Chapter Text
Fly opened his eyes. It was dark. Murky. His side ached, and his head throbbed. Spots appeared and disappeared frantically in his vision.
Where am I ?
The last thing he remembered was being thrust by the current, the antidote within his grasp. He had it right in front of him but was pulled away before getting a taste of it. Then there was the pain of smacking face-first against the wall. That must have been when he blacked out.
Chuck ! Stella ! They got the antidote. They made it out okay… right ? Were they human again?
Am I ?
Fly attempted to lift his leg—or fin. Any movement, however subtle, felt strenuous, like trying to move a mountain. He shivered from the cold water around him. It was incredible that he was even alive. Or at least, it felt like he was. For all he knew, he could be dead; he wasn't sure.
Then he heard something. The sound was muffled, coming from beyond the water. From what Fly could tell, it sounded like Chuck shouting unintelligibly.
As the words got clearer, Fly listened in.
“—turn back the clock before the sun sets!”
He heard other voices, but they were too soft to understand.
“No! No ! It’s not too late!”
Fly couldn't tell what happened next, but swore he heard shattering glass.
“Fly!" He heard Chuck scream. "Are you okay? Fly!”
Fly perked slightly at the sound of his name. “I’m right here.” His voice came out as a mumble. “Chuck…I’m here…” With every word that left his mouth, his voice got softer. "...here…"
Soon, a cry of anguish ripped through the air. Chuck’s voice, broken and hoarse, reverberated throughout Fly’s little sphere of…wherever he was. His cousin’s screams and sobs were accompanied by the other soft voices, sounding equal in pain.
“You killed him! You killed him ! How could you let him slip—!” Chuck sounded hysterical. “If I…I should’ve stopped him…it’s all my fault!”
Fly wanted to call out to them. To Chuck. He wanted them to know that he was alive. Whether he was okay was a different matter, but at least alive.
Fly mustered as much energy as he could. “Chuck…! Chuck …! CHUCK!”
Nothing. Silence followed. Then the voices continued where Fly could just barely hear.
“If that’s not Fly…where is he?”
Fly both heard and felt the clamoring of feet stomping around.
“Fly!”
“Fly!”
“Can you hear us?”
“Yeah…” Fly replied in a feeble shout. “Can you hear me ?”
Apparently not. Fly kept hearing his name called. What was the use? Would they ever find him? Would he die here, lost and alone, and nobody would know? A chill ran through him as he thought this. Of all the ways he'd leave this earth, this was not what he imagined. Especially not this soon, while he was still young. Just barely a teenager! There was still so much he wanted to do, and yet…
Despite his weakness, Fly willed himself to look up. It was too dark to see, and even if there was light, would Fly be able to see past the spots?
“Mommy! Daddy! Look, I found him!”
It was Stella. Her voice was as loud and clear as she was right next to him. Stella! She's okay! And Mom and Dad! They're here, too !
Footsteps herded to where Stella was. “Oh, thank goodness!” Fly recognized that as his mother. There was a residue of sobs traced in her voice.
Something was now covering him, wrapping around his body. Skin. Fingers. Warmth. He felt himself lifting off the ground, breaking past the water's surface. Instincts suddenly kicked in, and Fly flopped his entire body. A surge of panic. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see anything.
“Hurry! Get him in water! A tank!” His father ordered frantically.
“Over here! Follow me!” That was Professor MacKrill. The professor ! He'd survived the storm. He was alive! He didn't drown after all!
“Is there anything you can do, Professor?” Chuck asked. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s badly hurt.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” MacKrill said.
Everything was a blur from that moment until Fly felt himself submerge in water and slowly drift toward the bottom. The spots were getting worse. Fly could make out the familiar figures of his family in front of him. He was in a glass container. One of MacKrill’s fish tanks, hopefully, without piranha.
Eventually, the black fog in his vision overtook his eyes and head entirely. Fly felt a spinning sensation, and his consciousness was thrust into an otherworldly realm. His family’s voices were reduced to humming and then to nothing.
Then he was transported to a familiar place. Metallic, rusty, green with algae, tight and compact. While Fly tried to put his finger on where he was exactly, he was unsettled, like he knew subconsciously what was coming next.
When the figure appeared, he remembered immediately and was filled with dread.
Before him was Joe’s torn, bulgy, fleshy, mangled, pseudo-human form. His eyes were wide, his mouth gasping hollowly. The abomination floated silently away down the pipe. The terror that gripped Fly was as fresh as when he witnessed this scene the first time.
Unlike that time, however, Fly decided to follow the pilot fish. He didn't think about why; he swam quickly down the pipe, making all the sharp turns and dodging the fans' blades. The place was more of a labyrinth than Fly remembered, the twists and turns never-ending.
Then a tight grip clapped around where his neck would be. Fly panicked and struggled to get free. He suddenly faced the malformed human-like being. The creature’s eyes rolled to the back of his head but were still burning with hatred.
"You seem to like trivia questions," the thing garbled, bubbles erupting from his mouth. "Here's one for you. What happens to fish when they leave the water?"
The answer was obvious; it needed no explanation. But Fly couldn't answer anyway. Joe's grip was too tight, closing off any oxygen to get through. Not that Joe was willing to wait. The water got shallower, thinning between the sand beneath them and the sky above. Somehow the both of them had reached the shore. The thing made a contorted, twisted facial expression Fly could barely make out as a grin, the eyes still rolling back. How was the guy even still alive?
Then Joe outstretched a pale arm above the surface. Meeting the dry air, Fly flopped violently, either from the lack of oxygen or struggling to get free.
Help…
HELP!!
Fly's eyes shot open and saw light. The soft, gentle light of the morning sun. Adrenaline still pumped through him. Once Fly's mind adjusted to his awakened reality, he calmed down. His brain felt light. Clear. It felt…good.
He got a better look at his surroundings now. He was in a fish tank, all alone. No other fish in here with him. He realized he’d been floating in the middle of the water. He tried to twist his body, but it felt stiff. His body was encased in something, almost like a cast.
Then he saw his reflection on the glass walls. Yup, he was still a fish. The Californian Flyfish, as he recalled. And to confirm his assumptions, around his torso was some odd-looking brace with an arched tube, making it appear as though Fly had a handle on his back. It was a weird contraption he'd never seen before, but he guessed it kept him afloat.
Beyond the walls was an empty lab, devoid of any living creatures save the fish in the other tanks. The professor was nowhere to be seen.
But Fly heard singing. Was someone here? Fly was desperate to talk to someone, anyone . Ask questions and get answers.
A lanky figure walked into view in his lab coat, dancing with every step. Fly recognized the song he was muttering as his "fish potion song". Admittedly a very catchy one.
The professor was coming his way. When MacKrill noticed Fly, his face elated. "Oh, good! You're awake! Hehe, splendid !" he said in a celebratory tone. "Now, what was I going to do…?"
As the professor started on his muttered rambling, Fly swam closer to the front wall of the tank. He shouted "Professor!" to divert the man's attention back to him.
"Yes? Oh, goodness! Look at me. Getting lost in my thoughts. Fly, it’s good to see you doing well, my friend. The salve I concocted is working as it should! How are you feeling?"
"Fine, I guess," Fly said.
MacKrill clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Now the healing process should take but a few more days. Try not to move a lot in the meantime."
Fly motioned his head around the fish tank. That won't be too hard. It wasn't like the brace allowed for much movement anyway.
"Professor? Where's Chuck? And Stella—?"
"Chuck…Stella…Ah, yes!" the professor chirped. "They’ll be here quite soon. In fact, they've been coming to see you twice every day!"
"Wait, so…how long was I out?"
MacKrill wrinkled his brow. "Let's see…how long has it been?" He counted on his fingers. "...yesterday…that was about two days, no…did the last checkup eight hours ago…or was it…?"
Fly shook his head with an amused smile.
“But never mind that,” said MacKrill. "Now, I'm going to apply your dosage for today." Held in the professor's fingers was a Pasteur pipette full of light blue liquid. He squeezed the rubber top of the pipette, the medicine dripping a little at a time into the tank. The liquid dissolved instantly in the water.
“Now, you must be hungry. When did you last eat?” MacKrill asked.
Fly tried to jog his memory. Gosh…it must have been at least two days ago. Or however long it had been since passing out. Fly remembered having lunch the afternoon before Aunt Anna and Chuck came over. But after that…
“I dunno. Too long ago,” said Fly. Now those double cheeseburgers were starting to sound really good.
“Let’s see what I have here.” The professor dug through a drawer and pulled out a small bag. “Ah, this will do for now.”
He walked back to the tank and opened the bag. Once Fly got a good look at the bag’s label, he grimaced. “Fish food? I mean, just because I'm a fish doesn’t mean I’ll eat like one.”
“Forgive me, but I haven’t tested what foods will digest well in your new body. The concern is, first and foremost, filling your stomach and giving your body nutrients.”
Fly wanted to argue further but decided against it. He was the professor, after all. And besides, given how famished he was, he was willing to eat the dirt off his own shoes.
The pellets floated along the surface of the water. Fly attempted to swim up but found it difficult to do so. When they eventually sank to the bottom, the boy tapped his nose against one of them. It smelled fishy. Like, too fishy. Under any other circumstance, Fly wouldn’t have been able to stomach something like this.
He flicked the pellet into his mouth with his tongue and chewed cautiously. Well, it could’ve been worse if he was being honest. It didn’t taste terrible, but on the other hand, it wasn't a cheeseburger.
“Professor MacKrill! We’re back!”
The professor turned his attention to the voice. “You’re just in time, Professor Chuck!” He rushed out of Fly’s sight. Fly listened in on the conversation.
“Is Fly feeling better?” Stella’s sweet voice asked.
“He is, my dear!” MacKrill said. “Come! He is awake right at this moment!”
“He’s alive?” Awe and relief sounded in Chuck’s tone.
Professor MacKrill returned with the two children by his side. Once Chuck and Stella made eye contact with their cousin and brother, they stared speechlessly. Fly noticed there were deep purple bags under Chuck’s bespectacled eyes.
“Wow, Chuck. You look pretty terrible. And that’s coming from me ,” Fly said, attempting humor.
“ Fly !!”
Stella let out an excited squeal and pressed her nose against the glass. Fly, as much as he was able, swam closer to his sister. It was the widest he had ever seen the girl smile, which lifted his spirits immensely.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” he said. “You and Chuck got the antidote, huh?”
“I miss you, Fly. When are you coming home?” the girl asked.
That was a good question. And better yet, how was he going to go home? “I don’t know, Stella.”
“Are you going to be a person again?”
That sentence pierced right through him. If what the professor had said was true…about the forty-eight-hour time limit…
Chuck was now at Stella’s side, a hand on her shoulder. “The professor is figuring something out. Give it time,” he assured her. He gave a halfhearted smile, one where Fly could tell that even he wasn’t convinced of his own words.
Chuck looked up at his cousin. “Hey, Fly.”
“Hey,” the fish replied. “You okay?”
The boy shrugged. “I’m fine.”
"Good."
A few seconds of silence followed. Chuck kept averting his eyes, taking deep breaths.
Fly scowled. “Oh, come on, Chuck! I haven’t seen you in days, and that’s all you’re gonna say?”
“Sorry.” Chuck adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “I’m just…well…You have no idea…” He stopped to compose himself. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all.”
“Yeah, me too.” As okay as he was going to be, anyway. Compared to how he was days ago.
Chuck turned to MacKrill. “By the way, Professor. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you. I stayed up all night last night going over your formula.”
“My formula? Yes! Yes, please do! Excuse us, Fly. Stella. You stay put where you are. We’ll be right back.” Hand resting on Chuck's back, the professor guided the boy into another room.
“That was weird,” said Fly, watching them depart. He asked Stella, “Is Chuck really okay?”
“He looks sad,” Stella said. “He doesn’t talk very much.”
“Or sleep, for that matter," Fly said with a humorless chuckle.
“Fly, I’ve been having nightmares,” Stella said.
Fly was reminded of his last dream. He tried not to make his shudder visible to his sister. “Are they about fish?”
“Mm-hm.”
He sighed. “Yeah. So are mine.”
“Do you get chased by sharks and crabs? And they’re trying to eat you?”
Oh, if only you knew, Stella.
“Pretty much.” He placed a gentle fin on the glass where Stella’s cheek was. “But they’re only dreams. They can’t hurt you. Besides, if any sharks or crabs were to attack us, this is what I'd do to them.” He curled his fins like fists and punched the water in front of him. That made Stella giggle.
“Would you punch that stupid fish too?” Stella said.
"What stupid fish?"
“That really mean one that took our potion.”
There was no hesitation. “Of course, I would,” said Fly, although his confident tone belied his actual thoughts. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t know what to do if he encountered Joe again. Not that he had to worry. He was dead, and Fly had made sure of it.
That’s what bothered him the most.
“Me too!” declared Stella. She threw her fists through the air. “I would punch him until he goes away and leaves us alone!”
It was Fly’s turn to chuckle. “I’m glad you have our backs, Stella.”
Now, if only she could eliminate that stupid fish from his dreams.