PLUSH ONE xx
(By NeuroFabulous)
Plankton's antennae twitch
in a way that seems almost
thoughtful. "Hanna," he says,
his voice tentative. "Hanna,
Karen's friend, Karen's friend's
okay."
Her eyes fill with hope
at his words, her hand
still hovering. "Thank
you," she whispers, her voice
a gentle breeze. "May I sit
with you, or..."
But Plankton's gaze is
fixed on the plushie. "Not close,"
he murmurs, his voice a soft
refusal. "Some space, if Hanna
sit with space."
Hanna nods, her heart racing
as she moves to the floor near
him, maintaining a respectful
distance. Karen's eyes never leave
his, her voice a soft guide. "Good
job, Plankton," she whispers. "You're
doing so well."
He starts to rock slightly, in a pattern
that seems almost rhythmic. It's a
new behavior, one Karen recognizes
as stimming. She's heard about it,
how it can mean those with autism
self-soothe and process the world
around them. His eye is fixed
on the plushie, his hand moving
on it in small, repetitive motions.
Hanna watches Plankton's
soft rocking with a mix
of fascination and fear.
"What's happening?" she asks,
her voice barely above a murmur.
"It's called stimming," Karen
whispers, her voice a gentle
explanation. "It's how he's
processing everything right now.
It's like his brain's way of saying,
'I'm okay, I can handle this.'"
Hanna's eyes are wide with
interest as she watches, her
fear slowly giving way to
curiosity. "Is it...good?"
she asks, her voice tentative.
Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's rhythmic
motion. "It's a way for
his brain to calm down,"
she whispers. "It's like a
security blanket for his
nervous system."
Hanna's gaze is still
on him, her curiosity
overcoming her fear.
"Can I do anything?"
she asks, her voice a soft
offer of help.
Karen nods. "You can talk to him,
keep it calm and soothing."
Her eyes meet Hanna's, her
expression filled with
compassion. "Use simple
words, and let him know
you're here."
Hanna's voice is soft.
"Plankton," she says, her
tone gentle. "It's okay
to rock, it's okay to feel
better."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye flicking towards
her briefly before returning
to his plushie. The rocking
continues, a gentle sway that
seems to calm the storm
of his thoughts.
"You're safe, Plankton,"
Hanna whispers, her voice
a soothing lullaby. "We're
right here."
His antennae twitch,
his rocking slowing as he
takes in her words. His hand
still strokes the plushie, his
body slowly calming.
Hanna watches, her voice
a soft echo. "Plankton, I'm sorry,"
she says, her eyes filled with
sincerity. "I didn't understand."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his rocking pausing. He looks
at her, his gaze
uncertain.
Plankton's eye blinks slowly,
his antennae still. "Hanna talk
quiet," he whispers. "It's okay."
Her voice is gentle. "I will,
I'm sorry," she promises,
her eyes never leaving
his.
Karen watches with a mix
of pride and fear, her heart
swelling at Hanna's effort
to understand. She nods
encouragingly, her eyes
telling Hanna to keep it up.
"Good job, Plankton," Hanna whispers,
mimicking Karen's calm tone. "You're doing
so well." She takes a deep breath, her
hands folded in her lap, her gaze
steady on him. "Is there anything
you'd like? Something that would make
you feel more comfortable? Or w---"
"Too much," he murmurs,
his voice a whispered plea.
"Questions, too much. Not
fast, only each at a time."
Hanna nods, her heart
racing. "Okay," she says,
her voice gentle. "What
can I do with you right now?"
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his gaze on the plushie.
"Reading?" he asks, his voice
a whispered hope. "Book
makes good feeling."
Hanna's eyes light up,
relieved to have a task.
"Of course," she says, her voice
a soft promise. She
moves to the bookshelf,
her eyes scanning the titles.
"Which one, Plankton?"
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his voice a soft whisper.
"The physics one," he says, his
gaze still on the plushie.
Hanna's eyes find the book,
a faded blue spine among
the colorful array.
Her eyes widen with surprise,
but she doesn't question it.
Instead, she opens the book to
the first page, her voice a calm
narration. "Alright," she says,
her tone soothing. "Let's start with
the intro..."
But Plankton's antennae quiver
with impatience. "No, no,"
he whispers, his voice urgent.
"Index. Index is good."
Hanna's brow furrows, but
she nods, understanding.
She opens the book to the
back, her eyes scanning the
pages. "Index," she repeats, her
voice a soft question.
Plankton's antennae still,
his gaze on her. "Yes,"
he whispers, his voice
a sigh of relief. "Words,
titles with their page
numbers."
Hanna nods, her eyes
scanning the dense
pages of the index. "Here,"
she says, her voice a soft
guidance. "Let's look at the
list of topics together."
Plankton's antennae
quiver with anticipation,
his gaze flicking from
Hanna to the book and
back again. "Good," he
whispers. "Good, good, good."
Hanna's eyes scan the
index, her voice calm and
measured as she reads off
the headings. "Wave
particles," she says, her
voice a gentle melody.
"Quantum mechanics, gravity,
light refraction..."
"No; bad Hanna. Include page
numbers!" He interrupts her.
Her eyes widen slightly,
but she nods, her voice calm.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, her
finger tracing the words.
"Let's start again."
She reads out the first
entry, her voice a soft
lullaby. "Wave particles,
pages 47-52." Plankton's
antennas twitch with
interest, his eye darting
to the book. "Is that okay?"
she asks, her eyes searching
his for approval. He nods
eagerly.
"Good," she says, her
voice a gentle affirmation.
"Wave particles, pages
47-52." She continues, her
finger gliding over the
small print. "Quantum
mechanics, pages 104-130."
Plankton's antennae
dance with excitement,
his eye locked on her
movements. "More," he
whispers, his voice a
plea for knowledge.
Hanna's voice is a
steady rhythm as she
reads through the
index. "Electromagnetism,
pages 173-208," she says,
her voice a gentle guide.
Plankton's rocking
swayed in time with her
words, his body
still, his breathing
even. He's found comfort
in the orderly list, the
predictability of each
topic and its corresponding
pages. It's a small victory,
but in the quiet aftermath
of his seizure, it feels like
a monumental one.
Hanna's voice is a soft
steady beat, her eyes
never leaving his. "Gravity,
pages 243-270," she reads,
each entry a stepping stone
back to the person he
knows himself to be. Plankton's
eye flutters closed, the
rocking slowing down.
His breathing evens out.
"Good," he murmurs,
his voice quiet. "Good, good."
Hanna reads on. "Relativity,
pages 315-360,"
she whispers, as she
can feel his tension ease with
each page number she says.
"Dark matter," she continues,
"pages 402-430."
His antennae twitch in
agreement, his body
relaxing further into the
comfort of the blanket.
He leans closer to Hanna.
"Good," he whispers, his voice
a soft echo. "More."
Hanna nods, her eyes
flickering between the
index and Plankton.
"Supernovae," she says, her
voice a gentle guide. "Pages
512-540." Plankton relaxes
even further.
His antennae twitch, his
eye half-closed. "Good,"
he whispers. "Good book."
Her voice is a soft
narration, her finger
tracing the words. "Quantum
entanglement, pages 623-650."
Plankton's body relaxes
fully, the plushie still
a warm comfort in his
hand as his head tilts to
Hanna's shoulder.
Her voice is a gentle
whisper. "Time dilation,
pages 701-730."
Plankton's antennae
still, his breathing now
deepening into sleep.
Hanna keeps reading.
"Particle physics, pages
801-830," she continues.
Karen watches from
the doorway, her heart
swelling with love.
This is the Plankton she
knows, the one who finds
comfort in the ordered chaos
of the universe. She smiles
at Hanna, her eyes filled
with a quiet pride.
Hanna continues. "String th-"
But she's cut off by a soft
snore from Plankton's
relaxed form. His antennae
are still, his grip on the
plushie loose. She looks up,
her eyes meeting Karen's.
Surprise fills her gaze.
"Is he...asleep?" she asks,
her voice a whisper.
Karen nods, a small smile
touching her lips. "Looks like
it," she whispers. "Good job,
Hanna." Hanna's heart races,
his head heavy on her
shoulder.
Plankton's sleep is deep,
his body a testament to the
peace he's found in the
comfort of the book and their
calm voices. Karen approaches
them, her movements
slow and deliberate, not
wanting to disturb him.
Hanna looks up, her eyes
questioning. "What do we do now?"
she whispers, her voice a soft
concern, his tiny hand loosely
clutching the plushie.
"We need to get him to bed,"
Karen says, her voice a gentle
command. "But we have to be
careful not to wake him."
Hanna nods, her movements
mirroring Karen's calmness.
They stand slowly, their eyes
on Plankton's peaceful face.
"Ready?" Karen whispers,
and together, they lift him
by his blanket-cocooned form,
his head resting on Hanna's
shoulder.
They move as one, a silent
ballet of care and precision.
Each step is calculated,
each shift of weight
measured. Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly in his sleep,
but he remains oblivious
to the world around him, even
when the plushie falls
out of his grasp.
Hanna gasps. "Got it,"
she whispers. Karen nods, a silent thanks.
They continue the delicate
transfer, the plushie tucked
between his body and the
softness of the blanket.
They lay him down, the plushie nestled
under his arm,
his body still relaxed in sleep.
Hanna helps tuck him in, her
movements careful not
to disturb the fragile peace.
Karen nods, her eyes
on Plankton's sleeping form.
"Good," she whispers. "Just
like that." His antennae twitch
slightly, a soft snore escaping
him. Hanna's
hands are steady as she
slides the plushie under his
arm, her movements gentle and
precise.
They stand back, their
breaths held, watching
as Plankton's chest rises
and falls in a steady
rhythm. Karen's hand
reaches out to Hanna's,
a silent gesture of
solidarity. They've
managed this together,
his peace a testament
to their unity.