Chapter Text
The hospital was quieter than any place a kid should ever have to sit in. The only sounds were the slow rhythm of a heart monitor, the whisper of machines, and the faint hum of sunlight slipping through the blinds.
Ten-year-old John Dory sat perched on the edge of a chair, swinging his legs as if he might knock the silence loose. His chin rested on his hands. The bed beside him looked too big for the troll lying there.
His mother smiled when she caught him watching. “You’re staring again,” she teased softly. Her voice sounded thin, but it still had that gentle lilt that made everything feel okay.
He straightened immediately. “Sorry. I was just—uh—listening.”
“To what, sweetheart?”
“The beeping,” JD said after a moment. “It’s like… a song, kind of.”
She chuckled—a quiet, weary sound that filled the space with warmth. “Always thinking in music.”
JD shrugged. “I miss the songs at home. Spruce tried to sing last night, but Clay kept hitting the wrong notes.”
Her eyes softened. “And Floyd?”
“He tried too. He mostly just… yelled.” JD laughed a little. “It was kinda funny.”
Her hand twitched toward him, searching. He stood quickly, letting her take his hand. Her fingers were cool, her grip weaker than he remembered.
“Tell them I miss them, okay?” she murmured. “And that I’m getting better.”
“I will,” he said, squeezing her hand. “The nurse said you’re doing good. You’re gonna come home soon, right?”
She smiled. “That’s the plan.”
JD hesitated before asking, “Do you… still sing when I’m not here?”
Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, thoughtful. “Sometimes. But I think it sounds better when you’re with me.”
He bit his lip. “Then… maybe we can sing together now?”
Her answer was a tired nod. JD took a breath, remembering the tune she’d taught him before she got sick. It wasn’t fancy—just a few lines—but she’d said it kept bad dreams away.
Hold on to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m gonna make this place your home
Her lips moved with his, barely a whisper.
Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble, it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m gonna make this place your home
When the final note faded, she sighed softly and closed her eyes. JD sat beside her, still humming under his breath.
He didn’t notice his father standing quietly in the doorway until the older troll spoke. “You’ve got her voice,” he said, rough but kind.
JD looked up, startled. “Dad.”
His father—tall, same colour as JD with lime green at the tips of his hair—walked in, carrying a small bag of fruit from the market. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was something.
“Hey, champ.” He set the bag on the table and ruffled JD’s hair. “How’s she doing today?”
“Better,” JD said quickly. “She’s been sitting up more, and she even—” He hesitated, glancing at his mom, already asleep. “She even sang.”
“That’s good,” his father murmured. He sat down beside JD, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, JD whispered, “She’ll get better soon, right?”
His father’s jaw tightened. “She’s fighting hard. That’s what matters.”
JD nodded, pretending that sounded like a yes.
They stayed until visiting hours ended. JD kissed his mom’s forehead before leaving, whispering, “I’ll keep singing, okay? Until you come home.”
Her eyes fluttered open for just a second. “That’s my boy.”
The walk home was quiet. The sky had turned the soft purple of evening, a beautiful sight even with Bergen town surrounding the Troll Tree. JD kicked a leaf ahead of him, watching it fall slowly to the ground.
His father walked beside him, hands in his pockets. “You’re a good big brother, you know that?”
JD shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“I mean it,” his father said. “Your mom’s proud of you. So am I.”
JD looked up at him, startled by how heavy his father’s eyes looked in the fading light. “You should get some rest too, Dad.”
His father smiled weakly. “Maybe after I fix our leaking roof.”
When they reached the pod, the sounds of chaos greeted them instantly—Clay and Spruce arguing over whose turn it was to wash dishes, Floyd running in circles with a spoon as a sword. JD couldn’t help laughing.
“JD!” Floyd tackled his legs. “Did Mom get better yet?”
“She’s trying,” JD said, crouching down. “She said she misses you guys.”
Spruce tilted his head. “She really said that?”
“Yep.”
Clay grinned. “Told you she would! See? She’s tough!”
Their father watched them for a moment, then ruffled all their hair at once. “Alright, you little gremlins—get ready for bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Floyd asked.
“Tomorrow,” JD said, smiling faintly, “we start writing a song for Mom.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” JD nodded. “So when she comes home, she’ll hear us before she even opens the door.”
That night, after everyone fell asleep, JD sat by the window with his little notebook. He tried writing down the words of their lullaby, but his hand shook too much to finish the last line.
Outside, the stars blinked softly. He looked up at them and whispered:
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m gonna make this place your home
He closed the notebook and smiled.
“She’s coming home soon. I know it.”
And in that quiet moment—hopeful, naive, and pure—John Dory believed it with all his heart
Three years later, the pod didn’t sound empty anymore.
The air was full of life again—humming, laughter, and the kind of noise that only a house full of brothers could make. JD sat cross-legged on the floor, plucking out a simple melody on a homemade string instrument. His fingers were calloused, but his grin was easy.
The door creaked open, and sunlight spilled in. Their dad’s voice came first, hoarse but warm. “Boys—look who’s finally home.”
JD looked up—and froze.
His mother stood in the doorway. Thinner than before, her colours a little muted, but her smile was exactly the same. The sight hit him like the first note of a song he’d been trying to remember.
“Mom!”
Floyd, now eight, sprinted forward first. Spruce and Clay followed, tripping over each other in a blur of pink, green, and red hair. JD didn’t move at first; he was too afraid it might vanish if he blinked.
She laughed as her sons piled into her arms. “Oh, my stars, you’ve all grown.”
When she finally looked up, her eyes found JD’s. “Are you going to join in, or have you outgrown your old mom?”
That broke him. He ran forward, wrapping his arms around her so tight that she let out a soft oof.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“I know, sweetheart. I missed you too.”
The next few weeks were golden. Their father worked long hours but came home smiling now, humming old tunes while fixing dinner. JD started helping him more—repairs, chores, anything to keep things steady.
But his favorite moments were the evenings. After dinner, they’d all sit together and sing. Sometimes JD strummed a simple rhythm while Clay clapped along, Floyd’s voice bright and wobbly, Spruce trying to stay in tune. Their mom listened, eyes half-closed, humming softly along. Everything was perfect.
Two years later, as fireflies flickered outside, JD noticed her leaning back against the wall, one hand absently resting near her hair. There, nestled just above her ear, was a small glowing egg.
He stared, wide-eyed. “Mom… what’s that?”
She blinked, then smiled faintly. “Ah. Seems our family’s getting a little bigger.”
“Another brother?” Floyd squealed.
“Maybe,” she said, laughter bubbling like music. “Or maybe a sister. We’ll just have to see.”
JD leaned closer, mesmerized. “It’s beautiful.” Moving his hand towards the egg attached on his mother’s scalp.
“Be gentle with it,” she said softly. “Life’s delicate when it first begins.”
The younger boys chattered excitedly—arguing over names, planning songs for their soon-to-be sibling. But JD stayed quiet. Something about the way his mom’s hand lingered near the egg made his chest ache.
Later that night, she found him sitting on the porch steps, tuning his little instrument.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Just thinking. About… all of it.”
She sat beside him, her movements careful. “You’ve grown up a lot these last few years.”
“Had to.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But you still deserve to be a kid sometimes. Don’t lose that.”
JD nodded, pretending to agree.
Then she began humming—their lullaby. The one they’d shared in that quiet hospital room long ago.
Hold on to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m gonna make this place your home
JD joined in, his deeper, older voice blending with hers.
Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble, it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m gonna make this place your home
The sound carried out into the night, floating through the trees. His father stood by the doorway, listening silently, his expression soft but unreadable.
For the first time in years, JD believed everything might truly be okay.
Days turned into months, and the house grew even brighter. His brothers couldn’t wait for the egg to hatch—Spruce made a cradle out of branches, Clay decorated it with feathers, Floyd kept singing to it every morning.
JD built a little lullaby box out of scrap wood, a gift for when the baby came. He wound it carefully, proud of the soft tune it played.
His mom smiled when she heard it. “You’ve got your father’s hands,” she said, brushing his hair from his face.
“I got your voice,” JD replied.
She laughed, tired but happy. “Then we make the perfect duet.”
That night, she called him into her room. The others were already asleep, curled in a messy pile of blankets.
“I wanted to tell you something,” she said, patting the space beside her.
JD sat down, curious.
“When I was in that hospital,” she began slowly, “I was scared I wouldn’t make it home. But the thought of you boys—your songs, your laughter—it kept me going. You’re the reason I fought so hard.”
JD swallowed, unsure what to say.
“I know I ask a lot of you,” she continued, “but if anything ever happens again… promise me you’ll keep them singing. All of you.”
He met her gaze, fierce and certain. “Nothing’s going to happen again. You’re here now.”
She smiled sadly. “Just promise me, John Dory.”
He hesitated—then nodded. “I promise. I’ll be perfect for them.”
Her hand rested against his cheek, warm and trembling. “That’s my boy.”
When she finally fell asleep, JD sat there for a long time, listening to her breathing.
Outside, the stars blinked like scattered notes across a dark sky, and for now, all the world felt in tune.