Chapter Text
If Prism wasn’t on the verge of shaking themself to pieces, Rocky would be screaming bloody murder right about now.
How could they? How could they?!
Starting from your first moult, the moment you were seen picking at a loose piece of carapace, every adult nearby would scold you and tell you to leave it be.
Pull it out and your whole carapace might crack!
Pull it out and your organs might come spilling out!
Pull it out and [insert ridiculous consequence to stop kids from messing up their sheds]!
There were always those who went against commonly known medical advice – out of hubris or ignorance or just principle – but Moonbow had been a doctor. No fucking way their mate would’ve kept any anti-medicine stance, especially regarding something as basic as don’t fuck with your carapace.
Vantablack absolutely had to have known the consequences of what they’d been doing, or at the very least known they’d be bad. And they had still made the active decision to cut into their child.
For years.
What lies had they told Prism to make them believe it was right? That it was needed and normal and-
To make them look decent, Grace had said.
Rocky ground his fists against the floor.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.
“Buddy, you good?” Grace asked quietly from beyond the barrier of the med bay.
“No,” he seethed, channeling all his willpower into not exploding. If this were rage on behalf of Grace, he wouldn’t have held back. His friend didn’t like his own anger and had an easier time remaining calm if Rocky expressed it for him.
Rocky however was way past giving a single shit about how he channelled his emotions. The only times he made an effort to contain them was if Prism, Grace or Adrian would get hurt otherwise. In this case, the quivering kid clinging to their mom was the sole reason he was still composed.
Moth left the room just as Adrian walked off carrying Grace and Prism back to the house, and Rocky’s dam broke.
He didn’t want a scolding from the doctor for breaking any medical equipment, so he went for one of the visitor seats, giving it such a harsh kick that it was flung across the entire room, bouncing off the far wall. A guttural scream escaped him, and lest he went for anything valuable next, he tried to satisfy himself with aggressively stomping around the room.
Memories came back up of the embarrassment and shame and much too low levels of indignation he used to feel every time someone had asked him not to use his elbow-jointed split forearm to hold or point at something because “it looks unsettling”. Especially the one of the last session he’d had with his early childhood speech therapist.
They’d always been curt with him, finding him a “rude and disrespectful child”, and had consistently told him to keep his split arm closed. One day they had snapped, storming over to a shelf to grab a piece of thin chain out of a box and tying it around his arm, all the while shouting at him that if he ever wanted to learn to talk and behave properly, he should take their counselling more seriously.
He’d been so shaken he hadn’t been able to speak at all for several days. His parents had connected the dots about something having happened at the speech therapy appointment and had promptly cancelled his classes with them. He’d only managed to tell them the details over a month later, at which point they had sent in a request to have the therapist’s license revoked. The request had been denied.
The thought of Prism going through the same but levels and levels more atrocious, of not just being told to be ashamed of their body and being manhandled because of it, but to have their own parent cut off the undesired parts…he- it just- it made Rocky feel as if he were in a centrifuge above Planet Adrian again, multiple forces trying to tear him apart and unable to help someone dear to him who was suffering so much more.
Rage and helplessness mixed, and his carapace dropped to the ground. He needed to break something, feel the sting in his fists, or he might be next in line to fall apart. Preferably it’d be Vantablack’s carapace underneath his fists, but for now he just kept punching down against the floor.
“Rocky?” came his mate’s voice, careful and quiet, cutting through the roaring in his mind. They were standing in the open doorway. He hadn’t even registered them coming back, so stuck in his spiralling thoughts. He pulled his arms close to his body, knowing Adrian didn’t like him being self-destructive, but they kept trembling with the itch to punch something, feel something on the outside or I might burst from within.
His mate, always knowing exactly what he needed, closed the distance between them, clasping two of their hands together tightly and tapping out a pattern on his arm with a third. Rocky tried his best to let his hearts settle down, focusing on the gentle tapping.
Why, Vantablack? Why in the ever-loving fuck would you do that? Why?!
And why haven’t we noticed that you did?
His thoughts wandered to every single interaction he’d had with either Prism or Vantablack or both, searching for anything he had missed, any indications of this having been happening that he hadn’t registered.
There was one.
“Do you remember Prism’s moulting chest when we went to fetch their things?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t think I noticed it,” Adrian answered softly.
“It was so big and almost full,” he grit out. “I wondered how Prism could’ve shed that much but I dismissed it. It wasn’t- most of it was from- shit, Adrian, how could they do that to their child? They must’ve started doing it so young too, I-”
“After their third moulting,” they whispered. “Prism told me earlier.”
Before they’d even attended school for the first time. Vantablack had started maiming Prism when they were still in a playgroup.
“Fuck!” he screamed, pounding his free hands against the ground again. “I’m going to fucking kill them! I’m going to-”
Adrian squeezed his two hands they were holding, never ceasing the tapping. Steam puffed out of his vents, his entire body once more having begun to shake with unadulterated rage, but each tap brought him down a notch until he managed to let his tense arms go limp. Honestly, without them here, he might’ve actually marched out the door with the intent of committing a murder.
“Moonbow had a prosthetic arm,” he said after a long pause. “Vantablack should’ve known what kind of crap you have to deal with when you- fuck, why? Why would anyone do that to their own kid?!”
“I don’t know,” Adrian whispered, this time a high-pitched waver in their voice that made Rocky’s raging hearts stutter. That was the tone of his mate unable to keep it together anymore but trying their hardest to hide it.
Stay fucking calm, for them.
Rocky shifted closer, nudging them to indicate that he would keep himself in check so they could talk.
“We lived in the same district,” they said, squeezing Rocky’s hand. “I was here, just a few streets away this whole time. I could’ve saved Prism from so much if I had just paid attention, or checked in on them once.”
“You said they’d stopped coming to the meetings, you couldn’t have-”
“I could have,” Adrian said with finality, their hand trembling along with their voice. Rocky didn’t argue back, knowing he would feel exactly the same if he’d been in their situation. But while, yes, they technically could have kept track of Vantablack more, it still hadn’t been their responsibility to do so.
“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Rocky said instead, equally as final. Adrian remained silent. Still feeling their minute trembles, he leaned his carapace against Adrian’s and rumbled a low empty note. His mate joined in after a moment’s hesitation, shaky at first but then settling into the thrum.
Rocky really tried tried tried to keep the usually meaningless note they sang to calm their minds going, but soon it shifted as all of his thoughts kept swirling around the same question.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!
Adrian, noticing the change, broke off and spoke.
“I don’t think it was malicious,” they said, changing the tapping pattern on his arm. Rocky wanted to protest and scream that that didn’t excuse anything, and to ask them why they would ever think this wasn’t on Vantablack but rather on themself for not stopping Vantablack, but he kept his voice boxes still and heard them out. “Prism said that Vantablack had told them that their carapace grew too fast, especially regarding the more protruding parts, and that having a more rounded off shape would help them blend in better with the other kids. And you heard them at the trial. I think they thought they were doing what was best for Prism.”
“But how could-?!”
“I know,” Adrian said, voice pained, “I know it’s messed up in so many ways, but you asked why and that’s what I think. That they did it to…help.”
“How could they think that hurting their child was helping them?” Rocky insisted, almost begging for an explanation, as if having one would make the situation less horrific. “Prism was still bullied because of their carapace. Shouldn’t they have realised that their ‘help’ wasn’t worth it?”
“I don’t know, love,” Adrian said quietly. “I don’t know. But Prism is with us and they’re aware of the harm now. They will never have to go through it again.”
Rocky flexed his split arm a few times, shaking off the distant ghost sensation of the chain.
Never again. No one will ever touch Prism again.
Needing to keep his hands busy or he might start pacing or punching once more, Rocky mirrored Adrian’s tapping on one of their arms.
“We need to call Tony,” he said. Murder was arguably not the way to go, but he would still make damn sure Vantablack got their just reward. “We have proof of injury, even proof of repeated injury. Together with a statement from Prism, that’ll absolutely get Vantablack listed as an active danger, with a minimum of five years in an offenders’ institution. Preferably longer. Much fucking longer.”
They hadn’t been able to get Vantablack locked up at the initial trial, as Prism had still expressed the desire to meet and especially because they hadn’t had proof of injury. For some fucked up reason, emotional abuse only warranted court-mandated therapy and a restraining order. Vantablack was still out and about, living their life as they had, just minus Prism and plus some hopefully fruitful therapy sessions.
Not anymore. Now they wouldn’t be allowed back in society until their therapy sessions actually proved to have made a difference.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Adrian said softly. “Together with Grace and Moth. And Prism, if they’re up for it.”
Right on cue, Moth walked back into the med bay.
“Apology, I didn’t mean to listen in,” they said, “but I just caught what you said about convicting Vantablack. I’ll write up a comprehensive report of the sonogram, detailing Prism’s carapace scarring. I can have it reviewed and stamped as an accredited proof of injury within a few days.”
“Thank,” Adrian said. Rocky wanted to add something, but at this point he would only start repeating himself.
Why…?
After Moth had silently righted the visitors seat and begun to clear away some equipment, the seconds ticking away as Rocky’s mind kept going in circles, Adrian nudged him.
“We should make sure Prism and Grace are doing alright,” they said, pulling him onto his arms. Rocky shook them out, tapping the ground three times with each fist. Grace had been pulling himself together so much for Prism’s sake, as had Adrian for all of their sakes, Rocky had to get his shit together too now.
With a brief hum of agreement, he walked out the door and towards the suit stands, Adrian close behind. He could tell they wanted to reassure him some more, just like he wanted to repeat “this isn’t your fault” until they believed it, but they both knew any words of comfort would fall flat at the moment. So they got suited up, cycled through the airlock and made their way up to the house in silence.
When they neared the front door, Rocky could hear the familiar music of the Air-Bender theme playing from inside. That either meant Prism was in very bad shape and needed to be forcefully distracted, or they were calmer now and had chosen to distract themself.
Please, let it be the latter. Please, I don’t know if I can keep it together otherwise.
Rocky and Adrian walked inside, Grace pausing the show just as they came into the living room. Grace was on the couch, patchwork quilt wrapped around him with Prism snuggled up in his lap. They didn’t seem to be shaking or whimpering anymore, that was a good sign.
“Are you two doing alright?” Adrian asked gently, as if they weren’t just as messed up inside like the rest of them were. His mate’s self-control really was remarkable.
“Yes!” Prism said, voice mercifully much lighter than before, even bordering on enthusiastic, “we watch Air-Bender. Join join join!”
Prism seemed okay. Thank fuck, otherwise he probably would’ve had to step out to go scream some more if he’d seen the kid still be in a panic.
Prism is safe, they’re fine, they’ll be fine.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Grace whispered pointedly. He wasn’t about to start anything with the kid right there, but he knew what Grace meant: We will deal with this, so drop it just for now, for Prism. Moth would need a couple days to get the paperwork in order anyways, they could call Tony tomorrow. Prism came first.
He nodded his carapace the human way and climbed onto the couch. Adrian walked up to sit down next to them on the floor, briefly raising a hand to give his arm a few final taps.
Prism is safe. No one will harm them ever again, including they themself.
“Which episode is this?” Rocky pushed out, trying to keep his voice as casual as he could.
“The one where we see how Fire-Child gets their scar,” Prism said. “Mom and I both have carapace scars like them. I want to see it again.”
Oh. Oh fuck, he-
Zuko’s parent scarred them. Maliciously. Vantablack…might’ve thought they were making their child’s life easier but even so had to have tuned out the fact that they were consistently physically hurting them.
He had- he-
You should’ve made it back to the airlock, you almost got Grace killed, it should’ve been you, it should’ve been you, it should’ve been-
Rocky couldn’t help the keening whine that escaped him, but quickly tried to cover it up with an excited whistle on top.
“I want to see it too,” he said shakily. Adrian began to tap his arm again, and added an agreeing chime. Prism made two happy little yes hands, and Grace joined in with a smile.
“Watch watch watch,” Prism demanded. Grace pressed play, then leaned more heavily against Rocky to wrap an arm around him.
His left arm, scarred like Prism’s carapace because he-
A small encased hand gently pressed against his suit, and Rocky could’ve laughed.
How was this pebble always handling everything so much better than they were?
Rocky let himself sag against Grace and Prism, clasping one hand into Grace’s clothes and covering Prism’s with another. He twisted the arm Adrian was tapping to take their hand into his.
First off, Vantablack wasn’t like Ozai. There was too much evidence against that level of cruelty. Second, like Grace and Adrian and his therapist had all repeatedly told him and kept telling him, thoughts like those were just survivor’s guilt.
The comparison was about the scarring, not its cause. In which case, Rocky could actually join the club with the crack in his carapace that had healed over wrong because he hadn’t been able to treat it properly back on the Hail Mary. He could bring it up later, hopefully making the kid feel even more at peace with the situation than they already seemed.
The thought of being on the same team as Grace, Prism and Prism’s favourite Air-Bender character rather than Vantablack and one of the worst parents in human fiction considerably calmed him down. He moved to fully take Prism’s hand into his and raised the one curled into Grace’s sleeve, making a grabbing motion until Grace shifted his arm to intertwine their fingers. Squeezing all three hands simultaneously, he let even more of the tension bleed out.
Prism is away from Vantablack. Grace is healthy. Adrian always blames themself for injustice that happens closely around them, and they always calm down as soon as they make steps to rectify the situation. Vantablack will finally be arrested for child endangerment.
All three of them squeezed back.
No one will touch Prism’s carapace again.