Chapter Text
John Dory had lost a lot of things in his life. Starting with his parents.
Throughout most of his childhood, his parents were great. Mom was amazing. Dad was actually his dad. But then Mom started getting sick. Or at least sick enough for them to start noticing. Clay was only a year old at most. She did her best to still act like a mom to all of them. She was good like that. But Dad was… distant.
Eventually, the three siblings were sent to live with Grandma with a new egg, while Mom was hidden away somewhere deeper in the tree. If the Bergens noticed a troll getting too sick, they’d pluck them out and “dispose of bad stock.” But the siblings got to visit her sometimes. They’d visit, and Mom would still try to act as she always used to, mothering and fussing. And Dad.
Mom getting sick was probably the moment John Dory lost that man as a father. Dad always loved his wife more than he could ever love his own children. Sure, he encouraged them to start a band, work towards achieving the Perfect Family Harmony, but that was just for their mother’s sake. Among one of the many legends about it, some said it could heal the unhealable. And even reverse death if done soon enough.
Tom was just using them to save his wife.
But John Dory was too young to think like that. He’d still try defending the guy when Grandma complained about how her son treated them all. He still held on to an old picture of a picnic they went on as a family. Mom had taken it while holding a fussy baby Spruce. His dad was smiling, tickling him as John Dory laughed and beamed.
He held onto that photo, but going into his older teens, he began to realize that his father didn’t really care to be a father. So, John Dory looked more into looking after his mother. He’d talk about the band, and she’d smile. “You’re just perfect, you know that?” she’d say, and then she’d squeeze his cheek as best as she could.
Perfect was what he needed to be. Perfect was what Brozone needed to be. Because if Brozone was perfect, then they could save their mom. (And if they saved their mom, maybe their father would actually love them.)
And they needed to reach the Perfect Family Harmony soon. Mom was looking rough. She was only sitting up in that bed because she had a bunch of pillows propping her up. Dad looked like he’d snatch Floyd out of her lap and toss him at a moment’s notice. But Mom had wanted him in her lap. She ran her fingers through his magenta hair, even though it looked like she could barely lift her arm up to do it. And she sang her lullaby.
“If you’ll be my boat
I’ll be your sea
Depths of pure blue just to probe curiosity
Ebbing and flowing
And pushed by a breeze
I live to make you free”
I live to make you free. John dory would have sung with her, or curled up near the bed and drift off like the rest of his brothers, but he didn’t trust Tom enough. Didn’t trust him not to yank them all away from their mother the moment she was too tired to go on doing anything else but sleep. Didn’t trust him not to throw them out and remind them to practice and hit that Perfect Family Harmony. John Dory had to be alert enough, so his younger brothers weren’t handled roughly.
“But you can set sail to the west if you want to
Past the horizon
Til I can’t even see you
Far from here
Where the beaches are wide
Just leave me your wake to remember you by”
He wished now that he did sing along or sleep to his mother’s singing. It was the last chance he had to do it.
John Dory knew something was wrong when he heard Grandma’s voice downstairs so late at night. And as he crept out of his and his brother’s shared bedroom, and he heard Tom’s voice, John Dory really knew something was wrong. Tom never visits them.
He carefully snuck his way downstairs. “You can’t keep abandoning your boys like this, Tom! Especially not now!”
“I don’t want this, Mom! Flora wanted this!”
“Putting aside that you’re talking to them like they’re things and not your children, you and her made them together! And she loved them! Are you really going to abandon what she loved so much?”
“I can’t stay!”
John Dory knew what happened before he even stepped into that room. And seeing his father standing in the front room of the pod, looking far too dull in color, just made it certain. His mother was dead.
Both adults stopped arguing when they noticed John Dory in the room. Grandma stayed frozen in place. But Tom just walks right up to him and puts a blue troll egg into his hands. “Take care of that, okay?” And that’s the last thing his father ever said to him, because he turned around and walked out the pod and their lives.
After seeing the looks on his younger brothers’ faces on hearing their father left them, the eldest swore he’d never be like that man in his life.
After that, John Dory dug out an old felt flower his mom hand crafted herself. It was still holding up after all these years, and if he treated it precious enough. The new egg just took a day to hatch, which left him wondering how long his mom kept them hidden in her hair. And he looked just like mom. His hair was as bright and vividly blue as mom’s was before she got sick. John Dory almost cried seeing it. It had been a long time since Mom’s hair was that blue.
The new baby needed a new name. Mom had named almost all of them. Tom hadn’t even said anything about what she was thinking of naming this one. How could any of them even think of a name that would do their mom justice? Spruce probably could. He picked out the new name on his own, and mom was proud of it. So maybe him?
“I mean, it’s gotta be a nature name, right? Mom liked nature names. You know, John Dory like the fish, Clay like clay, Floyd like flood.”
“So, what do we name this one?” Clay poked at the baby’s belly, which brought out a load of giggles.
“I don’t know! Why is it up to me?”
“You’re the one that’s come up with names for people!”
“I named myself after a kind of tree! I don’t think I’m that creative.”
John Dory picked the baby up under the armpits. He held him up, staring at him as though those big ol’ eyes held the secret to a good name. Honestly, John Dory didn’t think he’d be very good at names, either. He named a boy band filled with brothers brozone, for crying out loud. He was hoping that, somehow, Mom’s spirit would speak to him from beyond and give him the perfect name. All he could really hear were branches moving in the breeze outside.
“Branch. Your name can be Branch, how about that?” The baby just stared at him with those big ol’ baby eyes.
“Really?” Clay questioned him. “Branch?”
“Yeah, like, the small things on trees. And he is pretty small.”
“I like it.” Floyd grabbed at John Dory’s arm. “Can I hold him now?”
So, Branch was a part of the family, and later, a part of the band. Bitty B, the sweet adorable baby of the band. And they were all set to start a tour (that would hopefully take them away from the Troll Tree for good). They just had to hit that Perfect Family Harmony. They could do it this time! There were five of them now. They could do it.
John Dory really really thought they could do it,
But they failed, the show was a disaster. And the band split. John Dory went off to hike the Neverglade Trail. He took those mementos of his parents that he’d hold on to. He didn’t take a lot of Brozone stuff when he first left, though. He was mad at them all, so he didn’t think to take any of it when he left. He just wanted to leave.
But when he finally came back to the troll tree.
It’d been a few years by that point. Some time spent with another survivalist troll brought on feelings of guilt at leaving his family behind. So, he was coming back, and he considered figuring out a way to sneak the whole family out of Bergentown. It’d be tricky, but they could manage it. As long as they all followed his lead and did what he said.
He also had Rhonda by that point. Although she was too small to really fit anyone in her (Baby Branch, maybe, if he was still as small as John Dory remembered), but they could pack things up in her. It’d be easier for them all to sneak if they weren’t carrying a lot of stuff. All five brothers could make it out of Bergentown, and maybe Grandma if she was spry enough.
But there was no one there.
John Dory arrived to find the Troll Tree in a state of decay. Even in the dark of night, he could see the nearly bare branches. Not a single person, not a single living troll was anywhere to be seen. He stared, rooted in place. In absolute, devastating horror. Then, he realized standing in one spot too long in Bergen town would be a bad idea, especially if it seems all of the trolls are gone.
It finally happened, he thought as he dashed to his childhood home, The bergens finally ate everyone. Every last troll in the tree. John Dory shook his head. Tears pricked at his eyes. His brothers were in this tree. He left his little brothers in this tree. Sure, it would have been dumb at the time to have taken any of them with him to the Neverglade Trail, but he left them.
Rhonda bounced on behind him. Whether she could read his fear and panic, John Dory didn’t know. He didn’t care either way at that moment. He just had to return to his grandmother’s pod to see it for himself. Some clue, some sign, maybe a note. Or maybe a younger brother or two or four were hiding there, waiting for their oldest brother to finally come home.
Spruce or Clay or Floyd or Baby Branch. Baby Branch would be almost five by now. He was still just in diapers when JD last saw him. He prayed his baby brother wouldn’t die that young. That the baby of the family was still alive and well, and that he sure as fucking hell wasn’t alone in all this mess.
John Dory burst through the door of Grandma’s pod, and saw nothing but dusty furniture and overgrowing plants. He called out his brothers’ names, one by one, each more desperate than the last. The silence that follows each one added a weight to him.
“Spruce?”
He failed his little brothers.
“Clay?”
He left them behind.
“Floyd?”
He abandoned his baby brothers.
“Baby Branch?”
He left his brothers to die.
At that point, John Dory collapsed to his knees. Rhonda cooed worrily next to him. She licked the tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” John Dory whispered. He sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He left his brothers when they needed him most. He was a terrible brother. He was just like his father.
John Dory dug out as much memorabilia and family photos as he could fit inside of Rhonda. Not everything could fit, but he at least grabbed what was most important to him. A tropical sunset poster Spruce used to love more than anything. A joke book that Clay had circled and underlined and note-taken all over. A notebook that held Floyd’s first attempts at songwriting and journaling. A tiny baby blanket that was hand embroidered just for Branch.
He was gone before the sun rose.