s much softer now, the vitamins clearly doing their job.

“I’m still mad at him,” Branch adds.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m less mad at him than Floyd though.”

“Oh?” JD asks; this is new.

“Well, he didn’t promise to come back. And I know how sad he was in the band,” Bitty explains.

“Sad?” JD asks. He can remember him being angry, but never sad.

“Yeah, I used to see him cry in the mirror sometimes,” Bitty says casually, “he pretended he didn’t, but his eyes were all red.”

John doesn’t know what to say; Spr-Bruce, used to cry in the mirror? Why? Of all of them, he looked the best, what would he have to cry about? It’s another thing he’ll have to mention when he sees him, maybe not at his wedding though.

“Oh. Well, he sounds really happy now,” JD says, still reeling from the metaphorical bomb Bitty just dropped. “What…what about Clay? Can you remember him being sad?” he tries to sound nonchalant, but he’s not sure he manages.

“Yeah, I think so. When we’d have cuddles, he’d cry into my hair sometimes when he thought I was asleep.”

Oh hell. He feels like the worst brother in existence, no he was the worst. He owes so many apologies, and he didn’t even realise how deep his hurt had traveled, festering in his brothers. Why didn’t they talk to him? Would he have even listened though? The John Dory at nineteen was a nervous wreck parading as a leader; he had no time for anything other than holding himself up to unreachable standards and projecting them onto everyone around him.

“Do I have to be fancy?” Branch asks, fiddling with his earring.

“Stop touching your ear Bits it’s only just healed. Fancy?”

Bitty stops, instead rubbing his hand against his vest, “At the wedding. Biggie said when his parents got married, everyone wore fancy clothes and ate lots of cake, so do I have to wear something fancy? I don’t have anything like that…” Bitty says, his face lined with worry.

“I can ask, don’t worry. It’s next year, so if you do we have lots of time to get you something to wear,” JD reassures.

“And you, you’ll need something fancy too. And Rhonda, and Geronimo.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” JD has no idea what will class as ‘fancy’ that a critter can wear, (or if he can even bring them both) but he’s sure Milton has some ideas; whatever makes Branch happy (and doesn’t irritate the critters).

“I’m gonna say goodnight to Rhonda, then can we read a story?” Branch asks.

He’s right; it’s gotten late. “Sure, want me to come?” JD asks.

“I’ll be okay, you can keep Ronnie company,” Bitty replies, and what do you know he was in his hair the whole time. Huh. He’s surprised he’s being so still, especially when JD has been ruffling Branch’s hair. He takes the critter, placing him on his lap, watching his brother disappear up the ladder.

He gears himself up for storytelling; he’s got the voices down now, he’s read the book so many times he can almost read it with his eyes closed. It would be nice if Branch let him read some of the other stories though…

Chapter Text

JD has just dropped Branch off at the school. He’s tired; Bitty had a sleep paralysis episode in the night, and it had really rattled him. They’d been awake most of the night, Branch unable to get back to sleep. JD needs several mugs of coffee immediately, then he can actually do something productive. He watches as Rhonda trots beside him; she is up to his neck now. The other villagers give her the occasional glance, but she is a permanent fixture now; they were used to her and the novelty seems to have worn off.

“Geronimo…cut it out,” he hisses. The bug had taken to crawling into his hair when Bitty wasn’t available, nesting himself inside. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and it was a reminder of when his sibling had nestled inside his hair, although Geronimo had sharp and pointed nails that dug into his scalp, and wings that tugged his strands. The worst his brothers had done was tangle themselves inside and drool. He parts his hair, lifting the critter out, and he takes off buzzing around him.

Once he reaches the bunker, he heads into Rhonda’s enclosure. It needed a deep clean; he mucked it out and removed the shed every morning, but there was no harm in being more thorough. After coffee.

He’s about to descend into the bunker when he hears it; a rattle, like something heavy being pulled, and it’s getting louder. He looks up, his heart stuttering.

“F-Floyd?!”

It’s Floyd, he’s here, he’s dragging what looks like a wagon full of bags and sacks, and he’s actually here. He hurries forward, grabbing his brother into a hug, lifting him off the ground with his enthusiasm. Floyd hugs back just as hard.

“Johnny!” he says, once released, “It’s so good to see you,” he’s crying, grinning, and sniffling in the way he used to when he was so happy he didn’t know what to do with himself.

JD looks at him; he’s changed, but he’s still the same. His hair is no longer symmetrical, a fringe flopping over his eye, and he’s wearing ripped jeans, a vest that looks like it’s been drawn on in pen, and he has several new ear piercings. He’s older, but his smile is the same, the way his eyes crinkle is so familiar JD is brought back to him being tiny and excitable, showing him his newest piece on guitar.

“Liking the jewelry,” JD says, nodding at his ears.

“Really?” Floyd replies, “I’ve been a bit obsessed recently, kept getting more.”

“It suits you,” JD replies, smiling fondly. “Did you haul this the whole way here?” he asks, referring to the wagon.

“No! No,” Floyd laughs, “my flatmate helped me, he dropped me off not too far from here. Didn’t come any closer, he didn’t want to panic anyone, though he says hi.”

“Oh, that was a good idea. I say hi back?”

Floyd snorts inelegantly, looking at JD like he’s taking everything in. “Where’s Branch?”

“School. He finishes in a few hours, only just dropped him off,” JD explains, “come on, let’s get your stuff inside and we can talk properly.”

He takes over the pulling of the wagon (despite Floyd’s weak protests) dragging it to the entrance. What was even in this thing?

“Gimme a sec, let me just secure Rhonda,” he calls, before herding her into her home, “be back soon girl,” he says fondly, giving her a final rub. She trills, running off to lap up her water.

“What did you even bring?” JD asks once he’s returned to his brother. He lifts the first sack, nearly dropping it from its weight, “oh my god this is heavy,” he mutters, hefting it onto his shoulders.

“Careful! Some of it's delicate. I brought along a few things for you and Bitty, and a couple of things from Mello. Here, let me help,” Floyd adds, lifting one end of the sack.

They somehow manage to get the items through the entrance (just, it’s a tight squeeze with lots of cursing and pushing), but they manage, the two of them climbing slowly into the bunker balancing the bags. They place them in the living room neatly, the two of them out of breath. Geronimo buzzes around their heads, weaving between them.

“Come on, I need a coffee,” JD says, beckoning Floyd into the kitchen. “Want one?” he asks, turning on the stove.

“Do you have tea?” Floyd asks, sitting at the table.

“Uhhh,” JD checks, “nope, sorry, none that’s not medicinal. Ran out of sleepy tea and I’m not really a tea drinker, so we’ll have to grab some from the market.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have a coffee then, no sugar just milk,” Floyd says.

“No sugar? That’s new,” JD teases, grabbing a match to light the stove. He ignores the ignoring the building unease; Floyd always had sugar in his coffee, several spoons. They’d always teased him about it, Clay had even taken to calling him sweet-tooth for a short while, but it hadn’t caught on (mainly because Floyd would launch the closest item at his brother’s head every time he heard it).

“Yeah well I didn’t have sugar for a while and I got used to the taste. Now I like it more when it’s a bit,” Floyd thinks, “bitter? Simple? Let go with that.”

“Huh, fair enough,” JD concedes.

He finishes the coffee, joining Floyd at the table and passing him his bitter brew.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about out,” Floyd says, as soon as he’s seated.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do,” JD sighs, gripping his drink.

There’s silence. John takes a sip of his coffee, ignoring the burn. It’s awkward. Where is he even supposed to begin?

Floyd seems to take pity on him, “So Branch,” he says.

“Branch,” JD repeats, sighing, “where to start?”

“Well,” Floyd plays with the handle of his mug, “what happened after we left?”

“So, first off,” JD leans back, “I didn’t know you guys left.”

“What, at all?” Floyd sounds incredulous.

“Nope. I thought S-Bruce and Clay just quit, and I didn’t know you’d left at all,” he explains.

“Yeah,” Floyd stares into his mug, avoiding JD’s gaze, “they left. Pretty much immediately after you. I said goodbye to Branch and left…immediately after that. I don’t know, I wanted to pursue a solo career. It felt like the right thing to do. By the time I realised I’d been pretty rash, I was already too far in to back out.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just okay?”

“Look, I have no room to talk. I left first, I set the example. With your promise to Branch, I’ve had months to be angry with you. It was a really stupid thing to do, yes, but you were a teenager whose family had just left. I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. You’ve come back. Bitty on the other hand, I dunno. You’re gonna have to talk to him, and you’re gonna have to prove you mean what you say. He’s less trusting than he was before, and for good reason, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Floyd says, face twisted in guilt.

“He’s having therapy,” JD adds.

“Yeah, you mentioned in your letter. How’s it going?” Floyd looks like he’s not sure what to think about it.

“Yeah, it’s going really well. Plimsy—that’s his therapist and Dr—said he’s got post-traumatic stress from seeing Grandma…you know.”

“Oh god,” Floyd brings his hands to cover his mouth.

“Yeah. Look, I’m gonna let you know the important stuff while Bitty’s not here, and I can’t exactly remember what I said in my letters so sorry if I repeat myself. Bitty’s got certain things that will trigger an episode. Sometimes he just zones out, unfocused, other times he cries and tries to hurt himself.”

“He hurts himself!?” Floyd looks horrified.

“Not on purpose. He can’t actually feel pain, but he’ll bite himself or pull his hair.”

“What triggers it?”

“Uh, the obvious one I’ve found is crunching sounds. Snapping sounds, that kind of thing. Reminds him of when Grandma was…”

Floyd looks as sick as JD feels, and his hand is pressed against his mouth. His eyes are glassy, and as upsetting as it is to see his little brother cry, he has to let him know.

“He also has something called sleep paralysis, so his mind wakes up before his body can move. He tends to see a lot of scary stuff during, and he comes to find me whenever it happens. It can take him a while to go back to sleep.”

“Okay. Okay,” Floyd mutters, nodding to himself, taking it all in.

“He can’t feel hot, cold or pain, so we’re careful in case he injures himself and doesn’t realise. He’s been sick as well, and we only figured it out when he passed out in my room,” JD shudders at the horrific memory.

“He passed out?” Floyd parrots.

“Yeah. Heard things too, just like you used to do with a high fever.”

“It wasn’t fun, I used to hear singing and hammering,” Floyd says, frowning.

“Yeah. I know, you used to blame me,” JD says with a small smile.

“Johnny,” Floyd ignores him, “this is a lot. How did he get this bad?”

“We left,” JD says simply, “no. Okay, it wasn’t just that. But he had no one after Grandma. He bounced around the village for a bit, but no one wanted him, and King Peppy seemed fine to allow a four-year-old to live alone in a hole.”

“Four?! A hole—what?”

“It’s when it happened. And yeah, Branch tried building the bunker on his own, but he only got as far as a hole. Like I said in my letters, he was starving; the King says he left him food but Bitty only got it sometimes, because he’s said he was hungry enough for it to hurt, and he doesn’t really feel pain so he must have been…” JD has to stop. He breathes heavily through his nose, unclenching his hands. “He resorted to eating raw critter. He’s smart, made traps to protect himself, said he’d eat the legs when the pain got too bad.”

Floyd is crying, black streaking down his face along with his tears. JD absently wonders why someone who cries as frequently as he, doesn’t try to find a more waterproof solution, but it’s not the time to mention it.

“I need…give me a moment,” Floyd says, voice shaking. He pulls a tissue from his hair, wiping his face and sniffing loudly.

“How,” he continues after a beat, “how are you not dying from guilt right now Johnny?” he asks, his face distraught, “It hurts. He was hurting and I wasn’t there I promised I’d be back and I lied!”

“You’re here now Flo. You’ve made the first steps. As for the guilt?” he looks to his hands, “I am. All the time. I hate myself for leaving. It’s not about me though, it’s not productive, and it doesn’t help Branch. So I’m moving past it, for Bitty.”

“For Bitty,” Floyd repeats quietly, nodding to himself, “you’re right.”

“He uh, doesn’t sing either. Just so you know; he was singing when Grandma was, you know, and he thinks it was his fault. He has a lot of hang-ups about singing because of it anyway, so we’re just being encouraging where we can.”

“He said. In his letter, he still thought it was his fault.”

“Shit. I knew he still thought that, but for him to tell you in his letter it’s just a…” JD trails off bitterly. “Well, we’re doing what we can. The more people who encourage him, who knows, maybe he’ll eventually believe it.”

“Right. Okay,” Floyd looks determined. He stops a moment, “How are you doing Johnny?” he asks, eyes concerned.

“Me? Oh I’m fine, you know,” JD says, shrugging awkwardly.

“You’re not. You don’t have to lie to me John, I’m not a kid anymore,” Floyd says sternly.

JD sighs, “Yeah. Okay. It’s hard. I’m stressed about him all the time, because how can I not? We did this to him, I did this to him, and I can’t make any more mistakes and fuck him up any more than I already have,” he says bitterly.

“You’re not on your own now though. Let me help,” Floyd implores.

JD pauses for a moment. He’s right. He's not alone. He hasn’t technically been alone at all, not with Plimsy, but Floyd is different, he’s family and as deeply wrong as it feels relying on his little brother (he was the oldest he was supposed to carry the burdens) he knows he has to try.

“Okay. Yeah, okay,” JD concedes. He takes a breath, “I owe you an apology anyway. I know at the end I was less a brother, more a band manager. I’ve done a lot of uh, reflecting, and I recognise now I have a lot of issues with,” he winces, “self-worth. I took it out on you guys instead of acknowledging it, and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been spoken to or treat in the way you were. My issues with ‘perfection’,” he spits out the word bitterly, “were my issues, but I put it on everyone else.”

“Johnny I,” Floyd looks shocked, “of course I forgive you. You’re my big brother, I was always more worried about you than anything else. You never talked to anyone, you just brushed everything off like you were fine. You’ve really matured,” he says, smiling kindly. He looks proud.

“Yeah well,” JD scratches his face, uncomfortable at the praise, “I’ve been uh, having. Therapy. So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“You’re having therapy?”

“Don’t sound too shocked Floyd,” JD resists rolling his eyes.

“I am! Shocked that is. It’s very unlike you, um no offence. It’s good though! Really good, I’m proud of you,” and he does look proud, his eyes crinkling with happiness.

“Thanks,” JD mutters, taking a swig of coffee as a distraction.

“So what were you doing before? You came back,” Floyd clarifies.

“What I said I’d do. I was on the Neverglade Trail, being one with nature and whatnot,” JD smiles, waving his hand dramatically.

“How was it?” Floyd asks. His mascara is still staining his face, but he looks less upset.

“It was,” JD thinks back to the nights he spent out there, huddled by the fire, going over old conversations in his head, “lonely.”

“Oh…”

“It was relaxing though,” when he wasn’t rain-soaked and cursing the world, “had a lot of time to think.”

“Yeah, sometimes we need time alone to regather our thoughts,” Floyd says kindly.

“And you? How did you end up in that Paradise place?”

“Paradise City. It’s this large um, city, with a lot of landmarks and a huge population. Close to Mount Rageous, but that place is overrun with teenagers so I tended to stay clear. Before, I did a lot of travelling, ran into some other trolls for a bit. Did you know there were other tribes?” Floyd asks.

“I did, but I’ve been ‘sworn to secrecy’ by the King,” JD says, air-quoting the words.

“Yeah? Well, these guys were from the Rock tribe, and they helped me out for a bit, because I am not made for outside living.”

“I mean you used to cry when you lost your coat, so I can see that,” JD quips.

“Shut up. Anyway, hung with them for a bit then decided to carry on traveling. Found Paradise City eventually and I was a bit of a mess,” it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, so JD bites down his questions, “found Mello. Or Mello found me should I say. He was a lifesaver, got me set up in a job, a place to stay. I mean I was already freaked out about finding another race of giants,” he laughs, but JD can’t find the humour.

“And you stayed there since?”

“Well yeah. I made some music, recorded under a pseudonym. Wasn’t interested in the fame part, but the tracks were pretty popular,” he says casually.

“Oh yeah?” JD says. He’s proud, his little brother had written his own music.

“Yeah, brought some for you to listen to. Got an mp3 player with me.”

“A what now?”

“I’ll explain it when I show you, but it’s an outdated music player. Well, it’s probably pretty modern here, you guys don’t even have electricity.” Floyd continues, gesturing to the natural lighting.

“They use it a lot there?”

“The whole place is hooked up, you can’t do anything without it. It’s amazing honestly, they have these things called TV’s and you can watch people on them, these movies.”

“Like a moving picture camera?” JD asks.

“No, no, these have sound and stuff, and it’s not just like a flip book. I can’t really describe it. Anyway, the mp3 is the biggest bag, it’s the smallest we could find but it’s still huge. It won't last forever either, as we can’t recharge it, but I figured I could at least show you my music,” Floyd says, sipping his drink.

“It sounds amazing,” JD says. It sounds kind of terrifying to be honest, but Floyd seems so excited about it.

“It is. They have these phones, and you can’t do anything without them. Mello got me one, an older version that’s smaller, and it was incredible, you could send a message to someone on it and they’d get it immediately!” Floyd enthuses.

“Straight away? How does that work?”

“Something to do with airwaves? I don’t know, but it was amazing.”

JD can’t imagine being able to send a message that quickly. He almost doesn’t trust it.

“Bitty is gonna love this stuff. He’s obsessed with learning about all that science stuff,” JD wiggles his fingers.

“Well I don’t actually know much about it,” Floyd says sheepishly.

“Just let him at that np3 thing, he’ll figure it out,” JD says confidently.

“Yeah. He sounds so old now, in his letters. I’ve missed so much,” Floyd’s face drops.

“Yeah, he’s very into his hobbies. He’s been practicing to show you his archery you know?”

“He has?” Floyd looks touched.

“Yeah, obsessively.”

“What else does he like?” Floyd asks.

“Nope! You can ask him yourself,” JD grins, “trust me, he won’t shut up about stuff he likes.”

“Fair enough,” Floyd replies, “so…you guys built this place?” he gestures around.

“Yup. With a lot of help from the fuzzlings, but we did a lot of the digging and planning,” JD explains.

“It’s impressive. I never thought Branch would actually build the bunker,” Floyd chuckles.

“He planned this before?”

“Yeah, he talked about it a lot.”

“Huh. I thought it was like, in response to the Bergens,” JD muses.

“I mean kind of? He picked up on a lot back then, even when he was a baby.”

JD thinks back to the conversation he’d had with Bitty, about Bruce and Clay being sad. “Yeah, he did.”

“So, you’ve messaged Clay and Spruce?” Floyd asks, drumming his fingers along his mug.

“Yeah, to varying degrees of success. It’s Bruce now, by the way. He’s changed his name,” JD says.

“Oh? When did that happen?”

“No clue. Probably after he met his fiancée.”

“Fiancée?!”

“Yeah, they’re getting married next year. You’re invited, by the way. Got your invitation somewhere.”

“That’s crazy. I can’t believe he’s getting married!” Floyd says, happy but shocked.

“Wait till you hear about his fiancée,” JD jokes, “she’s huge apparently, like Bergen huge.”

“Oh wow. I mean, when you love someone you love someone I guess,” Floyd sounds thoughtful.

“Speaking from experience?” JD teases.

Floyd flushes, the tips of his ears darkening, “No! Anyway, how’s Clay?” he adds, changing the subject.

Huh, JD files this away as something to ask about later, when his brother’s less embarrassed. “Clay’s safe. I don’t know where he is, and he didn’t sound overly happy to hear from me so…”

“What did you say to him? He’s not coming back at all?”

“No, he said he’s needed wherever he is,” JD explains.

“But what about Branch? He doesn’t want to see how he’s doing?” Floyd sounds incredulous, like he can’t fathom it.

“Well, I didn’t actually go into too much detail. You know, in case the letter was intercepted or something,” it sounds stupid now he says it aloud.

“Who would even intercept it? Did you mention anything at all?”

“Not…really? Look, Peppy is worried about the other tribes finding us for some reason, something about them being dangerous and driving us out.”

“That—that’s not what happened at all? Not what the trolls I met said anyway? Look, the point is, if you didn’t tell Clay anything then why would he come back?”

“I mean…” he has a point.

“You’re sending another letter. No, I’m sending a letter,” Floyd says, with finality.

“Fine. He’ll probably respond better to you anyway,” JD says bitterly.

“You wrote plenty in my letter, what made you change your mind?”

“Well the response from Clay for one,” JD says sheepishly.

“John.”

“I know, I know, I could have sent another letter I just…I knew he was safe. I didn’t want to intrude on his life,” JD admits.

“Well, he needs all the information. Then he can make that choice himself.”

“You’re right.”

“I know,” Floyd smirks. God JD had missed his sassy little brother. “So, do I get a tour?”

“Yeah, sure,” JD says with a smile. As they both stand Floyd pulls him into another hug, and he melts into it. He smells like hair product and home.

JD loves picking Bitty up from school. His brother’s face lights up when he notices him, stopping whatever he’s doing to wave. It’s nice, JD doesn’t think anyone has ever been that happy to see him. It’s not different now; as he walks into the school pod, as soon as Branch sees him he’s grinning, hurrying over mid-conversation.

“JD!” he says, in greeting, his cheeks dimpling from smiling.

“Hey Bits,” he pulls him in for a short hug, “want to say bye to your friends and teacher?”

“Oh yeah,” Bitty says, hurrying back to say his goodbyes. He’s been spending time with Biggie, and by proximity Creek (who looks less thrilled at his enthusiastic farewell), and it’s a relief every time JD sees him with his friends. He was so worried that he’d struggle socialising, but he seemed to have gravitated to a group of trolls who were mostly kind and understanding.

JD neglects to mention Floyd until they begin walking back.

“Where’s Rhonda?” Branch asks.

“She’s sleeping. I think growing’s taking a lot out of her,” JD explains.

“Do you think I can fit inside her yet? Has she got seats yet, like the Caterbus?”

“Hmm not sure. We can ask Milton to check her out when we next see him if you want?”

“Yes please!”

“Branch,” JD begins, “I want to warn you about something.”

“Oh?” Bitty asks.

“Floyd is back,” JD explains, ripping off the bandaid, “I know you don’t like surprises, so I’m letting you know.”

Branch stops. “He’s here? Now?”

“Yeah, he’s in the bunker.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m…” Branch looks nervous.

“Hey, talk to me. How you feeling Bits?” JD leans down to his level.

“Nervous. Excited. Angry. Scared. What if he doesn’t like the new me? I’m grey, and I don’t sing, and I-"

“Floyd loves you,” JD cuts off his rambling before he can spiral, “nothing will ever change that. He’s really excited to see you, and he already knows you’re grey because I told him. He’s worried about you, but he’s very very excited to see you.”

“I don’t know why I’m so scared. He already apologised to me, in his letters.”

“That was in a letter though, it’s different face-to-face. However you want to act it’s okay, Floyd will understand.”

“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” Bitty says after a moment of thought, steeling his expression. It looks adorable.

They head to the bunker, Branch’s grip on his hand firm, and JD gives the occasional reassuring squeeze.

“What’s that?” Bitty asks once they're near the entrance, pointing towards the wagon.

“Floyd brought his stuff in it, he has a lot,” JD explains.

Branch hurries to say hi to Rhonda, swinging open the gates to give her hugs and scratches. She’s taller than him now, so it’s hard, but he manages the best he can, spreading his arms as wide as they can go. Once he’s had his fill of Rhonda cuddles, he leads the way to the bunker, JD overtaking him as they head down the ladder (he’s still worried about him slipping on the rungs).

Floyd is where JD left him, in the kitchen nursing a second coffee, and as they walk in he stands, his chair clattering to the side.

“Branch…” he says, arms making jolted movements towards him, like he wants to reach for a hug, but isn’t sure.

Bitty stands there, ramrod still. After a moment he steps forward, reaching for Floyd with stilted arms. Floyd meets him halfway, pulling him into a gentle hug. After a moment Branch reaches up with shaky arms, hugging back properly. JD is content to stand back and watch, let them have their moment, but Branch turns, reaching out to him beseechingly. He strides forward, enveloping his younger brothers in his arms, breathing deeply for a moment. He didn’t think he’d get this opportunity again, not once he’d left. Branch wiggles after a beat, and both Floyd and JD release him from the hug.

“I missed you,” he says to Floyd, voice thick with tears.

“I missed you too,” Floyd replies. He’s also crying, because of course he is, and JD himself wipes his own eyes surreptitiously.

“You look so grown up now Branch! Your goggles look even better than in the pictures and…is that the earring you told me about? I thought it was clip-on?” Floyd questions, partly to JD.

“Oh no, sorry I didn’t say, I sent Floyd a photo,” he turns briefly to explain to JD, ” I did it myself with a needle,” Branch explains.

“Oh you did, did you?” Floyd says, turning judgemental eyes to JD.

“Yeah, you weren’t being supervised very well by the King were you?” JD says, ruffling Bitty’s hair, meeting Floyd's gaze pointedly. That was not on him.

“No? I think he was reading?”

“And we’re not doing anything like this again without what?”

“Asking,” Bitty says sheepishly, his hands curling into his vest.

“Well it looks good Bitty,” Floyd continues, once he’s over the shock.

“It does? I wanted to have one because I thought your earring looked really cool, and you have so many more now! JD-"

“No. No more piercings until you’re older,” JD cuts him off, knowing exactly what he's going to ask.

“Please? Just one? On the hard part like Lichen,” Bitty continues, his eyes wide and pleading.

JD sighs, “Maybe,” he concedes.

Branch clearly takes it as a yes, grinning excitedly.

“Who’s Lichen, is he a friend?” Floyd asks, from where he’s been observing the interaction.

“No, no he’s my favourite character from my favourite book and he’s amazing! I said in my letters remember? JD does the voice just right, he’ll have to show you later? Right JD?” Branch asks.

“Sure,” JD agrees. He knew this was coming, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to show off his voice-acting skills. He was going to own it, he didn’t spend months honing it only to be embarrassed. Maybe just a little.

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Floyd says, grinning innocently.

“Yeah yeah, don’t think you’re getting out of joining in. What do you think Bitty, think Floyd will do a good job of Boney?”

“Yes!” Branch replies, eyes practically sparkling.

“Boney is a skeleton critter, he’s very sassy,” JD explains.

“Oh great,” Floyd replies, grin turning false, less enthusiastic now he knows he’ll be an active participant.

“Right, did you guys want to chat on your own for a bit? I know it’s been a while,” JD asks.

“If that’s okay with you Bee?” Floyd asks.

It had been a long time since JD had heard that particular nickname; it was something Floyd used to call Bitty, his little Bee.

“Um…” Bitty looks at JD, uncertainty etched into his face.

“You can go in the living room, and I’ll be in the kitchen making food, okay? Why don’t you grab Geronimo too,” he suggests.

“Okay,” Branch agrees. He seems nervous again at the thought of being alone with Floyd, but JD wants to give them some privacy to catch up. He watches as Branch leads Floyd away to grab Geronimo, turning to the stove. What to cook? He’s not used to having to make things taste good; he didn’t care too much as long as it wasn’t disgusting, and Branch couldn’t taste. You could even say the aim with Branch’s food was to make it as disgusting as possible, anything to evoke taste.

Pasta. Pasta was easy.

Chapter Text

Floyd was here. Actually here. Branch could almost not believe it, it was like if he closed his eyes he’d vanish, and he resists the urge to grab his hand. He wants to hold on, make sure he’s real, make it so even if he did close his eyes he’d still know he was there. It had been like that with JD too, when he’d first come back he’d had to resist holding onto him at all times. He hadn’t been used to touching others, and even hugging him had felt strange to start, but he’d grown used to it. JD was generous with his hugs; they made him feel safe and wanted.

JD had left them alone now, he was with Floyd alone for the first time in years and it was like his confidence had left with him. He’s not gone though, he’s in the other room. (He’s still here, he’s still here). His leg bounces as he sits on the sofa, and Floyd is sat next to him though the gap between them feels huge and scary.

“How was school?” Floyd asks, and Branch swallows. He’s relieved, he thought Floyd would start talking about other stuff first, scary stuff, but this is easier. He can answer this.

“It was okay,” he says, fiddling with his vest (was it his vest now? Floyd was back, he probably wanted it back).

“Did you learn anything fun?”

“Not really. We did drawing and we did some math stuff, but I already knew it. Creek thought I was lying, but I got all the answers right and he asked me to help him with his,” he says, his words tumbling out from nerves.

“Is Creek your friend?” Floyd asks, angling himself towards him.

“I think so. He can be nice sometimes, but sometimes he can be a bit mean. It’s worse when I haven’t seen him in a bit, or if there’s lots of people, but when we’ve been partnered together he can be funny,” he explains. Creek was weird, maybe weirder than him.

“He’s mean?”

“He says stuff sometimes that can be a…” What did JD say, “backhand compliment?” was that right? “But he’s never too mean. I think he’s a bit sad, his brother died a while back and I think he misses him.”

“Well it’s a good thing he has you as a friend then, isn’t it,” Floyd says, smiling kindly. Branch wants to take a photo, so when he leaves he can still remember it.

“I guess.”

“Branch…” Floyd leans forward, face serious and Branch can’t help but tense. He’s leaving. He’s going to say he’s leaving. “I want to say sorry. I shouldn’t have left, and I shouldn’t have told you to look after Grandma. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but even if it didn’t it was wrong of me to leave.”

“You’ve already said sorry,” Branch points out, “in the letter.”

“I know. I want to say it again, because I really really mean it,” Floyd says, his eyes begging.

“I know. And I know you were busy, with um commitment,” Branch sounds the word out carefully, “but you promised you'd come back, and you didn’t come back for a while, but you came back now. So you did keep your promise, even if I thought you’d be back sooner,” Branch explains.

Floyd had never said when he’d come back, and he knows that it took JD sending him a letter for him to remember that he said he’d come back, but he technically did keep his promise. So why was he still angry?

“I should have come back sooner,” Floyd says.

“So why didn’t you?” Branch interjects.

There’s an awkward silence before Floyd continues, “It was hard. The places I went were far away, and I was swept up in a lot of stuff. It—it doesn’t matter Bee, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left in the first place, not like that.”

“Okay,” Branch says. He can feel himself drifting a little, his mind retreating to the night they’d left him.

“…Branch?”

Floyd’s calling him. It mustn’t be the first time either, he has the same face JD had whenever he zones out.

“Sorry.”

“No-no you don’t have to be sorry! Bee, listen,” Floyd takes his hands, “you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to know. I’m here, I’m not leaving and I love you.”

He’s not leaving? He…he doesn’t believe him, but he wants to. He takes a shaky breath, wriggling closer, and Floyd opens his arms. He hugs him, squeezing tight, and it’s the first hug he’s had with just Floyd and it…he missed this. He missed it so much. He knows he’s crying, and he turns his head into Floyd’s chest to muffle the sound.

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here. It’s a mantra in his head, and he’s bombarded with hazy memories. Floyd feeding him, playing with him, singing to him, flying him around the room calling him his ‘little Bee’. Something slots into place, he feels lighter than he can remember, and as he leans back to look Floyd in the face his brother’s eyes widen in shock. He has no idea why, but he doesn’t care. He’s getting his family back, and he allows that sliver of hope to wedge back into his heart from where he’d banished it years ago. It had reappeared along with JD, but now it was growing. Could he have his family again?

“Do you…” his voice cracks, and he swallows, “do you want your vest back now?”

“No Bee. It’s your vest now, you suit it too much. When you wear it, it’s like I’m giving you a hug, and that doesn’t change even now I’m here. I’d hug you all the time if I could,” Floyd jokes.

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” Floyd says, looking at him fondly.

“You guys okay to eat?” JD’s voice calls into the room, making Branch jump.

Floyd squeezes his shoulder, “Yeah. We’re good,” he calls back, “come on let’s head to the table,” he says to Branch, gently grabbing his hand and leading him towards the kitchen.

He squeezes his hand, and Branch squeezes back. He’s here. He’s here.

But for how long?

JD almost drops the plate of pasta when he walks to the table. Branch looks relaxed, but drained. He’s not sure what they discussed, it seems to have helped because Bitty’s eyes are blue. He’s still grey, his hair dark, but his eyes are blue, an obvious contrast to his grey skin. He doesn’t even know what to feel; part of him is bitter. Floyd shows up and all of a sudden Branch is less grey? It’s only minor though, he’s more relieved at the fact Bitty is making progress, he wants to grab him and squeeze him tight. Instead, he places the dishes down, giving Floyd a look and gesturing his head towards Bitty. Floyd just looks back, shrugging slightly. He seems just as nonplussed.

“So anything interesting to tell me?” he announces, passing Bitty the spice.

“Floyd has brought stuff for us, he’s going to show us after dinner,” Branch says, tipping generous amounts of spice onto his food.

Floyd looks concerned at this, but JD shakes his head. “I’m excited to see what you’ve got,” he says, addressing Floyd.

“I mean, don’t be too excited, but it’s pretty cool,” Floyd says bashfully, his eyes still trained on Bitty's meal.

“He said he’ll model for me too,” Bitty adds.

“Oh he did, did he?”

“Yeah, but you’ll need to show him how to do it because you’re the best at it,” Branch says casually, before shoving pasta into his mouth. “This is good, it’s extra tasteful,” he adds, once he’s swallowed.

“That’s good,” JD’s not sure what to say. Can he taste it more now some of his colour is returning? Clearly, not a lot, as he’s still eating far more spice than should be possible.

They finish their meal, their conversation polite and light. It’s still a bit awkward; the dynamic has changed, and it’ll take a while to get used to. Once their plates are cleared, Floyd heads to grab his gifts. He’d already unpacked his main items into his room but had left the presents in their sacks in the living room.

“Right, this is for you Bee,” he says passing Branch a sack.

Bitty digs inside, pulling out what looks like a cube made of coloured squares. It’s huge in comparison to Bitty, the size of his arm, but it seems light enough for him to hold and turn.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s a puzzle cube. I had to search to find a miniature one, but look,” Floyd takes it from him, using his hands to shift the squares, mixing the colours, “you mix it up and have to try and get all the sides matching. It can be a bit tricky, but JD told me how much you like puzzles and this is like a giant 3D one.”

“So I move them like this?” Branch takes it back, shifting the sides with a clunk.

“You got it,” Floyd says, giving a thumbs up.

“Do you think I can finish it before bed JD?” Branch asks, showing his brother the cube.

“If anyone can, it’s you Bits,” JD says.

“I never managed to complete it,” Floyd says sheepishly, “so if you do it I’ll be really impressed.”

“Thanks Floyd, it’s really cool!” Bitty says, squeezing his gift.

“I’m glad you like it,” Floyd says smiling, “here’s yours Johnny,” he passes over another sack.

JD takes it, pulling out a strange mushroom-shaped contraption. “Oh wow, It’s…really…um. Okay, I have no idea what this is,” he finally admits.”

Floyd laughs, “Didn’t think you would. It’s a light, and it’s solar-powered. Means you leave it in the sun and it charges up. They tend to put them in plants or gardens back in the city, but I figured you could use it when you went camping,” Floyd explains, shuffling somewhat nervously.

“Oh! Oh yeah, that’ll be useful,” JD says, turning it over in his hands.

Floyd points to the small dark panel attached, “This bit you keep in the sun.”

“It’s great! Thanks Flo!” he grins, pulling his brother in for a one-armed hug. Floyd hugs back gently.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, sighing with what JD assumes is relief, “do you know how hard it is to find things small enough I thought you could use? I was going to bring a phone, but I’m not sure it would have fit in the bunker, not to mention we couldn’t charge it.”

“These are great,” JD repeats.

They both look over to Branch, who is sat cross-legged on the floor, completely absorbed in his puzzle. They share a fond look, and it’s nice to be able to share in how freaking adorable his little brother is, with someone who gets it.

He gives Floyd one last squeeze, relishing in the weight lifting from his shoulders. They’ll be okay.

JD wakes to Branch screaming. Really, he should have seen this coming; there was a big change yesterday with Floyd coming back. He should have insisted the kid stayed with him, but it had honestly slipped his mind. He forces himself fully awake, stepping from the bed to make his way to Bitty’s room. He’s almost bowled over by a frantic Floyd, who must have run from his own room.

“Branch, what, is he okay!?” he starts, his voice heavy with panic and sleep. His hair is uneven, and his vest is on backwards; he must have flung it on in a rush.

“Sleep paralysis,” JD says in explanation, steadying his brother.

He can explain later, for now Bitty is the priority. He walks into Branch’s room, heading straight for the bed, sitting beside his crying brother.

“Hey, hey I’m here Bitty, I’ve got you,” he says softly, reaching out to push his brother’s hair from his eyes.

“It-it was on the ceiling,” Bitty stutters, tears forced down his cheeks with the movement of his heavy breathing.

“The hand again?”

“Yes and-and it lasted so long. I hate it Dee, I hate it so much,” he sobs.

“I know Bitty, I know,” JD says, pulling him into his arms.

He rocks, humming gently. Bitty’s hands grip tightly into his sleep shirt, his sobs ebbing into hiccups and sniffs. JD looks up; Floyd is in the doorway, watching the exchange with a broken expression.

“Hey Bitty, did you want to stay in my room tonight? I can read you your story if you want, I know we didn’t get a chance earlier.”

“Yeah,” Bitty replies, voice barely a whisper.

“Shall we ask Floyd to join in?”

“I don’t want to wake him,” Bitty replies.

“I have a feeling he’s already awake,” JD says, nodding towards Floyd. He seems to take the hint, disappearing into the hallway.

“…So I did wake him?” Bitty sounds distraught.

“Nah, he was already up. He was probably thirsty.”

“Oh. Um, if that’s okay then?” Bitty says, pulling back to look at JD.

It’s jarring seeing his blue eyes. Bitty had noticed them when brushing his teeth, and he’d been both frightened and excited, insisting that JD took a photo with his special lens (micro? Macro? JD couldn’t remember).

“It’s more than okay. Come on, let’s go find him,” John says, lifting Branch into his arms.

He’s heavier than he once was, but still ridiculously light. They head into the kitchen, and sure enough Floyd is sat there, the perfect actor.

“Oh hey Bee, everything okay?” he asks.

“I had um, a sleep paralysis episode,” Branch says sounding it out carefully.

“Are you okay?” Floyd says, standing to meet them. The concern on his face is very real. Branch nods.

“He was wondering if you’d like to join us reading his book,” JD explains, when it’s clear Bitty won’t be replying verbally.

“Of course, I’d love to,” Floyd replies, smiling kindly. He’s tired; JD can see it in his face, but he’s hiding it like a pro.

“Come on then guys,” JD says, herding Floyd into his room.

He settles Branch on the bed, removing the cover from his light.

“Stay here a sec while I grab the book. Is it still on your bookshelf?” he asks.

“Yeah, at the bottom.”

“Okay, I won’t be long,” he reassures.

When he returns, book in hand, Branch has shuffled next to Floyd, nestling into a one-armed hug. He settles on the other side of Branch, opening the book with a flourish.

“Okay Floyd, you have the job of voicing Boney here. He’s a critter, but he’s basically an old man, so try and embody that with your voice, really embrace that elderly troll inside you, trying to get out.”

“I’ll do my best,” Floyd says, looking less than impressed. His expression softens when Branch giggles.

JD begins, almost on autopilot. He can see Floyd trying not to laugh as he begins voicing the various characters.

“The people of Rallentando won’t last long without their magic, and once I siphon it all, I will be the most powerful wizard who has ever lived!” he ends with an exaggerated evil cackle.

Floyd snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Floyd this is your part,” Bitty says, pointing to the page.

“Oh right, uh did you hear that Lichen? He plans on taking all the magic away! How will we stop him?”

“Very good, but needs to be deeper” JD nods seriously towards his brother before continuing, “Lichen gasps at the deep croaking voice emanating from the skeleton. You can talk? He says, leaning towards his once silent friend.”

“Uh, yes! Until now I found very little reason to speak,” Floyd continues, forcing his voice deeper.

Branch giggles, “You sound so funny Floyd,” he says, eyes crinkling.

“Shush you, I’m acting,” he replies dramatically.

JD continues reading, laughing to a minimum, at least until he begins voicing the queen.

“Who dares to interrupt my court?” he says, voice high pitched and regal.

At this Floyd burst into laughter, covering his mouth, “How-how are you going that high?!”

“Hey, this is months' worth of hard work and voice training,” JD jokes, but he’s unable to keep a straight face. He clears his throat, continuing, “Barnaby?!” he squawks.

“Who’s Barnaby?!” Floyd interrupts, cackling.

“He’s the court attendant, now would you stop!” JD says, jokingly swatting his leg. It only makes him laugh more, collapsing back into the mattress, dissolving into more cackles.

“Floyd!” Branch admonishes, but he’s also laughing.

“I’m so glad this calm, soothing story is helping you sleep Branch,” JD says sarcastically.

Floyd makes a noise like a dying critter and JD can’t help but grin. God, he’d missed him.

They’d settled into a new routine. It was amazing how easily Floyd seemed to slot into their lives. He should have seen it coming; Floyd was always so adaptable, a natural peacemaker (not that he should have had to have been). He’d taken to randomly shouting ‘Barnaby! whenever he felt the need, and more than once had caused JD to snort into his coffee. He was such a little shit.

“So I’m writing a new letter to Clay,” Floyd declares.

Branch is at school, and JD was planning on visiting Milton so he could give Rhonda a checkup. They’re in the living room, JD clearing away their mugs.

“You did say you would,” JD points out.

“Yes, well, I think it’s a good time to send one. Did you say the bloodhound bugs are good to go?” Floyd asks.

“Should be. If you write it I can take it with me when I see Milton?”

“The vet?”

“Yeah, he’s been really helpful,” JD explains.

“Isn’t he the son of the old vet?” Floyd asks.

“Yeah. His Dad didn’t make it during the escape.”

“Oh. Okay, I won’t mention him then,” Floyd says, looking thoughtful.

“You coming with?” JD asks.

“Might as well, if that’s okay?”

“Sure! You can help muck out the sloth enclosure,” JD says grinning.

“On second thoughts…”

“Nope!” JD pats him firmly on the shoulder, “You can do with the fresh air, you’ve been cooped up for days now.”

“Fine,” Floyd concedes with an acquiescing smile.

“You can show me your music when we get back too,” JD adds.

Floyd had seemed reluctant to show him his songs, even though he’d brought the np3 thing for that very reason. Maybe he was shy?

“Yeah, maybe. If we have time. It’s a bit experimental so you need to keep an open mind.”

“Will do,” JD agrees.

He watches as Floyd writes his letter, scribbling out the occasional word. It’s like when he was younger, constantly changing his mind when writing, there were always crossed-out words and annotations on anything he wrote. His handwriting is still neat and slanted, and it’s a relief to see it hasn’t changed. He’s become so much more confident, and aware of who he is, but he’s still the same little brother he always was, in the ways that count. He’s still perpetually kind, understanding, and easy to love.

It’s no wonder he managed to integrate with so many new people on his travels. JD can’t imagine being able to; he himself found it difficult to form meaningful relationships, the majority remaining surface level. He counts Plimsy and Milton among them, but he’s not even sure if he can count Plimsy, what with her being his therapist. If he thought about it, it was kind of sad. Not enough to bother him though; the older he got, the less he cared about what other people might think, a complete 180 from when he was the leader of the band. Back then it was all about the ‘fans’.

“Okay done!” Floyd says folding the letter. “I want to send a photo too, one of Branch and Poppy maybe, so he can see how Bee is doing.”

“Sure, let me grab one,” JD says, heading for the photo wall. He chooses one of Branch and Poppy, as requested. It’s a good idea, Branch looks happy here, but he’s obviously grey; it shows his issues, whilst also showing that he’s doing okay. Clay wouldn’t want a photo of JD either, so it’s a safer bet.

“Here you go,” he hands the photo over.

“Thanks. Oh, give me the letters Branch wrote too; you said he wanted to send them, might as well do it all at once.”

“Sure, I’ll just grab them,” JD replies. Once he’s got the small envelope, he stops, thinking for a moment, “Feel free to say no, but can I read your letter?” JD asks.

“If you want, but I’ve been a bit mean about you,” Floyd says honestly, handing him the letter in exchange for Branch’s envelope, “nothing super bad, but um I’m speaking to Clay’s insecurities here so.”

“Johnny’s letter was stupid, and left out almost all of the information,” JD reads aloud, brows raised.

“I mean, is it a lie?” Floyd asked shrugging.

“Nah, you’re right,” he says sighing, “best way to get into Clay’s good graces is to metaphorically shit on me, so,” he doesn’t read anymore, instead passing the letter back.

“When you say it like that, it sounds really bad,” Floyd says wincing.

“It’s all good. I’m realising now how bad your guy's opinion of me really is…” he trails off.

“Johnny…”

“I made a lot of mistakes. I didn’t even realise how many. It’s fine Flo,” he ruffles his brother’s hair, dodging his swats, “I’m gonna make it right.”

“Start by not messing up my hair?” Floyd jokes, smoothing his fringe back into place.

“Sorry, that’s just big brother’s rights. You can do it to Bitty, so you can’t complain.”

“If he lets me,” Floyd says quietly.

It’s true, there was still an element of awkwardness Bitty had surrounding Floyd. He was still coming to terms with the fact he’d come back and still didn’t quite believe he was staying.

“Give it time. It took almost a full year for him to believe me when I said I was staying, and even now he’s cautious. Us leaving rewired something in his head,” JD explains.

“I know that. It’s just so…it makes me so sad. I’m guilty all the time, just looking at him almost hurts,” Floyd admits.

“Welcome to the club. It’s our penance maybe?” JD muses.

“I think you mean punishment? Consequence? Being here and helping him is our penance.”

“You were always more of a wordsmith,” JD admits.

“Says the one who wrote all our songs,” Floyd shoots back.

“Yeah, and why do you think they were all called a variation of the word ‘woman’? Nah, this is why I want to hear your music, you always had a real talent,” JD praises.

“Thanks Johnny,” Floyd says, eyes crinkling. There’s a brief pause before he continues, “This is very random. Um, is there a chance I can send a message to my friend? Mello? When there’s a spare bloodhound bug, you know?”

“Miss him?” JD asks, smirking.

“Yeah,” Floyd says, ignoring this, “I owe him a lot. Plus I want to see if there’s any way he can get hold of some solar generators small enough to set up. This place needs electricity, I’m shocked Peppy hasn’t made it a priority.”

“I mean, have you met the King? Sounds like a good idea, we can ask Milton when we see him about it.”

“What about the one Branch has? Geronimo?”

JD barks out a laugh, “I mean if you want to be murdered in your sleep? That thing’s Branch’s baby, no chance of sending him off. Speaking of, come on Ronnie!” he calls, the critter following behind.

They head towards the ladder, Floyd heading up first at JD’s insistence.

“It’s good to see him be so close to it…him though. It’s like a therapy pet, they had them in the City,” Floyd explains, climbing out of the bunker.

“Huh, suppose you’re right. Anyway, let's head off, not too long before we have to collect Bitty. You coming with me when I grab him?” JD asks.

“If you think it’s a good idea? Won’t the two of us together be more likely recognised as from Brozone?” Floyd asks.

“Maybe? Even if we are, it won’t make a difference. I’m still gonna be the village crazy guy,” he grins.

“Crazy guy?” Floyd laughs, “You’re joking right?”

“Nope,” JD replies, popping the P, “I don’t put up with their bullshit, especially if they decide to bitch about Bitty in front of me.”

“Huh. Think there’s room for two village crazies then?” Floyd says, his face flashing with anger.

“Heh, don’t burn your bridges just yet Flo,” JD says, half serious.

Floyd’s social, he doesn’t want him isolating himself from the other trolls if he can help it, even if they are infuriating. He’d already mentioned wanting to tear into Peppy, and it took JD’s reassurances that he’d already spoken to him to get him to back down.

“Anyway,” he continues, before Floyd can interrupt, “we need to get going. Lemme just grab Rhonda.”

He opens her gate, beckoning her out, and she barrels through, trilling. Now to send that letter.

Chapter Text

“She’s so big now JD, this is amazing!” Milton gushes, peering in through her windows, “I’ve never personally seen a Caterbus develop, and obviously never seen one of…whatever she actually is, so this is all new territory.”

“Glad you’re excited,” JD says.

He’s watching Milton inspect Rhonda; he’s taking notes on her growth, his tape measure out in full swing. They’d given Milton the letter for Clay, and since then Floyd has hung back, opting to watch the bloodhound bugs as they fly and play. Geronimo joins in, excited to be playing with his siblings again.

“How come they don’t fly away?” Floyd asks, “Uh, sorry for interrupting,” he adds sheepishly.

“Hmm?” Milton straightens from where he’d been crouching by Rhonda’s legs, “Oh, well this is their home. Bloodhound bugs have a good sense of home and direction, they always have an established base they return to.”

“That’s interesting,” Floyd says, “and they’ll always return home?”

“Not always. They have an inbuilt instinct to find what they’re searching for, so on occasions they’ve been unable to find it they’ve carried on searching until…you know,” Milton winces, like he doesn’t like to think about it.

“It’s why Mil’s so cautious about sending them out the first time, they’re his babies,” JD adds, semi-seriously.

“I can respect that,” Floyd replies, “not everyone cares about their critters how they should.”

Milton brightens, and JD has once again witnessed Floyd working his charm. It was always amazing to witness; he had a way of saying the exact thing that would make people lower their guard and trust him. If he ever wanted to truly manipulate someone, he’d find it easy. It was a good thing Floyd would never even consider it (well, good for everyone around him).

“Thank you!” Milton replies dramatically, “Ancient over here just mocks me,” he jokes, nodding to JD.

“Ancient?!” JD takes the bait, “You are six years younger than me! Floyd is 21, what’s he?”

“Middle-aged,” Milton says winking at Floyd.

Floyd laughs, “I’ll take it.”

“You are going to get so much shit from me when you’re my age, just you watch,” JD warns the vet.

“But you’ll be even older so…who’s gonna be the real winner?” Milton replies with a shrug.

“There is no winner in the race against time,” JD replies sagely.

Milton snorts, electing to ignore him in favour of patting Rhonda.

“Give it a couple of years and I reckon Branch could fit inside,” he adds.

“And it’ll be safe?” JD asks, immediately serious at the mention of Bitty.

“Should be. It’s what she’s evolved to do, so.”

“I’ve got a question,” Floyd interrupts before Milton gets too involved in measuring the Armadillo-bus.

“For me? Shoot,” Milton replies over his shoulder.

“I have someone from Paradise City I want to contact, my old flatmate. Can I use one of the bugs?” he asks.

“Do you have something of theirs with their scent?” Milton asks.

“Yeah, I thought about this before I got here. He gave me a piece of his shirt,” Floyd replies.

“Is there enough of it to get a good scent?” Milton asks, straightening to give his full attention.

“Oh, Mello is huge. So a strip of his vest is like, blanket sized.”

“O-Kay?” Milton looks between the brothers in question.

“He’s a different species. A vegetarian species,” JD adds, at Milton’s expression.

“Oh. Okay. Well, no judgement here. Sure, you can take Buzz when he’s back from delivering the letter you’re sending to your other brother? Clay was it? Man, JD you have too many brothers.”

“You’re telling me,” JD laughs.

“You have no siblings?” Floyd asks.

“Nah, only child. Unless you count all the critters I grew up with, which I totally do,” Milton grins toothily.

“I mean Floyd here is pretty similar to Maggie,” JD jokes, “subtle sloth,” he adds at Floyd’s questioning look, “they love preening themselves, very protective of their hair.”

“That was more S-Bruce though surely,” Floyd protests.

“I’d say you guys are pretty on par but still, you may have a point,” JD concedes.

They continue chatting whilst Milton finishes his notes on Rhonda. Floyd seems happy with the knowledge he’ll be able to contact his friend, and JD makes a mental note to ask about it later because there was happy and there was, whatever Floyd was. Way too enthusiastic for an old flatmate.

They’re picking Bitty up on the way back; the trip took longer than JD had expected. Floyd agrees to follow him into the teaching pod, Rhonda waiting patiently below. He allows Geronimo to bury into his hair; it’s hard, but he can still swing up with him inside, it’s just slightly harder.

“Shouldn’t there be more parents?” Floyd asks quietly, as they enter.

“Nah, most of the kids make their own way home,” JD explains, “I’m just cautious.”

“Bee okay with it?” Floyd asks.

Almost in answer, Branch spots them, “JD!” he says, running over. “Hi Floyd,” he adds brightly, grinning.

“Is this your other brother?” one of the children calls. Based on their size, JD can only assume it’s Biggie.

“Yeah,” Bitty takes Floyd’s hand gently, leading him to his friends, “this is Floyd!” he announces, like Floyd is a show-and-tell item.

The children reply back with various hello’s and hi’s.

“He’s got lots of earrings!” Biggie gasps.

“I know,” Bitty replies, “JD said I can get the hard part of my ear done too.”

“I think he said maybe, Bee,” Floyd adds, expression amused.

“My Mum says maybe all the time, and she always means yes,” Biggie says, and a small light blue glitter troll nods enthusiastically beside him.

“Exactly,” Bitty agrees.

JD decides not to interrupt, he’s enjoying seeing it play out. Creek is being exceptionally quiet, eyeing Floyd with suspicion. He’s a weird one, JD thinks, then feels bad because he is still a child.

“Oh hello! I don’t believe we’ve met?” It’s one of Bitty’s teachers, the name escaping JD, “I’m Fawn, Branch’s teacher.”

“Floyd, Branch’s brother,” Floyd replies, smiling politely.

Oh yeah, Fawn. JD can vaguely remember Bitty mentioning her name, but it had never cropped up when they’d spoken at drop-off (she'd probably introduced herself, but JD's never been the best at remembering names).

“Branch has had a wonderful day; we’ve been working on acting out stories we’ve made, and Branch has been making a real effort,” she explains.

“That’s great!” Floyd replies, his smile more genuine, “Well done Bee!”

JD is slightly irked she’s telling Floyd not him; he’s the one who’s been here the whole time. He lets it slide, walking closer.

“Great job Bits,” he says, and Branch turns his beaming face to him.

“Hello John,” Fawn says.

“John Dory,” he corrects. John is reserved strictly for friends and family, thank you very much (and King Peppy, who is in a category of his own).

“Sorry, John Dory,” Fawn corrects.

It’s not her fault; his name also wasn’t at the forefront of their previous conversations.

“It’s fine,” he waves her off, “glad to hear Branch has been doing so well.”

“Yes, he’s been a little star,” she says fondly, “for our next session we’re asking the children to bring in something from home to show one another,” she adds.

“Right, well we’ve got lots to choose from, right Bitty?” he says, ruffling his hair slightly.

“Yeah, maybe I can bring Brenda?” he asks.

“Let’s talk about it later,” JD says; he’s not sure if bringing in a weapon would be a good idea.

“Oh, John Dory, I’ve told the children they can’t bring in pets,” Fawn hurriedly adds.

“Oh, Brenda’s not a pet. It’s fine though, we’ll figure something out,” he says at her confused expression.

They say their goodbyes, heading from the pod to greet Rhonda, who’s sat patiently at the base of the tree. When she sees Branch, she rears up, trilling enthusiastically.

“I missed you,” Branch says, burying himself into her side as best he can.

“Hey Bits,” JD interrupts, pointing to his hair.

“Ronnie?” Branch practically squeals; hearing his name, the bug tears through JD’s hair, nestling into Bitty’s open arms.

“He missed you, as always,” JD adds, attempting to neaten his knotted hair; a result of the critter’s swift exit.

“Surprised you kept him in there that long,” Floyd says, “you never liked living things in your hair, said it felt weird.”

“It was that, or have him trying to trip us up every ten seconds,” JD explains.

“Are we going on a walk?” Bitty pipes up, his voice muffled by Geronimo’s fur.

“We can do. You up to one Floyd?”

“Sure, why not,” Floyd agrees.

Branch does his equivalent of a happy dance, and JD leads them in the direction of one of their longer routes. They don’t get far before Branch stops them.

“Okay, so JD I need you to stand here,” he points, “and you need to look like you’ve just discovered something really cool.”

JD nods, taking his position, ignoring Floyd’s smug grin.

“Now Floyd, you stand so you’re facing him there,” Bitty points again, “and you need to look like…hmm,” he thinks, “pretend you’re the assistant, and you’re helping him find the cool thing, but you also don’t think he’ll be able to find it.”

“Okay?” Floyd says, walking over, “like this?”

“No, you need to look more sus-pichy-us.”

“Suspicious Bits. And yeah Floyd, get it together,” JD jests.

Floyd glares at him, before schooling his expression as best he can.

“Like that! Yes! Okay, JD, you’ve got it!” Branch says, taking his camera from his hair and staring through the viewfinder.

“Does he do this every time?” Floyd asks surreptitiously.

“Less talking more modelling. And yes,” JD replies, trying to keep his mouth still.

click

Bitty watches it develop, and JD stays still until he speaks, “Perfect!”

He looks at JD’s expression, “Well it is perfect. This time anyway.”

Floyd looks between their interaction, looking at JD questioningly.

“We’re trying to work on ‘perfect’. It’s not important is it Bits, what’s important?” JD calls.

“Trying our best,” Bitty parrots, still looking at his photo.

Floyd looks like JD has grown a second head, his mouth is actually open in shock.

“We’re working on it,” JD says, “perfection has been a big issue, for both of us. I’m sure you’re aware, I mean, you lived with me most of your life.”

“I’m glad. Really glad,” Floyd implores.

“Okay, so now we need the second picture!” Bitty calls, and Floyd’s expression freezes.

JD just chuckles, “Welcome to your new modelling career Flo.”

Branch still felt weird about Floyd being back. It was nice, really nice, but he still kept expecting to wake up and find him gone. Dr Plimsy and JD said it was normal, but it was still really horrible waking up every day scared he was going to be gone. It was nice seeing him though, he’d used to dream about him coming back. It still felt like a dream. He looked different; he had more cool piercings, and he had really cool clothes, but he still gave the same hugs, so if he closed his eyes it was like he was little again, and Floyd was hugging him after a nightmare.

He loved the puzzle he got too, it was really tricky, but he’d figured out a way of doing it that made it easier, and he was getting faster every time! JD hadn’t even finished it, he gave up after a while, and it made Branch feel really clever.

He feels like he must be happier anyway because his eyes are blue again. Gaining colour meant he was getting better, right? He didn’t feel any different though, and he wasn’t used to seeing it in the mirror; he’d spent ages just staring at them and blinking. Everyone in school had said they looked pretty (well Biggie had, and everyone had agreed) and he felt better now he’d gotten the ‘reveal’ out of the way. Even Creek hadn’t said anything about them, other than an odd look, and when he’d seen Poppy she’d been so excited she’d insisted on taking several close-up photos because they were ‘so blue’. He hoped she wasn’t like this if he gained any more colour, the attention made him panic.

Currently, JD was out at the market, but Branch didn’t want to go. He wasn’t in the mood to see other trolls, so Floyd had said he’d stay home with him. He was in the living room, but Branch had wanted some time alone to play. He was playing with Geronimo, and he was Lichen, and Ronnie was the Pepperwizard. He decided not to use Brenda, (he didn’t want to risk breaking it) instead he pretended that Silva (the name of Lichen’s bow) had been turned invisible.

“You won’t be able to stop me, I have Silva, my magic bow!” he says dramatically, trying to copy the voice JD always does. Geronimo doesn’t talk, so he does the voice for him.

“I’m the Pepperwizard and I have all the magic in the kingdom!” he says, trying to make his voice lower. Geronimo buzzes, moving toward him, and he jumps out of the way dramatically.

“You can’t catch me Pepperwizard, I have all the, um, hopes and dreams of everyone and they make me strong!” he tries to pose, like the picture of Lichen from the book.

“Woah,” he says, as Geronimo flies towards him, “you’re fast Pepperwizard.”

Geronimo makes to bury himself in his hair, and he giggles, “No Pepperwizard, you can’t fit there!”

He ducks to the side, his foot catching on the carpet, and he yelps, his face bouncing off his bed with a thwack. He bursts into laughter, “Ronnie, you can’t do that!”

Geronimo snuggles into his arms, buzzing happily, and Branch rubs his face into his fur. When he leans back, he’s shocked to see Geronimo’s fur stained with what looks like blood. He gasps, “Ronnie, are you okay?” he’s nearly crying as he pulls the fur apart, hunting for an injury. He can’t see anything, and he’s so confused until he realises it’s coming from his own face. He swipes under his nose, and his fingers come back blood-stained. His nose must be bleeding.

He leaps up, walking over to his wall mirror to poke his nose. No, no, he’d been being so careful, but he’s hurt himself, again. He wants to cry, it’s so frustrating, JD is going to be so upset.

He sniffs, trying to force the blood back inside, but instead, another stream of blood begins pouring from his nostril. He cups his hand beneath, hoping to catch as much as he can. He knows that blood can stain, and he doesn’t want it on his carpet, or his vest. Floyd had said he didn’t want it back now, that it was his vest, and here he was getting it dirty, what if Floyd changed his mind? What if he thought he wasn’t taking care of it?

He tries wiping it away, using his arm, hoping it’ll stop, but he’s just spreading it across his face and arm. He’s covered in blood, and he whimpers; he’s going to have to ask for help. Stupid bed. Stupid nose. He’s so stupid.

He tiptoes out, heading for the living room. He spies Floyd, lying on the sofa; he looks like he’s writing a letter. It looks hard to do, he’s at a weird angle.

“Floyd?” he calls.

Floyd jumps a little, calling over his shoulder, “Hey Bee, you good?”

“I need some help,” he admits, voice nasally. He licks his lips, glad that he can’t taste it; blood is now dripping over his mouth and down his chin. His cupped hands are nearly full.

Floyd sits up at this, turning to face him, and Branch watches as his expression turns horrified. “Oh my god,” he scrambles up, running over to Branch, his hands twitching by his face like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure how.

“What happened?” he asks, voice shrill.

“I fell over,” Branch replies.

“Is this all from your nose? Shii…ugar. Come on, let’s get to a sink,” Floyd says; Branch lets himself be pulled to the kitchen sink. He's going to say something about it being unhygienic, but Floyd doesn’t seem to care, and he's older so he probably knows best.

“You’re too short. Wait,” he grabs a chair, placing Branch onto it, and gently pushes his head forward so he’s leaning over the sink, “hold your nose closed okay, we need to try and get it to stop. Hold it tight, even if it hurts.”

“Don’t feel pain,” Branch replies, pinching his nose.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Okay, okay, can you stay here while I grab a towel? You don’t feel light-headed do you?” Floyd asks.

Branch shakes his head, and watches from the corner of his eye as Floyd hurries off to grab a towel. His brother’s hands were shaking, and it’s weird to see. He’s never seen Floyd nervous, not visibly. He returns and dampens the towel, lightly wiping across Branch’s arms and face.

“It’s fine, you’ll be fine,” he repeats, which Branch thinks is odd. It’s just a nosebleed, of course he’ll be okay. Unless he’s broken it (he really hopes he hasn’t).

“Okay, let go, let’s see if it stops,” Floyd says, peering around to see his nose.

Branch lets go, waiting a moment.

“Give it a couple more minutes of pinching to be safe,” Floyd says, and Branch repositions his fingers.

“Did I get blood anywhere?” he asks.

“Try not to speak Bee, and um, I don’t know. I’ll check in a bit, it’s fine if you did,” Floyd reassures.

“It can stain,” Branch adds, he wants Floyd to know, he doesn’t want his carpet to be ruined.

“I know, it’s still fine. We can scrub it out, or something.”

“JD said to use cold water for blood.”

“Why was Johnny talking about removing—? Never mind, please stop talking for a minute Bee I don’t want you to jostle your nose,” Floyd replies. He sounds stressed.

Branch tries to stay still and quiet, but it’s so boring. Luckily, it doesn’t last long before Floyd asks him to remove his fingers. It must have stopped bleeding, because he helps him down from the chair, placing him on the sofa.

“Don’t sniff or blow your nose for a bit. It looks a bit swollen, but I don’t think it’s broken,” Floyd says, tilting his head to the side as he gently wipes the last of the blood away.

“That’s good,” Branch says, “I don’t want to break anything else.”

“Anything else?” Floyd asks.

“Apparently I must have broken my arm, when I lived on my own. They think anyway. And I broke my toes too, on a table,” he explains, kicking his leg a little.

Floyd looks weird, like how JD does when he eats lemon.

“It’s okay now though,” Branch adds, “Dr Plimsy said I’m all healed.”

“That’s good,” Floyd replies, but he still looks a bit odd.

“I know I said I wanted to play by myself, but do you want to do some drawing with me?” Branch asks. He wants Floyd to look happy again.

“Sure Bee. Where’s your drawing stuff, I’ll grab it for you,” Floyd says, standing.

“I can get it,” Branch insists. He’s not a baby, he can do things on his own now.

“No, I’ll get it. I don’t want your nose to start bleeding again,” he explains.

“Oh okay,” it makes sense, “they’re in the box on my bottom shelf in my room,” he says.

While Floyd is gone, he checks his vest. It’s clean, and he almost sighs with relief. By the time Floyd has returned, he’s repositioned himself into a more comfortable cross-legged position, ready for drawing.

“JD got me some wooden things to rest the paper on, in the box,” he explains, once Floyd has joined him.

Floyd reaches inside, pulling them out, “These clipboards?”

“Yeah, those.”

“Okay, here you go,” Branch grabs the board and paper, and leans over, reaching into the box for his favourite crayon.

“What should we draw?” Floyd asks.

Branch is used to this. JD is also bad at thinking of what to draw. “Why don’t you draw your friend? The one you stayed with? I'm going to draw…” he thinks, “Ronnie. As a wizard,” he settles on.

“Sounds good,” Floyd answers, and Branch immediately begins drawing the shapes as carefully as he can.

Floyd can’t draw. He never could. He's always been better at scrapbooking, and cutting out shapes. He tries though, awkwardly moving the stubby crayon across the page.

He’s still trying to calm himself down from seeing Branch drenched in blood. For a split second, he’d convinced himself his baby brother was actively dying, and it had taken everything in him not to scream. How could one small troll bleed so much? His whole face had been caked, and his arm, how did he even get it on his arm?! Regardless, it had thoroughly freaked him out, and he was still coming down from the adrenaline. He wasn’t sure if he was glad John hadn’t been there to see his minor freak out, or if he wished he’d been there to help. He’d have known what to do, more than Floyd anyway who had essentially winged it.

Bee seemed okay now, anyway, his face focused and his tongue peaking out in concentration. His nose looked a little swollen, and there was still crusted blood around his nostrils, but Floyd hadn’t wanted to clean the area too hard in case it started bleeding again. That was a thing right? His first aid skills were minimal, everything he knew came from his Grandma and the injuries he himself had received as a child.

“Are you going to show him?” Bee asks, looking up at Floyd’s picture.

“Who, Mello?” he asks.

“Yeah. When you go back, you can show him.”

“Bee…I’m not going back. I said, right? If I do, it won’t be for a long time, and even then it’ll be a visit. Not permanent,” he says gently.

“But how will you make music here?” Branch asks, “And do your career?”

“I won’t,” Floyd replies honestly, “if I want to I can write music, but I’m not focusing on that right now.”

“Why not?” Branch asks, expression confused.

Because everything’s changed. Because Branch is grey. Because Grandma is dead.

“Because I don’t want to. I want to spend time with you guys,” he says.

“JD said he was staying to take care of me because that’s what he wanted to do. So you don’t need to stay and look after me…or does that mean JD is leaving again because you’re here?” Branch’s eyes widen in horror.

“No! No, no, we’re both staying, because we both want to!”

John will kill him if he’s inadvertently suggested to Branch that he is leaving, he has to stop this train of thought before it starts.

“Do…do you promise?” Branch asks.

“I promise,” he says imploringly, hoping Branch will believe him. He has no reason to, he broke the last promise he made spectacularly. He has no intention of breaking this one.

“Okay,” Bee looks back to his picture, “can you pass me the purple please?” he asks, hand out.

Floyd obliges, handing him the crayon. He can find a different purple for Mello, the shades here don’t quite match his hair anyway.

His eyes keep drifting to the bite-shaped scar on Bee’s wrist; it peeks out while he’s drawing. It makes him feel ill. Truth be told he’d been wary of being left alone with Branch, in case he’d had a ‘flashback’ as John had described it; he’d been told what to do if it happened, but it sounded terrifying to witness, especially when he was on his own.

There’s silence, broken only by the scratching of crayons and the occasional buzz from Bee’s pet.

Eventually, he hears John enter, his footsteps heavy as he descends the ladder.

“Hey guys,” he calls, grunting slightly as he heads into the kitchen, carrying what looks like a record player, “I grabbed some tea, do you want some?”

“Yes please, one sugar and milk,” Floyd replies.

“Me too,” Branch calls.

“Nice try Bitty, you can have water,” John calls back. Branch doesn’t react, so Floyd suspects this is a running argument. There’s the sounds of something heavy dropping, and clattering cutlery, before silence, “…Floyd, why is there a bloody towel in the sink?”

Floyd winces, “Branch had a nosebleed,” he replies.

John leans his head around the doorway, focusing on Branch, “You okay Bitty?”

“I’m okay, it stopped now,” Branch says, pointing to his nose.

John’s eyes narrow, staring at him a moment longer, “I’ll check you out in a sec when I’ve made the drinks,” he says with finality, and Floyd resists rolling his eyes.

It was like every aspect of Johnny’s protective nature had amplified, pointed directly at Branch. Floyd can’t complain, he’s also feeling particularly protective of his younger brother. It’s odd to see the change in John though, he’d been protective when he was younger, but it’s like a switch had been flipped. With everything that had happened though, it was almost necessary (if a touch dramatic).

John comes barrelling into the room, balancing two mugs and a cup, shoving the tea and coffee onto the table and passing Branch his water.

“Drink up,” he says, “hope it’s okay Flo, I’m not a casual tea drinker so it might not taste great.”

“Sure it’s fine, thanks Johnny” Floyd replies, grabbing his mug and taking a sip.

“Thank you,” Branch says, taking several gulps of water.

John takes the cup once he’s finished, placing it down and taking Bee’s face in his hands. He inspects his nose, “What happened Bitty?”

“Geronimo was the Pepperwizard and he came at me, so I ducked out the way and tripped on the carpet and I hit my face on the bed.”

“The mattress or the hard parts?”

“The mattress.”

“Okay,” John says, releasing Bee’s face, “I think it’s okay, but we’ll keep an eye on it,” he says finally, some of the tension visibly disappearing from his shoulders, “so you probably noticed I managed to get hold of a record player.”

“Yup! Does this mean we can play the vinyl you found?” Branch asks, visibly perking up.

“If it works! I got it with no favours because she wasn’t sure of its condition, so if it works then it’s all good, and if not then you can take it apart to see how it works,” John explains.

Branch nods enthusiastically, “And maybe I can even fix it! Oh,” he stops, as though remembering something, “can you clean Ronnie’s fur? I got blood on it,” Branch asks, looking around for his pet.

“Sure, whereabouts is he hiding?” John asks.

“I dunno, I think he’s still in my room?”

“That’s fine, I’ll do it in a bit, run him a bath maybe.”

“With bubbles?” Branch asks, looking excited. Floyd’s waiting for John to shut him down, he’ll probably say it’s too messy and too much work.

“Yeah, go on then. He can have bubbles, a proper pamper session,” John says grinning.

Floyd’s pleasantly surprised; Branch looks excited and John looks calm. Happy. It’s an odd thing to see, the last time he’d looked this carefree had been before the band. Sure, he’s seen him get stressed in the time since he’s stayed in the bunker, (very stressed) but he also manages to unwind too.

It’s going to take some getting used to, but he can’t say it’s a bad thing. Not at all.

Chapter Text

“What does it say?” Viva asks.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, the antithesis of how Clay is feeling. He hadn’t expected a reply from John, and as the months had passed the more likely it had seemed that John had given up. So seeing the bloodhound bug lazily drifting towards him was nothing less than a shock. He’d immediately grabbed the pouch, heading inside Viva’s home for privacy. It was the closest, and he wanted her there for moral support. She had witnessed it all, squealing as soon as she saw the critter, beckoning him inside the windmill structure enthusiastically.

As tempting as it is to sink into one of the soft furnishings, he's far too wired, opting to stand. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls out what feels like a stack of letters. He opens the first, a photo falling from inside and fluttering to the floor. Viva grabs it, as he begins to read.

Clay

It’s Floyd. I’m going to cut to the chase, John’s letter was stupid and left out almost all of the information. He’s overly paranoid and decided to be as vague as possible, but it means that he didn’t actually tell you anything that happened. Starting with when we left: everyone left. Johnny left first obviously, but so did Bruce (explain later) and me. Branch was on his own with Grandma. Then a couple of years later Grandma was eaten. I’m so sorry to tell you this way, but you need to know. From what I’ve been told, Branch saw everything. He’s really suffered Clay, he turned grey and then he was living in the wilderness by himself for two years until Johnny came back. The King tried, apparently, but not well enough because when Johnny got there Branch was malnourished. He’s doing a lot better, but he’s still almost completely grey, and he’s very traumatised. I’ve sent a picture of him for you, he’s with his friend Poppy (the princess if you can remember her?).
I know you’re mad at John, trust me. But he’s made big changes, he’s really sorry. I didn’t tell you this, but he’s having therapy. It’s doing him some good, hard as is it to believe. Seriously, this Dr he’s seeing sounds like nothing short of a miracle worker. Look, you don’t have to come back, I understand you’ve got your own thing going on. Can you write to Branch though? He misses you. I’ve included some letters he wrote you a few years back. I haven’t read them, but pre-warning: the letters he wrote me made me cry. I’ve also included Bruce’s wedding invitation (surprise! He’s engaged! I guarantee I was as shocked as you). He’s changed his name to Bruce, which feels so so weird to write and say, but I’m trying to get used to it so I don’t embarrass myself at his wedding.
If you do want to come back, say so and we’ll include a map and more details on where to find us. I hope you’re doing okay, and those books of yours aren’t making you too sad. If you can’t remember, just crush the leaf included under the bug’s nose and say ‘home’ (they’re so well trained, it’s crazy).

Love you lots,
Floyd

P.s Branch and Johnny love you too

“Oh my god Clay look, look!” Viva thrusts the photo into his face, “is this Poppy? This has to be her, she’s the same shade of pink I can remember, oh god she’s so cute, she’s alive!” Viva is grinning at him, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Viva…”

“Can I have this? Please, can I have this photo?” she asks.

“Viva wait…”

“Hang on, I know,” she reaches into her hair, pulling out scissors, haphazardly slicing through the photo, and handing him the half with Branch, “There! Sorry, I cut your brother’s foot off, but now we both have a photo of our sibling!”

“Viva!” he shouts, cutting through her rant.

She jumps; he never raises his voice.

“Viva, my Grandma is dead,” he says, voice cracking.

She gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth, the photo of Poppy crumpling against her face. “Clay I’m-I’m so sorry!”

“It’s...” What is it? It’s not okay. This whole time he’d been thinking his Grandma safe with his younger brothers and this whole time she’d been dead, and Branch had been fending for himself. He looks down at the photo, at his brother’s smiling face. His grey face.

“Clay, do you need a hug?” Viva asks, voice soft. He nods, unable to answer, and he lets himself sink into her embrace. Grandma was gone. In the worst way possible. She was supposed to go peacefully, surrounded by her family, not…not like that.

“Was she very old?” Viva asks.

“No,” he says, voice croaking, “she wasn’t. It was. Them.”

There’s silence, as Viva takes in the information, then her arms squeeze him tightly, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Branch is grey.”

“I saw. In the photo. Is he okay?” she asks.

“Apparently he’s doing better now. But he was on his own for a while. He had no one until John turned up,” he says bitterly. Why did he return? What made him go back? Why did he not tell him any of this? Was it on purpose? Did he not trust him? Or was it some sick way of torturing him, getting one over on him, keeping him in the dark so he could be the better brother?

The logical part of him shoots that thought down; John was insensitive but never malicious. He’s still angry though. He should have told him, he feels like an idiot. The whole time he thought they were safe…

“I know this is bad, but at least you know now. Is everyone else safe?” Viva asks.

Clay untangles himself from the hug, sighing, “Yeah. I think so.”

“Think of that then. They’re safe,” she repeats.

“Yeah. I’ve got more letters,” he says, unclenching his hand and pulling out the small envelope tucked behind Floyd’s letter. He opens it, reading quickly.

Kay

I miss you Im sory you had to leave I know you wer sad. I mesd up and evryone left but I hope your hapee now. I drew you reeding love you lots

Branch

There’s a small drawing; a blob holding a square. Clay can’t help but smile at the sight of it, it’s adorable. There’s one more letter; it’s slightly longer, and the handwriting looks more mature, but the sheer amount of spelling mistakes means Branch must have still been pretty young.

Kay Clay

I’m writing evryone letters because Grandma says so. It is getting a bit boring because this is the fourth letter I wrote but I’m still going to write it even though I don’t think your going to read this.
She said to say what Im doing and stuff but like I told John Dory and Floyd and Spruce I think im mad at evryone and I dont want to make evryone mad at me. Im less angry at you and Spruce thow though I think because I know you were really sad but Floyd told me he would come back and he still hasn’t come back. I found one of your books and I tried to read it but the words were too hard and Grandma was too busy to help me read it so maybe you can help if you come back?? I have did lots of puzzles with Grandma and I did lots of drawing, I drew you doing your coreografy but I gave you a seerious serius face like you said when you left. I miss you lots, Grandma said she will send these later but she has to figure out how. Writing these was ment to make me feel better but I feel really sad now. Im sorry.

Love Branch

The picture attached is adorable; the misshapen lump must be him, doing who knows what dance, and Branch has drawn straight lines for his expression.

He can’t. He can’t—

This is too much. He can feel his hands going numb, it’s all too much, all at once. He breathes deeply through his nose, exhaling shakily through his mouth, attempting to slow his pounding heart. They did this. He did this. He can’t regret leaving, (he found Viva and his people, they needed him), but he regrets not going back. He should have checked, should have…why didn’t he…he gasps, his breaths coming faster and faster.

“I need to go back,” he says. He doesn’t recognise his own voice, it’s like he’s detached, watching himself speak.

“What? Clay, you can’t go back, why would you want to go back? You just heard what happened to your Grandma, you just heard how unsafe it is,” Viva replies, her voice shaking but serious.

“He’s my brother Viva, and he’s hurting!” he says, voice cracking. He grips his hair, the temptation to pull is there but he resists, “he needed me and I didn’t even know.”

He should have known. He knew he’d been lying to himself, knew he didn’t want to face the truth. He’s being bombarded with memories of his brother, the way he’d curl up on his chest when he was scared, the way he’d play with his hair when he was bored. The way he couldn’t even say his name right; he couldn’t say the ‘L’ when he’d first learnt to talk, and he’d still called him Kay even just before he’d left, from habit more than anything, but it was his name for him. Fuck John Dory, he should have told him. That was his brother who had suffered, that was his baby. When the band was too much, the pressure to conform to something he wasn’t made his skin itch, he was there, hugging him and telling him he loved him, the only one who didn’t expect something from him, who didn’t…

“He was hurting, and he was alone,” he hisses, the numbness still there, but now there’s anger, hot and static in his chest “Apparently The King was not only useless at searching for his missing daughter—“ he ignores her flinch, “—but also useless at making sure my brother was safe.”

“That’s not fair Clay,” Viva replies, her eyes narrowing, lip quivering, “You don’t know everything, there must have been a reason, Dad isn’t like that,” she insists with heaving breaths, “it still doesn’t mean you have to leave, you said it yourself, he’s not on his own anymore.”

“How can I not go back?” he replies gesturing wildly, “how can you not? Your sister is there, your family is there?” Clay says, at last tugging his hair, beginning to pace, volume rising with each word.

Viva flinches, “I know they’re safe. That-that’s enough for me, okay? I can’t go back there, I can’t go back to that!” she sounds desperate, and Clay bites back his initial reply. He breathes deeply, releasing his hair. He’s not been upset like this in a long time, and he’s taking it out on the wrong person.

“Viva…”

“No. I won’t go back. Clay, I can’t,” she’s crying now, eyes frantic, and it hurts to see. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to make her cry. She’s scared. He feels more guilt hit him.

“Hey, deep breaths,” he says, ignoring his own panic, “we can talk about it later.”

He is going back. He has to. He’ll need to convince Viva though, and it might take more work than he’d thought. He won’t abandon her, she’s right in the fact that his surviving family are currently safe. He’ll reply, and start planning. He shoves down his messy panic so he can sort through it later in private, reaching out to pull Viva in for a hug. She’s shaking. He needs to see his family, but Viva was also family. He’d make it work. He had to.

“Okay moment of truth,” JD says, rotating the crank. He lowers the arm towards the spinning vinyl, crossing his fingers that it will work. It took a lot of set-up, and he’s hoping it pays off.

As the first few bars of ‘Perfect’ blast through the horn, he resists celebrating. He grins, turning to Bitty whose face is frozen. Oh, shit, maybe he should have chosen a different single; the memories associated with the song are bound to be negative. He quickly lifts the arm, stopping the sound.

“Um, well it works,” he says awkwardly. Bitty just nods, chewing his lip. JD reaches out to poke him in the cheek, and he stops, realising what he’s doing. “Maybe I can find another record, there’s bound to be some other ones lying around,” he adds quickly.

“I’ve got a couple,” Floyd interjects.

“Yeah?” JD asks.

“Got given some by the trolls I mentioned,” he says, giving JD a pointed look. Does he mean from the other tribe?

“Go on then,” JD says, and Floyd hurries off to grab the records. He’s aware he’s supposed to be keeping the tribes a secret, but what can the harm be? It’s not like Branch is even going to enjoy it; from what Floyd briefly said when quizzed earlier, the Hard Rock troll's music was very loud and angry.

He takes the offered vinyl, replacing the Brozone record and setting it up. He has to admit, he’s also interested in what the music sounds like. There’s a moment's silence before a loud voice blasts from the horn.

“All aboard!”

Both JD and Branch flinch at the volume, it’s followed by maniacal laughter and an unfamiliar instrument.

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay. ”

He can see Floyd nodding his head in time to the music, and as the beat kicks in, he moves his fingers, as though playing along to the guitar. It’s…it’s strange, he’s not heard guitars sound like that before.

“ Crazy, but that's how it goes,
Millions of people living as foes,
Maybe it's not too late,
To learn how to love,
And forget how to hate,”

He can see Floyd mouthing along, his head nodding more enthusiastically as the song continues. He looks at Bitty; his eyes are blown wide, mouth open.

“I like this,” he says, like he can’t believe it himself, and JD can barely hear him over the music, but he grins. He finds himself tapping his foot in rhythm, unable to keep still.

By the chorus, Floyd is actively singing along like he can’t help it, and Bitty is grinning, his head nodding. It’s the first time Branch has looked anything other than uncomfortable at hearing music, and it’s insane to JD that this loud, eclectic song is the cause.

“ Mental wounds not healing,
Who and what's to blame,
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train,
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train.”

He doesn’t…not like it? It’s odd, it’s not something he’d choose to listen to, but he can appreciate how the vocals and instruments blend together. Bitty and Floyd are loving it; he’s not seen Branch this enthralled in music since he was in the band.

When the song ends Bitty immediately asks for it to be played again, and JD acquiesces with a small grin. He beckons Floyd to follow him to the kitchen.

“We’re just gonna grab some coffee,” he calls to Bitty, who just nods, already absorbed in the song.

“So. Rock trolls?” he says, as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Rock trolls,” Floyd repeats, “this is their King's band you know.”

“Huh. How long were you there? Where did you even find them?” JD asks.

“Well,” Floyd looks awkward, “I travelled with some…people. Then ended up heading into Volcano Rock City.”

“Sorry, did you say volcano? Like an active volcano?” JD asks incredulously.

“Yes? Anyway, I met some guys there and stayed with them for a few months once they'd gotten over the whole Pop-troll thing. I kept it on the down-low after they told me the history of the tribes, so I wasn’t bothered too much when I was out. Just said I was a traveller.”

“I have so many questions, what do you mean the Pop-troll thing?”

“So turns out that there are different strings, each one representing the different musical tribes. With me so far?” Floyd asks.

“You literally said one sentence, of course I’m following. Go on,” JD says, gesturing.

“So these strings are powerful, they basically are the music. I didn’t get a thorough explanation, but this is what I gathered. They are the…the embodiment? I think that’s the best word, anyway the embodiment of the different genres of music. Which was crazy to me to begin with, that there are so many different types of music. Basically, there was a huge fight when the leader of the Pop trolls wanted to take the strings for himself and unite them all under pop music, and only pop music.”

“Peppy?”

“No this was a long time ago, even if it sounds like something he might do. No, that feels mean, he probably wouldn’t,” he looks slightly awkward, before continuing, “I don’t know, anyway, they split away to save their own music. Each Tribe grabbed a string and fled, and another group left without a string and were never heard from again.”

“Peppy told me we were chased away by the other tribes and forced out of our homes. Is he wrong?” JD asks.

Was the King lying, or did he genuinely have no idea? This was before his time after all.

“Well one of them is wrong, and to be honest I trust Peppy as far as I can throw him, which is probably about ten inches at best,” Floyd says, flexing the non-existent muscles in his arm.

“Good point. Why would he lie though? He’s been sending people out to gather things from the other tribes,” JD mutters, almost to himself.

“I have no idea. Anyway, that’s where I was, for a bit anyway. Got given some vinyl to take with me, because you may have noticed, but I really like their music.”

“So does Bitty,” JD adds.

“I know, it’s so cute,” Floyd says grinning.

“Look, let’s keep the whole tribe thing between us for now. Maybe tell Bitty not to mention the music to anyone. Peppy told me to keep it a secret, and I dunno if this counts as like…regicide or something.”

Floyd snorts, “That’s killing the King. You mean treason.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sure, we can keep it a secret. I’m gonna do some digging though if I get a chance, it’s pretty suspicious,” Floyd says, looking thoughtful.

“Just be careful,” JD warns.

“I will,” Floyd says, smiling innocently.

“JD!” Bitty’s voice calls from the now-silent living room, “can you play it again?”

“Okay, just give me a sec,” he shouts back. He mock glares at Floyd, “Look at what you started.”

Floyd just laughs, waving innocently as JD heads to restart the song.

Chapter Text

“What does it say?” JD asks.

“I haven’t read it properly yet, give me a sec,” Floyd replies, his eyes focused on the letter in his hands.

JD watches as Floyd reads, his expression shifting as he takes in the words.

“Can I read it after?”

“Um…okay. Clay is a bit angry though. At you, I mean,” Floyd says, handing it over.

“I guessed,” JD mutters, beginning to read.

Floyd.

John didn’t tell me any of this, he just said they were safe, he didn’t even tell me about Grandma. Did he It’s typical though. Thank you for telling me, and about Branch. I didn’t know you know I would have. I want to come back, I need to see how Branch is doing, but it will take some time. I’m with Viva, the Princess. During the escape, the tunnels collapsed and she was separated along with several other trolls. It’s too much to explain here, but I found her (or she found me) and we’ve established a new home.
She thought everyone else was dead, and while I thought you were alive, I thought you were all together (minus John). She’s happy, more than happy to find out her family is alive, but she’s terrified to leave. It’ll take some convincing. She wrote a letter for you to give to the King, so yeah, do that please. Maybe he can help convince her it’s safe to leave? We’ve not told the other trolls here yet, not sure how to approach it. I wrote Branch a letter too. I should have written one last time, I was just too angry at John to think straight. I just don’t think he gets how badly he screwed up, and I don’t know if that’s better or worse. I started hating myself, and he didn’t even notice.
Sorry, rambling. I missed you Flo, I’m glad you’re safe and happy, and you’re there to give Branch all the hugs he needs.

Love Clay

JD feels frozen.

I started hating myself, and he didn’t even notice.

How is he supposed to fix this? How did he not notice, was he so self-centred that he missed something this huge.

“You okay Johnny?” Floyd asks gently.

How can he even bear to speak to him? “Not really,” he says honestly, “I don’t know how to make this right.”

“I think,” Floyd begins carefully, “it might be a good idea to write him another letter. I know you want to hash it out face to face, but it might be worth apologising and explaining to him before he gets here.”

“You’re right,” JD says, dragging a hand down his face, “l just…” he trails off.

“Hey,” Floyd pulls him in for a hug, “it’ll be okay.”

As he wraps his arms around his brother he can only hope he’s right.

“What’s the plan? For today I mean. Go through it with me,” Floyd asks, pulling back. JD knows what he’s doing, giving him something to focus on.

“Right,” he takes a deep breath, “so Bitty is having a play date with Poppy and the kids, as you know, so we need to pick him up in a bit. He wants to practice his archery later, but he needs something to eat first if he’s not already eaten at Peppy’s, and Rhonda needs her walk.”

“Okay, sounds good. Tell you what, why don’t I grab Bee and give you some time to decompress? I can give the King the letter while I’m at it, and me and Bee can head back here before he does his archery. Sound good?” Floyd asks.

He’s tempted to say no because being alone means he has to actually face his thoughts, but he probably needs this. He nods, “Sure, as long as you’re okay grabbing him on your own?”

Floyd waves him off, “I’ll be fine John. I’m an adult if you hadn’t noticed,” he adds, but JD can tell he’s joking.

“Yeah yeah, go on then Mr adult,” he replies.

“I’m gonna head off now, might take a detour through the village, check some stuff out,” Floyd says, reaching behind and pulling his leg into a stretch.

“See now I know you’re an adult, stretching before your walk like an old man,” JD jests.

Floyd mock glares, moving onto his other leg, “You do not want to get into ages Johnny, or did you forget you are the oldest.”

“See I’m in my prime, and you’re younger than me so…now we’re back at square one where you’re basically a child.”

Floyd laughs, “Shut up,” he says grinning sweetly, moving past him towards the exit, “I’ll see you in a bit Johnny.”

JD waves him off, his smile dropping as soon as he’s alone. He needs to write. He hurries to his desk, grabbing the first pen and paper he sees.

He starts a list, of stuff he wants to talk about in therapy. Wow, Plum will be proud. Or should he say Plimsy, when he’s thinking of her in a professional context? Regardless, he begins to list his concerns.

Brother hates me.

He almost laughs, it’s so dramatic. It encapsulates the situation well enough, however.

How to apologise.

He could do with some outside advice, he does not want to fuck it up.

He’s tempted to write down his concerns regarding Floyd; the small voice of jealousy at the back of his mind screaming that Bitty no longer needs him now Floyd is home, that JD will step into his shadow, and Floyd will be the favourite. It’s not worth mentioning though, right? It’s stupid, just another stupid John thought he can add to the pile.

Plimsy had mentioned that it would be okay to have some resentment towards his brothers and Grandma and parents regarding what she had said was essentially ‘parentification’. He’d thought he’d just been acting like how a brother should, but the more they’d spoken the more evident it had been that at least with Bruce, Clay and Floyd, he’d done more than his fair share of the parenting. She said it made sense that he’d wanted a more hands-off approach with Branch when he was born. It was different now though; he was older and Branch needed him. Yes, he was basically acting as his parent at this point, but it didn’t bother him. It felt nice to be needed again, and it wasn’t like Branch made it hard. Despite his issues, he was so easy to love (like Floyd in that respect) and he gave as much as he got.

He was going to write the letter to Clay after he’d had his next session with Plimsy and had a second opinion on what to include (or rather, how to best convey what he was feeling and thinking). He just hoped Clay would read it.

Floyd was nervous to be entering the King’s pod alone. Sure this was Peppy, a troll he was angry at (for his fumbles regarding Branch), but he was still the King, and he’d be delivering what was essentially a life-changing letter. Safe to say, he was not exactly thrilled. He knew that Johnny needed some space though; he’d seen his face crumble when he’d read Clay’s letter, the pain evident before he’d quickly hidden it, schooling his expression. He was glad he was having therapy, (if anything so Floyd didn’t have to be the one to suggest he needed it) because John had some serious hang-ups he needed to resolve.

He’d been planning on trying to talk to the King about the history of the Pop-Trolls, but he knew this wouldn’t be a good time. The troll he’d stayed with in Volcano Rock City, Vinnie, had given him a run-down of the events of their ancestors, and it had raised so many questions. The fact Peppy seemed to be purposefully hiding the information was suspicious, and only added to the evidence that the Pop-Trolls were the antagonists.

Anyway, he’d pursue his investigations another time.

“Hello?” he calls into the pod, looking around for signs of the King.

Peppy appears, walking out of one of the side doors, “Ah, Floyd! Are you here for Branch?”

He bites down the ‘obviously’ he wants to reply, one because it would be rude, and two because he’s not there just for Branch, so the King’s question has some merit.

“Yes, that and I have this,” he removes the letter from his pocket, handing it over, “I don’t know if you want to read it once I’m gone because…”

The King has already opened it, beginning to read. Floyd stands silently and watches as the King’s eyes widen, his chin beginning to quiver. Tears pool in his eyes before dripping down his face, cascading into his beard. He holds his free hand to his mouth, a sob escaping through his fingers.

“This…I-I don’t,” he takes a steadying breath, “thank you,” he says, and he’s not sure he’s ever heard anyone sound so grateful.

“You don’t need to thank me, I’m just the messenger,” Floyd protests, “John is the one who made contact anyway,” he adds, even though this is a result of his own letter to Clay. John started this whole thing, without him, Floyd wouldn’t be here, and he deserves that credit.

“Then I need to thank him too,” Peppy says, wiping his eyes, “do you know what this says? Who it’s from?”

“I know it’s from Viva,” Floyd replies, “but I didn’t know that until earlier,” he hastens to add; he doesn’t want the King thinking he’d been holding back information.

“My daughter is alive,” Peppy says like he can’t believe it, clutching the letter to his chest like a lifeline.

“I know, it's amazing,” Floyd says kindly, “though it must be a shock.”

“Believe me it is. I need to…I need to talk to Poppy. Later. Later, I’ll tell her,” Peppy trails off, as though to himself. He gathers himself, “So, I’ll go get Branch for you. Call him I mean. I think I might need to send the children away early, or maybe it’s good they’re here? I need some time to gather my thoughts,” it sounds like he's speaking to himself here, Floyd almost feels like he’s intruding.

“Well I’m taking Branch now anyway, so that’s one child down,” he replies.

The King sniffs, smiling, “Yes. Yes, that’s true. I can’t. I still can’t believe it,” he says, laughing.

“Do you want a hug?” Floyd asks, arms open, “This must be a lot for you.”

The King neglects to answer, instead sweeping him into a tight embrace, “Thank you,” he whispers into his hair, “This is the greatest gift anyone has given me. I owe you and your brothers more than you know.”

“It’s fine,” Floyd replies kindly, once the King releases him, “from what I’ve heard your daughter was the one doing the work. She survived because of her tenacity.”

“That and your brother Clay.”

“Clay?” he asks.

“Yes, she’s written here about how much he has done for her. It sounds like he’s become a truly remarkable troll,” Peppy explains.

“He is,” Floyd replies. He has no idea what Clay’s supposedly done, as his letters hadn’t mentioned anything, but he has no doubt. Clay is amazing, and he’s glad to know it’s being recognised.

“Right,” The King clears his throat, “did you want to go through? I said I’d call Branch here but I think…I think I need a minute.”

“Of course, which room?”

“That one,” Peppy points.

“Right. Well I’ll leave you to your thoughts, and feel free to head to your room. We can let ourselves out. I won’t let John know you’re not spying on the kids at all times,” he jests, knowing his brother was adamant Peppy keeps a close eye on the children (although after the piercing incident, Floyd can hardly blame him).

“Thank you, please don’t,” Peppy says with an awkward chuckle. Floyd nearly laughs; from what he’d heard John had scared the King with his reprimanding.

He heads into the room with the children and is greeted to the sight of Branch lying on the floor, whilst the other children attempt to balance what looks like the entire contents of the room across his body.

“Floyd!” he says, noticing his brother.

“No! You can’t move yet, we can fit loads more stuff on you!” the Princess replies; she has a book in her hand and is attempting to balance it across Bee’s face.

“I have to, my brother’s here,” Branch replies, but he stays still long enough for her to place it. When his face is covered she giggles, and the other children join in.

“What are you guys up to?” Floyd asks, amused.

“It’s called Bucking Branch. Well, it is now, because it’s Branch’s turn. Before it was Bucking Cooper, but Bucking Branch sounds better because it’s got iteration,” Poppy replies.

“Alliteration,” Branch interjects, muffled by the book, “I really need to move guys.”

“Fine,” Poppy says sighing dramatically.

With that, Branch jolts up, the items clattering to the floor. The kids giggle, as Branch wriggles to get the last few items off, pens and toys rolling across the floor.

Floyd looks at the mess, glad he won’t be the one cleaning it, “Looks like fun.”

“It is!” the quadruped he assumes is Cooper replies, “When all the things are on you have to stay still while you get tickled, but Branch always won that because he’s not very ticklish so we have to try making him laugh instead, but that’s also hard because Branch is good at not laughing too!”

“That’s because you weren’t being funny,” Branch replies, grinning and pushing himself to his feet.

“You laughed when Creek fell over though,” a larger child replies, this must be Biggie.

“That’s because it was funny.”

“It was not!” another child replies indignantly. From the previous descriptions of Branch’s friends, this must be Creek.

“It was,” Branch says, crossing his arms, “you made a funny squeaking sound.”

“It was really funny Creek,” Poppy adds, giggling.

Creek huffs, averting his eyes, “It wasn’t that funny,” he mutters.

“You made this face though,” Poppy adds, contorting her expression into exaggerated shock.

“It sounds fun,” Floyd interjects, aware Creek is now looking embarrassed. He may not exactly like the boy, (from what he’d heard from John) but he was still a child. “Come on Bee, let’s head off. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet no. Bye guys,” Branch waves.

“Hug?” Poppy asks.

Branch thinks, and Floyd notices his eyes dart to Creek, “Mm not today.”

“Okay,” Poppy replies, lowering her arms. She looks disappointed, but Floyd is impressed that she’d asked in the first place.

They head off; the King isn’t by the door, and Floyd reassures Branch it's okay to leave without saying goodbye.

As they reach the bottom, he can’t help but ask, “Did you not feel like hugging today?”

“Sort of. I don’t think I’d mind one, but I don’t think Creek likes hugging me so I said no so it wouldn’t be awkward,” Branch explains.

“What makes you think that?”

“Poppy makes us do group hugs sometimes. Well, not makes, she asks, but when we do Creek looks weird when he has to hug me.”

“Is he like that with anyone else?” Floyd asks.

“I don’t think so? Maybe? I dunno,” Branch says, he’s clearly not too bothered, but it makes Floyd uneasy. John had told him in some detail about what Creek’s mother had said about Branch, and it was disconcerting to think he was avoiding touching him like he was contagious. It was definitely something to talk to mention to John.

“Where’s JD?” Branch asks.

“He’s at home, sorting some stuff out.”

“What stuff?”

“I’m not really sure,” Floyd replies, unable to come up with an excuse on the fly. He doesn’t think, ‘probably having a minor mental breakdown’ is appropriate to tell a child, (and he’s hoping that John’s not actually having one).

“Oh okay,” Bee replies, accepting this.

They walk back to the bunker, Branch explaining how they’d come up with their ‘Bucking game’, and Floyd replying in earnest. It was still strange to see how grown up Branch has become, from that tiny baby to a slightly bigger baby (he was always going to be a baby to him, no matter how old he got).

When they climb down into the bunker, he’s relieved to see John is looking more collected.

“Hey Bitty!” he says, from his place on the sofa.

“JD!” Branch calls, running over and hugging him. John hugs back, ruffling his hair, and his face is so soft Floyd can’t help but smile.

“How was your play date?” John continues; Branch sits next to him, squishing as close to him as possible. Floyd steps forward and leans against the counter, deciding to watch.

“It was good! We played a game where everyone put lots of stuff on me and it had to balance, then they tried to make me laugh so it all fell off.”

“Oh wow, that sounds fun! Did you laugh?”

“Yeah, ‘cause Creek fell over.”

John snorts, before schooling his expression, “Was he okay?”

“He was fine, it was only a bit of a fall.”

“That’s good. Have you eaten yet?” John asks. Branch shakes his head, “What do you fancy?”

“I’m voting pasta,” Floyd interjects, walking to the sofa and dropping into the space. The pasta John had made the first night had been good, even if Floyd had been concerned at Branch’s spice-coated concoction.

“Yup, pasta sounds good,” Bee adds.

“Alright then, I’ll get started. Hey Floyd, can you give me a hand?” John asks, standing.

“Sure,” Floyd agrees, joining him.

“You okay here for a bit?” John asks Branch.

“I’m gonna go in my room and see Ronnie,” he replies, after a moment's thought, “can I listen to that song again later?”

“Sure Bits. Go play, we’ll call you when it’s ready,” John says, and they watch as Branch runs to his room, both wincing as he nearly hits the door frame.

“I swear he’s gonna give me a heart attack,” John mutters, sighing.

“Both of us,” Floyd adds, “death by Branch, what a way to go,” he jests, immediately regretting his phrasing.

John seems to ignore him, instead focusing on grabbing an apron; it’s well worn, with frills along the bottom and ‘Hot Mama’ emblazoned across the chest. Floyd had already ripped into John about his cooking attire the first time he’d seen it, but all John had said was ‘beggars can’t be choosers’, so he’d decided to drop it (and convince Bee to take a photo of John wearing it at some point).

“So, how did the King take his letter?”

“He cried,” Floyd says.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. He just found out his daughter was alive, wouldn’t you cry too?” Floyd replies, slightly incredulous.

“When you put it like that…” John trails off.

Floyd watches as he begins making the food, his movements are quick and precise. “Did you actually need my help?”

“Nah, just wanted to talk to you in private about how it went,” John replies over his shoulder.

“Fine by me,” Floyd replies, making himself comfortable against the counter.

“So,” John says, adding the pasta to the boiling water with dramatic flair, “how was Bitty at his play date? All good?”

“He seemed happy enough. He mentioned Creek was avoiding touching him though,” Floyd adds, thinking back to what Branch had said.

“Seriously?” John swivels to face him, face incredulous.

“He said he looked awkward when he had to hug him in group hugs, but I don’t know if we can read too much into it?” Floyd says; he wants to err on the side of caution here, maybe the kid was just awkward with physical contact in general.

“Nope, it’s too suspicious for me with what his Mother said. Not sure what we can do though, realistically speaking,” John doesn’t look too happy at this, stirring the pasta with more vigour than necessary.

“We can’t do anything really, unless he comes out and says something, or we see it ourselves.”

“Hmm,” John replies. He looks deep in thought.

“I’m gonna give Bee his letter after he’s eaten I think,” Floyd says. He can always wait until after his archery practice, but he doesn’t want to leave it too long.

“Yeah okay. You want me to tell him Clay’s replied, or do you want to?” John replies, his shoulders noticeably tense.

“I can do it. Does he know about the first letter?”

“No, and I don’t want him to. He doesn’t need to know, he’ll only think it was his fault. He won’t understand why Clay didn’t write to him before.”

“Fair enough,” Floyd replies. John’s right when he says Branch will take it personally, his little brother seemed to think everything was his fault.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I want to read it first. I know Clay won’t say anything bad, but I still can’t help but worry,” John sounds conflicted and nervous.

“No,” Floyd puts a swift stop to this, “I get you’re concerned but it’s Branch’s letter, and Clay won't say anything bad. Come on Johnny, it’s Clay, you know how much he loves Bee.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” John says, sighing.

“Remember, he used to spend hours helping him line up his little toys. It was so boring, but he was so patient with him,” Floyd says, remembering how good Clay had been with the baby, “and that time he made a new dress for Branch’s plushie,” he laughs, “it was awful, he was so bad at sewing, but he knew Branch hated the original colour. Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

There’s a tense silence before John replies, “I don’t remember that. The-the dress thing. I know he used to play with him a lot, but I never realised…” he trails off.

“Hey, it’s okay! You were busy, really busy. You had the band, and you were doing pretty much everything around the house to help Grandma,” Floyd says, rushing to reassure his brother.

Johnny was always busy, even when they were small. Every memory he has, he’s there, if not in the forefront he was in the background cooking or cleaning. He didn’t realise at the time quite how much his brother had done, it was only when he was on his own he realised how much he’d taken for granted. Yes, he’d been more emotionally absent the last few years they’d lived together, but with an adult retrospect, he can understand.

“I wasn’t doing that much,” John mutters, scratching his face absently.

“I disagree. You did loads, more than you should have. Clay and Spruce might not have noticed, but I did.”

“Bruce,” John corrects.

“Bruce. Yeah, it might take a while to get used to it,” Floyd replies sheepishly.

“I get it, but it’s important. We can’t be calling him his old name at his wedding,” John points out.

“Yeah, I know,” Floyd watches as John sieves the pasta, moving on to making the sauce, “do you know any details? About the wedding,” he clarifies.

“Nope. Other than the place and the date, no clue if he’s chosen one of you for best man. We’ve spoken, but it’s been general stuff. I still need to give you your invitation, and you should probably write to Bruce next time I send a letter out.”

“You’re right, I should say congratulations. Maybe a bit more than that,” Floyd says; there’s so much stuff he’s missed out on. “I’m waiting on a reply from Mello, but I’m hoping we’ll get some electricity here. At the very least, literally here, as in the bunker.”

“Will we be able to um…install it here? I don’t know anything about electrical stuff,” John says, waving his hand vaguely.

“I don’t see why not. You’re right though, installing it might be hard. We still haven’t spoken to Peppy about it, maybe he knows someone?”

“Probably,” John shrugs, “he seems to know someone who knows something, every time you need it. Probably the Fuzzlings, they have an unusual amount of knowledge for this sort of stuff.”

“Good,” Floyd replies, if this works out maybe he can think about getting Mello to bring him a phone. Would it work this far out? He wishes he knew more about how it all worked, but it went straight over his head.

For all that time he spent away, what did he actually have to show for it? Other than a few songs he wrote, and some friends he’d made, there’s nothing that he can definitively say ‘this, this is what I have to show’ for abandoning my brother. Was it worth it? He sighs, his thoughts dipping into negative territory.

“I’ve changed my mind,” John says, thrusting a bright blue apron into his hands, “wash your hands, you can help me grate the carrot. No snapping or chopping though while Bitty is in the room, I know he’s not here right now but we’re not risking it,” he says, giving a pointed look.

“Fine by me,” Floyd says. He puts on the apron; it’s a tight fit (explaining why John’s not the one wearing it), but he makes it work. He washes his hands (ignoring the implications behind the carrot, he won’t think about it).

They work in silence, grating and stirring, and as the sauce cooks he closes his eyes. It smells just like the one their Grandma used to make, and for a moment it’s like she’s here, helping them. She’s not though, there’s no gentle humming as she stirs, no laughter as Clay sets the table, no cookbooks lining the shelf. He opens his eyes and sees John, smiling to himself as he adds some salt, his apron askew. He smiles fondly. His Grandma isn’t here, but his big brother is, his little brother is in the other room, and right now that’s all he needs.

Chapter Text

Branch was listening to the song again, the one Floyd brought back with him. He didn’t know he could like a song so much, and he didn’t even know why, but the way the guitars and the drums sounded made him want to dance for the first time since Grandma…anyway, he liked the words. The singer called themselves ‘Crazy’, but it wasn’t said in a bad way. He’d heard the villagers he’d stayed with call him crazy, late at night when they’d thought he was asleep, and it had made something squirm inside him.

Normally it would scare him though, the loud and aggressive sound, but it didn’t. The bunker was as soundproof as they could get it; he no longer had to panic whenever he heard one the the village's many parties and celebrations, he simply didn’t hear them. He could pretend they didn’t exist and that they weren’t putting themselves at risk of being found. He felt safe here. It was one of the only things he’d liked when he’d been alone, being far away from the noise.

He was listening to the song again, miming along to the words (not singing, no, he wouldn’t sing) when Floyd came over, gesturing to pause the song. He nods, and Floyd carefully lifts the arm of the gramophone.

“Sorry Bee, you can listen in a bit but I thought you might want this,” he’s holding a letter in his hand, hovering it near Branch.

“From Bruce?” Branch asks, taking it and turning it over.

“From Clay.”

“Clay?!” Branch whips his head up in question, “JD wrote to him?”

“Um…yes. Yeah, we wrote to him and he sent you a reply,” Floyd replies, looking to the side.

Branch ignores Floyd’s odd expression, unfolding the paper to read.

Branch

I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I found out what happened to Grandma and I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I know for a fact it’s not your fault. I should have come back, and I’m going to come back, but I don’t know when. I have a friend who needs my help, you might not remember her but she’s your friend Poppy’s sister, and she is my best friend. As soon as I can I’m going to come see you, but in the meantime, I want to send you letters and see how you are. Make sure you tell Floyd so he can help you send one back. Have you been doing anything interesting? I miss you so much and as soon as I see you I’m going to need one of your hugs because they are the best hugs. I loved the drawing you made, it looks just like me. I’m just so sor Give Floyd lots of hugs from me.

Love you lots Bug

Love Kay

Branch’s eyes begin to water, and he sniffs loudly. He shouldn’t cry, he’s not even sad. Kay wrote to him, and he’s okay and he’s coming back one day (even though he didn’t say when, and he won’t quite believe it until he sees it).

“Woah, everything okay Bee?” Floyd asks, he sounds concerned and Branch nods hurriedly.

“I’m okay. I don’t know why I’m crying, I feel happy,” he says, wiping the back of his hand hastily across his eyes.

“So they’re happy tears?” Floyd asks.

“You can have those? I thought you cried if you were sad?” Branch asks.

“Not always, you can cry when you’re really happy too. You cried when you first saw me, didn’t you? Weren’t they happy tears?”

“Oh, I guess. I was also really anxious too though, and I think I was mad as well so I didn’t think about it at the time,” Branch says, thinking back to when he’d first seen Floyd in the bunker. He hadn’t felt ‘happy’ happy, he’d felt all sorts of feelings all at once and it had been what JD has called ‘overwhelming’.

“Hey Bee, can I read your letter? You don’t have to say yes,” Floyd asks.

“Okay,” Branch replies, passing it over. He doesn’t mind, there’s nothing secret in it. “How come Clay didn’t mention JD though?” Branch asks. He’d been wondering as soon as he finished the letter, Clay had said to give Floyd hugs, but not JD. Did he forget?

“Oh, well he talked about JD in the other letter so maybe that’s why?” Floyd replies, looking up from his reading.

That makes sense, “Oh okay. Floyd?”

“Yeah?”

“If Poppy has a sister, where was she?” Bee asks.

“Well,” Floyd looks like he’s thinking, “can you remember escaping the tunnels?”

“Yeah. People died,” Branch says, blankly. There had been a shovel, a huge shovel, and it had hurt people. It had been awful; he can remember that some of the adults had carried trolls with them. He’d thought they were sleeping, but they’d been dead, and Branch had watched in horror as they’d dug the graves. The big shovel had made a crunchy sound as it dug through the dirt, and they'd only had one small shovel to make the graves, but it made the same sound. Some of the trolls had to use their hands. People had been crying. The trolls who were injured had been screaming.

“Um, well yes. But some trolls didn’t, they were actually separated when the tunnels collapsed. They set up a home somewhere else,” Floyd explains.

“But,” Branch’s face screws up in confusion, “Poppy always says that the King says ‘no trolls left behind’. But that would mean that he did. He did leave trolls behind.”

“He thought that they’d died Bee,” Floyd says gently.

“But he didn’t check?”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. You guys were escaping weren’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess. Why was Clay there?”

“I…” Floyd falters, “I don’t know if he was. We’ll have to ask him.”

“Okay,” Branch agrees. Floyd is right, he can ask Kay when he sees him.

“So, archery later right?”

“Yeah! I’m practising lots and lots,” Branch replies enthusiastically. He loves talking about his archery, it gives him that happy fizzy feeling.

“You’re getting really good,” Floyd praises, and Branch can’t help but grin, the compliment making him feel extra fizzy. He rubs his hands along his vest, gripping the fabric.

“I want to hit the bullseye every time, and when I do I want to make the target move so I can practice hitting moving things,” he explains.

“That’s so cool!” Floyd enthuses, and Branch nods rapidly.

“I know, it’s just like when Lichen hit the bird out of the air and made it drop the scroll.”

“You’re right! Maybe we can set something up like balloons, and see if you can pop them,” Floyd suggests.

“Would they make a really big sound?” Branch asks. That would be scary, he’d worry about the Bergen’s hearing.

“Not too loud, they wouldn’t be big.”

“Okay! I’ll ask JD. Where is he?” Branch asks. He’d not seen him since they’d eaten, and even though he knew he was safe, he liked knowing where he was. He knows he promised he wouldn’t, but was always scared that he’d go back to their old pod, or leave him and he’d never see him again.

“…Branch?”

Floyd looks concerned. Oh, he’d zoned out again.

“What did you say?” he asks, refocusing on his brother.

Floyd visibly swallows, “I said he’s in his room. Did you want to go see him?”

Branch does, he really does, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. He still remembers how much JD used to need his own space, and as much as he tells him it’s okay there’s still a part of him that worries he’ll be too much, and he’ll drive him away…

“It’s okay, I’ll see him later,” he says firmly.

“If you’re sure…” Floyd doesn’t sound convinced.

“He might be busy doing yoga or…” what was that thing Creek had started doing recently? “Meditating?”

“He does yoga?” Floyd asks, brows raised.

“Yeah, and other exercises and stuff. I join in the yoga sometimes,” Branch explains.

“That sounds good. He meditates too?”

“Um, maybe? I don’t know, Creek was talking about it and it sounds like the sort of thing JD would do,” Branch says thoughtfully, “he said it was about relaxing and um focusing his mind I think? And I think JD would feel better if he relaxed a bit more,” he says with a shrug.

Floyd laughs briefly, cupping his mouth with his hand, “You’re not wrong,” he says, which is kind of odd because he knows he’s not wrong. JD stresses about a lot of stuff.

“Can you put the song back on please?” he asks. He wants to listen to it and hear the different melodies again. It might stop him thinking about the noise of the shovel.

“Sure Bee,” Floyd replies fondly, reaching past him to restart the song.

As it starts back up, Branch focuses on the music, his eyes shutting as he listens to the vocals.

I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.
I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.

“Okay, so it’s a bit experimental,” Floyd explains, wringing his hands.

It’s odd for JD to see him nervous. He’d finally relented to showing him his music, it had only taken a few weeks and the threat of the mp3 player running out of charge (Floyd had been letting him call it an np3 player for weeks, Bitty was the one to correct him and Floyd had just said he found it funny). Honestly, Floyd could just be shrieking out of tune and JD would probably find something to love about it, this was his little brother, it was practically built into him to be proud of him, second nature, part of his design. His brothers made something? He was proud. He just wished he’d been better at showing it.

“Good. I like experimental,” JD insists.

“You do?” Floyd asks suspiciously.

“Sure I do! Not everything has to be polished.”

“…”

“Okay, yes this seems weird for me, but I mean it. You know I’m working on it…” he trails off. He’s getting better, not everything has to be perfect—even him.

“I know you are Johnny,” Floyd replies, looking guilty. He continues, his anxiety returning, “Well, um, so these tracks, they weren’t all popular, Paradise City has a certain vibe that was hard to hit.”

“Understandable.”

“And I wanted to make some heavier music, but there wasn’t the instruments available so I’ve written some songs that never got made and sort of settled a bit with what I produced…”

“Floyd. It’s fine. I want to hear your music,” JD interrupts.

“Okay. Okay then,” Floyd replies swallowing visibly. He reaches over to press a button on the machine and pulls the earphone so it’s facing them. It obviously won’t fit in their ears, so Floyd had explained that he’d turn the volume to max, and JD could lean in to hear.

An echoing guitar begins to play, and JD leans in further as his brother’s voice begins to pour from the earphone.

“ You don't want my love,
I'll let you down because,
I've tied me up like a dog on a cable,
I've kept me caged,
A wild horse in a stable

There’s some distortion around his voice, but the melody pulls him in.

“ I'm okay 'til I'm not,
I'm okay when I'm not”

JD absorbs the lyrics; was this hypothetical or truly how Floyd was feeling?

“Keep the wolf from the cattle,
Hold me for I am fragile,
I get so pretty for you”

It’s beautiful. He’s not sure exactly what it means for Floyd, but it’s beautiful and intense.

As the song continues he closes his eyes, focusing on Floyd’s voice. It’s so different to anything they’d ever sung in the band, there’s something soulful and melancholy vibrating through every word, the slow pace of the song sad and gripping.

“I love it,” he says as soon as it finishes before Floyd can say anything.

His eyes widen, breaking into a small unsure smile (he looks so much like Bitty right now it’s crazy), “Really? You don’t think it was like…too dreary? Slow?”

“Nah, not at all. It felt meaningful man,” JD thinks how best to word his burning question, “Is it…does it mean anything? When you wrote it, were you…” he wants to ask if was okay if he is okay.

“Yeah. I mean, not everything is like a literal interpretation but, I was struggling a bit. Thinking back on how it felt before I came out, mixing in how it felt trying to find myself. It was pretty hard finding animals that fit, had to use stuff that they’d recognise and to be fair Caterbus didn’t fit that well, so it worked out. Anyway,” Floyd moves on, clearly uncomfortable, “it wasn’t popular. They prefer more upbeat music there, this wasn’t it,” he laughs.

“I’m surprised. I mean it’s good.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” Floyd says, his eyes crinkling in joy, “it didn’t bother me anyway. I wrote this more for me.”

“Well, I like it. I am interested to hear what was popular though.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a shift in tone,” Floyd chuckles, leaning forward to press more buttons. As the music begins it’s clear it’s more upbeat, even from the first few notes.

“ Yeah, uh,
Why you callin' at 11:30,
When you only wanna do me dirty? Uh-huh-uh,
But I hit right back 'cause you got that, that, yeah uh.”

Woah. It was so different from the first track, the general tone, and the mixing of the sounds.

“ Why you always wanna act like lovers?
But you never wanna be each other's, uh-huh-uh,
I say don't look back, but I go right back, yeah.”

As he listens, Floyd is still glancing at him nervously and he tries to convey that yes, he is enjoying it. It’s good.

“ All of a sudden, I'm hypnotised,
You're the one that I can't deny,
Every time that I say I'm gonna walk a-way,
You turn me on like a light switch,
When you're movin' your body around and around,
Now, I don't wanna fight this, no,
You know how to just make me want…”

Ohh, okay, so that's what it's about. If he ignores this, it’s catchy (really catchy, he can’t help but move his head in time to the beat). Still, this was his little brother.

The rest of the song is similarly catchy, man Floyd’s vocals sound good.

“Soo?” Floyd asks, fiddling with his earring.

“It was great! Could have done without the topic, but you sounded really good,” JD praises.

“The topi-? Oh, seriously John? I’m 21, and you used to joke about that sort of stuff all the time with S-Bruce,” Floyd laughs.

“He was closer in age. You were always the baby, until Bitty came along,” JD smirks, “What, would you like it if I started belting out a song about getting my di—"

“No! Not really! Don’t want to hear it,” Floyd almost shrieks, frantically crossing his arms.

JD laughs, “I’m just kidding Flo, you’re so easy to wind up. I like it, I can see why it was popular.”

“Thanks,” Floyd replies, grinning at his approval, “I won’t lie, I was kind of just messing around with this one. It was fun not, you know, personal.”

“I mean they’re both good, in different ways. You’re very um,” what’s the word? “Versatile,” he settles on.

“I just wish I had access to recording equipment in Volcano Rock City,” Floyd sighs, “wrote some stuff that doesn’t sound right with a,” he waves his hand, “pop sound.”

“One day maybe?”

“Yeah. One day.”

“So you think they’re good?”

“I mean I just said that. They’re great!”

“That means a lot actually. Coming from you, you know,” Floyd gestures, as though JD is supposed to know what that means.

“Me? Like, because I’m your brother?” JD asks, he’s feeling pretty confused.

Floyd is looking at him like he’s supposed to know what he means, “No? Well, I mean yeah, but dude you’re like the songwriter, you know?”

“No?”

“Y—you…you genuinely don’t get this do you?” and now Floyd is looking sad.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to get,” JD replies, feeling slightly affronted.

“You wrote all our songs man. You composed all the melodies, and the lyrics, you were like the—the backbone of the band.”

“Yeah, and the tyrant,” JD adds bitterly

“No—no I’m talking about talent Johnny!” Floyd replies, exasperated, “You are an amazing songwriter, you were voted greatest of all time in the tree on like, two separate occasions!”

“…I was?”

Floyd just groans, burying his face in his hand.

“How can you be this obtuse,” he mutters, “Okay, trust me on this. You’re talented, amazingly so, and the fact you like my songs is amazing because it’s like having the stamp of approval of—of—I can’t even think of an equivalent example, just trust me when I say it’s a big deal.”

“I mean…okay? Thank you?” JD replies suspiciously. Honestly, he doesn’t get it. Yes he wrote the songs, but it wasn’t like…special, or anything. He wasn’t the greatest singer, he didn’t have those angelic vocals like his brothers so it made sense he’d be more involved with writing the songs, and it wasn’t like it was complicated to do.

“You’re welcome,” Floyd says, still sounding exasperated, but there’s an underlying fondness in his face that makes JD feel at ease. If Floyd wants to think of him as a songwriting pioneer, who was he to burst his bubble?

“You need to take me to see Milton,” Branch asks, skidding into Floyd’s room.

“Okay?” He replies from his position on the bed. He’s reading, lying back against the cushions, and Branch didn’t mean to make him jump, but he doesn’t feel bad, no, he has a mission. “Any reason why?” Floyd continues.

“It’s JD’s Hatchday soon,” Branch explains, “and I know what I want to get him, but I need some help and Milton has everything.”

He’d purposely waited until JD was seeing Dr Plimsy, so he could talk to Floyd alone to get his opinion.

“I mean, that sounds fine?” Floyd sits up fully, placing his book to the side, “what do you want to get him?”

“A knife.”

“I…huh. I mean I can’t say he won’t like a knife, but how did you come up with this um, idea?” Floyd replies. He doesn’t look, too impressed with Branch’s idea, but that’s fine, he hasn’t explained it yet.

“JD likes camping and outside stuff, and it will be useful for him to have a small knife he can take around with him if he needs to open stuff or cut stuff. He’s got a really big knife, but I think a small one would be useful,” Branch explains, “and I want to get something written on the handle part, like an in…in..” what’s the word?

“Engraving?” Floyd suggests.

“Yeah! That. So I want to ask Milton if he knows how I can get one, and if he knows someone who can,” he sounds it out carefully, “engrave it for me, because I don’t think JD would be too happy if I did it myself.”

Even though he really wants to, he thinks he’d need something very hot or sharp to do it and JD would be worried. He hates worrying him.

“You’re right, he wouldn’t. But, it sounds like a great idea Bee,” Floyd says smiling at him, and Branch feels that happy fizzy feeling.

He grins back. “I want to bake him a cake too, but you need to help me because I want JD to actually like it, and because I’m not supposed to use the oven on my own,” he adds.

“Me? I mean, sure, we can bake a cake, I can definitely help with…that,” Floyd looks unsure, so Branch clarifies.

“For his Hatchday I mean.”

Floyd’s eyes crinkle, “Of course. What flavour were you thinking?”

“Um, I don’t know what his favourite is. Oh, but his favourite colour is purple, so can we make it purple?” he asks.

“Wait, his favourite colour’s purple?”

“Yup!” he’d been told this a while back, shortly after he’d given JD the spiral picture he’d liked so much. It had seemed a bit random, but Branch had sworn to remember it, and now he got a chance to make something that colour! Hopefully, anyway.

“Huh, okay,” Floyd looks thoughtful, “I’m sure we can figure something out. As for Milton, why don’t we head over tomorrow. We can tell Johnny we’re going to the market, and head there after?” he suggests.

“Uhuh, that’s a good idea,” Branch agrees. He’s glad he asked now, there’s still plenty of time for Milton to find him a knife and for it to be all engraved (though he’s not sure what he wants it to say).

Everything he thinks of doesn’t feel like enough.

“Hey, have you finished your letter for Clay?” Floyd asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yeah, I finished it ages ago, and I have a picture ready to send,” he says, with a bit of a scowl. He didn’t know what was taking JD so long to write his letter, he knew it must be important but he was getting a bit impatient. Floyd had already explained they were waiting on JD to finish his letter and said they should give him time.

“Yeah, it’s taken a while, I know, but he told me this morning that he’s ready to send it,” Branch perks up at this, “John just wanted to make sure he wrote his letter exactly how he wanted,” Floyd explains.

“Perfect?”

“No! No, he just had a few things he needed to say, and he wanted to say them in a way that Clay understood what he meant,” Floyd says, quick to correct.

“Oh. Okay,” that makes sense. He knew how frustrating it was when people didn’t understand what he was trying to say. “Words are hard sometimes,” he adds.

Floyd laughs, reaching a hand out to gently ruffle his hair, “Yeah, they are.”

Chapter Text

“Does it fit okay Mr Clay?”

Clay tugs the material, letting it ping back against his skin. He looks at the small orange troll, her wild hair fluttering with her nerves.

“It’s great Fern,” he says, trying to be enthusiastic. She’s only just turned fifteen, and her Mother had recently taught her how to measure, design and sew. It was important; the Putt Putt trolls needed a supply of clothing, especially as the children outgrew their old outfits. More recently, the trolls had been teaching their trade to the older teens, and Fern had been tasked with providing Clay with a new romper to test her skills. They’d been making use of the clothing they’d found in one of the abandoned buildings, the large socks proved perfect for making outfits.

“I’m glad,” Fern practically sinks with relief.

“Nice colour choice too,” he notes, smoothing his hands down the material.

“Viva said you like green,” Fern replies with a small smile.

His heart clenches at the mention of the leader.

“She knows me well,” he says, hoping he sounds less awkward than he feels. “Anyway, this,” he gestures to the romper, “is killer. Great job. Why don’t you run and tell your Mom it’s got co-leader approval,” he winks jokingly, and Fern nods happily.

“Okay Mr Clay! See you later!” she says, heading out of the office.

Once he’s sure she’s left he sighs, sitting down and sinking into his makeshift chair. It really is a nice outfit, and the material doesn't itch like the last one he'd had. He looks up, glancing at the photo of Branch he has perched neatly on his desk. He’s still irked that Viva cut it in half, (mainly because it wasn’t even), but he wasn’t going to cut any more off. Branch was already missing his foot, the slice angling beyond the middle. Floyd and Branch had yet to reply, but he was still actively planning his return. It had caused more than a few arguments with Viva, and it was draining him. He hated this constant background guilt he was walking around with; now and then it would be thrust into the foreground and he’d have to anchor himself to whatever he was doing.

He couldn’t even say Viva was being irrational; the Bergens were still a threat, and he was wanting to put himself closer to that danger. He knew she relied on him, all the trolls here did. He was the one who had managed the food supplies, and the safety. He’d taught himself how to use and fix the electronics, whilst Viva was integral to morale and encouragement (the areas he fell flat in). Viva had outright said that while the Bergens were a threat, there was no chance they were moving back. He’d even tried to suggest they convince the other trolls to join them here, and she’d agreed it would be a good idea. She just hated the idea of him leaving at all, but how else would he suggest it to the King? A letter would not cut it.

Viva had sent the King a letter alongside Clay's reply, but she never said what she wrote, and Clay had never asked. He could guess though. At the very least the King would know his daughter was alive.

“Mr Clay?” the bane of his thoughts is peeking around his door, her face guilty. He beckons her in.

“You okay Viv?” he asks.

She walks towards him, stepping nervously before she stops, taking a deep breath. “Look, I spoke to Grovemite because I was feeling really stressed, and I haven’t seen him in a while, and just talking it through made things make a bit more sense,” he’s glad she spoke to the Dr; they were incredibly lucky that someone specialising in psychology escaped with them, a majority of the trolls had been seeing him regularly ever since to discuss their trauma. It had taken Viva a couple of years to warm up to the idea, but her regular chats with the troll had helped her manage her anxiety. As anxious as she was now, she had been a lot worse.

She continues, running her hand up her other arm anxiously, words blurring into one, “I want to say I’m sorry, I know how much you want to see your family, and I know you want to go to your brother’s wedding, I just don’t like the idea of you being in danger and now I don’t like the idea that my family is in danger and it’s been stressing me out and I haven’t told anymore else about it so I’m taking it all out on you and-"

“Viva. Girl, take a breath,” Clay interjects.

She breathes heavily through her nose, “What I’m trying to say is if-if you want to go and see your family then I can’t stop you. I just-you need to promise me you’ll come back.”

“Of course! Viva, I won’t be leaving you, I promise. Think of it more as a scouting mission, I’m gonna get a lay of the land so to speak,” he explains, “I’ll bring a copy of the roll-call so I have a list of everyone here, and I’m going to try and convince the King to move everyone out here where it’s safe, and let people know their families are still alive,” he’s not sure how well it will work, but he will try, “and when I come back, which I will,” he grasps her hands gently, “we can have a group meeting to tell the others. They might be angry we’ve not said anything you know,” he adds.

“It’s fine,” Viva waves him off, “we can just say you found them on your own, like you said, you can just say you found them during your scouting mission thing.”

“You’re okay lying like that?” he steps back, crossing his arms.

“Not…not really. But we can’t tell them yet,” she replies, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair.

“Okay. That’s fine then. I’m gonna leave all my manuals somewhere safe for you, in case while I’m gone the electricity is on the fritz,” he explains.

“Yeah, that’s sensible,” she says. She still looks worried.

“Hey,” he says uncrossing his arms, prompting her to look up into his face, “I’m not going yet anyway. I’ve not had a reply, so I don’t know where they are. So for now let’s focus on something else.”

“Like your new romper?” Viva replies, face splitting into a grin.

“Oh, this old thing?” he says, turning dramatically to show the back. He’s glad, she’s perked up and they’ve reached a resolution. He feels lighter.

“It’s amastic! Awesome! Fabulous! I’m jealous, do you think they’ll make me one similar?”

“You’ll have to ask Fern,” he replies.

“Fern?!” she raises her hands to her mouth in excitement, “she made this? Oh my gosh she’s coming along so fast! Maybe we can do a fashion show! Oh, oh and you can model this, and we can get the others to show their new outfits too, and do you think you can rig some fancy lighting?”

“I can try,” Clay agrees, grinning fondly, “but if you want to build a proper runway I’ll need to check it beforehand. You know, for-"

“Safety,” Viva interrupts, stealing his word, “I know I know, Mr safety Inspector. That’s fine. I’ll even let you figure out some fancy fire exits.”

“You know me well Miss Viva,” he replies, feeling pleasantly warm.

“Come on, let’s go see Fern together. I want to congratulate her,” Viva suggests.

“Sure,” he holds out an arm for her jokingly.

She laughs, linking her arm with his, “You gentleman,” she jests.

They walk to the exit, pausing, “We don’t fit through the door like this,” she points out.

He releases her arm, “Gentleman status officially revoked.”

“You’re such a dork,” she punches his arm playfully, a mirror of when Spruce Bruce would do the same. “Come on, I’ll race you?”

He’s tempted to decline. He’s changed, he’s not the ‘fun boy’ he was before, shoved in that two-dimensional box. How are they supposed to take him seriously when he's running around like an idiot? One look at her hopeful face has him changing his mind though, and he tears past her with a grin, ignoring her shrieks of ‘cheater!’.

Why did he think this was a good idea? Floyd cannot bake, he has never been able to bake, he burnt or straight-up ruined everything he made. Johnny had banned him from baking in their old pod after he’d messed up so thoroughly that the cookies he’d made had bounced. He could make basic meals, sure, but anything else just turned out awful, but he’d promised Branch that he would help, and he couldn’t exactly back out now.

Branch had been trying so hard with John’s present and card. He’d managed to get the knife, Milton trading a couple of things for him with the trolls he knew. He hadn’t even wanted a favour, just said how nice it was that Branch was trying so hard for his brother. He’d even pointed them in the direction of a troll who was proficient with engraving; Darius, a deep purple-skinned troll who walked with a cane, though he had a wheelchair that he used for longer distances, or days his leg was particularly painful.

He’d injured his leg in the escape and had taken up several hobbies during his recovery, that had continued to this day, one of which had evolved into wood engraving. Floyd had been impressed at the intricate designs he’d produced; his wheelchair was a work of art, decorated with detailed flowers and swirls. He’d agreed to engrave a message for Branch for only a small favour, asking for help watering his herb garden (although Floyd suspected it was about the company more than the actual help), and both Floyd and Branch had been fascinated hearing about the various herbs he’d cultivated. Floyd had agreed to go back and help when he could, and he was hoping to get himself some cuttings so that he could start his own garden. He was floundering, with little to occupy his mind, and gardening seemed peaceful and rewarding.

“Floyd, is it supposed to be this lumpy?” Branch asks, voice verging on panic.

No. No, it was not. “It’s fine,” he reassures,” it just needs more mixing.”

“When do we add the blueberry stuff?” he asks, fiddling with his apron.

“Now, I think. The recipe doesn’t mention adding a food colouring, but Mags had said to add it with all the other ingredients,” he says, more to himself. He’d gone so far as to get advice from the elder troll. She’d been shocked but pleased to see him, regaling him with the gossip of the village. Apparently, the news of John’s success integrating Bee back into the village was rivalled only by the gossip of his protective nature regarding his younger brother. The village very much saw John as a guard-critter, and he’s not sure what had been said to cause this (the gossip seemed exaggerated), but they were very wary of the ex-band leader.

“Floyd?”

Right, baking. Blueberries. “Let’s add it now,” he says, pouring the purple ooze into the bowl. He thinks he strained enough of the pulp out, but they won’t know until it’s baked.

“Did we add the right stuff?” Bee asks, fiddling with the ties of his apron. It was so large he’d had to loop it around his torso twice.

“We followed exactly what the instructions said,” Floyd reassures.

It’s not like it matters too much, John will eat it even if it tastes awful. Well, if Bee gave him it. If it was just Floyd, he’d be honest about how bad it was, but this new John would pretend for Bee’s sake. Old John, well he might not.

“Okay, time to bake it,” Floyd says, forcing enthusiasm. He grabs the matches, ready to light the oven. He can’t wait until they manage to secure some electricity here, he still doesn’t understand how they managed to scavenge so many gas appliances and didn’t make electricity a priority.

John had said recently that Peppy was working on something more mystic, but Floyd knew how unreliable that could be. Having been surrounded by so much technology in Paradise City, it was hard to go back. The gems their ancestors had used had seemed unreliable, and Floyd didn’t know why the King was focusing on using the old and unpredictable methods when they had modern technology, right there. Well, not right there, but close enough.

“Okay, it’s in. Now we wait half an hour and check,” Floyd says, wiping a hand across his forehead. He’s sweaty and gross, but he always is when cooking. It’s stressful. He glances at the wall clock, making note of the time.

“Okay, I’ll wait here,” Bee replies, dropping to the floor cross-legged and staring into the oven.

“You sure?”

“JD says you burnt stuff a lot, so I’ll watch and make sure it’s okay,” Branch explains.

“Good idea,” he says, amused that despite knowing of his terrible baking skills, Bee had still asked him to help.

“What was that song you were humming?”

“Song?”

“Yeah, it was…” Floyd’s eyes widen as Bee begins to hum. It’s not so much a tune, he hadn’t been singing very melodically to begin with, but the fact that Bee is humming. This is huge.

“Oh, that was something Clay used to sing,” he explains, trying to play it cool. Inside he’s screaming in joy because Bee had been humming, humming. “He made up this song when we baked, it went like it’s the hour, for some flour power, make it rain, go insane, have a powder shower, light it up make it rise, appetise surprise, and when it’s done you’ll be waiting for this sick reprise.”

“Huh, I feel like I’ve heard it before. Clay wrote it?” Bee asks, turning momentarily from watching the oven.

“Yeah, I think he spent more time coming up with it than actually baking.”

“It’s cool. Did he ever help write any of the song lyrics? You know, for the band?” Bee asks.

“Not really, he was more in charge of the choreography,” Floyd explains.

“I think he should have helped write the songs too,” Bee says, very matter of fact as he turns back to the oven, “JD rhymed ‘woman’ with ‘stunning’ too much, and it doesn’t even rhyme.”

Floyd can’t help the laugh that startles from him, covering his mouth with his hand. He’s not wrong. John’s talent was in crafting the melodies and harmonies of the songs, and the lyrics tended to take a back seat. They worked though, they didn’t have to be life-changing they just had to flow well. He says as much to Bee.

“He did that all by himself?” he asks.

“Yup, he was amazing at harmonies and figuring out how it would all blend together,” Floyd praises.

“That’s amazing. I thought you guys did it as a group,” Branch muses.

“Not for that, no. We pitched in where we needed to, but Johnny had it handled.”

“He’s so cool,” Bee whispers, as though to himself, and Floyd has to agree. He just wished Johnny could see that.

True to his word, Branch stays sat by the cake for the full half hour, watching intensely as Floyd cleans up the mess they’d made. He looks nervous as Floyd finally removes it.

“I mean it looks okay,” Floyd says, placing it to cool.

“And it’s purple!” Bee adds, bouncing on his toes, “it worked!”

“Sure did,” Floyd says, grinning.

“We have to hide it in your room,” Bee says, “then you can bring it out tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “I’m gonna need a shower first though. I’m all sweaty,” he pulls a face, and Branch giggles.

“Oh, maybe I can try and get some into my jar…” he trails off, deep in thought.

Ah, John had warned him about Branch’s odd obsession with collecting sweat, something to do with the bloodhound bugs. “Not right now Bee, we’ve not got a lot of time before Johnny’s home,” he points out.

“Mmm, good point. Is your present ready for tomorrow?” Bee asks.

“It’s all wrapped, safely hidden,” he reassures.

He’s not sure John is going to appreciate it, but he was floundering for ideas. He and Branch had gone to the market in search of gifts, and he’d been dragged to a stall featuring an eclectic mix of unusual items. Branch had convinced him that John would love a pair of fingerless gloves. Floyd hadn’t been so sure, especially considering they had studs protruding from the knuckles. One glove had sharp spikes and the other dull metal, and to be honest they looked unpractical, but Branch had seen them and lit up, insisting they would be perfect if John ever needed to defend himself. Floyd had finally relented. If nothing else they looked pretty cool, and John was always weirdly into odd deadly items (when their Grandma had discovered his hidden knife collection, she’d nearly had conniptions).

He’d drawn the line at buying himself anything deadly, ignoring Branch’s pleading expression. He was more of a ‘run away’ kind of guy, and besides it’s not like there was anything particularly dangerous in the village.

He heads off to shower, leaving the cake to cool whilst Bee runs off to play with Geronimo. He’s hoping the cake is edible, and can’t help but feel excited to see John’s face when he sees it. He can’t even remember the last time they’d properly celebrated his Hatchday, and Bee’s enthusiasm was contagious.

He also couldn’t wait to tell John that Branch had been humming. He’s not sure he even realised he’d done it, but still it’s a good sign. A very good sign.

Chapter Text

His last Hatchday, JD had been completely blindsided. This time, he knew the date and he knew that Bitty had been planning something. He was a terrible liar, he had a blunt sort of honesty that was incredibly endearing, and he knew as soon as he awoke that he’d at the very least be getting a card.

He can hear voices drifting from the kitchen and decides to take his time. It was his Hatchday, he could have a lie-in if he wanted. Floyd was up, he could sort Branch’s breakfast. Although, did he know where his vitamin brew was? It circles his head a few times before he audibly groans. There’s no way he will stop thinking about it now, it’s best to get up before his brain starts itching. He stretches, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

He stumbles slightly as he walks into the kitchen, stifling a yawn.

“Morning guys.”

“JD!” Bitty calls, hurrying over to squeeze him in a hug, “Happy Hatchday!” he says, looking up from his position against JD’s midriff.

“Thanks Bitty,” he says fondly, giving his hair a quick ruffle. It’s so soft now, the vitamins working their magic; it’s getting much longer, with more volume than he’d have thought possible from seeing its original wilting state.

Right, vitamins. “You given him his brew yet?” he calls to Floyd, who’s perched at the table nursing a hot drink.

“Oh, not yet,” Floyd replies, expression sheepish, “Happy Hatchday by the way,” he adds.

See, he knew it was a good idea to get up. He doesn’t blame Floyd, JD is the one with Bitty’s schedule practically engrained into his brain.

“Why thank you,” he calls back, untangling from Bitty’s hug, “go sit down I’ll grab your vitamins,” he says to Branch, ushering him to the table.

“How’s it feel being older? Were you woken by the creaking of your bones or the whispers of the passing of time?” Floyd says dramatically, grinning slyly over his mug.

“Hmm, it was more the sudden urge to toss my younger brother out the nearest window,” JD replies with a shrug, reaching into the cupboard to grab the brew and the nearest cup.

“We don’t have windows,” Branch pipes up, Geronimo buzzing lazily around his head.

“Well, Floyd is very lucky then,” he replies, pouring out Branch’s disgusting concoction. “Drink up.”

“I’d have made you a coffee, but we didn’t think you’d be up this early,” Floyd says sheepishly.

JD drops into his chair, “Nah, you’re good,” he waves him off.

Branch hurries away, dashing towards his room with Geronimo at his heels.

“He’s very excited,” Floyd says, smiling fondly, “he put a lot of thought into today.”

“I bet he did,” JD says, his throat going tight. He’s already promised himself he won’t cry, but he’s still so unused to having someone care this much, it’s like a balm to all his self-deprecating thoughts.

Bitty hurries back in, immediately thrusting an overly wrapped gift into his hands. “You need to open it first, then the card,” he explains.

“Sir yes sir,” he says with a mock salute, opening the gift as carefully as he’s able.

“Be careful,” Floyd interjects.

“I am?”

“No I mean…just be careful where you grab.”

Oh that’s a bit ominous. He unravels the paper slowly until his gift is revealed. It’s a knife (wow, no wonder Floyd warned him), small but sharp, and the handle is…it’s engraved.

You’re not perfect, and I love you more because of that. Bitty

“Read the card now!” before he can properly focus, Bitty has thrust the card into his hands. There’s no envelope, but there’s a drawing on the front, of Rhonda wearing some sort of hat. The fact he can recognise this is a testament to how much Bitty’s drawing skills have grown. He opens it up, reading the message inside.

To JD

Happy Hatchday! I wanted to get you a knife because I think it will be useful when you’re camping and because I want you to be safe, and I know you have a big knife but this is smaller so we can get a sheeth sheath and you can take it with you all the time.
The message on the knife is because I want you to always remember that you don’t have to be perfect, because like you told me no one is perfect, but as long as you’re trying your best it’s okay. I love you, and I think you’re the best brother in the whole world (don’t tell Floyd or Clay or Bruce I said that) and anytime you feel bad, about yourself or stuff you can look at the knife and remember that I love you no matter what.
You’re more than enough just the way you are. (Dr Plimsy helped me write this a bit because I found it hard to find the words, but it’s all true).
Lots of love Branch
P.s I wanted to explain because I couldn’t fit it all on the knife and I think it sort of looks like not a compliment so I wanted to explain!

JD swallows, heavy with emotion. He’s going to break his promise, isn’t he? He can already feel tears building up, and he beckons Bitty closer, immediately grabbing him into a tight embrace.

“I love this Bitty. It’s amazing. Thank you baby,” he says, pressing his face into Bitty’s hair.

“We can get you a sheath soon so you can carry it around and not stab yourself,” Branch adds, squeezing back before untangling himself and sitting back down.

“Sounds good,” he says sniffing surreptitiously, hoping his voice isn’t betraying how close he is to bursting into grateful tears.

“Floyd, Floyd you have to get your present now!” Bitty demands, bouncing in his seat.

“Okay, okay I’m going!” Floyd replies warmly, making his way to his room with a much more relaxed pace.

“You really like it?” Branch asks as Floyd vanishes out of the room.

“I do. I love it,” JD reassures, hoping to convey as much sincerity as possible.

“Good, I was worried. It makes me feel safer knowing you’re safe, and you like weapons. You had knives in the old pod, I found some of them when I was little but Grandma made me put them back.”

“Yeah, I liked collecting them,” JD admits, secretly horrified that his little brother had found them. Knowing Branch, he’d probably wanted to play with them.

“Now you can have a new collection?” Bitty suggests.

“Good thinking.”

They’re interrupted by Floyd returning to the room, and JD once again finds his hands full of card and gift.

“Any order needed?” he asks.

“No, but go with the card first, I wanna see your face,” Floyd says, smirking.

He looks at the card, placing the neatly wrapped gift on the table. Like Branch, there’s no envelope, so he can see the design clearly. Floyd had obviously made it himself, cutting out shapes to make a mini-JD, although he’s written labels surrounding it, pointing to various body parts. It’s sort of adorable.

“That’s your brain overthinking, and this here,” Floyd points to what looks like a ghost, “is your youth leaving your body.”

JD barks a laugh, “Floyd what the f…rick?”

“Hey, I missed out on over five years worth of teasing you, I’m making up for lost time,” Floyd jokes, but there’s something real and vulnerable in his expression that makes JD falter. Instead of commenting, he opens the card to read.

Johnny,

Happy Hatchday x 5
I’m sorry I missed them all, and I know you’re sorry for a lot of things, but I’m glad to have my big brother back, and I’m glad to be back. You’re doing a great job with Branch and I am so proud of you. Don’t forget you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back.
Love you lots Johnny,
Flo

“Aww Floyd, come here,” he says, pushing down his resurgence of tears, reaching to grab his brother into a half headlock, half hug. He rubs his knuckles into his hair vigorously, and Floyd practically shrieks.

“That’s what you get for drawing me old you little…”

“St-stop,” Floyd laughs, pushing him away.

JD releases him, grinning at his messy hair. Floyd sends him a scowl, miming ‘you dick' above Bitty’s head.

“Okay,” JD leans back, finally grabbing his gift, “do I need to be careful with this one too?”

“Sort of?” Floyd replies.

Huh, he’d been joking. He peels back the paper, revealing two fingerless leather gloves. They’re a deep brown, and the knuckles are adorned with studs, one hand sharp and pointed, and the other dulled and smooth.

“Ohhh, these are cool,” JD immediately puts them on, flexing his hands. He basically has in-built knuckle dusters, and if that isn’t the coolest thing ever, he’s not sure what is.

“Bee said you’d think that,” Floyd adds, gesturing to Bitty who is wiggling with visible excitement.

“So you can punch people or critters like, hyah!” he demonstrates, punching the air with his little fist.

“I’m not sure why he thinks you’ll need to, but they should keep your hands warm outside regardless. Sort of, you know. Minus the fingers,” Floyd explains.

“You can’t be too prepared,” Bitty replies seriously.

As much as JD can’t help but feel he’s playing into Branch’s paranoia here, they do look cool. He feels significantly badass, and when he’s out of the village (as he’s sure he will be at some point in the future), they would be an easy way to ensure he was prepared. Like Bitty said. Huh, maybe some of the paranoia Bitty had he’d picked up from John?

“Anyway, love them. They look amazing,” he says, wiggling his hands towards Floyd.

“They do look good. Maybe not in the house though?” Floyd adds.

“Well duh,” JD replies, a tad offended he thought he’d be wearing them inside. There was every chance he could hurt Bitty, as accident-prone as he was, and he wasn’t risking that.

“Wait!” Before he can remove them, Branch has pulled his camera out of his hair.

“Branch I’m in pyjamas.”

“It’s fine! Just do a cool fighting pose.”

JD sighs, standing and doing his best, forming fists and pointing them at an invisible enemy.

click

“See, they look so cool!”

Huh. Well, he looks ridiculous, fists up in his kitchen wearing fish-patterned pyjamas, but the gloves themselves look objectively hardcore. He removes them, placing them carefully next to his knife.

click

Bitty takes a photo of the items, “So you can add it to your album,” he explains.

“Good thinking,” JD replies, amused at Bitty’s antics.

He looks so happy. He can't help but think back on what Floyd had told him. Branch had started humming in front of Floyd, and he’d been so conflicted at the time he’d not known what to say. The fact Bitty had hummed was a huge deal, one step closer to singing. He couldn’t help but feel put out by the fact that he’d done it in front of Floyd. Not him. He had been the one from the get-go, he had been…no he can’t think like that. Progress was progress, he should be happy, it wasn’t about him and his petty jealousy.

“So, you hungry?” Floyd asks, breaking through his musings.

“I mean I could eat?” JD replies.

“Something sweet? Or do you want something savoury?” Floyd asks, putting emphasis on the sweet, wiggling his brows.

Oh, he sees where this is going. Bitty is vibrating from excitement to the point where JD is surprised he’s staying on his chair.

“You know, I kind of fancy something sweet,” he replies faux casually, leaning back in his chair. It’s clearly the right answer, especially when Bitty’s eyes widen and he grins at Floyd.

Floyd laughs at Branch fondly, “Something sweet coming right up,” he replies, standing and vanishing into his room.

“Any idea what it might be?” JD asks Branch jokingly.

“Um, you have to wait and see,” he says, his ears twitching.

Sure enough, Floyd is soon re-entering and…is that a purple cake? This must be why Floyd had been questioning him about Branch yesterday evening; he’d been asking how he responded to others singing, and JD had explained that he’d gotten better with it, even asking JD to sing to him at times. Floyd begins to sing, his voice clear and melodic.

“Happy Hatchday to you,
Happy Hatchday to you,
Happy Hatchday to Johnny,

May your dreams all come true!”

JD’s eyes nearly fall out of his head when he recognises the small voice joining in on the last line. It’s barely audible, but it’s there. JD can see the moment Bitty realises, looking just as shocked as JD feels, his eyes widening and his shoulders beginning to shake. He looks terrified, and JD had guessed that his reluctance to sing was rooted in fear. This here was confirmation.

“Hey, hey Bitty look at me,” he says, getting up from his chair and pulling Bitty to face him. He places his hands gently on his shoulders, “it’s okay, everything’s okay,” he says gently.

Bitty takes a shaky breath, “But I…and now…what if everyone,” he says, voice cracking painfully.

“Just breathe Bitty, breathe with me,” he exaggerates his breaths, placing Branch’s hand on his chest so he can feel his ribcage expand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m ruining everything!”

“You’re not, not at all. Everything is okay,” JD reassures calmly.

“But—but you didn’t get to blow out your candle and-"

“I’ll relight it Bee, it’s fine,” Floyd interjects.

JD had almost forgotten he was there, so wrapped up in Bitty’s panic.

“See? Floyd will relight it, it’s fine. Do you want to carry on?” JD asks quietly. Bitty nods, and Floyd hurries off to relight the cake.

“Do you want to talk about it in a bit?” JD asks.

“Later. Later I think,” Branch says, chewing his lip.

JD pokes him gently in the cheek, a reminder for him to stop, “You got me the best present ever, you know?”

“The best?” Bitty asks, calming down somewhat.

“The best,” JD repeats, “and your picture of Rhonda was your best one yet!”

“She’s wearing a wizard hat. Like the Pepperwizard,” Branch explains. His shoulders are still tense, and he’s looking around like something is going to come tearing through the bunker, but he’s calming down slowly.

“Ohh, I thought it looked familiar. Not sure she’d be any good at magic though,” JD continues, babbling to stop the silence.

Luckily Floyd returns, placing the cake in front of him, candle flickering.

“Make a wish,” he says, and JD chuckles, blowing out the candle. A wish? He’s got almost everything he could want right here except Clay. Except Bruce. Right now though, all he wants is for Bitty to be okay.

Branch was still reeling from the fact he’d sang. He’d sang, he’d not meant to. He’d heard Floyd singing and saw JD’s face and he’d just…done it. He felt awful. If anything happened, if anything happened to his brothers it would be his fault, he’s cursed them. JD had waited until the evening to talk about it, and Branch was still expecting him to drop to the floor, or for the hand to dig through the earth and snatch them, or the shovel to tear through the ceiling and-

“Bitty?” JD was talking to him.

“Mmm,” he’s not in the mood to talk. His jaw feels heavy.

“Can we talk?”

He doesn’t want to, but he knows how worried JD is. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his neck is all tense. He nods, and JD looks relieved. Floyd is sitting beside him, face equally worried.

“Why are you so scared?” JD asks.

“I…” he swallows, “I feel like. If I sing, then you’re going to die,” he says. He feels stupid. So stupid.

“Can you explain why?” Floyd asks, after a beat. They’re not looking at him like he’s stupid, they’re looking concerned.

“With Grandma. I sang and it killed her. I feel like if I sing then you’ll die. I don’t know I just…” he trails off.

“Okay. I can see why you’d feel like that, but Bitty. Your singing didn’t kill Grandma. The Bergen did. And you sang earlier and we’re okay. We’re all fine. Nothing happened. It’s okay that you’re scared, but I want you to…I don’t know,” JD looks unsure, sharing glances with Floyd, and it’s part unnerving, part reassuring.

“I didn’t mean to sing.”

“I guessed that.”

“I don’t…I don’t not want to sing. I just feel like I can’t. Being scared feels bigger than feeling like I want to sing,” Branch explains, words tumbling out. It might be the first time he’s told JD this, definitely the first time he’s told Floyd. Dr Plimsy knew; he’d told her a long time ago, but he didn’t like talking about it with his brothers. He didn’t like admitting it, it was easier to say he didn’t want to sing than to say he was scared of singing, that he thought if he sang his brothers would vanish forever again but in the permanent way.

“Because you’re scared?” Floyd asks gently.

He nods.

“Branch,” JD starts, reaching a hand out. Branch grabs it, and his brother squeezes tight, “It’s okay if you don’t want to sing. That’s fine. If you want to though, but you’re scared to, that’s another issue altogether. Is it something you might want to work on? With Dr Plimsy?”

He neglects to say that he’s already been working on it with her. He’s been working on it for a while now, just failing. Instead, he nods, and when his brother’s faces brighten he knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe he can try harder. He has to try harder. He just can’t shake the feeling that something bad will happen.

“Hey, Floyd go grab your hairbrush, it's nicer than mine,” JD suggests.

Branch is only half paying attention, but he registers when Floyd is back, passing the brush to his brother.

“I okay to start Bitty? Thought it would be a good idea to get it done before it gets too late,” JD explains.

Branch nods. JD had been pretty rigorous with keeping on top of his hair, he helped him brush it every night and he did a thorough detangle at least a couple of times a week with a fine tooth comb and oil. His hair was still recovering from his time living alone, but it was getting less stiff and he was finding it easier to manipulate the more time passed.

As JD gently works the brush through his hair, he finds himself relaxing. He feels lighter. They know about his singing now. JD hums gently as he moves to another section.

“Is that the hair-brushing song?” Floyd asks, sounding amused.

“It might be.”

“I’ve not heard you sing that in years, you used to sing it when you did our hair!”

“Is it the one you used to sing Floyd?” Branch asks; Floyd had always been the one to brush his hair when he was a baby, or sometimes Clay.

“Yeah Bee, remember? This is how we brush our hair, we brush our hair, we brush our hair, to stop it flying everywhere—”

“We brush our hair like this,” JD joins in at the end, and Branch realises that it was the song JD had always been humming. He’d never put the two together.

“I thought it was familiar. You always hum it,” Branch says to JD, semi-accusingly.

“I do,” JD agrees, moving on to the next section of hair, “would you like me to sing it?”

“Yes please,” Branch mutters. He would. He really would. It’s familiar. It’s safe.

JD chuckles, starting the song from the top, and Branch relaxes into the sensation and his brother’s gentle vocals.

Chapter Text

Clay has been prepared for weeks, every day tense and nervous, waiting for a response. He’d just about kept his nerves under wraps, when he finally sees the bughound bug drifting lazily towards him, and his anxiety ramps back up. He grabs the letters he knows are in the pouch, beckoning the critter to follow him.

He settles into the makeshift chair in his office, watching as the critter flutters to his desk, dipping its long tongue into the cup he’d been using that morning. He’s lucky it’s only water, he wouldn’t want to accidentally kill it by giving it ink. He’s been waiting for this, planning meticulously, but it’s still nerve-wracking as he unveils the first letter. As he sees the sender, he can’t help the flurry of fury rising to the surface. John.

Clay,

I know I said that I wanted to wait until we were face to face to apologise, and I will, but I owe you an apology before you get here too. I should have sent you one in the first letter, and I should have explained more about Branch’s situation and Grandma. I was overly paranoid about who might find the letters and it was stupid. I was stupid.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you when we were in the band. I should have listened to you, I should have been paying attention to how you felt, but I was so self-absorbed that I missed how you were doing. I should have been your big brother, but I became your manager. I’m sorry I behaved in a way that made it so you couldn’t have been honest with me, about how you felt, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice myself. I could go into detail about why I was acting the way I was, but I don’t want it to come across as an excuse. Let’s just say I had have a lot of issues I’m working through, and I took them out on you guys. It’s okay if you’re angry with me, but I don’t want us to fight anymore, especially not in front of Branch. I want to talk to you properly when you come back, and I’ll answer any questions you have, but I want you to know you’re my little brother and I love you. I’m proud of you, I’ve always been proud of you, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more.

Love Johnny

Shit. He deflates, staring at his brother’s name until it blurs. The anger’s still there but it’s muted. Dull. Numb. A bit like him. He can’t remember the last time John apologised. He’d always slide around the actual word. He’s not sure he can remember him ever saying it if it wasn’t an apology dragged from him by their Grandma. He…he needs to unpack this later. It’s a lot. He hates to admit it, but this would be better to manage face-to-face. There are things he wants to say, to scream, to demand, and all he has is a sheet of paper. He places it to the side, where he can analyse it later, reaching for the second letter.

Clay

Johnny had his (admittedly stupid) reasons for leaving out information. He’s paranoid, overly so. I gave the King Viva’s letter, he’s not written a reply as far as I know but he was pretty overwhelmed when he found out she was alive. Honestly, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay and that you’re safe. I know you said it’ll take some time to visit, but I’m just glad to hear from you. I’ve included a map that Johnny drew to help you find the new village, it’s what I used when I arrived so I know it’s pretty accurate. I know you might not want to hear this, but Johnny has been doing his best. He’s like a completely different troll (or maybe like the old John Dory we used to know before the band), and when he says he’s sorry he means it. That’s all I’ll say on it though, you guys really need to talk it out.

Branch was happy to hear from you, more than happy. He’s writing you a reply too, and he’ll probably include some of his photos (honestly his photography is getting really good).

I know you said it might take a while before you can come, but it’s fine. We’ll be here.

Love you lots,

Floyd

He thumbs through the paper, and sure enough, there’s a map. A leaf flutters from between the pages, and he retrieves it from the floor. Ah, he’d need this to send a reply. He grabs the final letter; this one is in an envelope and as he opens it he’s greeted to photographs. He pulls them out, his heart clenching at the sight of his youngest brother. He’s in a forested area, holding a bloodhound bug and grinning, his bright goggles contrasting with his grey complexion. He looks so old now, but still so young. Where did he even get those goggles?

They make him look like a mini John, and it makes him feel a certain way. Was John trying to make him in his image? Craft a mini-him? He’s brought back to being a teenager, forced to have to same style as his brother’s, like little John clones, except the colour. No, he had to have yellow hair, not his natural lime because…

‘…it’s too close to my hair colour you know? We need to look the same, but different. You get me right? Besides yellow is way more fun, the fans will love it!’

He takes a breath. He still feels so raw reading John’s letter, he’s not sure how to feel. He focuses on the second photo, which is of…actually, he has no idea. It looks like a pattern. He turns it over, and sure enough, it’s labelled ‘Ronnie’s eye with macros lens’. Looking at it again he can see it, looks more like an up-close iris, but he has no idea who this ‘Ronnie’ is. Finally, he grabs the letter from Branch.

Kay

I miss you too. I’ve been taking lots of photos and I’ve been doing archery and I’m getting better I can hit the bullseye lots! I have my own bow called Brenda.

I sent a picture of me and Geronimo, he’s my friend. I think I’m still mad, but I miss you more than I’m mad so I really want you to come back soon. I’ve been reading lots of math and books on critters and some of the math is really hard so maybe you can help me when you come? Floyd said you were really good at it. I gave Floyd and JD lots of hugs like you said (you only said Floyd but I figured you forgot to say JD too) and when you come back we can hug properly. I hope your friend is okay. Poppy is my best friend and she can be really annoying but I know if she was in trouble I’d be upset, so I hope you’re okay too.

Love you lots love

Branch

He’d included a small drawing of his bow, labelled ‘Brenda’. Clay can’t help but grin at the absurdity, where did he get the name ‘Brenda’ from? Why was he even doing archery? It wasn’t with real arrows, right? That’d be far too dangerous, he was only seven. He’s not been able to keep an accurate track of the date, but even if he’s a month off, Branch is definitely seven by now. He’ll have to ask him about the bow. When he sees him. Right.

He has the information he needs, everything he needs to go. He just needs to pack, double check he has everything, and check that everything is running smoothly before he leaves. He should probably write to say he’s on his way too; he’d take the bug with him if only just to follow it, but it would no doubt reach them faster than he could, and he didn’t want to risk it flying off without correspondence. He hastily scribbles a response, explaining that he will be leaving soon to find the village. He’s not sure how long it will take, but the Golf Course was quite a distance from the old tree. He’d be sleeping rough for at least a couple of weeks, if not more, and he was going to be efficient, but thorough with his packing.

He takes a deep breath, collecting the letters and placing his reply into the critter’s pouch. He grabs the leaf from where it had fallen to the desk, holding it under the critter’s nose as it sniffs the air. He squeezes it, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Home,” he says firmly and clearly, and it’s like the bug has been shocked, it’s fur standing on end. Its pupils dilate and it freezes before scenting the air and flying out of the room.

Now to tell Viva.

Branch sits, concentrating on his drawing. To his side, Poppy is scrapbooking, and Creek, Satin and Chenille are working on their own creations. Branch didn’t know the twins too well, they were in Poppy’s class, but they seemed nice enough if a bit unusual. He’d never seen two trolls combine their hair in such a way, and when he’d asked why, they’d explained that it was how they’d always been. They could detach if necessary, but they felt more comfortable with their hair entwined, and Branch thought it sounded nice, having someone with you that you could trust to stay with you at all times (though surely it must be hard to get privacy?)

“What was her name again?” Satin asks Poppy. They’d been discussing her newly discovered sister, and Poppy had been gushing about the little she knew.

“Viva! Daddy says she’s a lot older than me, like Branch’s brothers, and he showed me a picture of when she was my age, and she has yellow hair that’s so pretty!” Poppy exclaims, abandoning her art to gesture.

“Oh wow. Still though, I can’t imagine not knowing my sister,” Chenille replies.

“It would be so weird,” Satin adds.

“Horrible.”

“Scary.”

They both shudder dramatically and Poppy pouts.

“Daddy only kept her a secret because he thought she was dead,” she explains.

The twins share a look.

“He still should have told you,” Branch says, putting down his pen, “even if she was. Family shouldn’t be a secret.”

“I mean…” Poppy looks unsure.

“At least he told you now though,” Branch adds, eager to remove her sad expression.

“Yeah. Yeah!” Poppy brightens, “I know now, and it’s so exciting! I have a sister!”

Creek’s pen drags across the page with a squeak, prompting everyone to turn and look. His face is scrunched up, and there’s a huge red line across his drawing. When he realises he’s being watched he looks up, his expression shifting to something awkward.

“Are you okay Creek? Did I say something to upset you?” Poppy asks in that unsubtle way she’s prone to. Branch knows that he can be blunt, but he likes to think he has some tact.

“Oh, uh. Yes. I’m fine,” Creek replies, averting his gaze.

“Are you su—"

“What was that meditation thing you were talking about? The flower pose? Do you think you can show us?” Branch interrupts. Creek is clearly uncomfortable, and he knows when he’s uncomfortable he hates it being pointed out.

“Oh, the lotus?” Creek asks. Branch thinks he might look grateful, but he’s not the best at reading expressions.

“Mmm yeah?” that sounds like the one he’d mentioned before, it must be that.

“Ooh yeah, was that the thing Cybil showed you?” Poppy asks, now thoroughly distracted.

“Yeah, she’s been showing me some poses for meditation, and teaching me about my aura,” Creek replies, sounding much more comfortable and bordering on smug.

“Oar? Aura?” Poppy asks.

“Cybil told me that all living things have an aura, a bright light surrounding you that connects with your nadis. I um, can’t see it yet, but Cybil told me that mine is very bright and blue.”

“Wow! I don’t understand at all, but it sounds so cool!” Poppy explains, “You have to tell me when you see my aura!”

“I will!” Creek grins, “I bet it’s really bright!”

“And ours too!” Satin adds, Chenille nodding in agreement.

“Mines probably pretty dull,” Branch says; he’s grey so it makes sense.

“No!” Poppy looks affronted, “Yours is going to be super bright too, and really colourful! Tell him Creek,” she turns to Creek for encouragement, and he freezes.

“Um. Maybe?” he says. Yeah, Creek agrees, he’d be pretty dull.

“No! Definitely!” Poppy says, and she’s starting to sound angry now.

“It’s okay,” Branch says, “I don’t mind. Having a less bright aura will make it easier to hide,” he says, thinking practically. He wouldn’t want to be super bright and colourful, not if it made him an easier target.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Poppy says, her mouth opening in surprise, “can we hide our oars?”

“Auras,” Branch corrects.

“I don’t know? I’ll need to ask Cybil,” Creek says, but now he’s looking unsure.

“Poppy!” the King’s voice drifts into her room, “Biggie has arrived!” He walks the child into the room, and Branch’s eyes widen at the critter in his arms.

“Is that a glitter worm!?” he asks, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

Biggie nods, “Yes! My Dad found him whilst he was collecting by the pond, and he said I could keep him!” he sits on the floor, cradling the critter gently. He’s so small, his fur glistening as he wriggles.

“Oh my gosh!” Poppy squeals, “He’s so cute!”

“He doesn’t look very old, he must have just hatched,” Branch says, shuffling closer to see.

“How do you know?” Biggie asks.

“Milton lets me look after the glitter worms on the sanctuary when I visit,” he explains.

“The village vet?” Biggie asks, brows furrowed.

“Yup, I go there a lot because of Rhonda and Geronimo.”

“You can help me then!” Biggie exclaims, “I’ve never had a pet before.”

“Okay,” Branch agrees, unable to stop his grin from forming. Biggie wanted his help, he trusted him!

“Does he have a name?” Poppy asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Mr Dinkles,” Biggie replies proudly.

“I love it,” Poppy says seriously.

“It’s very grown up,” Branch adds.

“Fancy,” Satin says, nodding.

Mr Dinkles meeps quietly, wriggling in Biggie’s hands.

“They’re really wiggly when they’re young, they get calm as they get older,” Branch explains, “when they’re this little they can’t see very well, so they tend to stay near their hatch siblings. Oh, and he’s definitely a male, he has lots of stripes. Females have less, but they’re wider. Was he on his own?”

“Uh, I think so?” Biggie replies, “Dad told me he just found him, not much else.”

“I’ll ask Milton to have a look near the pond and see if there are any more. It’s weird for there to be just one,” Branch muses, hoping if there are more worms, that they’re okay.

“Will Milton want to take him away?” Biggie asks, cradling Mr Dinkles closer.

“I don’t think so? As long as you’re taking good care of him you should be fine,” he reassures, “but he might want to give you some advice.”

“Advice?” Poppy asks.

“Um, some ideas on how to look after him,” Branch explains.

“Oh that’s good,” Biggie says, shoulders dropping in relief.

“Did you guys want to learn the lotus position or not?” Creek interrupts, expression unimpressed.

“Oh, sorry Creek. He’s just so cute,” Poppy says, wiggling her fingers towards the worm. Biggie just looks confused.

“What do we do first?” Branch asks, and Creek turns to him. He’s got that face again, like he’s not sure what to think, but Branch ignores it.

It turns out the ‘lotus’ is one of the yoga moves he knows already, from when he joins in with JD. JD didn’t call it that though, he called it ‘scrunchy legs’, but he’s pretty sure he’s made that up. He doesn’t mention this, just allows Creek to demonstrate, copying with accuracy once he’s finished.

He wonders why Creek looks at him, expression like thunder. Why does he feel like he’s done something wrong?

Chapter Text

JD looks at his list again. He’s never been a ‘list’ kind of guy, but ever since Plimsy recommended trying it, he has to admit that writing things down has helped his focus. When he was in the band the only thing he’d written down were lyrics and the sheet music, everything else he’d kept a mental note. He’s written everything he can think they’ll need for Bitty’s Hatchday camping trip next month; yes he has plenty of time before Bitty turns eight, but he wants to make sure he’s prepared. Bitty had asked to go camping again, this time with Floyd (who had looked less thrilled at the idea), and JD was pretty excited to try out the light Floyd had given him.

Bitty was keen to try swimming again and had asked if he’d be able to bring ‘Brenda’ to make sure he got in his archery practice, which was fine by JD. He puts the paper beside him. He’s reclined, basking in the sun by the entrance to the bunker, watching his brothers out of the corner of his eye.

Floyd had taken it upon himself to cultivate a herb garden, and he and Bitty were at last planting the various herbs. JD was impressed; Floyd had single-handedly designed and built a raised plot. He wasn’t a natural builder, so had asked for advice, but had been determined to do it himself. He’d been getting advice on the soil and the herbs from one of the trolls in the village (Darius? Devin? Something like that). Bitty had been shadowing him, like a little assistant, and it had been adorable to watch him work. He’d asked if they could forgo the shovel, so Floyd had been using a small trowel. JD worried at the occasional blank expression on Bitty’s face whilst they were digging, but he’d seemed reluctant to talk about it, so JD left it alone.

Bitty is crouched down, watching intently as Floyd explains something. There’s dirt streaked across his cheek, and the intense look of concentration is frankly adorable.

He’s about to call out, and ask if they need a drink when he spots him. A lime green blob in the corner of his eye, even when he sees him fully he can’t quite register.

“Clay?”

They'd received a brief letter explaining he'd be travelling to the village, but it gave no indication of when it would be, so his sudden appearance is still a shock. He looks so different his hair that natural lime green hue, but the texture is wild, stretching in different directions. He’s wearing a romper (which isn’t so untypical) but this is new, deep green and patterned, and he has a pack on his back almost the size of him, causing him to hunch in a way that must hurt.

“Clay?!” Floyd shrieks, also noticing their brother, and JD watches as he streaks past like a pink blur to tackle him.

Clay drops the bag hastily, straightening to catch Floyd, and JD can see from here he’s grown tall.

“JD,” Bitty calls; he’s come over looking nervous, hand outstretched. JD swallows down his own nerves, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled towards his brothers.

“—Oh man you’re so tall now,” Floyd is babbling, hands on Clay’s shoulders. There are tears in both their eyes, though Clay looks as though he’s trying to hold it back.

“Dunno Floyd, who’s to say you’ve not shrunk,” Clay sasses, “all that hair product weighing you down.”

“No,” Floyd jabs a finger into his romper, “you have just got here, you have to give me a least a day before you make fun of me.”

“No promises,” Clay says with a tearful grin, but his eyes widen as he spots Bitty. He glances momentarily at JD, but ignores him in favour of their youngest brother.

“Hey Bug,” he says gently, holding his arms out in invitation “I missed you.”

There’s a moment where Bitty just stares like he can’t quite believe it’s Clay. JD releases his hand, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and it’s like Bitty takes it as permission. He practically leaps into Clay’s arms, burying his head into his chest. Clay lifts him fully, supporting his legs, and Bitty wraps his arms around his neck. JD can hear the gentle sobs, and his heart clenches as he watches Clay shush him, swaying as though subconsciously.

“I got you. I got you Branch, it’s okay,” he murmurs, eyes squeezed tight.

“Clay…” JD begins, and his eyes snap open. He looks at him, face unreadable.

“John,” he replies, equally as unreadable.

“Do you want to take him in?” JD gestures to the bunker behind them.

“Sure,” he replies after a beat, and JD turns to lead them towards the entrance.

He pauses, “I’ll just grab your bag?” he phrases, more as a question.

The way Clay’s eyes widen, before slipping back into steely nonchalance makes him think he’d forgotten about it. “Sure.”

JD hurries back, grabbing the bag and swinging it onto his shoulder. It’s heavy, and he’s yet again thankful for maintaining some semblance of an exercise routine. Clay’s taken it upon himself to lead, and JD follows behind.

This indifference hurts but it’s better than the explosive greeting he’d worried about. Floyd grabs his arm as he’s walking, squeezing reassuringly.

“Hey. It’ll be okay,” he whispers, “he’s here now. You guys will talk. You’ll be okay.”

JD just hopes he’s right.

Clay is tense, his whole body wound tight. He knows he’ll feel it later, when his brain finally lets him relax, but right now he’s keeping a lid on his emotions to the point he probably comes across as uncaring, or mean.

He’d been so happy seeing Floyd, like something had been missing, and he hadn’t even realised. Then he’d seen Branch and…he’d wanted to sob, burst into tears, laugh, all of the above. When he’d leapt into his arms he’d been taken back, back to him being small, being his safe space, his safe person, the only one with no judgement. He’d made a teenage Clay feel safe during a time he’d been struggling, with no one to confide in. And now he was grey. It was his turn, it was his turn to make

Branch feel safe, and he was not going to be taking any bullshit excuses.

They needed to talk. John. He refused to even think about him, not until Branch was out of the firing zone, he was being polite and neutral. He knew, logically that he couldn’t maintain this anger forever. John had apologised, he’d read the note over and over and it had seemed sincere. He was still angry though. He could be both. Angry and understanding.

“Coffee guys? Or tea if you prefer?” Floyd calls, the last half directed at Clay.

“Yeah, please Floyd,” John replies.

“Same. Please,” Clay answers.

They’re sat at the table, waiting for Branch to return from his room. The tension is thick, and palpable.

“Clay, we can talk later. When Bitty’s in bed,” John says after a moment.

Clay just nods, not trusting his voice.

“I got it!” Branch calls, running back into the room and slamming a book onto the table. “This is my favourite book, well the story inside. ‘Lichen, the Magic Archer’. JD reads it almost every night,” he flicks to a page, “this is Lichen!”

“Oh wow,” Clay says, attempting to sound enthusiastic, “he looks pretty sick!”

“Bitty,” John interrupts, and Clay watches Branch’s head swivel to the eldest, “did you and Clay want some time alone? To talk?” he asks. Clay hadn’t even thought he could sound that gentle.

“If that’s okay?” Branch replies, his eyes darting between Clay and John.

“It’s fine Bits. Me and Floyd need to go and get the gardening stuff anyway.”

“Yup!” Floyd says, placing mugs onto the table with some force. Clay jumps; he’s not even noticed him walking over.

“Mmm okay then,” Branch replies, though he still looks unsure. Clay’s heart clenches; does he not trust him? Has John said anything about him that might make him nervous? No, it was probably the fact he’d left in the first place, as much as it pains to admit, not everything is John’s fault.

John and Floyd say their goodbyes, Floyd quickly mentioning that his bag has been put in his room. Clay nods. He has a room? As they vanish up the ladder his nerves double. He’s not going to lie, he’d kind of hoped to eat and shower before he had any heart-to-hearts. The journey was tiring, and he feels pretty gross. This was important though, so he pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind.

He draws his attention back to Branch, momentarily startled at the realisation that his eyes were blue, not grey like the photos had suggested. He should know, he’d spent a long time just staring at the photo, taking in his grey little brother wallowing in regret. He won’t mention it, there are more important things they need to discuss, that Clay needs to get off his chest.

“Hey Bug,” he says softly.

“Hey Kay,” Branch replies, and his heart clenches at hearing the familiar nickname.

“So I’m gonna answer any questions you’ve got, okay? But first I want to say sorry. I shouldn’t have left, and I shouldn’t have gone without even saying goodbye,” he says, spikes of guilt with every word.

Branch nods, “You said in your letter. I know you were sad. You were really sad, but when you didn’t say goodbye it made me…” he pauses, “Did you forget? Or did you just not care?”

Clay almost winces at the tone. It’s not even accusing, just blunt.

“I wasn’t thinking. I mean if I did, I wouldn’t have left. Or I’d have left differently, not in anger. There were a lot of things going on, but none of it had anything to do with you. I was just…angry. Even so, I should have come back,” he explains.

“Where did you go?” Branch asks.

If that isn’t the question. What can he say? The truth is he didn’t exactly leave, not straight away. He was still in the tree for weeks, months afterwards. He’d stayed far on the other side, with a friend, brewing in anger. He’d hunkered down, reading, avoiding thinking about his family. He’d assumed they’d be fine; John would have come back later, apologetic and sheepish, Spruce would have been angry but it always burnt out pretty quick. Floyd would be taking care of Branch, so he knew he’d be okay. They knew where Clay went when he was angry, his brothers anyway. Someone would knock before too long, and he’d be dragged home. But no. No one came. Time passed. He figured that this time, they really were sick of him. So he decided to leave, actually leave.

He’d been in Bergentown longer than he’d planned. He’d observed. He couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. It was a large place, with plenty of crevices to hide in. It had been surprisingly easy to avoid being seen, though he’d been on edge the entire time. He’d had nothing to write with, but he’d kept mental notes, of their habits and weaknesses. He’d written them down months later when he was settled in the golf course, crafting a Bergen manual. Viva had helped, happy to have something to focus on, something to help prepare, even if it meant focusing on the one thing that terrified her.

Whilst in the town, more than once he’d debated going back, but he’d convinced himself that his family didn’t want him there. Little did he know they weren’t there.

When he saw them gearing up for Trollstice he’d made his way back inside, shimmying between the bars and running inside the tree, only to be immediately engulfed by the chaos. He couldn’t see his family, but he knew they’d be okay, they’d make sure each other was safe.

He’d followed through the tunnels, caught in amongst the screaming trolls. A shovel. He was pushed. The Princess. She was there, she was fighting back. There’s a hand. He grabs her arm. They’d escaped, along with around sixty other trolls. As time had passed, Viva had been certain everyone else was dead, that they had to be dead or her father would have found them. Clay had been sure they’d been abandoned. He was right.

He pulls himself from the memory. How was he supposed to explain that he was in the tree, or at least in the area the whole time? He couldn’t.

“I only made it so far,” he says vaguely, “then when I found Viva we headed until we found an abandoned mini-golf course.”

“Mini-golf?” Branch asks.

“Um, it’s a game where you hit a ball with a stick. The Bergens played it I think? There were these big structures…” his thought process is interrupted by the appearance of a bloodhound bug, zipping into the room and curling into Branch’s embrace.

“Ronnie!” he giggles, and Clay can’t help grinning softly at the sound. “This is Geronimo,” Branch introduces, scritching the critter’s fur.

“Why hello Geronimo,” Clay replies, “nice to finally meet you in person. Having a nice day?”

Branch's giggles continue, “He can’t talk Clay, he’s a bug.”

“So are you,” Clay jokes, referring to his nickname.

The critter wriggles, clambering up into Branch’s hair where it seems to settle. Wait, was that a bite mark? On his arm? Had someone bitten him?

Clay is about to ask about it when there’s a distinct sound of clambering, and both John and Floyd barrel into the room, expressions worried. Clay's eyes narrow. What happened to letting them talk?

“Hey Bitty, I just realised I need your help with Rhonda,” John says, voice strained.

“Um, okay?” Branch replies, sounding confused though he doesn’t question it, and Clay feels a jolt of annoyance.

“We were talking,” he says, tone firm.

“Um, Clay, Bee really needs to see Rhonda,” Floyd interjects, face pleading.

Huh, okay, this was weird. “Okay? See you in a bit Bug,” he says and watches as John leads their smallest brother out of the bunker.

Floyd visibly sags with relief.

“Okay, what was that bro? We were in the middle of a conversation,” Clay asks, crossing his arms.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Floyd says, and he does look very apologetic, “we just realised we’d not warned you about some…stuff.”

“Stuff?” Clay repeats, unimpressed.

Floyd drops into the seat opposite him, resting his arms on the table.

“Bee has a lot um, trauma regarding Grandma. Certain things…set him off. Trigger him. We didn’t warn you about it,” Floyd explains.

“Trigger? Like PTSD?” Clay asks.

“Um yeah? How’d you know?” Floyd asks.

“Dr Grovemite sees a lot of trolls with it at the course. It’s pretty common,” Clay explains, uncrossing his arms and leaning his head in his hands.

“Huh. I kind of forgot there would be other survivors there,” Floyd looks thoughtful.

“Yeah, I have a list. Need to talk to Peppy about it. Anyway, Branch, what are his triggers?”

“Um,” Floyd looks ill, “so far we’ve figured out crunching and snapping sounds. Leaving without prior warning,” Floyd counts on his fingers, “arguing in general seems to make him run, but we’ve only seen that one once when we saw a couple have a domestic in the middle of the village and he started legging it back to the bunker.”

“Snapping sounds?” Clay asks.

“Um yeah. It reminds him of when Grandma was…”

Clay feels sick. His face must betray this, as Floyd reaches over to gently squeeze his arm.

“Yeah. I know.”

“He saw it? Like saw it?” Clay asks, swallowing.

“Yeah. He’s never given a run down of exactly what he saw, but we’ve um…gathered enough.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. How much do you know about PTSD? Like, do you know what to do if someone has an episode?” Floyd asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“I know a fair bit. Like I said, it’s not uncommon at the golf course. Every person’s different though, so it won’t help too much.”

“Still, it’ll help. Johnny had to explain it to me, talk me through what to do. Branch can get pretty bad with it, so right now we’re trying to avoid triggering anything. Not sure what we’re doing long term, other than the therapy,” Floyd says, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Okay. That’s…yeah. Good that you told me,” Clay concedes, sighing heavily.

“Should have seen Johnny’s face when he realised,” Floyd laughs, “like he expected to walk in and find you snapping sticks everywhere.”

“Seriously?” Clay says, unimpressed.

Floyd falters, “Um, no? I’m joking bro…look I know you guys have issues, serious major hang-ups,” Floyd begins, expression concerned, “but he is trying. You should see him with Branch, it’s like the old Johnny again.”

Clay’s chest clenches painfully, “So where did he go when we needed him?”

“To be honest Clay,” Floyd says carefully, fiddling with his fringe nervously, “I think he could have done with the old Johnny at that point. Or someone who can act as that for him. Who was looking out for him? And don’t say Grandma,” Floyd adds, before Clay can interject, “You know as well as I do that she didn’t. Johnny was the one cleaning, cooking, keeping the house afloat. He did this from when he was ten you know?”

“Ten?” Clay asks, unable to believe it.

“It’s when Grandma started getting worse, with her joint pain and memory. Mom and Dad were never there, so they were a non-entity,” Floyd says airily.

It’s true. They barely saw their parents. They were like distant relatives who occasionally appeared with gifts, but they were easy to forget when out of sight.

“And I’m telling you this because he won’t. He downplays everything, like he doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal that he basically had no childhood. Just—just talk to him. Okay? And let him talk.”

Clay sighs, “I will. I just…” he trails off.

“I get it. Well, not entirely. But you had a lot of stuff going on that was kind of swept under the rug,” Floyd gestures as he speaks, moving his hand to the side, “that kind of anger builds up.”

“You sure you’ve not had any psych training?” Clay says, only half joking.

“I’m just observant. You never wanted to talk to me about it, but I still noticed.”

“Yeah well, you’re my little brother. You were just a kid, it would have felt wrong confiding in you,” Clay says, scratching his face awkwardly. He’s starting to itch from nerves, his skin feels close to burning. He’s already on edge from being underground, it’s so similar to the tunnels, to the claustrophobia.

“You were just a kid,” Floyd counters, “and so was Johnny, for the most part.”

“You…have a point.”

“I mean I loved Grandma, and I suppose in theory I loved our parents, but they were the adults. They should have been more involved. I mean, it feels wrong blaming them now they’re dead and can’t you know…defend themselves, but still,” Floyd shrugs, taking a hefty gulp of his forgotten tea.

“Yeah,” Clay replies. This is draining; the first time he’s seen his family in years and they’re having this heavy conversation. It’s necessary, but still.

“So I’ll tell you all the details properly later as Johnny can only keep him busy so long, but he has sleep paralysis. Wakes up, can’t move, sees scary things. Johnny has it handled, but it’s not unusual to hear him scream in the night. Also, he can’t feel pain or temperature. So he doesn’t know if he’s hurt or ill. Just, be aware of it and keep an eye on it, okay?”

“Is that because he’s grey?” Clay asks, nausea rising once again.

“Yeah. Well, the lack of pain thing anyways. They think it’s a self-defence thing, alongside the whole loss of hope thing,” Floyd explains.

“Where did he get the bite mark?” Clay asks.

“Oh,” Floyd looks ill yet again, “he bit himself. During an episode. Didn’t even realise he was doing it. It’s left a pretty prominent scar.”

“Shit,” he doesn’t even want to imagine it. It sounds terrifying, to bite himself hard enough to scar.

“Yeah. Makes it more dangerous, the fact he didn’t know. It’s why we’re working hard to avoid anything triggering. He is getting better though. His eyes are blue now.”

“I noticed,” he replies, “is it recent?”

“When I came back. Who knows, now you’re back maybe his hands will turn blue,” Floyd jokes, but he looks thoughtful, like it’s not too far-fetched.

“Yeah, heh, maybe. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying though, I promised Viva I’d be back sooner rather than later to update her on how things were looking,” he says; there’s so much he needs to do, to cram into his visit.

“You-you’re leaving?” Floyd looks horrified.

“Yeah?” Clay replies, confused, “I can’t stay forever, I’m co-leader at the golf course. They’ll be okay without me for a while, but I can’t leave permanently,” he explains awkwardly.

“I thought that the survivors would want to come back here, to reintegrate?” Floyd asks, still looking nervous.

“It’s complicated,” Clay says, visibly wincing.

“We..shit, okay, you can’t tell Bee yet. You can’t keep it a secret for too long though,” Floyd groans, holding his head in his hands.

“Um, you okay bro?”

“You don’t get it, Bee only just trusts that Johnny is staying. He still doesn’t think I’m staying, I have no idea how he’s going to react when he finds out you’re actually leaving. I mean he probably expects it, but we’ve spent so long convincing him people aren't just going to up and leave. It’ll be proving his paranoia right…” he trails off, rubbing his cheeks.

There’s the distinct sound of someone clambering down the ladders, and Floyd’s eyes widen, “Don’t say anything yet! We have to figure out how to tell him,” he hisses, and Clay can only nod as John and Branch walk into the room.

“-But I think I can fit!” Branch says, almost whining.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” John counters, though his voice is fond, “we need to wait until we’re sure she’s big enough.”

“Rhonda?” Floyd asks.

“Rhonda,” John repeats, and Clay feels lost. “So Floyd, Branch asked if you guys could go see Milton while I help Clay unpack.”

Clay’s anxiety spikes.

“You sure?” Floyd asks, tone serious.

“Yeah,” John replies, expression heavy.

“Alright then!” Floyd says after a beat, making a show of standing, “Go grab Ronnie and we’ll head off.”

Branch just giggles, pointing to his hair, “He’s already here.”

“I should have known,” Floyd replies dramatically, making his way over. “We’ll see you in a bit guys. Remember what I said,” he says, looking at Clay pointedly.

“I will. See you later. Bye Bug,” he replies.

Branch walks over to give him a gentle hug, “Will you be here when we get back?” he asks quietly.

“I will,” Clay says, gently ruffling his hair, wary of the critter buried inside.

Branch looks him in the eyes, his gaze piercing, before nodding in satisfaction. “Okay.”

He then gives John an embrace, whispering something in his ear. John replies equally as quietly, and then Branch and Floyd are gone.

It’s just them.

“Okay. So,” John begins, joining Clay at the table, “do you want me to talk first? Or do you want me to listen?”

Clay takes a steadying breath. Seeing him face to face is almost painful, he’s the same but so different. His face has matured, all angles and stubble, and he wants to scream. Cry. Hug him. Tell him he missed him, he missed him before they even left.

“You go first,” he says, forming the words carefully. He can do this.

“Okay,” John nods and Clay notes that his hands are visibly shaking. It’s odd seeing him so rattled and a vindictive part of him feels glad. Good, you should be nervous.

“So,” he continues, “I’m sorry. For how I acted when I was in the band, before that even. I was selfish and absorbed in my own insecurities. I was focusing on the bigger picture, the band like it was the answer to all my issues and it—it just wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. I didn’t notice how you guys felt, I was too wrapped up in being your manager.”

“We were struggling,” Clay interjects harshly, “Spruce was doing so badly with, with his weight and his body and-and I was so fucking depressed, I just—how did you not notice?” Clay asks, gesturing wildly.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” John replies, voice small.

“You don’t know?” Clay asks, laughing bitterly.

“It’s the truth! I was too self-absorbed I just-"

“You made me change John. I had to fit in your little ‘fun’ box,” he practically spits the words, “and it left no room for anything else. Do you know how hard it is to act fun, act all happy when you’re fucking miserable? You made me dye my hair, and wear those clothes like—like the original me wasn’t good enough for your perfect little band. Like I wasn’t worth anything unless I fit the mould you decided I should. What gave you the right, huh?”

“I was the leader Clay! I made decisions I thought would be good for the band, but they weren’t good for my brothers. I was wrong, I should have seen that. I do now. If I could go back and change it, I would, but I can’t. I have to live with it,” John says, wringing his hands. He sounds exhausted. “What can I do? What can I do to show you I’m sorry?” he asks, eyes pleading.

Clay stalls. Whenever he’d imagined how this conversation would go, it was always more explosive. John was always more defensive, insults would be thrown, and he could never imagine an actual conclusion. The reality is much more humbling.

“Even saying sorry feels wrong,” John continues, “it feels like a weakness. And it’s wrong, I know that, but I have a lot of issues with it. Being, you know. Not perfect. I took it out on everyone else,” John explains.

Clay sighs, “I get it. I don’t want to, but I do,” he drums his fingers on the tabletop, the sound a loud contrast against the quiet of the bunker.

“I should have told you, I guess. That I hated what I was being made to be,” Clay begins, “I thought you knew that I hated it. I should have guessed you hadn’t noticed. I gave you too much credit.”

John looks crushed at this, but it’s the truth.

“I’m still mad,” he continues, “but for Branch’s sake I think we should move on. Try to move on anyway. Just…no more of that perfection bullshit. Especially not with Branch. If I see you trying anything like that with him, I don’t care if you’re my brother John…” he leaves the threat un-named.

Huh, he had the audacity to look offended, “I wouldn’t,” he says.

“But you did. Just not with him.”

“You’re right,” John says. He looks thoroughly admonished.

“I’m not the ‘fun boy’ anymore. I don’t think I ever was, not to the degree you made me. So you need to accept that. Start there.”

“That’s fine. I will. Do you…do you have any questions?” John asks. It’s odd, Clay can’t remember ever seeing him this nervous.

The fact that it’s Clay making him nervous feels wrong, like seeing a parent cry.

“Why did you come back? Here I mean.”

“I got a letter. From Grandma. Saying Branch wasn’t doing so good, that he missed everyone. It must have taken a long time to find me, because when I got here she was long gone. I didn’t…I didn’t know you guys left. I thought it was just me,” John explains.

“So from what I gather, everyone thought that the others had stayed,” Clay replies.

“Looks like it,” John says, chuckling awkwardly.

“Wow. We are shit at communicating.”

This startles a more genuine laugh from his brother, “We really are.”

“Floyd gave me the run-down on Branch. He also said to be careful how I explain that I’m not staying here permanently,” he says carefully, wary of John’s reaction.

John just nods, “That’s sensible, Branch is sensitive to people leaving.”

“You’re not annoyed I’m leaving?” Clay asks, brows raised.

“No, you have your own thing going on. It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to move here, at least unless your people come with you,” John explains.

His people. They were weren’t they? He was the co-leader, they were his responsibility.

“I need to send a letter to Viva, let her know I’m safe. And I need to talk to Peppy, let him know who’s survived.”

“We can do that,” John agrees, “Milton’s got a free bug ready to go, and Peppy is free almost all the time.”

Despite it all, John’s easy confidence feels nice. Normal. “I don’t know if I can stay in here very long. To sleep,” Clay says, the urge to be open sudden and unusual, “it’s too claustrophobic. Like the tunnels.”

“Peppy has a spare pod you can stay in. He won’t mind,” John says easily, but he looks concerned. Clay doesn’t know what to do with it.

“We should ask him now. I’ll leave a note,” John continues, “oh and if there’s one thing…stay until after Bitty’s Hatchday. We’re going camping and I know he’d love you to be there.”

“When is it? I’m a bit screwy with dates,” Clay says, embarrassed at the admission.

“In two weeks,” John replies, ignoring this.

“I can do that,” he says, thoughtfully. It had taken a while to get here, and no doubt it would take a while to get back. Viva will understand. They’ll be fine without him for that long.

They’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

JD felt like a nervous wreck. Not unusual no, but since Clay’s return he felt like he was walking on eggshells. He’d apologised, and Clay hadn’t openly accepted it but there had seemed to be an understanding that they were working on it, if not for them, then for Branch, but he could see the way Clay would tense when he said something. He’d been occasionally snide, rude almost, and JD had let it slide (he deserved it after all), but Floyd had been annoyed on his behalf. He’s glad he hasn’t outright said anything in front of Bitty, as he’s not sure how he’d react. Even so, he'd picked up on the tension, and JD had to take him aside and explain (in as child-friendly way as possible) that Clay was working through some big emotions, but they were okay.

Clay had been angry when he found out Bitty had been doing archery with real arrows (really Clay? What else would he use!?) and it had taken them physically showing him Branch doing archery for him to realise that he was being safe, and was actually very skilled. Even then, he’d insisted on examining the bow and arrows, to ‘check it was up to standards’. John didn’t even know what that meant; he’s pretty sure Clay is as clueless about archery as he once was, but it had made him feel better so he’d bit his tongue. Regardless, it was just another point of contention.

It was a generally awkward atmosphere, and Clay wasn’t even living with them. He’d been staying in Peppy’s spare pod, but he visited as often as he could, determined to see Branch as much as possible. Bitty was just lapping up the attention.

They’d explained to him that Clay was leaving after his Hatchday, but he would be back, and…it hadn’t gone great. He’d panicked, believing he was leaving immediately, and it had taken some convincing he was staying for at least a while. He’d been practically clinging to Clay ever since like he’d vanish if he blinked. It was a difficult conversation, and JD hated the way Bitty’s face had crumpled once he'd realised. Despite expecting it, he must have still had hope Clay would stay. It was heartbreaking, and as much as he understood that Clay had other priorities, a new life, he still couldn’t help the flash of anger at him for being the cause of Branch’s dejection.

Clay had met with Peppy alone, and from what he can gather the conversation didn’t go as well as he’d liked. He’d looked thunderous when he’d come back, uttering one-word answers, his shoulders hunched close to his ears. He’d spoken to Floyd about it later (who then told JD) and explained that the King refused to entertain moving out to the golf course. He’d also been incredibly defensive when Clay had confronted him about leaving Viva behind, which JD knew from experience was a surefire way to get Clay riled up. He’d managed to give Peppy a list of all the survivors living at the golf course, and in turn, Peppy was going to collect a list of the surviving villagers to bring back. He told him not to mention anything to anyone until he could best prepare how to tell the villagers that their relatives were alive. JD thought it was very typical Peppy; if it were his relative he’d be livid to find out he was being kept in the dark.

They were heading out the next day for Bitty’s Hatchday camping trip, and Bitty was beyond excited. Poppy had mentioned wanting to celebrate her Hatchday by the village pond so they could play in the water, and ever since Branch had been determined to master swimming. JD tried to match his enthusiasm, but he was still nervous about saying something wrong during the trip, fucking up. Clay had dug up a lot of his insecurities, and he’d been keeping tabs on what to mention in his next session with Plimsy.

He focused on ensuring everything was packed on his end. Clay had insisted on providing a detailed inventory for everything they’d need, and JD had stepped aside to allow him to plan. Sure, he'd already made a list, but it was obviously something that made Clay comfortable so he'd not said anything. It was so different to the goofy teen he once knew that JD found it hard to reconcile the two. Though who’s to say he hadn’t always been like this, and JD was just too self-absorbed to notice?

He’d thought hard about what to get Bitty and had decided to relent to his pleas for another piercing. He had spoken to Plimsy, and she’d said that she would read up on how to do it correctly, and at the very least she’d be able to sterilise everything effectively, so JD had asked around to find some suitable jewellery. He’d also seen a particularly nice ankle bracelet, which he thought would be perfect as it wouldn’t hinder him with his archery. He’d found a charm to add to it, a small silver leaf, and there was the option of adding more. He was hoping to find an arrow charm, but he knew it would be difficult. If Bitty liked it, he could start hunting for more personal charms, maybe for the holidays.

The gifts were wrapped and ready, and he’d baked the cake that morning, going for the tried and tested sour creation that had worked the year before. Floyd had asked if he’d needed any help, but having tasted the cake he’d made for his Hatchday, he’d declined. It had been gritty, to say the least, but under Bitty’s scrutiny he’d had to pretend to love it. He’d looked so proud. Floyd had taken one bite and looked at him apologetically, though he’d looked close to laughter with every bite JD took.

Anyway, he knew Floyd had gotten Branch a few bits, for his hair and his room, but he’d not gone into detail, and he had no idea what Clay had gotten him. They’d not had a single one-on-one conversation since their first, and if JD was being honest, it was sort of a relief. Floyd and Bitty were acting as buffers; it was easier to interact with Clay while they were in the room.

He’d decided to leave Rhonda with Milton for the duration, as she was having a particularly difficult shed. He’d miss her, but her comfort was the priority. Geronimo on the other hand would have to be prised from Bitty’s grip with a crowbar.

He double-checked he had everything. It was all there. His gloves were packed, he was excited to try out his solar light, and he made sure he had the knife Bitty had got him for his Hatchday. They’d managed to find a sheath small enough, and JD had it on his person at all times. If he took it out to read the inscription every chance he got, well. Who can blame him?

You’re not perfect, and I love you more because of that. Bitty

Floyd hands Bee a lemon chunk. They’ve put up the tents. Well, Floyd and Branch watched as Clay and Johnny put up the tents, in an aggressive competition to see who was fastest. Sort of. It was more one-sided, with Clay actively trying to beat John, who either didn’t notice the competitive vibes or was ignoring them entirely. Johnny just couldn’t help but comment here or there on how to do it in a way he thought was easier. He’d just had to point out that Clay had secured the pegs incorrectly, (which was fair enough) and Clay’s hackles were thoroughly raised. It was exhausting to witness.

Luckily, Branch seemed none the wiser, more concerned with working his way through the lemon they had packed. He and Bee sit on the log John had dragged over, whilst their brothers unpack the rest of the items. Geronimo is by their feet, basking in the sun.

“Can we go swimming later?” Bee asks.

“Um, yeah. Definitely,” Floyd replies, aware of Clay’s aggressive unpacking, muttering violently in the background.

“My vest is dirty,” Branch adds, kicking his legs.

“I know. It’s fine, we can give it a wash in the lake,” Floyd reassures. Branch had leant in some mud left over from earlier rain, shortly after they’d stopped, and it had left a stain.

“We can’t wait too long, it’ll be too hard to get clean.”

“Yeah,” Floyd watches as Clay stomps towards the centre of the makeshift camp, “That’s fine Bee.”

“I’m going to grab some sticks, for the fire,” Clay calls, looking anywhere but at John, who has just finished digging the pit for the fire.

At this Bee leaps up, pulling Clay into a quick hug. His angry expression melts, and he gives Branch’s hair a quick ruffle, looking much calmer as he leaves.

Time passes, Bee munching on his lemons. He looks content, feet swinging. Once he’s sure he’s okay, Floyd stands, heading to John who is looking increasingly stressed.

“Talk to me,” he says.

John looks to make sure Branch is preoccupied, before he groans, dragging a hand through his hair, “I’m trying! Everything I’m doing is just upsetting him, and I’m not even doing anything,” he hisses.

“I think,” Floyd says carefully, “he thinks you’re showing off? Correcting him?”

“But I’m not! I’m trying to help.”

“I mean I know that, but Clay’s more likely to take it as you, um, taking over?” Floyd tries to explain.

“Look, he can be as pissy as he likes, I’m not having his tent collapse because he’s too stubborn to accept some advice. I’m looking out for him, not…” John trails off bitterly.

Floyd sighs, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths bro.”

John stares back witheringly, but he does seemingly attempt to control his breathing.

“How’s Bitty?” he asks.

“Fine. Eating lemon like the little weirdo he is,” Floyd replies fondly.

John shoves him jokingly, “Hey, no bullying. Unless it’s you,” he smirks.

Floyd shoves him back, and John laughs, looking more at ease than before.

“Give him time,” Floyd says, “he’ll get there. He’s got a lot of anger, some of it misplaced. I think Bee being pretty open to forgiving him is letting him off the hook in a way,” Floyd muses.

“Explain,” John replies, clearly confused.

“Well if he had to think more about the mistakes he made, he might be more forgiving about the mistakes um, you made. As it is, Bee’s being pretty good at just moving on, so Clay’s not had to consider it much,” Floyd tries to explain.

“He’s just…he’s just so angry, and I don’t know what else I can do.”

“I know. He’s got a lot to be angry about, and not even the stuff with you. He’s been co-managing an entire group of people, it’s got to be stressful,” Floyd suggests.

As John opens his mouth to reply, Clay appears in their peripheral, carrying more sticks than Floyd would have thought possible.

“Floyd?” Bee calls, just as he is going to offer his help.

John hurries over to Clay, offering in his stead, “Hey, want me to take some?”

“I’m good,” Clay replies tightly, though he’s wobbling.

“Floyd?”

He turns to Branch, “You okay Bee?”

“Just wondering if we can go swimming soon,” Branch replies, wiping his hands across his shorts.

“Soon Bee, there’s no rush,” Floyd reassures, “you ran out of lemon?”

“Mmm, yeah. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! It was yours,” Floyd chuckles, reaching out to readjust Bee’s goggles. “When was the last time you cleaned these?” he asks.

“Last week. Why?” Branch replies, eyes wide.

“Just a bit grimy. It’s okay!” he adds quickly, as Branch removes them to see, “We can rinse them in the lake when we do your vest.”

“Okay,” Bee replies, gently wiping his hand across the lens. It smears the dirt if anything, but he seems satisfied, placing them back onto his head.

“-Just leave it John!” Clay’s irritated voice rings through the camp.

“ I can’t! Not with this dude, the fire won’t light!”

Oh shit.

“Yeah? Is that it?” Clay hisses.

“What? Yes! They’re damp, it’s not your fault but they’re just not suitable!”

“Floyd?” Branch asks.

“Oh, and I bet the great John Dory would have done better, yeah? They’re dry enough, none of the sticks are dry, if you hadn’t noticed it’s been raining.”

“Floyd?”

“I don’t know Clay, all I know is that these won’t light!”

“Floyd? I want-"

“It’s not even the sticks, is it? You just want to be in charge again, you can’t stand not being the leader for even five minutes,” Clay is shouting at this point, gesticulating wildly.

“I just want to go swimming,” Bee’s voice is quiet, shaking.

“Sure. Just, I’ll be right back Bee,” Floyd replies, breathing through his anger. He walks over to the two, eyes narrowed.

Can they not keep the peace for even a day? This was Branch’s Hatchday trip, or did they forget that?

“Of course it’s not!” John replies, sounding offended, “This isn’t about me! It’s about making sure we have a working fire, can you stop taking everything I say and twisting it to fit your-your negative image of me!? I get you hate me, but this isn’t about us!” John shouts, and it’s the loudest Floyd has heard him since he’d returned.

“I-I don’t—" Clay’s face shutters.

“I’m trying Clay, but it’s hard to do anything when you take everything I do as a personal attack! It’s not! I want to move on, be better, and I don’t know how to prove that to you!” John looks distraught, and tense, gesturing wildly as he speaks, “Every day back then I was consumed with being perfect, because if I wasn’t perfect then everyone would see the real me, and they’d hate me, and it didn’t even fucking work!” he laughs bitterly, almost hysterically, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice how badly you were suffering back then, I was too wrapped up in myself and how fucking awful I was to see the bigger picture, but the difference is that hating me is warranted. I am the biggest fuck up, everything is my fault, and I don’t even blame you for hating me, because so do I.”

“Johnny…” Clay looks torn.

“Guys,” Floyd interjects sharply, making a mental note to discuss John’s revelations at a later date, “seriously? Can you not? I get you have your issues to work out, I do, but here? Branch’s Hatchday trip? Seriously? Do you know how loud you’re being? Branch can hear everything.”

At this, both their faces morph to horror and shame, and John sighs heavily, taking a shaky breath.

“You’re right. He shouldn’t be hearing this. Is Bitt—Floyd?” John’s eyes widen, and he begins looking around frantically, “Where’s Branch?”

Chapter Text

Goodbye forever.

Branch runs.

See what happens when you don’t follow my lead?

As soon as he’d heard the shouting, it was like his body had moved of its own accord. He didn’t even hear what they said, he just heard the volume and ran.

Goodbye forever.

Geronimo buzzes by his head, but he keeps going.

Dude, that is exactly what happens when we follow your lead.

He can still hear them, but it’s not them, it’s the old them and his heart is beating too fast. Too fast.

I quit too, and you can keep these. I’m more than just the fun one. I’m in a sad book club. Did you know that? A sad book club. I’m gonna find trolls who take me seriously.

He stops, panting, curling into his knees.

Fine. I don’t need this. I’m out. I’m done. I’m sorry.
Goodbye forever.

He heaves, gagging into the grass. He’s not being sick, but he feels sick, and he’s sweating and gross. He’s alone, his brothers are gone, they’ve gone.

Goodbye forever.

Geronimo dives into his chest, wriggling frantically, and he focuses on the sensation. He’s not alone. He has Ronnie, his friend is here trying to dig into his chest. He runs his hands through his fur, and slowly but surely he feels more present. And stupid. Why did he run off? It wasn’t even a real argument, why did it make him feel so bad, he felt fizzy in a bad way, his skin almost crawling.

He looks around; he wasn’t going in any particular direction, but he’s still ended up at the lake. The water is almost still, the sun reflecting in the small ripples. It’s nice. He focuses on breathing, like how Dr Plimsy told him to, walking closer to the edge of the lake.

Goodbye forever.

There’s no sign of his brothers, but maybe he can do something useful anyway. Floyd hadn’t seemed too keen on helping him wash his vest, so if he did it himself then Floyd wouldn’t have to do it, and he’d be happier. Right?

He wants to be busy, to have something to do so so the busy feeling in his head can be in his hands instead. He shrugs off the vest, kneeling down to soak the stain in the water. He doesn’t want to get it all wet, just the dirty part. He has nothing to clean it with, but he scrubs and scrubs, and scrubs the stain with his nails, hard and fast until the water is murky and the stain is almost gone. It’ll do for now. Oh! His goggles, too. He hates not wearing them, he’s so used to the weight atop his head, but he slides them off and uses his wet hand to carefully clean the lens, and along the straps. There.

He stands with his wet items, glancing around for a suitable area to lay them. It’s pretty warm, he’s sure they won’t take long to dry, not with the sun beaming down on them. There’s a dry area close to the edge that looks as clean as he’s likely to find, and he lays them down with shaking hands. Stop shaking. You’re fine. Fine. He stands, looking around for something else to do he needs to be busy, to be useful.

There’s tall grass along the edges of the lake, except at the shore. It sways with the slight breeze. He cups a hand over his eyes to see against the sun, and to the side, there looks like…yes! There are enough dense trees that the wood beneath would hopefully have stayed pretty dry. He thinks? It makes sense. If he can find some dry sticks, then Clay and JD will have to stop arguing. He doesn't know why they were arguing, but it had started because of the sticks, so if the sticks weren't a problem anymore then maybe it would be okay.

He can hear his name being called, but he doesn’t want to go back yet. He can’t. Not until he has the wood. If he has the wood they have no reason to yell anymore. They'd have to stop.

He’ll only be a short while. He hates leaving his stuff behind, but there’s no one here. They won’t be stolen (he hopes) and he can’t collect wood whilst carrying them. He can’t exactly put his vest on, it’ll stick to his skin and be horrible. No, it’ll be fine. He won’t go far, just far enough to find the wood, and everyone will stop shouting, and everyone will be happy again. Right?

And they won’t have a reason to leave.

JD can feel the panic spread through his body, prickling, tingling.

“Bitty?” he calls, walking to the log he was last sat like he’s expecting him to appear from thin air. There’s nothing, no Branch, no Geronimo, no sign.

“I’ll check the tents,” Floyd says, hurrying to peer inside.

Maybe he’s in the tent, hiding out the way, terrified because JD is an idiot and couldn’t—

“He’s not here,” Floyd says, panic etched into his expression.

“He can’t have gone far,” Clay says, wringing his hands, “it’s not been long.”

“Okay,” JD agrees, “okay, we need to start looking. Split up?”

“No, not yet. We need to show him we’ve stopped arguing, we should go together. He had to have gone in that direction,” Clay points, “we’d have seen him cross the camp otherwise.”

Would they? They were pretty busy being idiots, what’s to say he didn’t run past?

“Fine, let’s go,” he says instead, marching in the most likely direction.

They all call out for Branch, their voices rising with desperation the longer there’s no response. There’s no sign of him so far, and JD is practically running as he searches, tearing through the grass and rock. Why had he not taken Rhonda? She could have found him. Geronimo must be with him.

“Fuck this John, we need to split—" Floyd pauses, and as JD turns back to face him, his eyes are blown wide, “shit. Shit, he kept saying he wanted to go swimming…you don’t think?”

“No, no no, he wouldn’t do that, why would he do that?” JD replies frantically, resisting the urge to tug his hair.

“Because he’s a child who just had a trauma response and might not be thinking straight? I don’t know John!”

“Fuck,” JD hisses, shifting direction and sprinting towards the lake.

He won’t be there, he wouldn’t go swimming, he knows not to go in the water without JD, it’s a stupid thought. It doesn’t stop his heart pounding in his ears, the shaking of his hands.

As he reaches the clearing of the lake his feet pound the earth, rocks digging in like knives, and for a second there’s relief, because he’s not here but then…

His vest. His fucking vest, and his goggles, and he knows, he never takes them off unless he has which means. Which must mean…

“No, no no,” he mutters, scanning the water. Nothing. Nothing.

He tears off his jacket and goggles, throwing them carelessly to the ground, and hurtles into the lake, scanning the surface. There are still no signs, and he dives desperately, hoping for a glimpse of his brother, anything. It’s murky, he can’t see much and his eyes sting despite the lack of salt, but he doesn’t care.

Nothing. He surfaces. His brothers are still there on the shore, expressions horrified.

“Fucking help me!” he screams, his voice cracking with terror.

It works; both of them snap out of their frozen stupor, quickly shedding their own heavy layers, hurrying to join him in his search.

He dives back down, reaching out for anything and everything that might be Branch.

He can’t. He can’t not find him.

“Branch!” Clay’s voice is desperate and scared.

He’s just not here, he’s not here and it’s been so long now, there’s no chance. No chance.

Something grows inside, something raw and ugly, filled with grief and malice, and he’s about to scream, to howl out with raw agony when...

“JD?”

Branch. JD stops his search, whipping his head to the small call. He’s stood on the shore, dry, holding sticks of all things, but JD doesn’t care. He runs towards him, tripping through the water, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he can’t stop, not until he can see him, know he’s okay.

He reaches him, grabbing him, crushing him to his chest. The sticks dig into him before Branch drops them, hugging back.

“Bitty, oh my god, you’re okay, you’re okay baby,” he says, gripping him desperately, and he’s almost sobbing, breaths hitching with relief. He’s not felt relief like this before. It makes him lightheaded, and he’s shaking as he holds Bitty close.

“Why were you guys swimming? Are we learning swimming now?” Bitty asks, and JD can’t help but laugh, semi-hysterically.

Moments later they’re surrounded by their brothers, and Branch is ripped from him by a distraught Clay who picks him up, squeezing him. JD wants to growl, to demand him back, but he can’t, not when he sees Clay’s terrified expression.

Floyd hovers, visibly shaking, “Bee where did you go?”

“I went to get dry sticks,” he replies, twisting his against Clay’s neck to respond, “I wanted you guys to stop being mad.”

Clay hiccups, squeezing his eyes closed, tears joining the lake water already on his face.

“You can’t just run off like that Bee,” Floyd says, his voice shaking.

“You were all yelling,” Branch responds accusingly. He’s quiet, but it rings through the clearing, striking guilt into his brothers with pinpoint accuracy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Clay says through his tears, pressing his face into Bitty’s neck, and JD still can’t stop shaking.

“I’m sorry Bitty,” he says, “we shouldn’t have been shouting, it wasn’t fair.”

“We thought you’d tried swimming by yourself. We couldn’t find you,” Floyd explains, running his hands through his damp hair anxiously.

“Why would I go swimming? You said I couldn’t go without you there?” Branch replies, sounding offended.

JD exhales, laughing desperately, “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

He should have known Branch wouldn’t have tried swimming. The ‘what if’ still lingers. He could have. Anything could have happened, and it would have been his fault.

“Why did you leave your vest and goggles?” Floyd asks, clearly the only one willing to continue with questioning.

“I washed them. They were dirty,” he says simply, wiggling in Clay’s hold. Clay releases him, though he looks like he’d rather do anything but.

“Of course. Of course you did,” Floyd exhales, taking steadying breaths.

“Are these okay?” Branch asks, bending down to gather his sticks.

JD doesn’t care, “They’re great Bitty. You did a good job. You…next time you need to tell us though, okay? If you’re going to go off by yourself.”

“I didn’t…” Branch looks at his feet, “I didn’t mean to. You guys were loud and it…it made me scared, it was like before when you all left,” he looks up, and must see something in JD’s expression, “I’m sorry!”

“No! No, you don’t have to be sorry for-for that!” JD hurries to reassure him.

He’s the worst. The worst brother, the worst troll period. The guilt he’s feeling seems insurmountable, and if Clay’s expression is anything to go by, he feels the same way.

“We’re sorry, we shouldn’t have been yelling,” JD repeats.

“Are you guys still mad?” Bitty asks, voice small.

“No. No, we’re not,” Clay replies, sharing a look with JD. It’s the first time he’s felt on the same page as his brother. The ultimate wake-up call. This can’t happen again.

“Why don’t,” Floyd begins slowly, “we go swimming now.”

“Wait, seriously?” JD replies. This doesn't exactly seem like the best time considering that moments before they were scared out of their minds.

“I mean we’re already wet,” Floyd points out, “and he’s been asking all morning.”

It feels wrong. Thinking Bitty had drowned, he wants to bundle him up and take him as far away from the water as possible. Drowned. Even thinking the word makes him feel sick. Fuck, he thought he’d lost him.

Floyd makes a good point though, and it’s not like he can avoid water forever. “Sure,” he says, “if you want to Bitty?”

“If that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” JD sighs, “that’s fine. Like Floyd said, we’re already wet.”

"And you're sure you guys aren't mad anymore?" Branch double checks.

"We're sure Bitty. Everything's good."

Now the adrenaline was wearing off he could feel the exhaustion kicking in. He feels his shorts clinging to his thighs uncomfortably, and his hair dripping into his neck. Honestly, he'd rather do anything else rather than go back into the lake, but he doesn't exactly have a choice, not with how happy Bitty looks at the suggestion.

“Okay!” Bitty perks up, reaching into his hair to carefully remove Geronimo and his camera.

“He was there the whole time huh?” JD asks, smiling fondly.

Stop beating so hard heart, the panic was over. He was trying to stop himself from shaking, the loss of adrenaline leaving him feeling weak.

“Mostly. He went in while I picked up the wood,” Bitty explains, placing the camera and bug on the floor. Geronimo immediately begins to sniff the rocks. “You keep the wood safe, okay Ronnie?”

Geronimo just blinks, eyes unfocused, but it seems to satisfy Branch.

“Can I wear these shorts?” he asks.

“Sure, we packed spare, and they won’t take too long to dry anyway,” Floyd replies. JD notes his hands are shaking too.

“And you guys are really okay with swimming?” Bitty checks, still wary.

“We’re good Bug, all good,” Clay reassures, giving an awkward thumbs up.

Branch looks satisfied, before steeling his expression and hurrying into the lake. The three of them almost trip over themselves in their haste to keep up, staying close as he wades into slightly deeper water, stopping as it reaches his hips. He’s so small, he’s only really gone in a few feet, but to him it must be so deep.

The three of them talk him through the steps of swimming, but he insists on floating for a few minutes, lying back as Floyd holds him for balance.

JD takes the moment to wade over to Clay, leaning in to mutter, “We good?”

“Yeah John…Johnny. I’m sorry man,” Clay replies, rubbing his hair sheepishly.

“Hey, I was the one shouting. I fucked up,” JD says, glancing to make sure Bitty’s ears are still below the surface.

“Nah, we both did. I’ve been hearing but I’ve not been listening. I’m just so angry, you know? But I’ve seen how much work you put in for Branch, how much you’ve changed. I just didn’t want to believe it I guess,” he looks away, staring into the water vacantly, “I just felt kind of robbed, you know? Like, why did Branch get this John Dory,” he gestures to JD sharply, “and I didn’t. Then I realised I did. When I was little. You just changed when we got older, and the newer memories kind of overpowered the old ones. And I think I’m getting a better idea of why.”

“Clay…”

“It’s nice though. Seeing you back. Branch deserves the real you,” he finishes, smiling faintly.

“This was scary. Thinking Branch, you know,” JD can’t even say it aloud.

“I know. I don’t know if I’ve ever been scared like that before. Like, I thought he was…” looks like Clay can’t say it either.

“We can’t do this again. If it gets to a point where it’s boiling over, we need to talk about it. Not, argue and scream.”

“Yeah. I get you. We need to be better than that,” Clay sighs. He looks guilty, and so much older than JD remembers. He left, a kid and came back a whole man. Man or not, he hates the downtrodden expression on his face.

“Can I hug you?” JD asks, words out his mouth before he can stop them.

Clay looks like he’s thinking, and for a moment JD’s sure he’ll refuse, but then he’s nodding, “Yeah, go on then.”

JD pulls him in, squeezing briefly. He’s taller, but he’ll always be his little brother. Man or not.

“The first hug in over five years,” JD says, pulling back, “and it’s in a lake,” he laughs.

“Yeah well, you always had a knack for initiating hugs at the weirdest times,” Clay replies, crossing his arms, “remember the time you made me and Spruce ‘hug it out’ in the middle of a west side tree meeting?”

“Hey, one, don’t forget it’s Bruce now. Two, that wasn’t me, that was me making you guys hug. Three, you guys were arguing about something stupid, what was I supposed to do? And, if I remember correctly I was actually joking, you guys just took me seriously,” he smirks.

“Wait, seriously?! It was so embarrassing,” Clay flushes, rubbing his face, “and thanks for the reminder. It’s hard to remember, he’s been Spruce for so long.”

“I get it,” JD agrees.

“You guys done?” Floyd’s amused voice cuts through their conversation.

They look over; he’s close to Bitty who is still floating, with an expression of relaxation on his face that JD can only hope to accomplish one day.

“Damn, this would have made a great photo,” JD says; he wouldn’t want to risk getting the camera wet though.

“Maybe take some in a bit? You can stand on the shore. I’d offer, but you’ve still not taught me how to use it,” Floyd replies, though he doesn’t seem too bothered.

“Good plan. Anyway yeah. We’re done,” JD replies, throwing a tentative smile at Clay. He just grins, rolling his eyes, checking him gently with his shoulder as he wades closer to Branch.

The bridge between them is still weak, still in need of a few new bricks, but it’s there. They can work on it.

Branch is finally asleep, the shine from JD’s solar-powered mushroom causing the tent to shine even from the outside. The glow of the fire illuminates Clay and Floyd from where they’re sat opposite, and JD hasn’t felt this at ease with his brothers in a long time.

“I can’t believe he’s gonna be eight,” Floyd says, poking another marshmallow piece onto the end of his stick.

“It’s crazy,” Clay agrees, “like he’s still a baby. Just, a slightly taller one.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” JD warns, “he might use you as target practice.”

“He barely comes up to my hip dude.”

“Just means the arrow will hit lower, if you catch my meaning.”

There’s a comfortable silence, the heat of the fire bordering on unpleasant. JD ignores this, breathing in the familiar smell of smoke.

“I’m glad you guys hashed it out,” Floyd begins, “I mean, the timing could have been better, but you needed it.”

“Yeah we did,” JD agrees.

As much as he hates the panic it caused and how he’d said what he’d said, there’s no regrets for saying it. His issues with perfection ran deep.

“You um, you’re talking to your therapist about that stuff? Right?” Clay says, coughing awkwardly.

“The being perfect stuff? Yeah.”

“Oh uh,” Clay shares a look with Floyd, “I meant more the hating yourself stuff.”

Oh. Oh, he had said that hadn’t he?

“Sort of? I mean she knows,” JD adds hastily.

“Um. That’s good, yeah,” Clay’s still avoiding looking at him. “You—you know I don’t hate you though, right?”

No. No, he doesn’t.

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better Clay, you’re within your rights—"

“No!” Clay interrupts, finally looking him in the eyes, “I mean it. I don’t like some of the stuff you do. Or did, I mean. But I don’t hate you. That’s reserved for people who’ve done really evil shit, not you who’s just,” he gestures vaguely, “a bit of a dick sometimes.”

“Well,” JD clears his throat, “that’s good? Thank you?”

“Clay,” Floyd prompts with an unimpressed look.

Clay groans, “Dude you’re my brother. I love you, okay?” he says, voice vulnerable.

“I love you too,” JD replies, no hesitation.

He used to say it all the time, when Clay was small, he’d finish every bedtime story with it, and start every morning with it. He can’t remember the last time he’d told him. At some point, it had just fizzled out.

“Anyway,” Floyd cuts in, with impeccable timing, “you never did tell us what you got Bee for his Hatchday.”

Clay laughs, “I can’t believe you still call him Bee.”

“Wait, why?” Floyd replies, taking a bite of his marshmallow.

“Just you know, you copied off me—"

“Hold up, hold up, what? Copied off you?” Floyd sounds incredulous.

“Well yeah, I called him Bug, you started calling him Bee,” Clay shrugs.

“Is that what you think? That I copy—Clay, dude. It was from Bitty B. Bee. Plus that super cute outfit he had as a baby, you thought it was from you the whole time?”

“Well yeah,” Clay looks sheepish.

Floyd cackles, covering his mouth to muffle the sound, “Where did you even get Bug from?”

“I mean, he was small. Like a bug,” Clay sounds embarrassed.

Floyd’s cackles intensify, “Like, mine makes sense, but you went with an insect? For apparently no reason? I can’t man.”

“Shut up bro,” Clay protests, leaning over and shoving Floyd, but it only gives him more incentive to laugh.

“Of all the names you could have gone with,” Floyd continues, once he manages to stop laughing.

“Well I think it’s cute,” JD adds, thoroughly enjoying the scene.

“No one asked John,” Floyd replies, though it’s clear he’s joking.

“No no, let him speak. I think he’s onto something,” Clay replies, faux seriously.

“You’re only saying that because he’s agreeing with you.”

“Yup.”

“What were we even talking about?” Floyd asks, conversation thoroughly derailed.

“Bitty’s Hatchday gift,” JD replies, though it takes him a moment to remember.

“Oh yeah. I got him some books. Didn’t have a lot of time to prep,” Clay looks embarrassed.

“He’ll love them. He’s obsessed with reading,” JD is quick to reassure.

“He is,” Floyd adds, “any spare time he has, his face is in a book.”

“Yeah, I figured from what he said in his letters,” Clay looks relieved at the confirmation.

“Right,” JD makes a show of standing, “I’m gonna get some sleep. He normally wakes up pretty early.”

“Yeah, I might do the same in a bit,” Floyd replies, though he’s already grabbing another marshmallow.

“Night guys.”

They say their farewells, and JD creeps into the tent, wary of waking Bitty. It’s going to be hard to sleep with the light blasting in his face, but he’s tired enough that it won’t take long. He crawls into his sleeping bag, suddenly aware of how exhausted he feels. He can brush his teeth tomorrow, Bitty’s not awake to nag him about cavities, and he’s far too comfortable to even consider moving. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to think about everything and anything that isn’t his brother drowning. He can only hope his dreams do the same.

Chapter Text

Branch wakes, disorientated only for a moment before he remembers where he is, and more importantly what day it is. He’s eight, a whole number higher than yesterday, and it’s an even number which makes it so much better.

He looks over at JD. He’s fast asleep, his mouth wide open, and he’s snoring. Loudly. He giggles, reaching to grab the camera by his sleeping bag. Geronimo wakes at his movement, sniffing around at his feet.

“Shh,” he whispers, “I need to take a photo.”

He lines up his camera, making sure his brother is fully in frame.

Click

When the photo develops he has to cover his mouth to stop his laughter escaping. JD just looks so funny, he’d escaped his sleeping bag in the night and was lying at an angle that was both dramatic and uncomfortable.

Photo successfully taken, he grabs his goggles and places them on his head, before rummaging for his toothbrush and paste. He uncaps the jar with the paste, dipping his brush inside and closing the lid. If he’s quiet, he can sneak out to brush his teeth before anyone even notices.

He creeps out, momentarily stunned by how pretty the sky looks. The sun must have only just risen, and there’s pink streaking across the sky like a painting. He has to take a photo. He brushes his teeth, counting as he does, making sure each side is done evenly and thoroughly. He was not getting cavities, the village still didn’t have a dentist and he was not going to risk having holes in his teeth. It made him shudder to think about.

“Bitty!?” that’s JD’s voice, and he sounds frantic.

Before Branch can reply, he’s burst through the opening of the tent, eyes wild. Once he sees Branch, he sags, exhaling heavily.

Branch waves, continuing to brush his teeth.

“Why didn’t you wake me up Bits?” JD asks.

Branch holds up a finger for him to wait, finishing the last few brushes and walking to the edge of the camp to spit into the dirt.

“You were sleeping,” he replies, walking over to his brother, “and I’m eight now. So I’m more,” what’s the word? “Independent.”

“I mean, true,” JD replies carefully, “but you still need to let me know where you’re going. That won’t change even if you’re fifty.”

Fifty? But that’s so old! He pulls a face, and JD chuckles, ruffling his hair.

“Anyway, happy Hatchday Bitty!” he says, holding his arms open for a hug.

Branch grins, leaping at him and squeezing him tight.

“Do you want your presents now, or when Floyd and Clay wake up?” JD asks.

“Mmm, when they wake up please,” he says, he’d like them all to be there. Like a family.

“Okay. Do you want to wake them up?” JD says, with a sly grin.

“I can? They won’t be mad?”

“Course you can! It’s your Hatchday, you can do what you like…within reason,” JD adds as an afterthought.

Branch nods, hurrying to deposit his toothbrush, and heading to the closest tent. He carefully steps inside. Clay is sleeping; he looks so similar to how JD was! Making up his mind, he backs out, hurrying to grab his camera, ignoring JD’s questioning look. There. He grabs it, rushing back before Clay can wake up.

Click

Perfect. Now he has two photos. He’s not sure what he’ll do with them, but they’re funny so it doesn’t really matter. Clay looks even more dramatic than JD, he’s lying out of his sleeping bag like the painting in his books. He thinks it was called ‘The Nightmare’ or something? Either way, it’s funny.

“Kay?” he whispers, gently poking him in the chest.

“Mmm?” he mumbles, attempting to swat him like he’s an annoying fly. Branch giggles.

“Kay!” he says, louder this time, shaking his shoulder.

“Bug? Wha—?” he opens his eyes blearily, blinking.

“Morning!” Branch says brightly, wriggling to sit on the sleeping bag.

“Morning. Oh, morning!” Clay says, seeming much more awake. He grabs Branch, pulling him to his chest. Branch squeaks, but relents, hugging back.

“Happy Hatchday Bug,” Clay says, voice still heavy with sleep but he sounds happy.

“I’m eight!” he replies; he’s so old now. He feels so grown up, even though it’s only been a day since he was seven.

“I know! You’re so big,” Clay says, grinning.

“And it’s an even number,” Branch adds. It’s important.

“The best kind of number,” Clay says nodding. See, he gets it.

“I need to go wake Floyd up, but JD says I can have my presents soon,” Branch explains, scrambling up.

“Good—“ Clay yawns widely, “—plan. I’ll just get dressed and meet you out there, okay?”

“Okay! See you soon,” Branch replies, waving as he heads out.

He has his camera ready as he enters Floyd’s tent. Unlike JD and Clay, Floyd is sleeping on his front, his arm twisted to lie on his back and his other arm reaching out in front. It looks really uncomfortable.

Click

Unlike Clay and JD, Floyd wakes up when he takes the photo, pretty much exactly as he takes the photo, flailing a little as he gets his bearings.

“What-Branch?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

Branch ignores him for the moment, too focused on the developing photo. It's better than he expected; he caught Floyd mid-flail, and it's blurry in a way that stretches his face. He can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Floyd asks, sitting up.

Branch hands over the photo.

“Really Bee? Really?” Floyd says, groaning as he hands the photo back.

“I had to document it,” Branch explains, just like the writers say in his books on critters.

“Well, I guess if you had to,” Floyd relents with a smile, “more importantly, happy Hatchday!”

“Thanks!” Branch replies, bouncing on his toes. He’s in a good mood, it makes him want to move.

“Are Johnny and Clay already up?”

“JD is, Clay’s getting dressed,” Branch explains.

“Sweet. I’ll join you guys in a min then,” Floyd says, stretching with such vigour Branch can hear his joints pop. He shudders; the sound makes him feel ill, and he practically runs from the tent.

“You good Bitty?” JD asks. He’s cooking eggs above the fire, and they smell amazing. He just wishes he could taste them properly, without all the spice.

“I’m good,” Branch nods, “everyone’s awake now.”

“Right. You sit, and I’ll bring your eggs when they’re done.”

Branch drops down, crossing his legs. He pulls out his camera, finally taking a photo of the sky. It’s not as pink as it was, but it’s still pretty.

Eventually, they’re joined by Clay and Floyd, and by the time they’ve finished eating Branch is almost vibrating with excitement. He has gifts, he’s still not fully used to getting them, but it’s so exciting. Floyd goes first, passing him a small pile.

“Here you go Bee,” he says, grinning fondly, and Branch spares no time, immediately beginning to remove the wrapping paper.

He folds the paper, placing it to the side carefully. He knows it’s stupid, but he almost feels like the paper is part of the gift; Floyd spent time wrapping it. It feels special. He still had the paper from the gift JD gave him last year, stashed between the pages of one of his books.

He turns the item over in his hands; it’s the hair product that Floyd used. A new pot obviously. Floyd let him smell it every time he saw him use it, and he loved how flowery it was. It’s weird, everything seemed to smell more recently, whereas before he hardly noticed it. Anyway, now he had his own hair…stuff!

“I can help you put some in later if you want. It’s really conditioning, and I know you love the smell,” Floyd explains.

“I do,” he agrees, opening the pot and breathing it in. It’s like roses. It’s like their Grandma’s perfume. “Thank you!” he says, smiling brightly.

“No thanks needed Bee,” Floyd replies.

There are a couple more items; a small ornament of a bloodhound bug and a framed picture of one of the Lichen illustrations from his book.

“Don’t worry, it’s not from your book,” Floyd reassures before he can panic, “I got one of the artists in the village to make a copy, and look,” he points to the picture, more specifically to the bow.

“It’s Brenda!” Branch gasps.

“I thought it would be more unique-" before he can continue Branch hugs him, squeezing tight.

He went to so much effort, for him? It’s amazing. “Thank you,” he murmurs into his chest, and Floyd hugs back.

“Anytime Bee.”

He opens the attached card. It has a cake on the front, with eight candles, and Branch is pretty sure Floyd made it himself. The way he cuts out shapes is pretty recognisable, they’re always so curved, even when they should be pointy.

Bee,

Happy Hatchday!

I can’t believe how grown up you are now, you’re getting to be such an amazing troll and with every year that passes, you only get more amazing!

Love you lots,

Floyd

“Really?” Branch asks, “You think that?”

Ignoring the questioning looks from JD and Clay, Floyd replies, “Course I do.”

Branch grins, placing the card carefully next to the paper and gifts.

Next, Clay hands him his gifts, and they’re wrapped even neater than Floyd’s. He opens them, revealing a set of books.

“They’re fantasy,” Clay explains, “they’re meant to be similar to your favourite story.”

“Glissando and the Ghost,” Branch reads the title aloud, before flicking through the pages.

“Ghost? Won’t that be a bit too scary?” JD asks, his voice quiet like he only meant for Clay to hear.

“Nah, it’s not scary at all, the Ghost is one of the main characters. It’s all good,” Clay replies.

There are pictures too! It looks exciting to read, maybe it can be something JD reads to him at night? Or maybe even Kay…except he’s leaving soon. So. Maybe not. He ignores this, reaching for the card from Clay.

Hey Bug

Happy Hatchday! I’m sorry I missed out on so many before now, but there won’t be a single one from this point on that I’m not here for.

I know I’m going back to the golf course, but I promise you it’s not forever. I’ll be coming back to see you soon, and every time you worry about it, look at the drawing in this card.

Love you lots,

Clay/Kay

Clay had drawn what looked like a potato with legs, saying ‘Don’t worry! I’m coming back soon!’.

“Thanks Kay! I like the potato,” Branch giggles.

Clays looks indignant, “What—that’s not a potato, that’s me.”

“Show me,” Floyd says, leaning in to see. “Nah. Totally a potato. Where’s the hair?” he turns the card so both JD and Clay can see the drawing.

“Potato,” JD says, as soon as he sees it.

“I didn’t have the right colour!”

“I mean, Clay looks a bit like a potato, so…” Branch says, keeping his face neutral.

Clay’s mouth drops open dramatically, “Not you too Bug.”

“He technically started it,” Floyd adds.

“Okay, Po-Clayto aside, here,” JD interjects, handing Branch a small present.

He takes it, opening it slowly. Inside is…wait?

“An earring?” he says, puzzled. It looks like it’s for the hard part of his ear, but he doesn’t have it pierced.

“Yeah. Spoke with Dr Plimsy, and she said she’d do some research on how to pierce it properly for you,” JD explains.

Branch grins wide, “I get to get it pierced!?”

“Yup,” JD replies, matching his grin.

This was amazing, Biggie was right when he said that maybe actually meant yes.

“Not just that though,” as JD says this, another piece of jewellery falls from the paper into his palm. It looks like a bracelet?

“It’s for your ankle,” JD explains, “we can get more charms on it too.”

It’s so pretty and shiny! He places the earring on top of his books, immediately trying to put it on his ankle, but the clasp is difficult.

“Here,” JD leans forward, clasping it closed.

“I love it,” Branch says, “thank you!”

The light shines off the leaf charm, and he can’t wait to get more, so they clash against each other and make a ‘jingle’ sound. Though it would be hard to be sneaky if he’s always making noise. Maybe he can space them out so they don’t jingle. He doesn’t want to take it off though.

“Happy Hatchday to you,”

He looks up; Floyd must have snuck away to grab the cake whilst he was opening JD’s gift, and he’s surprised he didn’t notice.

“Happy Hatchday to you” JD and Clay join in, as Floyd walks closer.

“Happy Hatchday to—” there’s a chorus of ‘Bitty’, ‘Bug’ and ‘Bee’, and it clashes horribly but Branch doesn’t care.

“May your dreams all come true!” they harmonise, Clay holding the last note with additional drama, in a way that makes Branch laugh.

Branch blows out the candles, feeling such a rush of happiness it feels tangible, like if he looked down at his chest he’d see it, pulsating. His brothers are here and yes, Bruce isn’t here yet but he’s seeing him soon, he’s not gone and it…he feels tingly, prickly like something is dancing across his skin.

He looks at his hands, to check there’s nothing there and. They…they’re not grey. They’re not blue, well, not the bright colour they were, but they’re not grey. A muted blue.

“JD?” he’s almost scared, he’s feeling things he’d long forgotten.

His shorts are scratchy and uncomfortable, and he can feel the sun on his face. He rubs his cheeks, and…he can feel it too. He’d felt it before, but not like this, and when he digs his fingers in it's painful.

“It hurts!” he gasps.

Their shocked smiles drop into horrified expressions, JD striding towards him to clasp his shoulders gently.

“Where? Where does it hurt Bitty?” he asks. He sounds serious like he does whenever he’s worried.

“My face,” he explains, “when I do this,” he pokes his fingers into his cheeks.

“Well, we’re gonna stop doing that then,” JD says, pitch high as he gently moves Branch’s hands away from his face.

“JD I can feel stuff! I can actually feel! I feel…I feel a bit cold,” he says, finally recognising the sensation.

He is; the breeze is just that bit too chilly. He shivers a little, wrapping his hands around his waist and tucking his hands inside his vest.

“Oh, uh…” JD pulls him close, and Branch burrows into his side. He’s warm. Warm! “Can you grab my jacket Clay?” JD continues, and before long Branch is tucked inside, relishing the warmth.

He’s still wrapped in the jacket when he’s handed his slice of cake, and he takes a bite, prepared for the sour taste he’s so familiar with.

It’s…it’s sour. Too sour, and he can’t help but scrunch his face as the flavours hit. He forces himself to swallow, but the taste is still in his mouth, and he sticks out his tongue in disgust.

“Is this what it’s tasted like the whole time?” he asks.

His brothers laugh, and Branch can’t help but join in, enjoying the fizzy happy feeling. He can feel.

Chapter Text

Clay hated leaving. Yes, he missed Viva, and the whole time he was away he had a low-level panic, that something was going wrong at the golf course. He’d received a reply from Viva just before he’d left the Pop Village, reassuring him everything was okay and saying how glad she was that he’d got there safely, and he’d decided to forgo a reply. He was returning in person, after all. There would be no point. He’d packed plenty of photos though (of Poppy, of Branch and the general layout of the village) and the King had given him a full list of surviving members.

Seeing Bug’s face as he left was almost enough to make him change his mind. He’d clung to him, tears dripping down his face with every little sniffle, and Clay hadn’t known his heart could break this much. The day he left, Branch’s colour had faded, not to grey but the muted blue had become even more muted, and the guilt that he already felt amplified, heavy and painful.

They’d been warned Branch’s colour might be temperamental; after the first morning Branch had woken up, significantly less bright, the Dr had explained to a panicking John that Branch might be prone to it fluctuating. Still, the fact he knew that it was his fault this time felt…well it felt awful.

Now and then Branch had mentioned something casually, about his time living completely alone, and every time it had been like a shot to the heart. When he’d been doing a puzzle with Clay, he’d mentioned how he’d done a similar one with their Grandma after they’d left, and how Branch had needed to climb up to grab it from the shelf because their Grandma’s legs had been hurting that day. He would have been three. Clay had gently asked how much else he’d needed to help with, and Branch had explained proudly how he’d helped with the washing, the cleaning, and the ‘cheering up’ of their Grandma.

When it had rained he’d mentioned how he’d used to use the rain to wash his face, and how it was nice to be able to use a tap. It was another reminder that his baby brother had been living in the wilderness, alone.

He turns his thoughts to other things. Thinking about his brother’s past living arrangements made him angry, beyond angry, livid. He was still angry at the King, for not ensuring Branch was safe. He was angry at him for many reasons. Angry he’d not searched for Viva, angry at how blasé he’d seemed, angry when he’d not even considered moving to the golf course, dismissing it outright. He hadn’t wanted to tell the villagers about their surviving family members, not yet, and Clay had threatened to just go around telling them himself. Peppy had pointed out this may cause more trouble than not, especially if they all decided to send letters, or wanted to return with him; he could only carry so much and didn’t feel comfortable being responsible for anyone else’s travel with so little preparation. He also didn’t particularly want to be the scapegoat for Peppy’s bad decisions. Let him deal with his incompetence; people were going to be angry to hear that he’d made no attempt to find their very much alive families.

He climbs the ladder, heaving himself over the wall and into the golf course. He’d take the main gate, but he wants to avoid people as much as possible, at least until he can debrief with Viva.

“Clay?”

Oh, he spoke too soon.

“Hi Hawthorn,” he replies politely, wary of how confrontational the old troll can be.

“Hm,” the man scoffs, “we thought you’d finally abandoned your post. Gone back to your ‘boyband roots’,” he adds distastefully.

Clay knows the ‘we’ mentioned is very much just Hawthorn. In the beginning, several of the trolls had taken issue with his leadership role, his lack of credentials working against him. As time passed, so had the discontent, as Clay had proved more than competent in the role. Hawthorn had never worked past his issues however, taking digs whenever he saw fit.

“Nope,” Clay forces a polite smile, “no chance of that happening. I was on a scouting mission.”

“That’s unlikely,” Hawthorn dismisses, “We have people for that. And they don’t take this long. Where were you really?” he says, eyeing him shrewdly.

“You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. However, I need to speak to Viva as soon as possible, if you know where she is?” Clay replies pragmatically.

“Where do you think? She’s in her tower of course,” Hawthorn says sarcastically, and Clay clenches his fists. He can take issue with him all he likes, but if he says so much as one negative thing about Viva, he’s not sure he can refrain from silencing him.

“Right,” he says tightly, “well I’ll be on my way then. Be seeing you,” he says, hurrying past as quickly as he can.

He heads to Viva’s home on auto-pilot, the route second nature at this point. Sure enough, as he enters the abandoned structure she’s there, sitting atop her cushion pile, carefully cutting out scrap paper. He drops his heavy bag, the noise making her startle. As soon as she sees him, her scrap-booking is abandoned, and she rushes to embrace him tightly.

“You’re back,” she says, lifting him from the ground with her enthusiasm.

“I’m back!” he agrees.

“So!” she releases him, holding his shoulders, “tell me everything! How are your brothers? What was the village like? Did you meet my Dad? Poppy?!”

“Can I sit first?” he says, bemused.

“Here,” she practically throws him onto her cushions, and he laughs, letting himself be manhandled, “now talk Mister.”

“So my brothers are good. Seeing them was…” how can he describe it? Nothing can do it justice, “good,” he finishes somewhat lamely.

“And my Dad? Poppy?”

“I mean your Dad was…your Dad?” What can be said here? “He seemed fine. He misses you,” this much was obviously true. “I only saw Poppy for a little bit, when she was playing with Branch. She seemed happy. Branch told me she talked about you lots.”

“She did?” Viva says, eyes practically sparkling, “Does she remember me? At all?”

“I don’t think so,” Clay hides a wince, “but your Dad has been telling her lots about you,” now he’s finally decided to stop pretending she exists. “I have photos!” he says enthusiastically, at her diminishing expression, reaching over to snag his bag.

He rummages, grabbing the large pile of photos, and thumbing through to find the ones he’d collected of the Princess. “Here,” he hands them over, watching as Viva pours over each image.

Her eyes glisten with tears, but she squeals, “She’s so cute oh my gosh I have such a cute sister!”

He grins watching her; her joy is contagious.

“Show me some of Branch too, I bet he looks adorable,” she demands, making grabbing motions.

“Oh, he does,” Clay agrees, passing her the top photo.

“Aww, look at his little goggles!” she gushes. “Tell me about him,” she insists, grinning.

And Clay does. Once he starts he can’t stop; he’s telling her about how he’s so smart for his age, how funny he is, how proud he is of him. He mentions how he’s regained some of his colour, because of Clay, and how it makes him feel simultaneously amazing and awful because he lost them because of him (at least in part). And then he moves on to Floyd, and how he’d made actual music, how he’s still as caring and loving as he always was, but how he’s still an absolute little shit. And John. Johnny. How he’s changed so much, how he’d apologised and meant it, how even though he’d not noticed Clay’s issues, Clay hadn’t noticed any of his.

Then he says how he has to go back. How they have to go back. At the least, they need to tell the others of the existence of the pop village.

And when he sees her expression steel, and drop into fear and defence, he knows this is something he’s going to have to fight for.

“Is that not overkill?” Floyd asks.

JD looks up from the pile of towels he’s preparing.

“No? Bitty can feel cold now, and the pond isn’t going to be that warm,” he explains. Not that he would have been doing anything differently if Bitty were still grey. He'd still have been worried about him being cold, only now Branch would be able to tell (and be audibly complaining about it no doubt.)

It’s Poppy’s Hatchday Party later that day, and King Peppy had gone with the plan of inviting the kids to the pond to celebrate, so they can play in the water. He’s pretty sure all of the children in the village are going to be there, (and their parents) and he’s apprehensive at having to see so many trolls all at once.

“How do fifty towels help with that?” Floyd asks.

“Learn to count. It’s only four. And anyway, it’s so he can take regular breaks from the water and not have to use a wet towel every time,” JD says, ignoring Floyd and continuing to fold the towels.

“Oh. Okay yeah, that is a good plan,” Floyd concedes.

He’s still wary about Bitty even going. He’d never say no and risk Branch feeling left out, but Branch’s swimming skills were still precarious. At the very least he’d be watching him like a hawk the entire time, and he was wearing swimming shorts in place of his regular pair, in case he needed to go into the lake himself.

“Hey,” Floyd gets his attention, “he’ll be fine,” he reassures.

Was his anxiety that obvious? “Yeah,” he sighs, “I know, it’s just…”

“We had a horrible experience where we thought he’d drowned?” Floyd replies.

“Yeah. That,” JD says quietly.

He had nightmares about it, about going to the lake and never finding Branch, or worse, finding him there, floating and lifeless and—

“Stop it. I can practically hear your thoughts right now,” Floyd interjects, poking him in the forehead “We’re both there, both watching him. Nothing’s going to happen. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” JD agrees, rubbing the spot where Floyd had prodded him. The nerves are still prominent.

“I’ve got the present!” Bitty calls, running into the room with a grin.

JD plasters a smile on his face, “Great! Got your swimming shorts?” he asks.

Branch opens his mouth, then closes it, turning heel and scurrying back into his room.

“He’ll be fine,” Floyd says once he’s gone, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

JD hopes so.

As JD walks Branch into the crowd of trolls, he can already feel their eyes on them. Whispers begin, and he can pick up the occasional ‘Brozone’ and ‘grey’, but he ignores them, focusing instead on the feeling of Bitty’s hand in his, small and grounding.

He lets Bitty finish his brief conversation with Floyd before he interrupts.

“Here,” he says brightly, releasing Bitty's hand to pass him the gift, “go give this to Poppy.”

“Okay!” Branch replies, shrugging off his vest and passing it over. He gives JD and Floyd a quick hug before hurrying off in the direction of the Princess.

Some of the children are already in the pond, but Poppy is sitting near the King, surrounded by a pile of gifts. The King has set up a makeshift slide and diving board using the local fauna, and the kids are jumping into the pond gleefully. He watches as Branch greets Poppy, letting her hug him, and passing her the present.

John finds himself drifting towards the crowd of parents, standing awkwardly as they speak amongst themselves.

“So,” Floyd whispers, “who do we hate here.”

JD laughs. That's right, he wasn’t alone.

“The purple one with the green hair is Creek’s Mom,” he whispers back, eyes flicking to Creeks Mother, “though hate is a strong word.”

“Intensely dislike?”

“Let’s go with that.”

“You okay if I stir the pot?” Floyd asks, expression sly.

“Meaning?” JD asks, brows raised.

“You’ll see,” Floyd says, clapping him on the shoulder and striding towards the woman.

For a moment he’s worried Floyd will start a brawl at a children’s party (which is more his thing), but instead he starts talking to her, charm radiating from him even from this distance.

Oh. This will be interesting. He hides a grin, making sure he can still see Branch. He’s not in the pond yet, instead speaking animatedly with Cooper.

He heads closer to Floyd, catching the tail end of his sentence.

“…So glad your son is such a good friend of my brother. He’s always a delight to have over, he’s so polite!”

Ah, so he’s going in for the kill, with kindness of all things.

“Yes well,” the woman looks flustered, “we’ve tried to encourage his manners where we can. Sorry, it’s just that you look so similar to someone,” she says, narrowing her eyes at his face, “from that boyband.”

“Brozone?” Floyd asks with a perfected smile.

“Yes! I’m sure you get that a lot though,” she says, though the charm falls short.

“Well considering I was in Brozone, yes, I do.”

“What?” her eyes widen.

Where is Floyd going with this exactly? JD had thought he was keeping it on the down low.

“Sorry, excuse my manners,” he holds out a hand, “Floyd, former Brozone member.”

She flushes, taking his hand shyly.

“Brook. My goodness. Sorry, I was-am a huge fan,” she says.

“It’s fine! Your Creek is my brother’s friend after all,” Floyd says with a wink.

“Which one is your brother again? Sorry, Creek just has so many friends,” she looks sheepish.

“Oh, sorry I should have mentioned! Branch is my brother.”

JD sees the moment the penny drops, though in her defence she hides it well.

“Branch?”

“Yes! We don’t look too alike, so it’s no surprise you couldn’t guess,” Floyd jokes, “he’s had a hard time as you know,” he says, laying it on thick, “so it’s been such a relief to find out he has such understanding friends.”

“Well, yes, um,” she coughs, “that’s good.”

“John!” he calls, beckoning him over and flashing an exaggerated grin, “have you met Brook? She’s Creek’s Mom.”

Hmm. How to play this? Checking that Branch is still out of the water, he walks over, standing next to his brother.

“Oh, we’ve met,” he says, smiling. It’s not necessarily a nice smile.

Floyd seemingly ignores this, “Oh good! Johnny’s the oldest brother,” he swings an arm over his shoulder pulling him close, “I was just saying how nice it is that Creek and Branch are so close.”

“Yeah,” JD agrees, “my kid’s always talking about him. All good things.”

“Right,” Brook swallows, looking between the two, “Well it was lovely meeting you Floyd. John. I’m just going to go see if Flora needs any help with her um, towels,” she says, backing away awkwardly.

“See you later!” Floyd calls cheerfully.

“So, when you said stir the pot, I didn’t expect it to mean flirting with a married woman,” JD says, once she’s out of earshot.

Floyd releases his shoulder, “Oh please. She’s not my type.”

“A woman?”

“You know it. And you call that flirting? No wonder you’re single,” he jokes, “is she even married?”

“I…I think so?” he’d always assumed.

“Tut tut Johnny, making assumptions,” Floyd shakes his head mockingly, “anyway, your kid?”

“My what?”

“You called Branch ‘your kid’. Something you’re not telling me?” he jokes, but there’s something serious in his expression.

“Yeah well,” JD looks away awkwardly, “you know. I’m basically acting as his, you know,” he shrugs.

Branch sort of is his kid at this point. The age difference alone makes their relationship significantly different to that of his brothers, and he’s his responsibility. He’s fallen into the role of his parent unintentionally, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah. You are,” Floyd says softly, “and you’re a hell of a lot better than our sorry excuse of an egg donor.”

“You’re right,” JD admits. As much as he loved his late parents, they didn’t exactly do any parenting. Floyd barely even met them, save a couple of times, so he has even less memories. JD can remember them being there when he was very young. Until they weren’t.

“So what are the chances she didn’t recognise you from Brozone?” Floyd asks.

“High. Considering her reaction to you. Do I really look that different?” he replied, suddenly self-conscious.

“I mean kind of? You look a lot older, not super old though,” he reassures, “I joke about it but you really don’t. You hold yourself differently I guess?”

He radiates an aura begging people not to speak to him is probably what he means, but he’ll take it.

“Were you trying to guilt her?” he asks, wondering what the point of the conversation was.

“Yeah. Think it worked?”

“Maybe. It embarrassed her that’s for sure,” JD muses, scratching his face absently.

“Hey, Bitty’s on the diving board,” Floyd interjects, gently grabbing JD’s shoulders and turning him.

He is. With Creek of all people. They head closer, watching closely.

“Think he’ll jump?” Floyd asks.

“Maybe,” JD replies, though he’s not sure.

He can’t believe he’d missed him climbing up in the first place, bang up job he’s doing watching him.

He keeps his eyes on him, moving closer, ready to jump in if needed.

Branch is excited. He didn’t think he would be. Parties are loud, busy and overwhelming, but Poppy had told him that there wasn’t going to be any loud music, and they were mainly going to be playing and swimming in the pond, which sounded much better as it didn’t make too much noise. He could swim now anyway (sort of) so he could actually play in the pond with everyone! And Cooper and Biggie and Satin and Chenile and Creek and Smidge would be there, so he knew lots and lots of people.

People are looking at him less now he’s not grey. Well, they look at him weirdly if they recognise him, but he must blend in more as people aren’t openly staring at him.

Poppy had wanted him to throw a party, because he’d sort of got his colour back, but Branch refused. It was weird enough being able to feel things again, never mind having lots of people there looking at him on purpose. It would basically be a party for people to look at him, and see how different he was (even though he wasn’t that different at all). Everyone had been really nice though, they said his colour was really pretty, and Poppy had been so happy she’d given him four hugs.

Plus his colour kept..what was the word Dr Plimsy had said? Fluctuating? Knowing his luck, he’d plan a party and turn up grey again, and everyone would laugh.

It was still weird. Feeling stuff again. Little things, like he found the shower temperature JD normally set for him was that little bit too cold, and his duvet cover was really scratchy.

“I find it kind of hard because of my legs,” Cooper explains.

They’re talking about swimming, and Branch hasn’t actually gone into the pond yet. He can feel the cold of the grass beneath his feet, and even though it's uncomfortable he doesn’t care. He’s wary of how cold the pond will be. Once the novelty wore off, he decided he didn’t really like feeling cold.

“Because you’re a quadruped?” Branch asks.

“A what?”

“You walk on four legs,” Branch explains, “that’s what JD said it was called.”

“Oh wow! That sounds fancy!” Cooper says, looking at his own legs in awe.

“It is!” Branch agrees, “I tried walking with my hands and legs once and it was super hard. It’s a talent.”

“I like that,” Cooper says with a grin. His expression shifts, “Where are your goggles?”

“They’re with JD because I can’t swim in them. They’re not the underwater kind of goggles, so he’s looking after them,” Branch explains.

He feels weird though, like something’s missing. Does JD feel like this when he’s not wearing his goggles? Floyd said JD only wore them because he was getting grey hair, but Branch has never seen any so he’s pretty sure Floyd was joking. It would explain why he wore them all the time though.

“Should I take my hat off?” Cooper asks.

“Probably,” Branch replies, “it will get all soggy otherwise.”

“Yuck,” Cooper pulls a face at the thought.

“Hey,” they’re interrupted by Creek, who looks determined, “who’s going to jump off the thing with me?” he asks.

“The diving board?” Branch asks, remembering what Floyd had called it when he’d asked.

“Yeah. That.”

Cooper looks unsure, and no one else is paying any attention, so Branch pipes up, “I can.”

“Yeah?” Creek says, like he didn’t expect Branch to volunteer.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Mmm okay. Race you?” Creek says, and Branch grins, passing him before he can start.

“Cheat! You’re cheating!” Creek calls, but he’s laughing as they scramble up the makeshift ladder to the top. He knocks his arm as he climbs, stifling a yelp. It’s weird to feel pain again. He’s not used to it. Dr Plimsy had told him he wasn’t even feeling it fully, just a bit, but going from nothing to something felt like a lot.

They walk to the edge, peering over. It’s high. Higher than it looked from below, and Branch feels nervous. If he lands weird it might hurt, and he can feel it now.

“Scared?” Creek asks.

“A bit,” Branch admits, “I think it’s the jumping part.”

“Hmm,” Creek looks thoughtful. “Can you swim?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Branch replies.

“You sure?” Creek sounds sceptical.

“I can. My brothers taught me when we went camping,” Branch says defensively.

Creek’s face twists oddly at the mention of his brothers, and he looks thoughtful. Branch is sometimes bad at reading expressions, and this is no different because he's smiling, but he doesn't look very happy, so it doesn't make a lot of sense.

“Okay,” Creek says, and then he’s pushing him off the board, and he’s falling back, his arms outstretched.

For a split second he’s shocked, angry, why did Creek—

Then he’s falling. Falling. Hitting the flower, his Grandma’s screams ringing in his ears, oh god Grandma, it hurts, stop, stop stop his chest is clenching and she’s screaming she’s screaming and crunch then she’s not, and he’s screaming, but there’s please stop, please don’t hurt her bubbles not sounds and he’s floating and—

A harsh grip is pulling him up, to the surface. He’s not on the ground, he’s in the pond, but at the same time he’s not. He feels sick. He gasps, heaving in air, coughing up water. Purple fills his vision. Creek. It’s Creek.

“I thought you’d said you could swim!?” he sounds distraught, but Branch can’t answer, he just shakes his head.

He flails, but Creek is pulling him to the edge of the pond, helping him climb. He’s picked up, and he almost panics until he realises who it is. JD. He curls into his chest, gripping his jacket tightly.

“Why did you do that?!”

“I’m sorry! He said he could swim!”

“John, Johnny calm down.”

“Creek? Honey, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is your kid—"

“Johnny, stop!”

He’s moving. JD is carrying him, away from the pond. His eyes are closed, but he can still hear Floyd talking.

“You’re okay, you’re okay Bitty,” JD is talking to him, he’s ignoring Floyd.

Branch focuses on his voice, coughing into his chest. His throat and his nose hurt. JD’s grip tightens.

“Do you want to go home?” JD asks.

He does. He really does. He knows Poppy will be so sad if he leaves though, so he shakes his head.

“Do you want a break? Then we can go back in a bit?” JD asks gently.

He nods, “Just a break,” he says quietly.

“Okay Bits. That’s fine. We can sit here,” JD says, and Branch opens his eyes.

They’re far enough away from the pond that the noise is a mild hum. JD has sat them under the shade of one of the larger flowers, and at the sight of it his stomach drops. He moans, twisting his head away from it.

“Bitty what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” JD asks, and his voice is bordering on panic.

“He’s hurt?” that’s Floyd, and he can hear him sit beside them.

“I don’t know! Branch, can you say something baby?”

Branch takes a shaky breath. He knows he has to explain, or they’ll just work themselves into more of a panic.

“I think,” he starts, voice croaky, “Creek was trying to help. I um, I said I was scared of jumping,” he explains.

“Did you ask him to push you?” Floyd asks.

“Um. No.”

“Then he shouldn’t have pushed you,” Floyd says easily, “Bee, did you land badly? Are you in any pain?”

“My-my throat hurts,” he says, not wanting to lie, “I think I breathed in the water. But, that’s not why I was upset.”

There’s a brief silence before JD asks him, “Can you tell us why Bitty?”

“I uh,” this is so hard, he hates this he

hates this, “you said it was okay to talk about Grandma before. Is it still okay?”

His face is still hidden in JD’s chest, so he can’t see their expressions.

“You can talk to us about anything,” Floyd reassures, “do you want to hold my hand?” he asks.

In answer, Branch reaches out, and Floyd grasps his hand gently. The angle is weird, and it must be uncomfortable for Floyd, but he doesn’t say anything, just squeezing gently. JD runs a hand through his hair.

“When Grandma was taken,” he starts, “and the hand reached out, she pushed me so it took her instead. And I fell. I fell and when I hit the ground I looked up and I saw…I saw everything. And I heard, I heard…"

Crunch.

Please no, NO NOO

Her legs. They’re gone. Her mouth is open, screaming, but she’s forced past the teeth. They line up with her neck. They. Bite. Down.

“…Bee. Bee breathe, breathe with me.”

“Her legs. Her— it bit her head off, it took her legs first, then they were gone, and she was screaming. Then it--it took her head, it took her head and she stopped,” he says, strangled, swallowing down the bile.

“Oh god,” Floyd sounds sick now too.

“When Creek pushed me I felt like I was there again. Seeing Grandma. I…the falling. It felt the same.”

JD squeezes him close, “You’re here. You’re safe, we’ve got you,” he rocks him gently.

“Thank you for telling us Bitty, you’re so brave,” Floyd says, squeezing his hand.

He doesn’t feel very brave. He feels exhausted. He feels stupid and messy. He shivers. “I’m cold,” he states, but it seems to startle his brothers into action.

“Go grab a towel.”

“Already on it,” Floyd agrees, “I’ll be right back Bee,” he says softly, giving Branch’s hand a final squeeze before he leaves.

Time must pass, as the next thing Branch knows is he’s being wrapped inside a large fluffy towel, but it seems like only a second later. JD rubs his arms up and down the towel. Branch thinks he’s trying to warm him up, and it’s not really working but it feels sort of nice. Like a massage.

“Creek seems very apologetic,” Floyd says, sitting back down, but Branch thinks it’s aimed at JD.

“Yeah well, he should be.”

“You need to apologise Johnny. You can’t just yell at kids, especially kids that aren’t yours. He made a mistake, and he’s sorry. Would you be okay if some parent yelled at Branch?”

“I know,” JD sighs, “I panicked, okay?”

“His Mom was sorry too. Apologised on his behalf as well.”

“Really? Thought she’d be celebrating,” JD scoffs.

“Yeah well, she’s not.”

“Wow. The Floyd charm worked its magic yet again.”

“Or she’s not the two-dimensional book villain you’ve been making her out to be?”

“I have no response to that.”

Floyd chuckles. Branch has no idea what they’re talking about, but the general conversation is soothing. Grounding. He lets it wash over him, and he can feel his heart calm down. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.

Chapter Text

When JD had seen Creek shove his brother off the diving board he’d felt his anger jump for the surface. When he’d not immediately surfaced it had been replaced with raw fear, and he’d been seconds away from jumping in. Creek had brought his brother to the surface, panicking, and one look at Branch had seen the anger return.

Getting him away from the situation was the priority; it had been a blur of angry words and hurried walking. He barely noticed Floyd talking to him.

He’d been worried Bitty was injured, that something was wrong and when Branch had explained he’d felt sick. Helpless. It was mirrored in Floyd’s expression as they got a deeper understanding of the horrors their brother had witnessed. No one should have to see that. Especially not a child. Even hearing about it was traumatic, he can’t imagine being there.

It had taken over an hour for Bitty to fully calm down, and JD had been close to just taking him home regardless of his wishes. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t deny him his autonomy. He needed to have the control here, as so much of his life had been out of his control.

They’d headed back to the pond, and JD had reluctantly watched as Bitty headed back to his crowd of friends. Creek had scrambled out of the pool, speaking to him frantically and Bitty had nodded along, saying something that seemed to calm the other child. Then Bitty had followed him into the pond, carefully this time, and they’d both stuck to the edge.

JD feels on edge, but he forces himself to appear calm, settling close by but away from the other parents. He sits in the grass, aware he’s staring at Branch, but he’s not willing to risk anything else. He was already planning on getting him checked out with Plimsy if he had even the slightest cough later.

He watches as Poppy joins his brother, seemingly oblivious to the events that occurred. He can’t blame her. She’s been busy bouncing between her guests.

Branch catches him watching after a while, and he gives a confused wave. JD waves back, and before he knows it all of Bitty’s surrounding friends are also waving at him, Poppy shouting an audible ‘Hi John Dory!’.

Floyd laughs at their antics, and JD shoots him a withering look.

“I’m always amazed how resilient kids can be,” Floyd says.

“Yeah. Is that a general kid thing, or a Branch thing?” JD asks.

“Maybe both? He bounces back pretty quick,” Floyd replies, moving to lie on his stomach.

“You say that. He’ll probably be in for a rough night,” JD points out.

“Yeah,” Floyd winces, no doubt thinking along the same lines.

“So we’ve found another trigger,” JD sighs, “luckily this one seems more avoidable.”

“Yeah. No falling from a height. It’s a good thing none of us had decided to toss him in the air like we used to.”

“Oh. You think that would be enough to um, trigger him?” JD asks.

“Do we want to take the risk?”

“Yeah. Good point.”

Bitty had seemed too fragile to toss, it had never been something that had crossed his mind. He was light enough to do it, he had no doubt, but there hadn’t been an opportunity to do so, and for that he was grateful. He certainly wasn’t going to risk it now he knew it might distress him.

Bitty’s colour had dulled whilst speaking about their Grandma. It was still surreal to witness, even Plimsy had seemed unsure about the whole thing. There wasn’t enough recorded data to suggest if it was normal or not. The information about trolls who lost their colour was minimal; it seemed to be something that elderly trolls experienced, or trolls who experienced severe trauma, and as depressing as it was, no one so far had deemed it a worthy enough cause to document. The information they found showed that elderly trolls passed soon after turning grey, and younger trolls only lost their colour for short periods of time. Branch seemed to be an enigma, his colour brightening and fading along with his mood.

The first time he’d woken up significantly more dull he’d cried, and JD had panicked, wondering what could have possibly happened in the night to cause it. Then later in the day, his colour had brightened, his senses increasing, and they’d gone to Plimsy for a second opinion. It was basically new territory, for all of them. He’s not once gone completely grey again though, which has been a huge relief (though JD was finding it hard to adjust his cooking to match Bitty’s increasing and diminishing taste).

He’d just have to adjust. They all would.

Clay watches as Viva attempts to quiet the crowd.

“Hi! Can we settle down just a bit, I promise you can ask all your questions in just a moment!” she calls.

The crowd quiets, everyone turning to face the leader, who greets them with a beaming smile.

“Thank you! I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a mandatory meeting, but this is very important,” she explains.

“Is something wrong?” someone calls, and Clay recognises it as Aine, one of the trolls with skills in architecture. She looks nervous, and the trolls closest to her begin to mutter.

“No. No!” Viva assures before panic can break out, “This is good actually. Very good,” she takes a deep breath, “Mister Clay recently went on a scouting mission,” everyone’s eyes turn to him, and he resists the urge to fidget, “and he found…well, why don’t I let him explain.”

Thanks. Thanks, Viva. Not what they’d agreed, but sure. He slips into his leader role, adopting his normal serious expression, “I found the Pop Village,” he says. No need to tiptoe around it.

It’s like everyone speaks at once, shouting questions at him, the sound blending uncomfortably.

“Hey, let him speak please!” Viva interrupts loudly, and Clay shoots her a grateful look. She nods for him to continue.

“King Peppy has set up a new Pop Village, hidden in the woods. It’s thriving,” he not exactly sure what to say. “Does anyone have any questions?”

There’s a unanimous raising of hands. He points at random to the closest troll.

“Why did they not search for us? If they all survived?”

“Ah, well not all of them did. A majority did,” he reassures at the growing panic on their faces, “they also thought no one survived the tunnel collapse.”

A good number of raised hands drop at this information.

“Ruby?” he asks, gesturing to the glitter troll with their hand held high.

“Do they know we’re okay? Is my sister alive?” she asks desperately.

“They don’t, not yet. I gave King Peppy a copy of our roll call, and he’s assured me he’s going to have a village meeting similar to this. I have,” he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the list of names, “all of the members of the village listed here.”

“Read them, please,” Ruby says, and there’s a chorus of agreement.

Clay reads through the list. As he reaches certain names there are audible cheers, but a majority are silent, waiting with bated breath. It’s only as he reaches the end that there’s any real reaction, as they realise their relatives' names haven’t been called.

He can’t imagine what it would be like, to have been given that hope, only to have it snatched away moments later. It would be like losing them a second time.

“When are we going home,” the voice of Leighton, the former village vet breaks through the noise. He’s fighting back tears; his son Milton was one of the named trolls, and Clay knows his son is his only existing family, long before the escape. He knows only too well how it feels to know your family is alone.

“Are you insane?” Hawthorn answers in his stead, “Go home? Why would we put ourselves closer to the Bergens,” he practically spits the name, and several trolls speak up in agreement.

“That’s right, when are they coming here?” Ruby asks, looking directly at Clay.

“They can’t come here, we’re barely functioning as it is!”

“We need to go back!”

“No, it’s not safe!”

“My daughter is there, what are you suggesting?!”

“Good for you, my daughter is dead!”

Voices rise, arguments break out throughout the crowd and Clay feels out of his depth. He looks at Viva, and she steels her expression, placing her fingers in her mouth and whistling. It pierces the air, and the crowd quiets, looking to their leader.

“Clay,” she gestures to him, “has already spoken to the King. He…he does not want to move the village,” her voice is shaking, but she’s hiding it well.

“But the people don’t know about us. I know my sister, she’d want to live here,” Ruby calls.

“That…that is,” Viva falters.

“At this point,” Clay interrupts, “we have to assume they won’t. However, Viva has not yet met with the King in an official capacity. As far as I can gather, some of you are interested in returning to the village, and others are,” he glances at Hawthorn, “opposed. Can those of you who’d like to return stand this side,” he gestures to his left, “and those who like to remain stand here,” he gestures right.

The crowd parts, the gap between the sides seeming large and final. It’s almost evenly split.

“You…you all want to return?” Viva asks the trolls to her left, unable to disguise her heartbreak.

“My son is there,” it’s Leighton who answers. He was one of the first to move, standing firm. There are murmurs of similar agreement.

“Unless they decide to come here,” Ruby adds. She seems torn. “You’re really staying Aine?” She asks, directed at the troll standing opposite.

“There’s nothing left for me there,” she replies.

Clay remembers her speaking about her Mother, on nights when the memories had been painful. They’d all gathered around, sharing stories of their families, sharing in their collective grief. Her name hadn’t been on the list. Either way, Ruby looks crushed at the admission. The two had been close, dancing around an official relationship for months.

“Okay,” Clay says, “this is. This is a start. Me and Viva need to discuss our next steps, but we’re going to keep everyone very much in the loop.”

“How did you find them? The village?” Fern’s small voice calls out. She’s clinging to her Mother, both standing amongst the trolls wishing to return.

“I…” he and Viva had discussed this before, but he can’t do it. He can’t lie to his people, his friends. “I received a letter,” Viva’s head swivels towards him as he goes off script, “my brother. He managed to track me down. I went to find him, to check it out myself before I said anything.”

“How long have you known?” Hawthorn asks, ever ready to antagonise.

“A while,” he hedges, “but like I said I wanted to check it out first. I didn’t want to give anyone any false hope.”

He feels worse as they seem to accept this explanation. The truth was he hadn’t even been thinking of the bigger picture, all he’d been worried about was his youngest brother, grey and suffering.

The meeting finishes shortly after, though there’s a new divide. For some, it’s a miracle; their friends and relatives are back from the dead. For others, it’s a cruel reminder of grief they’d long buried, dug up and fresh.

They leave the building in varying moods until only he and Viva remain. Her face is unreadable.

“You were right,” she laughs bitterly, “they don’t want to stay.”

“Viva—"

“I need to talk to my Dad,” she interrupts.

“You do,” he agrees, “but how do you want to do it?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to do,” she replies, “people want to leave. People want to stay. We can’t do both.”

“I mean we could?” Clay says cautiously, “There’s no harm in having two settlements. It would be useful actually, for us anyway, to have a healthy source of trade. More resources. It will be hard ensuring we have enough expertise,” he’s referring to the few trolls with medical and practical experience, “but it’s likely people would be interested in moving here. It’s further away from the Bergens, that’s bound to be a selling point to some, plus we have electricity, unlike the village. This is all hypothetical of course,” he adds at Viva’s bewildered expression.

“And you? Where would you live?” she asks, holding his gaze.

He shuffles closer, gripping her hand gently, “I see no reason I can’t split my time between both. We’d need more reliable passage between the two places obviously, maybe look at getting some transportation in place but yeah. I can’t exactly leave this place forever. It’d fall apart,” he jokes.

Viva chuckles, wiping her eyes. “This is a mess,” she says, but she seems relieved.

“Yeah. It is,” he agrees, “but we’ll sort it. I’ve got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours. Mister Clay,” she adds, tone joking.

It’s so like her normal cadence that Clay almost sighs with relief. Hearing her sound so despondent is painful; he’s used to her being so positive and full of life.

“Right,” she wipes her free hand across her face hastily, “leader faces on.”

“Leader faces on,” he repeats, exaggerating his stern expression.

She laughs, and it’s like music to his ears.

JD walks into the critter sanctuary. The King had gathered everyone for a village meeting that morning and dropped the bombshell that there were survivors from the tunnel collapse. He’d listed the survivors who were currently living at the Hole’N Fun, and…well to be honest it went better than JD had expected. People were angry, yes, but it hadn’t come to physical blows. Not that anyone would have been able to just go up and attack the King. Huh, maybe he just has a vivid (pessimistic) imagination.

There were lots of questions that the King just couldn’t answer. He’d basically put the situation on hold, until he could have direct contact with the Princess and Clay, and wasn’t that a weird thing to think about, his brother being the leader. Now they were on better terms, it was definitely something to add to his rota of teasing material.

People were happy anyway, finding out their friends and relatives were alive. Hell, some of them were finding out they were grandparents now, and if that wasn’t a shock to the system he doesn’t know what is. The happiness must be outweighing the anger at the thought that the King had unintentionally abandoned his people.

Which was why he was heading to see Milton. His Dad was one of the trolls listed, so he wanted to check in with him. As he heads further in he sees him, crouched close to…is that a Caterbus?

“Yo Mil,” he calls.

Milton jumps at his voice, standing to greet him,

“John? Hey, you okay?” he asks.

“I’m great, it’s you I’m worried about,” JD replies, cutting to the chase, “you got some big news earlier.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Milton laughs, “that’s an understatement.”

“So? How you feeling?” JD makes himself comfortable leaning against the fence.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean happy obviously, but I feel like I’d only just come to terms with him being gone,” he sighs, rubbing his face.

“I can imagine,” JD sympathises.

“It’s good. I’m sure it’ll hit me later and I’ll start crying or singing or something, but right now I’m just. Doing my thing,” he says, gesturing to the Caterbus.

“Who’s this little guy?” JD asks, taking the subject change for what it is.

“Girl actually. One of the villagers found some wandering close to the village. Normally I’d say let them be, they’re not newborns after all, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have some future transport for the village.”

“How many?” JD asks, watching the critter sniff the ground.

“Four. Not named them yet, just getting them settled. I’ll need to build an extension for them I think, these guys are going to get big, as you know,” Milton explains.

“Yeah, they’re gonna be huge,” JD agrees.

They’re not even that small now, up to just below his hip.

“It’s a good idea,” he continues, “Bitty’s going to freak. More critters for him to obsess over,” he grins.

“Tell you what, you bring him over and I’ll let him name them.”

“Sure about that?” JD says, raising his brows, “he called his bow ‘Brenda’.”

“And you named Rhonda,” Milton points out.

“Touché. Though I still say there’s nothing wrong with ‘Rhonda’,” he argues.

“I’m saying nothing,” Milton grins, “oh!” his eyes widen, “wait, stay here a sec. You got a reply.”

He hurries off, and JD busies himself petting the Caterbus. Oh man it’s cute, its eyes are huge. Before long Milton reappears, and he’s handed a couple of letters with familiar font. Bruce.

“Thanks,” he says, pocketing them.

“No sweat. Anyway, thanks for coming by. I appreciate it,” Milton says, smiling fondly.

“Yeah well, you’re my friend. Can’t let you have a crisis by yourself,” he replies jokingly.

“Back at you John. If you need a vent, you know where I am,” Milton urges.

“Will do,” JD agrees.

He says farewell, giving the Caterbus a final pet before heading home. He’s excited to see what Bruce has to say, considering the last letter JD sent had been begging for wedding details.

Johnny,

Okay, okay fine. I’ll go into more detail about the wedding, but only because you said Branch was panicking about it. You can suffer (I’m joking by the way).

So in Vaycay tradition the woman is normally the only one walked down the aisle, which is just weird right? So we’re ignoring that and going with the norm, which is both of us walked to the alter by our respective parent. Brandy is all for it, as it’s a lot more balanced. It’s a wedding, not a transaction. Anyway, that’s where you come in if you hadn’t guessed. If it’s okay with you I’d like you to be the one to walk me? Feel free to say no but I really want it would mean a lot.

I want to ask Clay to be my best man, as you’re filling in the parent slot, and I hope that’s okay with you? And Floyd? Honestly I was thinking of having three two best men, but I was hoping Floyd would join Branch in being a flower boy? Not as a slight to Floyd, I just figured Branch would be more comfortable having someone with him, and it would mean Floyd could double as a ring bearer. Tell me if you think it’s stupid. If he’s not comfortable then I can switch it up, just let me know. I don’t know why I’m even telling you this, I can write it in his letter. I already wrote it here, so just tell him and if I write it again then it sucks to be you.

I had another thought too. So you’ve told me how much Branch loves taking photos. What do you think about asking him to be one of the photographers? I mean, we have an official photographer, but I think it would be nice to ask Branch if he could take some photos too? It might give him something to focus on if he gets nervous, and honestly the photos would be extra special. Sorry if this makes no sense, I’m writing at a weird angle when I’m between customers.

You mentioned clothes? Honestly, anything. If you want to go formal, go for it, but everyone here is very easygoing. Maybe something more traditional? Think Flower-Fest, but I’m leaving it up to you. If you’ve got the time then it would be good if you could come a couple of weeks earlier, so we can properly catch up before, but like I said it’s if you have the time. You have the directions already but let me know if they’re not clear enough.

You can tell Clay that if he doesn’t want to do any sort of speech it’s fine, but if he wants to then he’s welcome to (I feel like I’m setting myself up here, but oh well) but there’s no pressure. Same goes for you. Please, don’t mention any of my exes though. Not that you would! But seriously. Don’t.

If you haven’t guessed already from my previous letters, I’m kind of freaking out now. It’s getting close, and I just want to be married already. Anyway how

I’ve got to end it here, I just heard a crash from the Kitchen that sounded expensive, so I’ll leave it here.

See you soon bro,

Love Bruce

JD places the letter by his bed, next to the one addressed to Floyd, but he can’t stop grinning. Bruce wanted him to walk him to the alter, and yes their parents are dead so it’s not like there are many options but still. He wasn’t expecting to be so directly involved, he’d resigned himself to watching on the sidelines as his brothers took on the important roles.

He tells Floyd later that day, explaining the role Bruce would like him to have in the wedding.

“Flower boy?” Floyd sounds confused, but not opposed.

“Yeah. He figured it could double as ring-bearer and you’d be able to keep Bitty company,” JD explains.

“He wants Bee to be a flower boy?” he sounds much happier at this revelation, “Oh man he’s going to look so cute! Does he know yet?”

“Not yet, I’m telling him after school. You guys can have matching outfits,” JD teases.

“We need to take so many photos,” Floyd says, ignoring his comment entirely.

“Speaking of, he wants Branch to be one of his photographers,” he adds.

“Oh, Bee will love that. Is Bruce prepared to model though?” Floyd says slyly.

JD laughs, “Nope! He has no idea what he’s going to unleash, giving Bitty that kind of freedom.”

“So you and Clay? You guys got any um, jobs?” Floyd asks, attempting to be subtle.

“Jobs?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Well Clay’s best man,” JD continues.

“Okay, sounds good,” Floyd says, treading carefully.

“And I’m walking him down the aisle,” JD says, unable to stop his grin.

“Oh thank fuck,” Floyd sounds relieved, “he finally asked you.”

“Wait, you knew all this already?” JD asks. Of course he would, they had their own correspondence too.

“Mmm, not all of it. He’d mentioned wanting to ask you, but he was nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?”

“Oh uh,” Floyd looks uncomfortable, “I didn’t say anything, but he was worried you might not want to.”

“Why?!” JD say incredulously. Why would he possibly say no?

“He just…I think he just worried about it. You guys parted with bad blood so,” Floyd explains.

“Huh. Okay. So it’s for the best I tell him soon as possible that I very much do want to,” JD replies, that familiar guilt building.

“I’d say so yeah.”

“Okay then. Here,” he grabs the letter to Floyd that he’d pocketed earlier, “hurry up, read and write a reply. I’m gonna go write mine, but I want to send these tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, bossy,” Floyd mutters, taking the letter, but it’s clear he’s not serious.

JD heads to his bedroom to begin his reply. Plus he has a speech to write, which makes him simultaneously honoured and incredibly nervous.

It’s got to be perfect meaningful.

Chapter Text

Clay holds Viva’s hand as they cross into the borders of the pop village. As they’d journeyed closer, she’d grown quiet. It was unsettling. Normally she was vibrant, loud and bursting with enthusiasm. He’s sure it’ll return once she sees her sister, but for now, her anxiety seems to be taking the reins.

They’d planned it meticulously. Well, Clay had. Viva had been more interested in packing gifts for Poppy, along with several weapons, as her mood shifted between terrified and exhilarated. They had left several trolls in charge whilst they were gone, all of them sensible enough to ensure the golf course wouldn’t collapse in their absence. With no way to contact his brothers (at least until they sent a bloodhound bug his way) they decided to just turn up and hope for the best. Floyd and John were expecting him soon anyway; he’d promised he would be back in a couple of months give or take, so it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue.

Viva had taken some convincing. She wanted to come, to see her family, that much was obvious, but her paralysing fear of the Bergens was ruling her decisions. It had taken her days, to work herself up to agreeing, and even then it was only because her presence was a necessity. She was the leader, it was only right she met with the King. Who happened to be her presumed dead Father. Yeah, it was a mess, and Clay had stepped up into the role of raising morale, at least her morale. Plus he’d taken the journey once before, so the confidence he broadcast whilst they travelled wasn’t a complete exaggeration.

He guides her through the village, watching her mouth drop open in awe.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispers, “and bright! Is that…is that, oh my gosh Mags!?”

She gasps, and Clay lets himself be dragged towards the elder troll, smiling politely as the two engage in conversation.

“Viva? Is it really you? Your father announced that you’d survived, but to see you here-" she’s looking teary-eyed now, and Clay feels as though he’s intruding.

“It’s me, I’m here,” Viva says, also sounding close to tears, and Clay’s hand is released as she pulls the other woman into a tight embrace.

If she’s this emotional with Mags, Clay doesn’t even want to imagine how the reunion with the King will go.

He mainly tunes out the conversation, instead observing the village as surreptitiously as he can. It’s busy, bustling with activity as trolls sing and talk amongst themselves. They’re so happy it almost feels fake, the way they’re all smiling is oddly unnerving. Sure, they’re generally happy at the Hole’N Fun, but you’re just as likely to hear a good-natured argument. The way they look here is uncanny. He’d noticed it the last time he came, but he’d mostly ignored it, spending most of his time with his brothers anyway.

“-And you’re more than welcome to join in the celebrations later!” he tunes back in when Mags says this, wondering what the celebrations could possibly be.

“Celebrations?” Viva asks, sounding as confused as he feels.

“Oh, of course, you haven’t been here; today’s the last day of Confetti-Fest, and as usual we’re celebrating with a final party. Of course, you’re invited too Clay,” she says, turning to him with a kind smile. Oh, so she does recognise him. It’s surprising, with how much he’s changed.

He tries to return her smile, but the thought of a party honestly sounds exhausting.

“We’ll think about it Mags, thank you for the invite,” Viva replies, eyeing Clay’s expression carefully.

“Of course! And make sure you come and see me soon, I’ll have a hot drink waiting for you,” Mags says, giving Viva a final hug.

They finally leave, Clay reaching for Viva’s hand once more.

“I missed this,” Viva says, letting him guide her towards the King’s pod.

“This?”

“You know. The happy atmosphere. The general uh, brightness,” she explains.

“Really?” Clay asks.

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No. You always were fond of all this,” he gestures around him.

“Hey, so were you at one point,” she says, poking his chest playfully, “you were called the fun one for a reason right?”

He winces, and her expression twists with regret. She knows his hang-ups, she knows he wants to be taken seriously now.

“Sorry. Sorry, I know you don’t…I’m just nervous,” she apologises.

He squeezes her hand reassuringly, “I get it. No worries.”

“Seriously Mister Clay, you’re like, the most serious and-and um, introspective and stern and un…fun and…I mean feel free to interrupt at any time here man,” she flounders.

Clay laughs, “Nah. Keep going girl, I wanna see how many synonyms you’ve got.”

She has a glint in her eye when she continues, “I don’t know about synonyms, but you’re definitely a…a,” she falters, her eyes widening as she spots the troll walking towards them, Daddy?” she whispers.

Clay feels his hand released, and he watches as she runs towards The King, throwing herself into a hug, and calling his name. He seems startled, but hugs back after a moment, lifting her off the ground with his enthusiasm. Clay walks towards them, mindful of encroaching.

“…Oh my baby, Viva I thought I’d lost you,” he catches the tail end of the King’s sentence, and the man sounds like he’s battling tears. “Come on,” he continues quietly, though Clay can just about hear him, “let’s go to my pod for some privacy.”

Viva nods, pulling back and beckoning Clay over.

“King Peppy,” he greets politely.

“Clay,” Peppy returns.

He leads them to the pod, swinging up with his hair enthusiastically.

Clay and Viva copy with some difficulty; their hair texture made it difficult to manipulate and their bags are heavy, but they manage, if somewhat clumsily. Once inside, the King visibly deflates, and they both drop their baggage to the floor.

“Do you-do you want me here for this?” Clay asks Viva.

“Yes,” she says, the word betraying her nerves.

“Viva,” Peppy starts, “I’m…I’m so sorry. I was convinced that no one could survive the collapse. Some of us went back later, to check and we pulled bodies from the rubble. There didn’t seem to be any way anyone could survive,” he explains.

Clay admires the fact he doesn’t dance around the issue, getting straight into the heavy conversation.

“I understand,” Viva replies, “but I still waited. I hoped. We stayed close by for weeks, until I thought…I figured you must have died because it was the only reason I could see for you not finding us. For finding me.”

“Viva, had I known you were alive, nothing would have stopped me from finding you,” Peppy implores.

“I get that. I do. But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell Poppy about me?” she asks, anger bleeding into her tone.

“It-I-I mean…it was painful. To talk about you. I didn’t know how to approach it. As time passed it became clear Poppy didn’t remember, and I didn’t want to tell her about you, about what she was missing out on,” he tries to explain, his hands wringing anxiously.

“It-that’s not fair Dad. I exist. I would have existed and you just, what? Decided to erase me entirely?” Viva asks, breathing heavily.

“It wasn’t sensible, no. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Huh,” Viva pauses, steeling herself, “well, we have a lot of things to discuss. Leader to leader,” she clarifies.

Oh, they’re doing this now? Viva must be rattled if she’s leaping straight into negotiations. Clay had figured there would be more time to catch up, but for her to default to her leader role she must be keeping a cap on her (no doubt messy) emotions.

“Right,” Peppy seems taken aback at the subject change, “of course.”

“Some of my people wish to return here. To the Pop village. I’d like you to find out if anyone here would like to move to the Hole’N Fun, as it’s further away from the threat of the Bergens. There may be some people who feel more comfortable there, and they’re welcome to come, so make sure you let them know the option is there. Clay told me you weren’t interested in moving the entire village,” she says, judgement clear.

“Right. Well yes, I can certainly find out,” Peppy replies, bypassing the mention of his decision.

“We’ll need to coordinate moving people. And we’d like to set up reliable methods of travel and trade between the two settlements,” she continues.

“Wait, you’re not returning?” Peppy asks.

“No. Not everyone wishes to live here, and being within range of the Bergens is…it’s not the safest decision.”

“We’ve not heard or seen them in years now Viva,” Peppy admonishes.

“Well, you’re very lucky. It only takes one of them stumbling across you for all of this,” she gestures around her, “to be reduced to nothing. What defences have you got in place?”

“Defences?”

“Yes? Alert systems? Hideouts? Do you at least know what you’d do if a Bergen showed up?” she sounds incredulous.

“Um, well you see…”

“You don’t do you?” she sounds disappointed, “is this another thing you thought would just, cease to exist if you didn’t think about it?”

Peppy visibly flinches, “We have a weapons storage, and my team know how to use most of them,” he defends.

“Most? And your team? Are they here now? In the village?”

“Um, well…”

“They’re not, are they? So no one here can actually... Okay. Okay,” she rubs her temples, “Clay, what were your suggestions?” she turns to him, her exasperation evident.

“Right, well,” he straightens, aware he now has the King’s full attention, “we have several methods of defence in place at the course. I made copies of our plans for you to look through, in case you’d like to implement any. We’d also like to arrange for the Fuzzlings to come to the course to assist in fortifying the buildings. John mentioned their skills, and their expertise would be very useful. Um, okay,” he thinks, what else had he been meaning to say? His head was a mess.

“Hospital?” Viva prompts.

“Right, yeah, we noticed you have very little in way of medical care here. Two whole Doctors,” he says, unable to curb his tone, “Viva suggested, as you were planning on staying, that you focus on building a medical facility and training more trolls in medicine.”

“You see, um, I’ve been waiting on hearing back about some more advanced medical equipment,” Peppy explains sheepishly, “my team are looking into both modern and mystical equipment, so we haven’t been sure how to be set up anything in preparation.”

“It’s been over five years Dad. Why are there not more people at the least learning basic first aid?” Viva sighs, crossing her arms, “And where are your ‘team’ even finding this equipment?”

“They, um,” Peppy appears nervous, “so there’s something you don’t know…”

He goes on to explain the history of something called the ‘strings’, and all of a sudden Floyd’s off-handed comment about a Rock-Troll he knew, and Branch’s unusual favourite song, start to make a lot more sense. The King was nothing but secrets apparently.

“So there’s different tribes of trolls? With different musical styles?” Viva asks.

“Yes. My team are um…liaising with them?” Peppy replies, though he doesn’t even sound sure of what he’s saying.

“That-that’s great!” Viva says, face brightening.

“Great?”

“We can ask for their help! With the Bergens! I’m sure if they knew about such a threat, they’d be more than willing to put our differences aside to assist! Wait, you’re liaising with them? How come they don’t already know?”

“Ah. Well, you see, when I say liaising what I mean is it’s more, one-sided um, trade?” Peppy says awkwardly, hunching in on himself.

“Stealing,” Clay interjects coldly.

“Dad…tell me you’re not just, stealing from these people,” Viva sounds shocked.

“It’s not things they’ll miss,” he holds up his hands in defence, “there’s no way they’d actually agree to trade once they found out who we were, not with our volatile history. They were violent towards us before, there’s no knowing if that’s changed.”

“Dad I can’t. I just,” Viva groans, “Okay, let’s— let’s continue another time. This is…there’s a lot.”

“That’s fine petal, we can talk about it later. Did you want to stay here for a bit? Poppy will be back from school shortly and—"

“Yes,” Viva interjects enthusiastically, her mood shifting rapidly.

“Are you alright if I head off for a bit? I want to go see my brothers, and it might be good for you guys to catch up?” Clay asks, the 'in private' heavily hinted at.

“That’s fine! Yes, you go see your bros and me and Dad will catch up on less serious stuff,” Viva says, smiling reassuringly. He can see how it's strained; she's still angry, but he doesn't call her out.

She hugs him, and he gives the King a tight smile before picking up his bag and making to leave.

“So are you and Clay…?”

“Dad?!”

He pointedly ignores the tail end of their conversation, that and the furious blush he feels spreading across his face and ears. Nope, not something he wants to think about. Not yet.

Clay rams his heel into the door of the bunker, knocking several times. He’d use his knuckles, but his bag is heavy and he doesn’t want to bend. He’s not sure he’d get back up. His brothers really need to install some sort of bell. Branch had mentioned that John had installed several heavy-duty locks on the door and had promised some sort of alarm system when he could figure it out, but a bell seemed like it should be a priority. Well, the aching in his foot said it should be.

After a moment there’s the sound of clicking, and the door is raised, John peeking out like some sort of mole.

“Clay!” he calls, his suspicious expression melting into genuine joy. He clambers out, pulling him into a hug. Clay hugs back, somewhat awkwardly.

“Yo,” he says in greeting, and before he can say anything else John is taking his bag from his shoulders.

“Come in, you look…tired,” he says, sounding surprisingly tactful. Clay knows he must look like shit; he’s overdue for a shower and some food.

Clay follows him down the ladder, jealous of the ease that John displays carrying his bag. It’s heavy, but he’s barely straining.

“Been busy?” Clay asks once they’re in sight of the kitchen table. It’s covered in coloured cards, several abandoned shapes piled up, and crayons lying haphazardly across the entirety of the surface.

“Bitty’s been making Floyd’s Hatchday card. I think this is the result of his fourth attempt?” JD explains, moving the paper to the side to make a space, “Coffee?”

“Yeah, go on then. Thanks,” Clay sits at the table, watching as John busies himself with a pan. “I had no idea his Hatchday was so soon,” he admits.

“It’s fine, not like you have a calendar. Or do you?” it looks like he wants to add more, possibly teasing, but he stops himself.

“Well there’s one from about ten years ago, so it’s pretty out of date.”

“Then you’re fine,” John calls over his shoulder, “besides Floyd’s way too wrapped up in his crush visiting to really care so.”

“Crush?” Clay asks, taken aback, slightly uneasy at the thought of his younger brother having any semblance of a dating life.

“Yeah, he’s not outright said it, but I have eyes. His old flatmate,” John adds, preparing some mugs.

“The tall one?”

“Um, slighty understated there but yeah. I’ve not met him yet, but he’s bringing some solar stuff with him so we can finally get some electricity here.”

“Huh. You guys know anything about electrics?” Clay asks; it was his forte at the Hole’N Fun after all.

“Not. A. Thing,” John emphasises.

“I mean I can help with it if you want?” Clay offers.

“Really? That’d be awesome,” John agrees easily, not even questioning that he knows enough to help. Old Johnny would have been questioning his credentials.

“Great. Okay,” he replied somewhat awkwardly, “anyway. Where is Floyd? And Branch?”

“Oh, Floyd’s out visiting Darius, and Bitty’s in his room doing homework,” John explains, pouring the boiling water into the coffee.

“He is?” Clay asks, surprised he’s not heard him.

“Yeah. You want a shower before he’s all over you?” John asks, correctly guessing he’s referring to Branch.

“Please,” he feels so sticky, and he’s sure there’s a layer of grime coating his skin, “now if possible. I don’t mind cold coffee.”

John laughs, “Sure. Hope you don’t mind cold water either, it takes a while for the boiler to heat.”

“I really couldn’t care less.”

He’s directed to the shower, (once he’s grabbed a clean change of clothes from his bag) and with John’s assurance that it’s okay to use his products, he’s left alone to wash. It’s near freezing, but he doesn’t mind. Until they’d got the shower at the golf course sorted they’d set up makeshift showers using rainwater, and they’d been equally as cold. He makes it quick though, hurriedly washing his hair.

Once out he feels refreshed, his skin no longer itching uncomfortably. He was quick enough that when he returns to the kitchen, his coffee is still mildly warm, and he takes a swig sighing happily.

“Better?” John asks, from his seat opposite.

“God yes. I think I was like, ninety percent dirt.”

“So. Bitty rundown before he barrels in here demanding Clay time?” John asks.

“Hit me,” Clay replies, steeling himself.

“We found another trigger. His…friend pushed him off a diving board into the pond and he freaked. Turns out Grandma pushed him off the tree branch to save him when she was, you know. Don’t know if it was the pushing or the falling or both, but he had a serious flashback. He, uh,” John swallows audibly, gripping his mug, “told us about what he saw. Of Grandma.”

“And? What did he say?” Clay prompts when John seems to freeze.

“I don’t want to say. It wasn’t pretty, to say the least.”

“I don’t exactly want to know Johnny, I’m asking because it’s important to know, so we can help him,” Clay explains, his stomach dropping.

How bad was it? For John not to tell him.

“It won’t help,” Johnny shakes his head, “you knowing. It’s bad enough Floyd knows.”

“What, so just you should know?” He raises his brows, “You wanna gate-keep the information? Why? So you can be some sort of martyr? Suffer alone?”

“I want to protect you Clay,” John narrows his eyes.

“Protect? Or keep me in the dark. I’m a grown man John, and Branch is the one who actually saw it, so I’d say your protection is a bit late,” he snarks, immediately regretting the words as John’s face crumples. “Johnny, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that—"

“You want to know?” John asks, his expression unreadable, “fine. He saw Grandma have her legs bitten off. Saw it bite into her body, crush her, heard her bones snap and rip. Heard her screaming, begging, until it bit her head off and she was finally silent. Are you happy now? In a better place to help Branch now you know he saw her ripped apart?”

Clay covers his mouth, bile rising up his throat painfully. He gags into his hand.

“Shit, Clay!”

He feels Johnny’s hand on his shoulder, but he focuses on breathing. He hates being sick, he hates it; he swallows it down, breathing through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, “I should have…I don’t…”

“No, no Clay I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you, I know you like to know everything, but I should have insisted,” Johnny sounds desperate, rubbing his back, “I didn’t need to give you the details like that.”

Clay focuses on the sensation, trying to turn his mind from the mental images flashing behind his eyes. “I should have just trusted you,” he says bitterly.

“Yeah well, lesson learnt and all that,” John waves him off.

They sit (well, John stands) for maybe a couple of minutes until Clay doesn’t feel like he’s seconds away from being sick.

“You good?” John asks.

He nods in lieu of an actual response, and John sits back down, though he shuffles his chair closer so he’s within reach.

“It’s my fault,” Clay says, unable to stop himself from forming the words. The guilt is like a noose around his neck, he needs to tell someone.

“Hey, no, I shouldn’t have been so graphic—"

“Not that,” he interrupts abruptly, clenching his hands on the table, “Grandma. I should have been there.”

“Clay,” John looks at him with sympathy, “we all think that. It’s not just on you, we all left—"

“I didn’t leave!” he hisses, and John’s eyes widen at the confession.

“What do you—?”

“I didn’t leave the tree. I was there for months, on the opposite side, staying with Clover. Then when I did leave, I was still in Bergen town, until the escape.”

“Wait, you were still there?” John asks, incredulous.

“When you guys never showed up to drag me home like usual, I figured you were finally sick of my shit. So I stayed gone. I didn’t know you all left too,” he explains.

“Shit Clay…”

“I didn’t even ask about him. I just buried my head and ignored everything and convinced myself you were living it up without me, and he had you guys so he’d be fine. I should have checked.”

“Y-you were-" Clay whips his head around at the voice; Branch is standing in the doorway. His skin is dull, and he’s gripping the edge of the doorway like a lifeline.

Fuck. Fuck!

“Branch—"

“You were—you were there the whole time?” his voice cracks; Clay can hear the heartbreak, the betrayal.

“Bitty,” John moves towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice, his eyes boring into Clay’s. He’s visibly shaking, his fists tensed.

“Branch, I swear I didn’t know everyone had left,” Clay’s practically begging.

“But you, even if they did, you said you weren’t mad at me! Was that a-a lie? I-I was—" he takes a gasping breath.

“Bitty, breathe baby,” John is murmuring to him softly.

“I-I used to beg for you guys to come back. Every morning I thought you’d have come home, but I thought, I thought you were somewhere better, that you were happy even if you were too mad at me to come back, and Grandma used to say how you-you were all busy and far away and you didn’t come back because you couldn’t, but you could! You could have come back you just didn’t and I..." he breaks into heaving sobs, “I needed you!” he’s pretty much screaming at this point, his small frame shaking violently.

Clay feels like he can’t breathe, his chest hurts, it’s like he’s being ripped apart, and then he’s thinking of their Grandma and—

“Branch, you need to breathe,” John is kneeling at this point, the panic bleeding into his voice. Branch just groans, like he’s in physical pain.

“Branch, it wasn’t you, I promise!” Clay says desperately; he has to make this right, “When no one turned up to bring me home I thought it meant they wanted me to stay gone. We were having so many issues amongst ourselves, I thought they’d given up on me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have come home even if they had because I know you wouldn’t have. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I can’t,” Branch is clawing at his chest, his nails leaving visible indents.

Clay panics, moving closer, but John turns to him, shaking his head sharply. He watches, helpless as John turns back to Branch.

“Branch, here, put your hand on my chest, okay? Good, you’re doing so good baby, now try and breathe in time with me,” John exaggerates his breathing, and Branch joins in somewhat shakily.

Clay finds himself matching their breathing, gripping his romper tightly.

“What do you need Bitty? Do you want to sit on my lap?” John asks.

Branch nods, and John sits himself down cross-legged, pulling Branch to sit on him. He curls up against John’s chest, pulling his knees up. Clay watches as John strokes his hair, the action natural, like he’d done it a hundred times before. He probably had.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Branch’s ragged breathing, but it eventually evens out.

“Do you want to lie down Bitty? I bet you’re tired,” John asks gently.

“I have homework,” Branch replies in answer. His voice cracks, but he sounds monotone, a far cry from the distress of earlier.

“It’s not important right now. Tell you what, you lie down for a bit and I’ll help you with your homework later, or Floyd can help when he gets back. Have a nap,” Clay notices he’s not mentioned here, but he isn’t surprised.

“Okay. Can you lie with me until I’m asleep?” Branch asks.

“Course. Can I carry you?”

“Yeah,” Branch replies, and Clay isn’t spared a glance as the two exit the room. He’s left to his thoughts.

He didn’t want him to find out this way. He wasn’t even sure he was going to tell him, as guilty as it made him feel, and he was right, look what good it did? He’d thought of him, all the time when he was hiding in his friend’s pod like a fucking coward, but every time he thought of going back he’d thought of John’s face, the anger and disappointment. Of Bruce’s sharp tone when they argued, of the way Floyd tried to mediate in that way that annoyed him so much, because how could he try to take John’s side, even a little bit?

He’d let his fear, and his anger at his brothers dictate his whole life. John had shoved him in a box, a persona, but he’d been the one to climb into another box, one where he was nothing but angry and bitter.

He’s so deep in his self-flagellating thoughts he doesn’t notice Floyd until he’s practically in the room.

“Oh hey, Clay! Didn’t think you’d be—Clay? Are you okay?” he’s looking at him with concern he just doesn’t deserve.

“I fucked up. I fucked up so bad,” he laughs almost hysterically, and the concern on Floyd’s face amplifies.

He moves to comfort him, pulling him from the kitchen into the living room and onto the sofa when it’s clear he’s not receptive to a simple hug.

“Clay, what’s wrong? Come on man, you’re kind of scaring me here,” he says, sitting next to him warily.

“Branch heard me and Johnny talking.”

“Were you guys arguing? Where’s Bee?” he asks, eyes widening in panic.

Clay shakes his head vigorously, “No, no we weren’t arguing. I was, I was…” How does he even admit this, “I was telling Johnny how I-I never left the tree. Not for months. After the argument. I was staying with Clover.”

“Your old school friend? You normally stayed with them, I remember. Johnny or Bruce used to find you there after you guys argued,” Floyd says, almost to himself.

“Yeah well, when no one turned up to convince me to come back I figured you guys had finally had enough of me. So I stayed gone,” he explains.

“What—how? How did you not realise we’d gone? You were still in the tree?” Floyd sounds sceptical.

“I avoided you. Or rather I avoided anywhere I knew you guys would be. You’re forgetting, that the tree was huge. The east side was like a separate village in itself. I just stayed in, reading and sleeping.”

“For months?”

“Well yeah. I was…I was pretty depressed. Clover brought me food, and I still went out, just not anywhere near the west side. Then I figured I’d actually try leaving,” he laughs bitterly, “didn’t even get out of Bergen Town. Just stayed there, hiding. It was terrifying, but I couldn’t bring myself to go any further out. Then I overheard them talking about Trollstice and I went back. Figured I had nothing to lose, it wasn’t like I had much of a life at that point. When I got back in, the escape was already happening. It was chaos. I just followed the crowds until we were in the tunnels. I didn’t see you guys, so I figured you were part of the group that already escaped the tunnels. I tried to catch up when the collapse um, happened. I was with Viva. Stuff happened and um we waited nearby with the other survivors. She was so sure her Dad would come find us, and when he didn’t she thought he must have died. I’d always assumed we’d been abandoned. Which is ironic, because that’s exactly what I did to Branch.”

“And Bee heard all this?” Floyd asks.

“No. Just the part about me not leaving the tree. I didn’t get a chance to explain properly, he had a panic attack. He’s with Johnny, trying to get some sleep,” he finishes with a shaky sigh, gripping the cushions of the sofa.

“Oh Clay,” Floyd looks at him with that sympathy again, reaching his hand out to squeeze his shoulder.

Clay shrugs him off, “No, you don’t get it! I must have been there! In the tree or at least nearby, when…when Grandma was…”

Saw it bite into her body, crush her, heard her bones snap and rip.

“Clay, you didn’t know,” Floyd leans towards him, face imploring, “None of us knew. We all left, just because you left and were a bit closer to home doesn’t change anything. Branch is upset yes, but he’s having to reassess everything he thought he knew about you and the situation. He had accepted one thing, now he has to get his head around something else. This is just bringing up a lot of emotions for him. It’s like dangling the possibility that you could have come back sooner closer to his face, but ultimately it doesn’t change anything. When you explain it to him he’ll understand. He’s just not great with change.”

“Do you think Johnny will be mad?” Clay asks, voice small.

“It would be pretty hypocritical for him if he is considering he fucked off to the Neverglades of all places. I don’t think he’ll be angry. Well, he might be a bit angry because of how Branch reacted. As you know he’s very protective of him. Like, almost over-the-top protective. But he’ll cool down soon enough, he’s rational when he wants to be,” Floyd says, smiling at him reassuringly.

“I—thanks Floyd. I’m just stressing out, you didn’t see him he was-"

“Struggling to breathe? Looked like he was dying? Yeah, it’s not the first time Clay. He has pretty rough panic attacks,” Floyd says with a wince.

“It’s just, we did this. He’s like this because of us.”

“I mean partly yeah,” Floyd sounds resigned, leaning back into the sofa heavily, “and I feel exactly the same. Looking at him hurts sometimes, especially when he’s almost grey because it’s like a constant reminder of our fuck ups. But I think it was more the fact he witnessed Grandma dying. The fact we left was like, a shitty cherry on the top.”

“Fuck,” Clay breathes out, joining Floyd in reclining back.

“Yeah. Fuck,” Floyd repeats, “you know I probably fucked up worse right?”

“What? No, you didn’t,” Clay protests.

“I knew you guys had actually left,” Floyd points out, “I thought some of you might come back after you cooled down, but I wasn’t sure. So yeah, at least you guys didn’t know. I knew, I just didn’t…care. Thought he had Grandma and that was good enough. Not to mention I promised I’d come back, which was a huge lie.”

“But you’re back?” Clay says, confused.

“Yeah, because Johnny contacted me. If he hadn’t…I’m not sure I would have,” Floyd sounds guilty.

“Well, shit. I mean um, you’re here now so…” Clay attempts to awkwardly comfort Floyd, but he’s not sure it’s working.

“Yeah. It’s all I can do. Be better now.”

“Does Branch know? Or does he think you also thought we came back?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. I’m not going to mention it unless he asks.”

There’s a brief silence before Floyd turns to him, “Anyway, let’s talk about something else for now. Journey here okay?”

“It was fine,” Clay’s glad for the subject change, even if it’s jarring. He’s still wired, but he can already feel himself calming down talking to Floyd, “Viva was pretty nervous but otherwise it was okay.”

“Viva’s here?”

“Seeing her Dad. He’s introducing her to Poppy again,” Clay explains.

“Oh, that’s good. Bee told me that Poppy is always talking about her. She’s excited,” Floyd replies.

“So’s Viva,” Clay says, smiling at the thought of them finally meeting. “So,” he continues, ignoring his still shaking hands, “I’ve heard you have a crush.”

“A crush? What?” Floyd looks embarrassed, “Did Johnny tell you that? Me and Darius are just friends.”

“Darius?” Clay raises a brow, grin turning sly, “I was talking about your flatmate. Floyd, are you telling me you like two guys?”

“What! No!” Floyd protests.

Clay just stares.

“Okay fine. I like Mello. He’s so,” Floyd waves his hand around, “nice. Like genuinely nice. And funny. And tall.”

“Apparently tall is an understatement.”

“Shut up. Anyway, he’s…he’s beautiful,” Floyd smiles, as though to himself, “Darius is…I’m pretty sure he’s straight so it’s not even an option. He’s just so talented and kind.”

“Little bros got game. Two guys?” Clay jokes, ignoring the alarm bells that tell him his little brother shouldn’t be dating at all. He’s too young (he’s nearly twenty two but Clay’s big brother brain conveniently ignores this.)

“Were you not listening?” Floyd sounds unimpressed, “They’re just crushes. Nothing’s going to happen. Darius is a friend, nothing more and Mello,” he sighs, “he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Well if he doesn’t then that’s his loss. You’re great Floyd, if they don’t see that then they’re idiots,” Clay reassures.

“Thanks. Sorry, I’m meant to be comforting you.”

“I don’t need comforting,” he doesn’t deserve it, “just talking to you is cool. John said your friend’s bringing solar generators?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Floyd continues, explaining what Mello had told him so far.

Clay just listens, more to the general sound of his voice than the words he’s saying. He’s still rattled, Branch’s panicked expression there every time he closed his eyes, but for now he can focus elsewhere.

“How was meeting the King? Viva okay?” Floyd asks, pulling him back to the present.

“It could have gone worse.”

“But it could have gone better?”

“Yeah. She’s annoyed at how little he’s done. The fact there’s no defence, no hospital, no plan,” he explains, listing on his fingers as he speaks.

“Yeah, the hospital’s been a real point of contention,” Floyd replies, “he keeps telling Johnny he’s waiting on medical supplies but,” he shrugs.

“It’s a miracle no one’s had a serious injury so far. They haven’t had they?” Clay asks, aware he has no idea.

“Johnny mentioned some guy broke his neck, but I think that was it.”

“Was he okay? How’d he break it?” Clay asks, morbidly curious despite himself.

“Tap dancing of all things. And no, I think he died,” Floyd says, scratching his face absently.

“Wow. What a way to go. And Peppy still didn’t prioritise healthcare? Even after that?” Clay is incredulous at the King’s oversight.

“Nope.”

“Huh. We’ve got our work cut out then.”

JD waits until he’s sure Bitty’s asleep before he dares to move. Once Branch’s anger had calmed down he’d panicked, worried that Clay would hate him for how he’d reacted. John had reassured him that he didn’t hate him, that he could never hate him and that he was more worried than anything else. Then Bitty had been angry again, angry that Clay had been so close the whole time, that he’d never told him. He’d cried, repeating that he hated this, hated feeling like this. JD had just held him, reassuring him, humming into his hair. He’d still been crying when he’d eventually fallen asleep; there were still visible tear tracks on his face, reflecting the light.

JD detangles himself from his grip carefully, standing to stretch his numb arms. He takes a steadying breath. He’s angry. He’s really angry, and he can’t help it. It’s his default emotion, and seeing Bitty so upset always awakens that primal urge to get rid of whatever is the cause.

Clay had been there, he might have even been there when their Grandma had been eaten. He knows though, that as angry as he is, Clay is a hell of a lot angrier at himself. So he breathes, counting in his head, pushing his anger to the back of his mind where he can vent about it in therapy. He can’t let it out, as much as he wants to yell and scream, it’s not productive.

Clay made a mistake. They all made mistakes, and yet again Branch is paying for it. He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He steps out of the room. He can hear voices, so Floyd must be home. He heads into the living room where they’re both sat. As soon as he enters Floyd jumps up to meet him.

“How is he?” he asks, worry evident. Clay must have filled him in.

“Not great. He’ll be okay though. I’ll see if I can get him to see Plimsy earlier this week,” JD replies, walking over to join Clay on the sofa. He’s avoiding looking at him, his eyes firmly on his knees.

“Clay,” he says, prompting his brother to look at him, “he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. He’s mad at me,” he states.

“He is,” John agrees.

“Are you?”

“A bit,” he shrugs, “it’ll pass though. You thought we’d given up on you. That was on me. So right now, everyone is probably angry at everyone else, for some reason or another. Except Bitty, no one can be angry at him.”

“Well obviously,” Floyd interjects.

“Yes, thank you Floyd. Anyway, it will be fine. Eventually.”

“I didn’t want him to find out that way. If at all,” Clay confesses.

“Hey, it’s done now. We just have to cope,” Floyd says, sitting in the only free seat.

“At least you showered first. Imagine all this,” he gestures vaguely at Clay, “whilst also reeking of two-week-old sweat,” he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Dunno John, Branch might have been distracted, tried to put it in his jar,” Floyd jokes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clay says, looking simultaneously confused and disgusted, and JD can only laugh.

Branch is tired. And nervous. And still angry, but more nervous right now. He’d shouted at Clay, he’d been loud and angry and he didn’t like it. He hated people shouting, it made him scared, but he had been the one shouting. He’d been so so angry and confused, and now he felt bad. He felt stupid. Clay being in the tree didn’t change anything. Not really. He was still gone, he had just been gone closer than he thought. It hurt though. To think that whilst he’d been lining up his toys, pretending his brothers were there, Clay had been there, in the tree. When he’d seen his Grandma crying, when she thought he was asleep, Clay had been in the tree. When he’d fallen and cut his knee, and wanted nothing more than his brothers to comfort him and tell him he was okay, Clay had been there. Still in the tree. Was he still there even his Grandma was…

He was sorry though. He’d said sorry lots of times, he looked like he meant it. He looked sorry now, sat on his bed waiting for him to talk. He’s being patient though, which is nice. Branch doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t want to be angry. I don’t like it,” he says eventually, trying to make sense of things aloud.

“I get that Bug. It doesn’t feel nice,” Clay replies.

“Is that how you feel with JD?” he asks. He knows Clay has been angry at him, he noticed the way he spoke. It had upset him to start with, but JD had taken him aside and explained that Clay was dealing with big feelings, and they were working it out. Then the argument had happened when they were camping, and Clay had seemed less angry.

“Yeah. I was angry at John for lots of stuff, and you’re right, it didn’t feel nice. But we talked about it and it’s a lot better now,” Clay explains.