TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚
Pt. 12
As Chip retreated to his
room, he couldn't help but
feel the gap between them
widen. He'd always
thought they were close,
that he knew his father
inside and out. But now
he realized there was so
much more to Plankton.
Karen's gentle touch was
the only thing grounding
Plankton to reality. He felt
his anger dissipate,
leaving a vacuum filled
with exhaustion and sorrow.
"I'm sorry," she murmured,
her eyes never leaving his
as he leaned into her embrace.
His antennae stopped trembling
as he allowed the warmth
of her love to seep into
his bones. "I know," he
whispered. "I know."
Plankton felt the exhaustion
of the day's events settle
over him like a thick blanket.
The anger and fear drained
from his body, leaving him
weary and sleepy. His eye
closed as he leaned into
her touch.
The room grew quieter.
Karen held him close, her
heart aching for his pain.
Plankton's antennae drooped, his
body heavy with exhaustion.
His eyelid fluttered.
He leaned into Karen's embrace,
his body finally relaxing.
Her hand stroked his back,
soothing circles that seemed to
lull him closer to slumber.
"You're okay," she whispered.
"You're safe." His breathing
evened out, a gentle rise
and fall that spoke of
approaching sleep.
"Rest," she murmured. "We
can talk when you wake up."
Karen felt the tension leave
his body as sleep claimed
him, her hand still
moving in gentle circles.
Her eyes searched his
face, her heart a storm of
emotions. She knew the
seizure had taken a toll
on him, knew the pain of
his words was rooted in
fear and hurt.
As his breathing grew
steadier, his antennae
stilled, she felt the
weight of his head
against her shoulder,
his trust in her a silent
testament to their bond.
Karen held him tight,
his warmth seeping into
her. She knew he
needed this, needed to
feel safe.
His gentle snores filled the
silence, a soft reminder that he
was safe in her arms. Karen felt
his body go slack, his antennae
stilling as sleep claimed him.
The anger had fled, leaving
behind the fragile shell of
his vulnerability. She held him
closer, her heart aching for the
pain he'd felt, the fear that
still lingered.
Her eyes searched his
slumbering face, tracing the
lines of his features with
a soft touch. Plankton was
her everything, her rock, her
love.
Gently, she picked him up,
his body limp with the
exhaustion. She carried him
carefully as she laid him down,
his antennae drooping in sleep.
Karen tucked him in bed, her eyes
lingering on his face. She made sure
a favorite plushie was within
reach. Plankton's chest
rose and fell in a steady
rhythm, his breathing deep
and peaceful.
With a soft sigh, she
kissed his forehead.
His antennae twitched
but he didn't stir.
Karen's eyes
were filled with love
and regret as she
watched him sleep.
The gentle rise and fall
of his chest was a
comforting testament
to his resilience.
The next morning, Karen
knew she had to take
Plankton to the dentist
for x-rays. She woke
Chip up. "Chip," she says.
"Your dad has to go to
the dentist today for a
checkup."
Chip nodded, his eyes
still clouded with sleep.
"Okay," he murmured. "Can
I come?" "Yes."
They arrive
at Plankton's
dentist office
for the x-ray.
The receptionist
smiled. "Mr.
Plankton, Dr. Coral
will see you now."
Dr. Coral greeted the
family as they entered
the exam room. "Good
morning, Plankton," she
smiled, her eyes kind. "So,
today we're just going to
do our usual x-rays. Can
you open wide?"
Plankton nodded, antennae
twitching nervously.
He sat in the chair,
his legs swinging slightly
as he tried to find a
comfortable position.
Karen held his hand, her
thumb brushing over his
knuckles in a soothing
motion. "It'll be quick,"
she whispered. Chip sat
in the corner, his eyes
on his dad, his heart heavy
with unspoken words.
The assistant, a young
clownfish named Penny,
finished with taking x-rays.
Dr. Coral peered at
the images, her eyes
flicking back and forth
between the x-rays and
Plankton's mouth. "Good
job," Penny tells him.
"Everything looks
okay," Dr. Coral began.
"Yet it looks like we
have some wisdom
teeth coming in. They're
not causing anything
right now, but we should
go ahead and remove them
as a preventative mea-"
Plankton's antennae shot
up. "No," he said firmly, his
voice tight with anxiety.
"I don't like... don't
like poking... mouth...
no." His stims grew more
intense, his hands flapping
at his side.
Karen squeezed his hand,
trying to offer reassurance.
"It's okay," she murmured.
"It's just a li-"
"NO!" Plankton's voice
was loud, echoing in the
small room. Chip flinched.
Dr. Coral's eyes widened
slightly, but she remained
calm. "Let's talk about this,
Plankton," she said, her voice
gentle. "We can go slow."
But Plankton was already
spiraling. The mere mention
of the procedure had
ignited anxiety in him. His
stims grew more intense,
his antennae flailing wildly.
"No poking, no poking, no
poking!" he chanted, his
body rocking in the chair.
Dr. Coral's expression
shifted, her gaze moving
from the x-rays to Plankton.
She knew he had special
needs, had seen the signs
of his autism before.
But today was different.
Today, the fear in his eye
was palpable, his body
a testament to the stress
he was under.
"Let's take it slow," she
soothed, her voice a gentle
wave. "We can talk about
this, okay?"
Plankton's antennae
stilled slightly, his
body tensing. "But no
poking," he whispered,
his eye wide with fear.
Karen nodded, her eyes
meeting Dr. Coral's.
"We'll find a way," she
promised. "A way that
makes you feel safe."
Dr. Coral nodded, her
expression understanding.
"We'll take it step by step,
Plankton," she said, her voice
low and calm. "We'll work
together to find the best
solution for you."