PATRICK PLANKTON 3/4
(NEURODIVERGENT AUTHOR)
"Here," he said, awkwardly offering a tentacle
to help Plankton to his feet. "Let me help you."
But Plankton slapped his hand away, his shivering
growing more intense.
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His body
was a wreck of tremors, his tiny frame visibly struggling
to hold itself upright.
Patrick looked at Karen, his eyes pleading for guidance.
Karen nodded gently, understanding the unspoken question.
"Just give him some space," she whispered back.
The tension in the room was palpable as Patrick took a step
back, his tentacles retracting into his body. Plankton's
shivering grew worse, his tiny frame seemingly shrinking
before their eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, his
legs giving out beneath him.
Before Karen could even react, Patrick's instincts took over.
He lunged forward, catching Plankton in his strong, star-shaped
embrace, preventing him from hitting the cold metal floor. The
impact was jarring, but Patrick's concern for his friend
outweighed any discomfort he might have felt.
"Whoa, buddy," he murmured, his tentacles embracing
Plankton's shoulders. "You ok?"
Karen watched the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and admiration
for the starfish's intuitive care.
"P-Patrick," Plankton stuttered, his body still convulsing slightly.
Patrick's eyes searched Plankton's face for any sign of pain
or discomfort, his tentacles tightening around his friend's
shaking body. "It's ok," he murmured, his voice soothing
despite the fear that was knotting his insides. "You just
had a little episode, but you're ok now."
Plankton's body stiffened, his antennae sticking straight out
in alarm. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice a mix of
anger and fear.
"Just trying to help," Patrick said, his eyes filled with genuine
concern. "You're shaking, and I don't want you to fall."
Plankton's antennae drooped, the fight draining from him.
"I..." he murmured, wanting to escape Patrick's grasp.
But Patrick held firm. "You lean on Karen, yet it's ok to lean
on someone else too."
Plankton's eye searched the room, desperate to find a way
out of this embarrassing situation. "I-I don't need..."
But his protests were cut short by a wave of dizziness that
washed over him. His legs buckled.
"Let me go," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix
of anger and fear.
Patrick's tentacles tightened around Plankton slightly, but he
didn't let go. "You need to relax," he said softly. "Just breathe."
Plankton's shivering grew worse, his teeth chattering like a typewriter
on overdrive. "Can't... can't breathe," he managed to get out.
Karen stepped in, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and
understanding. "Plankton," she said, her voice calm and
even, "you need to relax. You're safe."
"But he's..." Plankton's protests were cut off by another tremor
that rippled through his body.
"I know, buddy," Patrick said gently. "But sometimes we all
need a little help, even if we don't want to admit it."
"Get. Off. Me!" he spat, his voice filled with a desperation that
made Patrick's heart ache.
But Patrick didn't move. He just held Plankton closer. "You're safe.
I just don't want you to..."
Plankton's tremors grew more violent, and his eye rolled back into
his head again. His tiny body convulsed in Patrick's arms, his
antennae flailing wildly.
"Patrick, let go!" Karen's voice was sharp with fear. "You're
making it worse!"
Patrick's tentacles loosened their grip, and Plankton slumped
back onto the bed, his body still quivering uncontrollably. Karen's
robotic hands moved with surprising gentleness as she tucked
him in, scanning his form for any sign of injury. "It's okay," she
whispered, her voice a soothing hum. "You're safe now."
Patrick hovered nearby, his heart racing. He didn't know what
to say or do to make things right. The sight of his friend in such
distress was more than he could bear. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his
tentacles wringing in his hands. "I didn't mean to..."
But Plankton's shivering had stopped, his body going slack. His
antennae had dropped to his side, and his single eye was closed.
Karen checked his pulse again, her expression unreadable. "He's
okay," she said finally, her voice a mix of relief and exhaustion.
"Just needs to rest."
Patrick hovered by the bedside, feeling helpless. "What can I do?"
he asked, his tentacles twitching with the need to help in some way.
Karen looked up at him, her expression a mix of gratitude and
weariness. "Just be here," she murmured. "And maybe... maybe
don't touch him again."
Patrick nodded solemnly, his tentacles drooping in defeat. "Okay," he
murmured. "I'll just stay."
He watched as Karen continued to monitor Plankton's condition, her
mechanical movements a stark contrast to the tender way she
treated her husband. The silence in the room was heavy with unspoken
words and fear.
"I had no idea," Patrick whispered, his gaze never leaving
Plankton's still form.
"It's not something he talks about," Karen said gently. "But you should
know. Plankton's episodes are often triggered by sudden movements,
loud noises, or physical contact."
Patrick nodded, his gaze still on Plankton. "I didn't mean to scare him,"
he said softly.
Karen's eyes met his, filled with understanding. "I know, Patrick," she
said. "But you have to understand, Plankton's condition makes him
sensitive to certain things."
Patrick nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "What
exactly are triggers?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.
"Well," Karen began, her voice taking on the tone of a teacher explaining
a complex concept, "triggers are basically anything that sets off Plankton's
condition. They can be anything from a sudden sound to someone
touching him without warning. It's like his brain gets overstimulated and
shuts down to protect itself."
Patrick listened intently, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form.
"So, I shouldn't..."
Karen interrupted gently, "you shouldn't surprise him, especially
with physical contact."
Patrick nodded, his tentacles stilling as he took in the gravity of the
situation. He had never thought about how his actions could affect
someone in such a profound way. "How can I help then?" he asked,
his voice small.
"Just be there," Karen said, her hand patting his shoulder. "Talk to him,
keep things calm. And if he starts to get overwhelmed, just let him be.
Sometimes, that's all he needs."
Patrick nodded, taking in her words. He knew he wasn't the sharpest tool
in the shed, but he could do this. Be there for his friend without smothering
him. He could be that rock that Plankton could lean on without crushing
him. "Okay," he murmured, "I can do that."
Karen turned her attention back to Plankton, her robotic eyes scanning his
body for any signs of improvement. "He's resting now," she said, her voice
a soft whisper. "But he might be irritable when he wakes up."
Patrick nodded, his gaze never leaving his friend. "What can I do to make
sure he doesn't get to upset?" he asked, his tentacles twitching with anxiety.
"Look for signs," Karen said. "If his antennae start to twitch, or he seems distant
it might be time to give him some space."
Patrick nodded, his eyes searching Plankton for any signs of distress. He didn't
want to cause his friend any more pain, especially after seeing him like this.
"What else?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Look at his breathing," Karen instructed, her gaze focused on Plankton's chest
rising and falling in slow, shallow movements. "If it gets rapid or erratic, he's likely
overwhelmed."
Patrick nodded, watching intently as Plankton's chest moved with each breath.
"Ok" he murmured, "I'll keep an eye on that."
Karen's gaze softened, looking up at the starfish. "It's more than just that, Patrick,"
she said gently. "It's about understanding him, knowing what sets him off."
Patrick nodded, his eyes focused on Plankton. "So, what are the signs?"
Karen paused, considering her words carefully. "Well, it's like reading a book," she
began. "You have to pay attention to the little things, the subtle cues that tell you
how he's feeling."
"Subtle cues?" he repeated, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Yes," Karen nodded. "Like how he reacts when you touch him. Sometimes, it can
be soothing. Other times, it can be overwhelming." She paused, her eyes scanning
Plankton's form for any signs of distress. "It's all about reading his cues."
Patrick leaned in closer, his tentacles stilling. "How do know if it's helping or hurting,
or what type of touching?"
"It's different for everyone with his condition," Karen explained, still on
Plankton's sleeping form. "But for Plankton, it's usually about pressure."
Patrick's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Karen demonstrated with her robotic arm, applying gentle pressure to Patrick's
shoulder. "Like this," she whispered. "Soft, comforting touches can help him
feel grounded."
Patrick tentatively reached out with a tentacle, mimicking the light touch.
He watched as Plankton's sleeping body tensed for a moment before
relaxing slightly. "Is that ok?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Just keep it gentle," Karen reminded him, her eyes still on her husband. "And
pay attention to his reactions."