Chapter Text
Home
Terry's dad doesn't greet him at the bus.
Terry—no, Amy now. Amy gets off, and he changed to his girl form before leaving Splatsville, and he's in his beaten up clothes for when he doesn't want to get mistaken for Atla, but he's still Amy when he sets off through the sand dunes, Tribble clinging to his back.
On a normal day, his dad would be waiting for him just out of sight of the train, but he isn't here now. Amy tries not to let it bother him. His sister wrote that his dad was lightviewing . Which means he won't stop, even after the phone call, until Amy makes it home safe.
“Hey, Tribble?” Amy says.
Tribble warbles and jumps from Amy's shoulder, leaving finprints in the sand.
“Race you home.”
Tribble moves at a sprint, going straight for once, and other days Amy would wait, let Tribble get ahead, pass him, slow down, let Tribble get ahead again, keeping it close the whole way and maybe even let Tribble win. But today, Amy takes off, too, feet pounding like he's fleeing from a fuzzakook, kicking up sand and passing Tribble and keeping his balance from years of practice.
He's panting hard and his ankle hurts by the time he makes it home—he forgot about that, it hasn't stung in a bit, but now it does and—never mind that. He shoves open the front door, because it doesn't lock everyone knows if you live out here you have nothing to steal, and
The rickety table and the rug are both in place.
Amy almost shoves the table over moving it, and he has to slow down. Then he rolls up the rug, to reveal the trapdoor to the basement. Cod, dad even had Atla put those back; he was serious about this.
One heart in his throat, Amy pulls open the trapdoor and jumps down.
His dad doesn't turn around. He's sitting on the floor, cross-legged, absolutely still, his back to Amy, his arms and tentacles wrapped around something in his lap; it's hard to see much. Besides the light from the trapdoor, the only other light is a single red LED on the wall in front of Amy's father, a dull, steady glow.
Amy swallows down the heart in his throat, takes a step forward, and lowers his head so his tentacles can reach his fathers. “Dad, I'm home.”
His father's tentacles all reach for him, the stunted withered ones in the back unmoving while the other two twine around and around Amy's front two tentacles, reach his head, and find his back tentacles to twine down those.
Amy moves around to sit in front of his father, careful not to disconnect the wires. His father's holding a single golden egg in his lap, starting to look dull from energy loss. “Amy,” his dad says.
Amy nods, and shuffles closer, as his dad sets the power egg on the ground in front of them both and pulls Amy close. If he's been lightviewing, then he's sat here, holding the power egg hooked to that single LED, since that first night Amy didn't come home. Maybe Atla held it some of the time, so dad could eat, maybe she didn't. But he made it home before the light went out, before they couldn't put it off anymore and condemned him to the great light above, the one generations never saw.
His father's tentacles unwrap from his, and Amy's pulled into his father's lap. It's too dark to see in the dim light, so it's by the gentlest brush of tentacles that his father checks him over, touches against his back and legs, lingering along the line of the cut on his side. “You've been through some hard times,” his father says at last, “but you're home now. I missed you, my diamond.”
Terry presses his forehead against his father's and wraps his tentacles around the tops of his dad's, pressing their suckers together. “I missed you too,” he says.
Overhead, the door slams open, and seconds later something lands beside them. “Amy!” shouts Atla, and Amy's tackled so hard he and his dad both tumble over, the power egg rolling away and finally disconnecting from the red LED. “You're back,” she says.
“I'm back,” Amy says.
Their dad gives them both a squeeze. “I had every faith you'd return. Now, both of you, go get washed up. I'm going to call your mother, she said to alert her the moment you came home, but I have to go to work, so you two need to go to bed.
Amy doesn't want to let go, but knows he has to, and Atla tugs him up. “Come on,” she says, but she makes Amy go first, up the ladder and to the sink. “Are you hungry? All we have here is ration bars, but—”
The door bangs open again, making both of them spin, but it's only Tribble, home at last. Amy rubs at his face, he's not crying, and tells Atla, “I think Tribble's hungry, but... I just want to go to bed.”
Amy gets into his pj's, and gets into bed, Atla not long after, and when his dad tucks him in, he says, “The two of you stick together, understand me? I hate having to leave, but I can't take off any more days if you're safe. Your mother will be taking you both below in the morning.”
Amy nods. That's about what he expected. And... he can't wait to see his mom.
Safe at home, and loved, and safe, Amy's eyes are heavy almost before his dad leaves. But Atla moves, across the room, and Amy lifts his blanket so she can climb in with him. “Don't you dare tell anyone about this,” she grumbles.
Amy wraps his tentacles around hers and squeezes, pressing their suckers together, and she squeezes back even harder. Tribble jumps down from his bed to curl up on them both. “Don't worry,” Amy says. “I won't.”