Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sprig wakes on the ground, cushioned on a body far larger than his own. 

Oh frog, he thinks, blinking rapidly. There’s a weight around his own body, keeping him pinned to whatever it is he landed on. I’m alive? 

I’m alive! 

He doesn’t remember much. King Andrias had dropped him out that window, and he remembers the feeling of the air caving around him, the whistling of the wind in his ears, the tears in his eyes. And then… and then… 

What happened then? 

Sprig sits up with a groan, and he blinks his eyes open. They’re crusty with tears and stinging from the wind, which makes it marginally hard to see, but eventually his vision clears enough that he can make out his surroundings. 

He’s in a forest. Joe Sparrow is curled up next to him, chirping pitifully every few seconds as he cradles an injured wing. Marcy is underneath him, one arm wrapped around his body and the other curled under her head. She’s unconscious. 

Marcy… 

Sprig tugs his way free of Marcy’s grasp, sits on the forest floor with a groan. His body aches, but he doesn’t feel majorly injured, and now that he’s here and staring at Marcy, he remembers a little bit more. Marcy, catching him seconds before he hit the ground. Marcy whispering reassurances into his ear as he cried, promising him that she’d fix things. 

Joe Sparrow, getting hit with a laser beam. 

Crashing. 

“Marcy,” Sprig says, quietly. Then, louder, “Marcy?” 

She doesn’t respond.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle isn’t flying anymore. 

Sprig watches the sky, leaning against Joe Sparrow’s uninjured side. He had tugged Marcy next to him - which was very hard and yet much easier than trying to move Anne when she was asleep - so that, at the very least, they weren’t so out in the open. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

It’s… scary, being here essentially by himself. And now, with the castle back on the ground, he doesn’t know what happened when he was dropped. Anything could’ve happened. 

Does his family think he’s dead? 

Sprig knows one thing… he’s gotta get back to Newtopia. Somehow. But he can’t just leave Marcy here.

“I’m kinda mad at you,” he admits, softly, glancing over at Anne’s friend. She doesn’t look so good; Sprig is no expert, but he’s pretty sure humans aren’t supposed to be that pale, and her chest flutters in strange ways. “I trusted you. We all did. And you betrayed us.” 

Talking to someone that can’t respond is distressing. Sprig sighs, and he curls his legs into his chest, sinking against Joe’s feathers. 

“I think I understand why you did it,” he continues, staring at the ground, “but you should’ve told us sooner. We could’ve helped! Anne loves helping people!” 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of waking up after a long fall, the weight of nearly losing Anne, and Polly, and possibly the entire world hitting him in the face, or the realization that he doesn’t know if they’re okay, if they’re safe, if the lack of a flying castle is because Anne has the box or for something else entirely. Sprig doesn’t know. But there are tears in his eyes once again, and he glares daggers into the ground, feeling the panic crest through him. 

He’s a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. 

None of them do. 

“She would’ve helped you, because she’s your friend,” he says, quietly, and he doesn’t know if he’s still talking to the unconscious Marcy or if he’s speaking to the void. “That’s what friends do. She’s the one that taught me that, you know?” 

“Hm, knowwhat?” 

Sprig gasps and he quickly glances over at the finally-awake Marcy in surprise. Sure enough, her eyes are cracked open, squinting at him like Anne does in the mornings when she’s still groggy from sleep. 

“You’re awake!” He exclaims, tentatively scooting closer to her. “Are you… okay?” 

Marcy makes a noise in the back of her throat. It doesn’t sound like much of an answer, but what does Sprig know? “ …’m ‘kay, th’nk,” she finally mumbles, and her words are all sorts of mumbled together and slurred, the syllables blending into each other. 

Sprig has never heard Anne talk like this. He doesn’t know what it means. 

She tries to sit up the rest of the way, but whatever injuries she acquired after the fall must be more serious than Sprig had thought, because she only manages to push herself upwards for a singular second before groaning and slipping back down. One of her hands curls around her stomach, and the other presses against her forehead. 

“You ‘kay?” Marcy looks up at him, and although she’s still squinting and there’s a dazed look in her eyes, she isn’t looking at him like she did earlier, like he wasn’t real. “You hurt?”  

She looks so worried and concerned for his wellbeing, even though she was the one who threw herself out a window to save him… Sprig almost, almost feels guilty for thinking so poorly of her just minutes ago. Almost. 

“I’m okay, I think,” he answers, unconsciously mimicking her words. “Marcy… you saved me.” 

Marcy smiles something sad and shaky, and her eyes flutter. “That’s good,” she whispers, inhaling with a shaky whimper. “You… gotta be ‘kay. I…” she trails off, her eyelids drooping. 

It’s not long before she’s asleep again. 

Sprig whimpers, and he curls his legs into his arms, resting his head on top of his knees with a whine. This is… more out of his depth than any wacky adventure he’s had in the months Anne has been living with them. He doesn’t know where he is. His only companion is injured, and he doesn’t know how to feel about her right now. Anne and Hop Pop and Polly could still be in danger. 

He’s never felt so alone before. 

~~~~

By the time Marcy wakes up again, night is falling, and Sprig has had a lot more time to think about what had happened in the throne room. 

“Ugh,” Marcy groans, and she blinks her eyes open, still looking just as dazed and confused as she did earlier. “What…” 

“Hey Marcy,” Sprig greets, “I’m glad you’re awake. Are you… uh, okay?” 

Marcy blinks, and then blinks again. She stares at him almost puzzled, her eyes tinged green and glazed over. “...Sprig? Is that you?” 

“Who else would it be?” Sprig tries to joke, but it falls flat at the confusion in Marcy’s eyes, the way she brings a hand back to her head as if shielding them. It’s a gesture he’s seen Anne do hundreds of time, shielding her face from the sun. Human eyes are very sensitive, she had explained once, sometimes it’s just too bright for us. Weird, huh? 

Humans are weird, Sprig had agreed. It’s a sentiment he still feels very strongly about. 

Marcy just groans, and she sits up again, wincing. Her movement is jagged and slow, and she takes quick breaths. “Ow,” she mumbles, “ow, ow, ow-” 

“Oh gosh, you’re really hurt,” Sprig says, panicking. He doesn’t know what to do when someone he’s with is injured! Anne’s broken arm had healed within a couple of days, and she had known what to do for it herself, and Sprig’s never been hurt enough to need any sort of fancy attention for his injuries, not that they had any in Wartwood.

“I’m… I’ll be okay.” Marcy grimaces, but she smiles big and forced. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Where… where’s Anne? How did we get here?” 

Something cold forms at the bottom of Sprig’s stomach. “You… you don’t remember getting here?” 

“Should I?” Marcy tilts her head, and then winces again, dropping her head to lean against Joe Sparrow.  

“We… I fell out of the castle, remember? And you jumped out to catch me… but we still fell, and landed here.” Sprig frowns, and he presses a bit closer to her. No matter how he feels towards her, something’s not adding up properly, and he doesn’t know what to do. “Marcy?” 

“I… I don’t remember that at all,” Marcy admits, and she looks even more lost than before. “My head hurts… if we landed on the ground, I probably have a concussion. That would explain the memory loss. And everything else. Well, maybe not for why my chest hurts so bad… that’s probably a broken rib. Or two. Or three. Ugh.” 

“What should we do?” Sprig bites at his lip. “I don’t know where we are. Do you know where we are?” 

Marcy squints at their surroundings, lifting her head listlessly upwards so she can see further. “We’re… in the western forests.” She gestures vaguely at the river that’s just out of view; Sprig can hear the running water, he just hasn’t moved to explore the area quite yet. “If we follow that, it should take us back to Newtopia. I think.” 

“Then that’s what we gotta do!” Sprig jumps up, and then hesitates, glancing over at Marcy. She’s still so pale, and squinting upwards at the horizon like the sun personally offends her. “Can you walk?” 

“Probably not a good idea,” Marcy says weakly, and she pats Joe Sparrow, who chirps at her. “But Joe can fly us, right?” 

“He… right, you don’t remember anything.” Sprig sighs. This is gonna be a lot harder than he originally thought it’d be. “His wing is hurt, it’s how we crash-landed in the first place.” Was he the only one that landed unscathed? Considering the king only dropped him out the window to hurt Anne, Sprig doesn’t know how to feel about this. 

Do they know that he’s on the ground? Did Marcy tell them that she was going to save him? Do they think he’s dead? 

Sprig has to find them. 

He’s hungry, and tired, and the exhaustion of the past few days comes crashing down on his shoulders in an instant. He slumps back against Joe Sparrow’s side, hesitates, and then commits, scooting closer to Marcy. The sinking sun chills the air, and if he knows anything from years of camping trips, it’s that warmth is essential to survive the night. They’ll also need food at some point, but they can cross that bridge tomorrow, when hopefully they can start the journey back to Newtopia. 

“We’ll get you home,” Marcy mumbles, and she’s smiling again, that fake smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and is a lot less comforting than she probably thinks it is. “I promise. Kay?” 

“Yeah… okay, if you say so.” Sprig settles against her side, and one of her arms wraps around him, pulling him closer. It’s no Anne, and he still feels uneasy around the person that had betrayed them earlier that day, but… it’s nice. 

Anne, Hop Pop, Polly, he thinks, we’re coming. 

Chapter Text

Anne remembers things in flashes. 

The clearest memory she has is King Andrias dropping Sprig. She remembers the suffocating grief that had enveloped her, the way her soul had felt split in half, the emptiness that accompanied losing a part of her. The despair had hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her until all she could feel was blue, blue, blue- 

Later, Hop Pop will tell her all about the glowing blue powers she had attained, the way she had gone after King Andrias like a woman possessed, screaming and begging for Sprig to come back. It was so intense, he will say, that they almost believed Sprig would magically land in the throne room out of sheer will. 

But he doesn’t. 

The exhaustion that follows her outburst keeps her dazed and pinned to the ground, slumped against Hop Pop as he desperately tries to snap her out of it. It’s here that her memory goes awry, only remembering things in tiny snippets. 

King Andrias, looming over them with his giant flaming sword, triumphant. 

The castle lurching downwards. 

“No!” 

“You want it so badly?” Sasha’s voice, shaky but strong despite it all, “come get it!” 

The surge of power she feels, another overwhelming rush of blue that courses through her as Sasha drives her sword through the center of the box. Her eyes, too, are glowing a bright pink, even as she cracks the box in half, leaving the gems unscathed but everything else shattering into pieces. 

Anne should feel something about this. That box was her only way home. They had suffered so much for that box, and here Sasha is, destroying it with manic glee, just like she had threatened to do earlier that day. It feels like that happened weeks ago. 

She should feel something about it, but she just feels empty. Lost. What does it matter? Why should she get to go home and reunite with her family when she just lost the most important part of it? 

Sprig’s gone. 

He’s gone. 

“Anne,” Hop Pop says, quietly, and she remembers that he must be grieving too. This isn’t a loss that she has to suffer for alone, they all lost him. God. “Sasha and Grime have King Andrias distracted, we should get you out of here.” 

I can’t leave, Anne wants to say. I have to take down King Andrias for this, I have to… 

The castle lands on the ground with a rattling thump, and the walls shake. Anne may not be the smartest person in the room, but she knows enough about physics to realize that there’s no way the infrastructure will hold after that shockwave. They need to leave. 

“Sasha, Marcy,” she calls weakly, and she lifts her head to look for her friends. They both betrayed her today, and when she’s not feeling so numb she’s going to be so angry at them for it, but neither of them deserve to stay in a crumbling castle and die. “We gotta go-” 

Marcy is nowhere to be seen. 

Anne groans, blinking her eyes a couple times to clear her vision. Whatever happened when Sasha shattered the box must’ve given all the gem powers back to her; her previous exhaustion is all but gone, replaced with sheer adrenaline and a burning desire to finish things. 

She can see Grime, herding King Andrias back towards the cell now that they’ve landed. King Andrias looks angry, radiating fury, but with the box broken, there’s nothing he can do anymore. He simply lets Grime force him out of the throne room with the warhammer, his giant firesword laying forgotten on the side of the room. 

“Come on, Anne, we gotta go-” and there’s Sasha, kneeling next to her and Hop Pop, looking far more worried than she should be for someone that had betrayed Anne’s trust not once but twice. “You can hate me all you want later, but we are getting out of here.” 

“Where’s Marcy?” Anne asks, trembling as she stands. Her knees buckle almost immediately, but Sasha catches her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. Her eyes are still glowing pink, and Anne has a feeling that if she could see herself in the mirror, her own would be bright blue. 

“I have no clue,” Sasha snaps, and she looks pissed, even moreso than Anne is about the whole ordeal. “She just up and disappeared, just like those frog-damned newts.” 

Oh right, Lady Olivia and General Yunan had been in the throne room at one point too. Did they jump ship? Was Marcy with them? Frog, this is all so confusing. Anne thinks about how happy she had been this morning, when they were packing for one last trip, when she thought she was gonna get to go home. How did things end up like this? 

It’s too much. 

“Anne? Anne!” 

Anne’s vision swims, and then darkens completely, and she slumps lifelessly into Sasha’s side. 

~~~~~~ 

The clean-up is messy. 

When Anne wakes, she’s in a hotel bed. The curtains are drawn, keeping the room in darkness. Next to her, Polly is slumbering peacefully. Hop Pop is nowhere to be seen, but Anne has no doubt that he hasn’t gone far. 

And Sprig… 

The grief washes over her once again, and she sits up with a gasp, fingers clenching the blanket with white knuckles. Tears well in her eyes, and she sniffs hard, shoulders shaking. 

Sprig is gone. She’s never going to see him again. There’s no more “Spranne against the world”, no more fun adventures. She’ll never get to introduce him to her parents, or take him to fast food, or suffer through another sleepover. 

He’s gone. 

Anne finally releases the blankets, pressing one hand against her eyes and the other bracing against the bed to keep herself upright. She’s been through so much these past few months, watched as Sasha betrayed her twice and Marcy… 

...she doesn’t want to think about Marcy right now. 

She’s suffered so much, and yet she’s never, ever felt a pain like this. Anne leans back against the bedframe, keeps a hand against her eyes and tangles the other one in her hair. The twinge of pain that flares everytime she tugs at the strands helps ground her, keeping her from feeling so overwhelmingly blue like she had in the palace. 

And then the door swings open. 

“Anne? Are you awake?” 

Hop Pop steps inside, his hands folded together. Grief has added years to his life, the lines under his eyes darker and more prominent and his shoulders permanently slumped. He, too, has lost as much as she has, Anne realizes. Sprig had been her best friend and adoptive little brother, but he was also Hop Pop’s only grandson. This is a grief that they share. 

“I’m awake,” she answers, quietly, solemnly. Her voice is hoarse even to her own ears, and she’d wince if she had the presence of mind to do so. “What… what happened?” 

Hop Pop closes the door behind him and he sighs something weary, glancing between her and the still-sleeping Polly. “Andrias has been officially sentenced for life,” he says, finally, hands folded in front of him. “Which means there’s a lot of work to be done in setting up a new government. Apparently, since I ran for mayor, I’m eligible for the new council that Sasha and Grime are implementing. So are you.” 

Anne rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t want to rule this world,” she says, shuddering, “I’m not Sasha, I don’t… I didn’t want this. I just want…” 

Tears spring to her eyes once again, and Anne furiously wipes at them, scrubbing the evidence off of her face but leaving red, puffy skin behind. 

Hop Pop is next to her on the bed in an instant. Tiny arms wrap around her waist in a way that feels so achingly familiar, and Anne drops her head, pressing into a shoulder far more boney than one would anticipate. 

“Does it ever get easier?” She asks, sniffling hard. 

“No,” Hop Pop answers, and he sounds just as choked up as she does, “but you learn to live with it in time.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Against her best judgement, Anne drags herself out of bed and to the newly formed council room. 

In the hours it’s been since the downfall of King Andrias, one of the destroyed palace rooms has been converted to host a giant table, scattered with maps and other important documents. General Yunan and Lady Olivia sit on one side of the table, webbed hands interlocked. Grime and another toad sit at the other side. Sasha stands at the head of the table, the shattered remains of the calamity box perched next to her. 

Hop Pop goes to take a seat at the foot of the table. There’s a chair pulled up for Anne as well, but she remains standing, sword sheathed at her side. 

Sasha’s eyes are still tinged pink - though they’re not glowing with such intensity, not anymore - and she too looks weary, despite the fact that even after the renouncement of Anne’s friendship, after Marcy’s betrayal and King Andrias’s plan of attack… she had gotten exactly what she wanted. Her perfect little rebellion. What did she lose in all of this? Her friendship with Marcy? Anne had lost that too, and as much as it stings, Marcy’s disappearance and absence from the council room speaks louder than any tearful explanation. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Sasha says, as Anne takes her spot next to Hop Pop at the table. 

“What is all of this?” Anne glances around the table, and then stares blatantly at Olivia and Yunan. “And where did you two come from?” Her tone is harsh; she didn’t quite realize how angry she was at the two adults that had left a bunch of children at the mercy of a homicidal king until now. 

“After the robots, my mission was to escort Lady Olivia to safety, as she is a non-combatant and crucial for the future of Amphibia,” Yunan says, although there’s something tentative and hesitant in her voice that she hadn’t had previously. “I recognize now that this was a… mistake, but one that was unavoidable. I am sorry for your loss, human.” 

Anne bristles. She has a retort at the tip of her tongue - you think a simple apology will work? You are an experienced general! You should’ve gotten us out, you could’ve done something, you could’ve- - but before she can say any of it, Sasha holds out her palm, the gesture so familiar Anne instinctively bites on her tongue. 

She hates that Sasha still has that effect on her. 

“There’s blame to be shared on all sides,” she says, “but we’re not here to fight. Amphibia is in a state of chaos after the release of those robots, and we have to do something about it. Right, Anne?” 

Anne crosses her arms. Once, helping Amphibia return to a state of normalcy might’ve been something she’d be interested in. However, that kind of political nonsense is much more up Marcy’s alley, and she really, really doesn’t want to think about Marcy right now. Besides, she has something much more important to ask for.

“I don’t like politics,” she answers, leaning against Hop Pop’s chair. “But I get it. As one of the gem holders, it’s probably my responsibility, right?” 

She pauses, waiting for an answer. She doesn’t get one. Sasha is staring at her with an unreadable look in her eyes, and the toads and newts look more curious than anything, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I don’t really care about all of that though,” she continues, after the pause stretches for an awkward amount of time, “because I just lost my closest friend-” and here, she looks Sasha directly in the eyes, challenging her to say something otherwise. A flicker of what might be guilt flashes through Sasha’s eyes, but she doesn’t react verbally, her lips drawn into a thin line. “-and before I do anything to help you, I want to find him. Bodies-” and here, she swallows down the grief that tangles in her throat, a hard lump that aches as it goes down, “-don’t just disappear, so we can find him. Promise me we will send a scouting party to find him, and I’ll help you. “

“What about Marcy?” 

Anne and Sasha both whip their heads around to glance at the speaker. Lady Olivia looks meek in the face of such bitter determination, but she holds her head high like she always has, staring right back at them. 

“What about Marcy?” Sasha finally speaks, and her voice is flat, dead, pissed. 

“I know her actions with the King were hurtful, but she is… all of you, you are all just children. ” Olivia shudders, and then dips her head low. “The fault is mine, for not seeing how Andrias was acting with her, and I will own that. But she cared for you both, very deeply. We should look for her as well.” 

“What is there to look for?” Sasha slams her hands on the table, the pink in her eyes glowing a little brighter. “You weren’t there, newt. Marcy left us. She saw that we were distracted and ran. We could’ve died, and she wouldn’t have seen it, because she ditched us, she flew off on her stupid bird and left us to rot. There’s no looking for Marcy, because if Marcy wanted to be found, she’d be here, helping us with the rebuilding, not fucking off to who-knows-where doing who-knows-what!” 

By the end of her speech, Sasha’s eyes are glowing bright enough to illuminate the entire room, and the tips of her hair float in the air, tinged pink as well. Anne can feel her own blue throb in response, and she sighs, curling her hands into fists to avoid any physical outburst. 

“Sasha’s right, Olivia,” she says, softly, bitterly, “Marcy chose her fate. But Sprig didn’t, and I want him found.” 

Olivia glances between them again, and something akin to sorrow flashes across her face. Nevertheless, she dips her head, and sits back into her seat. “Very well,” she murmurs, noticeably upset by the outcome of her emotional plea. “I will assist you both in whatever you require. I believe most of the palace libraries are still standing, so we may still find a way to send you girls home if that is something you still seek. And Yunan will personally choose guards to find your… Sprig.” 

Hop Pop is looking at Anne with clear worry, but Anne just slumps forwards, bracing herself against the table. “Good,” she breathes, and it really does feel like a giant weight has been taken off of her shoulders. 

“If that’s settled, it’s time we start discussing who will serve in the first council.” Grime glances around the table, and no matter how badly Anne wants to punch him in his stupid face, he does have a point. The current ruling system of Amphibia is corrupt, clearly demonstrated through the terror of the toad towers, the disdain the newts have for anyone beneath them. Marcy had wanted to set up a new political system, and no matter how mixed Anne feels about her, she had a point. 

“We should host an election,” she says, quietly, “gather a group of selected frogs, toads, and newts from each city and see what they have to say. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start, right?” 

“Good thinking, human,” the other toad says, grinning menacingly. 

“I don’t think you’ll need me for that, though. So, if you’ll excuse me, I only woke up an hour ago and would like to go eat something.” And maybe cry again, Anne adds mentally, even as she stands up straighter, fully prepared to walk out of the room no matter what they say. 

“The rest of the city is in shambles,” Sasha warns, and she stands as well. The pink glow around her has faded somewhat, settling back into the thin ring of color in her otherwise brown eyes. Anne is sure that if she looked in a mirror, her own eyes would be the same: brown, but with a bright ring of blue. “Finding food might be hard. Let me come with you.” 

“No,” Anne shakes her head. “We may be on the same side now, Sash, and you definitely helped a lot when the palace was flying… but if you expect me to just forgive you instantly? Fat chance. You still betrayed me, betrayed us, time and time again. You lied to me so many times over the past week, how can I trust you?” She laughs, something bitter and jaded and bubbling out of her throat. “I need space. Away from you. So don’t follow me.” 

Sasha’s jaw clenches, and it’s obvious that she wants to fight back. For a moment, Anne almost wishes she would. Instead, though, she just sighs, and then sits back down, a hand against her head. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, and for once in her life, she looks truly remorseful for her actions. It’s about time. “Whatever.” 

Anne glances around the room. Nobody else seems to oppose her leaving, and once she’s positive that nobody’s going to try and stop her - or, worse, follow her - she spins on her heel, marching out of the makeshift council room like a woman possessed. 

Maybe she can try and go find Gertie, she thinks, weaving through the streets. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week passes, and nobody’s found Sprig’s body yet. 

It’s not that difficult to believe, Anne reasons, as she sits in her bedroom in the hotel, which is steadily becoming more of a permanent residence. For all Hop Pop talks of returning to Wartwood and tending to the farm, his place right now is here, gathering other frogs to Newtopia for help rebuilding, and for their precious council meetings. Polly, too, seems to prefer it here, cradling Frobo’s destroyed head and exploring the damaged palace looking for spare robot parts to fix him with. It’s a hopeless mission, but if it brings her closure, Anne can’t complain. 

Closure. Anne craves it so desperately. As much as it hurts, she wants a body to bury, a grave to mourn at. She refuses to admit it out loud - she barely even admits it to herself - but this quest of hers to find Sprig’s body is less about the hope of finding him alive and more about the desire for closure, so she can finally have some semblance of peace. 

But it’s not coming up with anything. 

The castle had been flying very high above the city, and maybe even moving beyond it. It makes sense, then, that the searches around Newtopia’s outskirts has proven fruitless; there’s no telling how far the wind had carried Sprig’s helpless little body. He could be anywhere. 

And yet, when Yunan had pulled Anne aside to explain that really, they should be more focused on rescuing the still-alive civilians of Newtopia from the damage that accompanied the toad rebellion and the flying palace, that they just don’t have the resources to keep searching for Sprig… Anne had refused. 

This is a condition of mine, remember? 

It hadn’t won her any brownie points with the general, who seemed pissed at her for the same reason that Lady Olivia hardly spoke to her beyond what was required. Anne doesn’t really understand it, how close Olivia had been to Marcy and how upset she is at the treatment of her by her friends. 

Marcy had betrayed them. She sent them here on purpose, and didn’t say a thing about it. She wanted to take them to other worlds without their consent, and then when the going was rough, fled the scene without a care in the world. 

Anne cared for Marcy. She loved Marcy. Losing her like this has been a slap in the face. Sasha, at least, Anne could pinpoint a reason for betraying her; the signs had been there, had always been there, Sasha has always been controlling and manipulative and it made sense , in a horrible cruel way. But Marcy? They had been friends for as long as Anne can remember. She was the one who dragged Marcy into walking, who encouraged her to say her first words at the age of three, who spent the night with her so frequently they were desensitized to it by the time Sasha joined them in kindergarten. 

Marcy had always been there for her in a way Sasha never was. On sleepless nights, it was Marcy that Anne could call with a problem, Marcy who was always awake to answer the phone and always had a solution. Even as her parents discouraged her friendship with Sasha, Marcy was the one they pushed her towards instead, the smart one who would help Anne with schoolwork, who didn’t lead her into trouble. 

So how is it that Marcy was the one to betray her? How did this happen? 

Anne had confided in Marcy her biggest fears and secrets. There was so little that Marcy didn’t know about her, and yet now that Anne is here, thinking about it, the gesture was never really returned. Marcy didn’t talk about her homelife, about her parents and sister. She never gave reasons for why she couldn’t join Anne and Sasha on one outing or another, and never spoke of how she felt when it came towards the girls. She hardly voiced any opinions of her own. 

No wonder she had looked so happy when Anne found her in Newtopia. 

If Marcy had just talked about her problems, Anne is positive that she would’ve accepted them, offered a solution of her own, done something. They could’ve worked things out without needing to come to Amphibia! 

But no. Here they are. Now Marcy has gone to who-knows-where, and even after a week, there’s been no sign of her anywhere . Joe Sparrow, too, is missing, and that’s more telling than anything. She must’ve fled to some far corner of Amphibia to escape the consequences of her actions, just like Sasha said she had. 

Anne doesn’t like feeling like she’s mourning two people, but in a way, she is. Sprig is gone, and she might not find his body, though she has hope. And the Marcy she had known is dead to her now. There’s nothing she can do about either of them, except for wait and wait to see if they find Sprig’s body, or Marcy shows herself again. 

The council meetings continue all week, and Anne offers her presence just like she promised, but with Sasha avoiding her - just like Anne had wanted, although the victory feels hollow, empty - and the rest of the newts and toads tiptoeing on eggshells around her, she doesn’t feel particularly welcome. Oh well. She doesn’t care. 

We’ll find you Sprig, she thinks, drawing her knees into her chest as she waits for Hop Pop to return to the bedroom. I promise. 

Chapter Text

Sprig collapses next to the fire with a tired groan. 

“I don’t remember hunting being so exhausting,” he complains. Nobody answers, but that’s to be expected at this point. Instead, he doesn’t even have to look up to know that Marcy is squinting at him, trying to determine if it’s him or some predator that’s found their little makeshift camp. 

“Sprig, is that you?” She asks, her voice high and lilted. She’s exactly where he left her; sitting upright against Joe Sparrow’s non-injured wing, eyes unfocused and breathing shallow. 

Her injuries hadn’t been getting better, even after a few days of resting. Sprig doesn’t know what to do anymore. Not that he had any clue of what to do in the first place, but Marcy hadn’t offered any solutions and she’s not getting better, and he’s starting to get really bummed out of hunting for the stray bugs and plants to eat and camping in the wild without his family. 

Still, he piles some of the fruits he had found into Marcy’s lap, setting them down carefully so that it doesn’t aggravate any of her injuries. “It’s me!” He finally answers, touching his hand to hers. It’s a gesture that’s worked in the past; he’s not sure what’s wrong with her eyes, but she had told him in a period of lucidity that her vision was super blurry, which was a sign of a major concussion, which she probably had. Physical touch was more grounding at the moment. 

Sprig’s always been super handsy and overly physically affectionate. This, if nothing else, is something he can handle. 

“I think Joe’s wing is bleeding again,” he comments, glancing over at the bird. Joe Sparrow had been exceptionally patient with them, resting against a tree and allowing them to use his wing as a blanket at night, but there was no denying that he, too, was injured. In fact, Sprig was the only one who wasn’t majorly injured, despite being the initial victim, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

Right now, though, he just misses his family. 

“Marcy,” he starts, when Marcy has taken a couple bites of the fruits that he’s so graciously found for her and her eyes a bit more focused on what was in front of her. “I know you’re really hurt, but…” 

“You’re ready to move, huh?” Marcy offers a weak smile, and she drops the fruits back into her lap, resting her head against Joe Sparrow’s wing with a sigh. “We need bandages for Joe’s wing if he’s gonna get better… probably for me too. And real food, maybe? You’ve been doing a good job on hunting for us, but I don’t think it’s the healthiest diet… and Newtopia really isn’t that far away, even by foot.” 

Sprig hangs his head in shame. “I really miss my family,” he admits, softly, folding his arms in front of his chest. “The last time I saw them… I know you don’t remember, but they probably think I’m dead. I don’t want them to worry anymore.” 

“I understand. Kinda.” Marcy reaches her hands out, taking Sprig’s in her own. It’s a gesture reminiscent of the one she had done with Anne countless times, the most recent being the showdown in the palace. Her thumbs curl around his wrist, and she lightly squeezes. It’s probably meant to be reassuring, and yet Sprig only feels a pit of dread. 

“I probably need medical attention,” she admits, “which I can’t exactly get out here. But! There’s a small village in between here and Newtopia. If we can get to that village, I think we’ll be okay. I can pick up some painkillers - I should have some coppers in my pouch, I always carry money on me - and bandages and then we’ll be back to your family in no time. We can start off tomorrow.” 

“Are you sure?” Sprig glances down at their hands and then back up at her. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore…” 

“I’m sure. Trust me! When have I ever steered us wrong?” Marcy laughs, and it’s a real, genuine laugh, because she doesn’t remember confessing her betrayal, doesn’t remember the King outing her and revealing the truth. Sprig laughs along with her, but his laugh, unlike hers, is very forced. 

~~~~~~ 

Traveling with an injured companion means you only move so far at a time. 

Joe Sparrow was fine to carry them, so long as he wasn’t flying. It was tedious, climbing on and off the giant bird, but it meant they didn’t have to walk, and so long as Marcy could handle the climb up , it was faster. 

True to her word, though, the next morning, after Sprig stomped out the fire and Marcy readjusted Joe’s saddle with shaky hands, they set off. Sprig had to help Marcy climb up on Joe Sparrow’s back, but once she was situated on the saddle, she seemed fine, even if the green in her eyes had strengthened, bright enough to illuminate her surroundings. 

“I’ve never been in this part of Amphibia before,” Sprig says, filling the silence with mindless chatter. Marcy, for all her flaws, is a good listener; she tilts her head at the right intervals, makes non-committal hums, nods along to whatever he’s talking about. “I mean, that’s a given, considering I’d never even been out of the valley before going to Newtopia. It’s so pretty here.” 

“It is pretty here,” Marcy nods. 

“I wish I could explore the entire world. I could bring my fiddle with me! Could you imagine that? Sprig the Bard, singing of tales of glory and adventure in every town.” Sprig sighs happily, resting against the seat as Joe Sparrow hops along the path. “That’s probably silly though. I mean, what kind of life would that be?” 

“I think it sounds really cool.” Marcy offers. 

“Thanks Marcy.” Sprig glances around them, the river at one side and the trees on the other. The scenery hadn’t changed yet, bu Marcy insisted that there was a village up here, and Sprig had no choice but to believe her. After all, it’s not like he has any other ways of getting back to Newtopia. 

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t leave Newtopia much when I was here.” Marcy yawns, and then grimaces, her hand flying to her chest once again as she wheezes for breath. Sprig doesn’t like the way he can hear her breathing, it’s not something he ever experienced with Anne and it seems scary. “I thought… it’d be easier for Anne and Sasha to find me if I stayed put. I was right, but it took so long, I almost thought that I was the only one here.” 

“It’s not our fault that the mountain pass is closed during the winter.” 

“No, I suppose not. That’s fair.” She winces again, her head drooping off to lean against the seat. “Do you have any stories from Wartwood? Anne told me about some but not all of them, and I’d like to hear some from your point of view.” 

“Do I!” Sprig knows it’s a distraction. He might be young, but he’s lived through his fair share of horrors, and he can recognize the desperation in Marcy’s voice, the way she’s so close to nodding off if she’s not sufficiently entertained. 

He launches into the story of the freeze day. He hadn’t been the most conscious that day, but it’s a fun story, and one that Anne has pictures of to back up his tales of omelettes and bowling. Marcy watches him the entire time, her eyes glowing green and a bit dazed but not as squinty as they had been the night before. 

~~~~~~~~~

It takes three days of walking before they find the town. 

As valuable as Joe Sparrow has been for the entire trip, even the gentle movement of him hopping along the path aggravated Marcy’s injuries, and they had to stop after only a few hours of travel each day. It’s annoyingly slow, but Sprig can’t really complain, not when this is all he has towards getting back to his family. 

The more they travel, the stronger the glow of Marcy’s eyes becomes. Sprig doesn’t even know if she’s noticed, especially since she hasn’t said anything about it. This would be the kind of thing to catch Marcy’s attention, so he can only assume that she just doesn’t know. 

The night before they find the village, Sprig catches her staring up at the stars. There’s a pensive look on her face, one that doesn’t match the way she’s been acting during the trip. She looks like Anne had, that night at the hotel after the shopping trip; like she was missing something, but didn’t want to say so. 

Marcy is no Anne, not even close, but Sprig sits next to her anyways. “Is everything okay?” 

“The stars here are different,” Marcy says, quietly, her gaze staying upwards. In the light, the green of her eyes is all that Sprig can really see, and it’s eerie and strange, the glow bathing the makeshift campsite in a soft light. “The constellations… I had all of the ones on Earth memorized, but these are so unfamiliar. I tried to study them when I first landed in Newtopia, but I ran out of time, got too busy studying and spending nights in the library. It’s strange, looking into such a different sky.” 

“It’s not so strange when you get used to it.” Sprig leans against her side, sighing happily when Marcy returns the gesture and curls an arm around his waist. “The big star over there? It’s the helmet of Garrett the Galvant, a famous war toad. Oh, and that cluster of little ones over there? That’s the belt of Clover the Courageous, the first frog to ever sign up for the Newtopian army.” 

“I didn’t know that you knew constellations!” Marcy’s eyes light up - figuratively, considering her eyes are already glowing - and she glances down at him. Her smile is just as fond as the ones that Anne would send him at night when she thought he wasn’t looking. 

“One of the only things my dad left behind,” Sprig explains, sheepishly, “was a telescope. I used to look at the stars from my window all the time. One day, I just got curious, and then Hop Pop got me a book of constellations for my birthday. Looking at the stars through that telescope… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to him.” 

Marcy’s smile grows a touch wistful, and she slumps against Joe Sparrow a little bit, finally not looking up at the stars. “They’re so pretty, aren’t they?” 

“They really are.” 

It’s nothing compared to the times he’s spent with Anne, but there, tucked away at Marcy’s side, Sprig can almost pretend. 

~~~~~ 

Luckily, they find the village the next day. 

Calling it a village is a massive overstatement. Comprising of just a few shops and a ton of run-down houses, the tiny town of Briars Hollow makes Wartwood look like the fanciest town in the entire valley. 

Sprig eyes the village warily, watching as Marcy pats Joe Sparrow’s side fondly. “Are you… sure that this is gonna have what we need? It’s kinda… tiny. ” 

“Briars Hollow may not look like much, but the newts here are super friendly and love helping people!” Marcy smiles, her eyes unfocused once again. She pats Sprig on the head absent-mindedly, her other hand digging in her satchel for a small coin purse, which she pulls out triumphantly. 

“If you say so.” 

They walk into the village, Sprig keeping an eye out for any shady villager while Marcy strides along almost happily. If her chest is bothering her at all, she doesn’t say so, just pulls Sprig along towards a dusty looking shop with a sign on the window that reads DAISY’S DAILIES in big letters. 

“Miss Daisy!” Marcy waves as she pushes open the door, barely holding the door open long enough for Sprig to duck in next to her. “It’s been such a long time!” 

“Marcy!” The newt standing at the counter is older, with a pair of glasses perched on her nose and wearing a wrinkled suit. Her shop is covered in dust and cobwebs, the shelves barren save for a smattering of jars and random assorted goods. “My, you haven’t visited my shop in weeks! I had thought you left by now!” 

“Aww, Miss Daisy, I’d never leave without saying goodbye!” Marcy croons. Sprig, at her side, winces; it’s a lie, but it’s not like Marcy knows that, with her memory gone. “How is everyone doing?” 

“Oh, same old, same old.” The newt beams at them both, stepping out from behind the counter to wrap arms around Marcy. The squeeze she gives is clearly painful - judging by the pained whine that escapes Marcy’s lips - but it’s brief, as Daisy then turns her sights onto Sprig. 

“Oh, and who is this little one?” Sprig doesn’t get any warning before he’s getting scooped up, pressed against the newt’s chest as she hugs him. “What a cutie!” 

“Marcy-” Sprig wheezes. 

“That’s Sprig! He’s my companion right now, I’m trying to get him back to Newtopia. That’s where his family is.” Marcy smiles at him, something soft and endearing. 

“Newtopia, huh?” Daisy finally releases Sprig, letting him drop back to his feet on the floor of the shop. “If you’re going back there, maybe you can ask my Olivia what’s going on. I mean, the castle was flying. And the toads! Their army marched right through the Hollow, it was terrifying. Were you there in the palace when it happened, dear? I trust my Olivia to take care of you, but gosh, it was so scary!” 

“I was…” Marcy trails off, and then frowns. Something flickers in her eyes, something like recognition. “I… was there. And…” 

Her eyes glow a little brighter, and the tips of her hair also light up green, floating lightly in the air. Sprig’s never seen her hair glow before; it’s unnerving in a new kind of way. He inches forwards, going to place his hand on her arm. “Marcy?” 

“I… I was…” Marcy presses a hand against her head, fingers digging into her skin as she takes a step back. “Oh… oh, my frog, I was there. ” She takes another step backwards, looking up through her fingers at the confused Daisy and then at Sprig in terror. “I…” 

“Marcy!” 

Marcy turns and bolts out of the shop, leaving a streak of green flickering in her place. Sprig stares at the space she had occupied. 

“Is… something the matter with Marcy?” Daisy too is staring at the trail of green leading out of the shop, her brows furrowed. “I don’t know if I have ever seen her without a smile on her face. Oh, she looked so sad… what happened?” 

“It’s… a really long story.” Sprig steps forward, and then glances back at Daisy. “I’ll go talk to her.” 

Daisy just nods, her hands drawn together. 

~~~

Sprig finds Marcy sitting by Joe Sparrow, her head buried in her hands. Her hair is completely green now, sparking and floating with bits of coral sticking out of the strands. It’s beautiful, except that Sprig has no idea what caused it, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He never knows what to do, but he can at least try to talk to her. 

“Marcy?” Sprig steps forward, watching the way she flinches at the sound of his voice, digging her head further into her hands. Her hair sparks a little bit more. 

“I hurt you,” Marcy whispers, barely audible. Sprig has to inch closer to her to understand her mumbled words. “I… I hurt so many people, and now the castle isn’t flying anymore, and Andrias has my friends, I don’t know what happened to them, I…” 

“Marcy-” 

“I hurt you!” She finally glances up at him, and there’s tears pooling from her eyes, illuminated by the strange glowing. 

“So you finally remember, huh?” Sprig sits next to her, the position reminiscent of the first time they had spoken since the fall out of the castle. “You told me that memory loss was common with the con-whatsit you have. It’s never happened to Anne before, so I didn’t really know what to do about it.” 

“Temporary amnesia is common in most serious concussions,” Marcy says, miserably, and the glow around her fades somewhat, her hair losing some of its color. “I… Sprig, I am so, so sorry for how I treated you up there. I don’t know how you can stand to be around me right now.” 

“It did hurt,” Sprig admits, rubbing at his arms. “Hearing you refer to me like I was some object… but I think what hurt most is that you hurt Anne, too. She’s my best friend, and she trusted you, and you let her down. Just like Sasha did.” 

Marcy hangs her head, her hair falling in her face now that it’s not glowing and floating in the air. “I never meant to hurt her,” she whispers in a strangled voice, her shoulders shaking. “I didn’t want any of this to happen, I was just so scared, but that’s not an excuse and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I have to make it up to her and to you, and I will, I promise I will!” 

It’s a stark difference from how Sasha had acted after her first betrayal, when she had pointed fingers at Anne and at the Plantars for her own misdoings. Marcy turns inwards, and her shoulders curl in on themselves, and even though her breathing is shallow and loud enough that Sprig can hear it, she doesn’t seem to care. Not when she’s so concerned with her own perceived betrayal. 

Sprig wants to be mad at her, but he just can’t. 

“We gotta get back to Newtopia,” he says, softly, watching as the glow fades out of Marcy’s eyes, going back to the ever-present ring of green in her irises but nothing more, “we gotta get back to them. They probably think I’m dead.” 

“I’m gonna get you home,” Marcy says, and she glances up at him, her hands falling to her lap. “I don’t know what will happen when we get to Newtopia… if Andrias still has the box, or what happened with Sash and Anne… but if your family aren’t there, we can take another bird to Wartwood, okay? You’ll see them again, I promise.” 

“And you’ll apologize to Anne?” Sprig blinks up at her. 

“And I’ll apologize to Anne,” Marcy repeats, assuredly. “And Sasha, if she’s still around. And everyone else. They don’t have to accept it, but that doesn’t matter.” 

“Good.” Sprig sighs in relief. “And… thanks. For saving me. I can say that now, that you remember.” 

Marcy smiles. This time, it’s fond, and it reaches her eyes, even if that dizzy, pained look is starting to return. “Anytime, Sprig. Really. I’m just happy you’re okay.” 

She stands, wincing in pain, and then offers a hand to Sprig to help him up. “Now come on. I’m sure I freaked out Miss Daisy a lot, and I should go and apologize to her for running out like that. She’s the best, General Yunan and I stop by Briar’s Hollow all the time to visit. Lady Olivia is always so embarrassed, but her moms are just so kind and… well, motherly. It’s kinda freaky.” 

“That was Lady Olivia’s mom? ” Sprig gasps, leaping to follow Marcy back to the tiny shop. “I never would’ve guessed! She’s so nice!” 

“Lady Olivia can be really nice too, she just has a funny way of showing it,” Marcy says, seriously, pushing the door open to the shop once again. This time, there are two newts there; Daisy, and another darker colored newt wearing a plain tunic and trousers covered in dirt. 

“Marcy!” Daisy cries, as soon as she turns to the door and sees the two of them standing there. “My, are you alright? You ran out of here so quickly, I was so worried!” 

“I’m okay, Miss Daisy, I just remembered something very important.” Marcy’s smile is strained, but she still allows both Daisy and the other newt to engulf her in a hug, the two barely coming up to her shoulders. Sprig stands off to the corner and watches, a small smile on his own face. 

“I know we just got here, but Sprig’s family is in Newtopia, and I promised I’d bring him back,” Marcy says, pulling away from the hug with a pained look in her eyes. “Joe is also injured, or we’d take him to fly in… do you happen to have some gauze big enough to wrap around his wing?” 

“I have some in the shed, dear,” the other newt says. She hasn’t noticed Sprig yet, judging by the way she leans to press a kiss on Daisy’s cheek. “Do you need anything else? I think I still have some leftover cornbread from this morning, and I’m sure that Lenny has some goods from yesterday’s hunt. Oh, and we also still have some veggies, don’t we, Daisy?” 

“We do,” Daisy nods in affirmation. 

Marcy glances over at Sprig with a secretive smile, as though saying see? “Fresh food for the road would be great,” she says, winking at Sprig. It’s a gesture that he’s intimately familiar with - Anne had loved winking when she was in a playful mood - and he tries to mimic it, awkwardly blinking both eyes several times. 

“Come along then, come on!” The other newt takes Marcy by the arm, all but dragging her out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sprig reunites with Marcy, it’s by Joe Sparrow again. She’s wrapped his wing completely, securing the injured wing to his side completely, and is now resting against his uninjured side in a familiar position. 

“You were right about Olivia’s moms,” Sprig greets, dropping by her side with an exhausted groan. “Miss Daisy packed me so many bags, I’m not sure if we’re gonna be able to carry them all! And she kept insisting I call her grandma. She’s not my grandma!” 

“She tells me to call her grandma too,” Marcy comments with a laugh, her head tilted back on Joe’s feathers. “It’s nice. My grandparents live in China, so I’ve never met them.” 

“What’s a China?” 

“It’s a place, really far away from where me and Anne and Sasha live on Earth.” Marcy sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I’ve never been there, but my parents used to live there. They both came to LA to study, and then never left. I don’t even know if my mom still talks to her parents.” 

When Anne talked about her family, she always sounded so wistful. Her stories were full of tales of supportive, if strict, moms and laid-back, kind dads, and the way they took care of her and their restaurant. She loved them, and it radiated in every photo, every story. 

Marcy just sounds… sad. She talks of her parents like she doesn’t particularly care that she had left them, purposefully, for so long. She doesn’t sound wistful, just resigned, and it’s baffling to someone like Sprig, who has never truly met his parents, not in any way that matters. 

“That’s why I like visiting Miss Daisy and Miss Hibiscus,” she continues, running fingers through her hair. Her signature hair clip is gone, Sprig realizes in that moment. Without it, her hair falls messily in her face, and she combs the strands out of of the way, tucking them behind her ears. “They’re a lot more motherly than my own mother is, that’s for sure.” 

She glances up then, as if remembering that Sprig is sitting there with her. “But enough about that! Maybe I’ll come back after taking you to Newtopia and stay here for a couple of days. Now that we have supplies, though, we can set off again… though I should warn you, with Joe’s wing all bandaged up, he’s gonna be a lot slower. It might be a week or so before we reach the gates of Newtopia, based on the terrain and weather.” 

“As long as we’re on the right track, I don’t mind.” Sprig says, and he pats Joe Sparrow’s flank. The bird chirps at him, patiently allowing him to pet his feathers soothingly. “And that means you can tell me stories about Anne from back home! You promised that you’d tell me stories about her, come on, pretty pretty please?” 

“I don’t know if I promised, ” Marcy winks again, snickering, “but yeah, of course! Oh, where do I even start? There’s so many things to talk about!” 

As she launches into a story about the mall - a place that Sprig has a fairly good picture of, after Newtopia and Anne’s stories - and the way the three girls had nobly defended the local milk tea shop from closing down, Sprig cuddles against her side with a sigh and a yawn. He can handle this.

Chapter Text

To say that Marcy’s week has been rough would be an understatement. 

With her memories of what happened that day in the palace finally restored, she can finally comprehend just how much of a week she’s had. Before, her memories had been as blurry as her sight, hardly comprehensible and difficult to pick out the important parts. 

She remembered leaving for Newtopia with Anne and Sasha and the Plantars on Joe, and she remembered, vaguely, the walk up to the palace, but after that… nothing. Not until Daisy had mentioned the flying castle, and everything had just clicked into place, a puzzle unraveling itself before her eyes. 

Sprig slumbers peacefully next to her as Marcy sits awake, her legs sprawled out awkwardly in front of her. She wants to pull them into her chest, but with the aching pain in her chest - and the way she can barely catch a breath when walking, the way her lungs complain every time she inhales - she doesn’t think it’d be a good idea. Really, this entire trip isn’t a good idea; if she didn’t have Sprig with her, she’d just stay in Briars Hollow for a couple weeks and recuperate from what was probably post-concussion syndrome, and possibly a punctured lung from broken ribs. 

Fun stuff. Marcy’s experienced her fair share of concussions from one clumsy tumble or another, but it’s never been like this. Even now, a week later, her head pulses steadily with the beat of her heart, her sight is blurry at best, and remembering what had happened in the palace burns, although she doesn’t know if it’s a physical pain associated with the concussion or a mental pain associated with the feelings of inadequacy, regret, and sorrow that remain buried in her heart. 

It’s hard, being strong for Sprig. She remembers the way he had looked at her in the beginning, the uncertainty and confliction he must have felt about traveling with someone that had hurt him and Anne so badly. His decision to trust her - at least, trust her enough to guide them both to Newtopia - is not one that Marcy thinks she’d made if their situations were reversed. It’s all she can do to not give into the overwhelming green that floods her, to keep her head up and distract them both with silly stories when she really just wants to curl into her damaged chest and cry. 

Oh well. She will have plenty of time for that once they reach Newtopia. Marcy doesn’t really know why the castle isn’t still flying, but she can only assume that means the box isn’t being used to power it anymore, which is… a relief, in a way. She doesn't know what’s happened with King Andrias, or how she feels about the matter, but she can only hope that he doesn’t have the box, that maybe Anne and Sasha made it back home. It doesn’t matter that she’s been left behind, not when she landed them here in the first place. They deserve to be home. 

Just like Sprig does. 

Marcy glances down at her companion, watches the way he snoozes so peacefully. After her breakdown earlier, he had been so quick to forgive her, to trust her to get them both back to Newtopia. Marcy can only hope that she lives up to that trust. 

I will do this, she tells herself as confidently as she can manage. For Anne. For Sprig. I can get them home. 

~~~~~~~~

“Hey Marcy,” Sprig says, “what do you think happened?” 

It’s exactly the kind of question Marcy had been hoping to avoid, which doesn’t lessen the sting of the words when Sprig asks. They’re well into the travel day, with Joe Sparrow doing his best to follow the river. At this point, Newtopia’s skyline is clearly visible across the water, but with them all injured, it’s far easier to keep following the shore around until they reach the gates, lest they hit deep water and drown. 

“With what, the palace?” Marcy bites at her lip, her arm wrapped around her chest. The drawbacks to using Joe Sparrow for travel is that each movement sends a flare of pain through her ribcage, her breathing heavy and uneven. At least, she thinks, the migraine seems to have subsided, her memories and sight both a little clearer after the time spent in Briar’s Hollow. 

“Yeah.” Sprig nods, clutching to the sides of the makeshift saddle. “I mean, you know the king better than I do. Would he really…” 

“If he still had the box, he’d still be in the air,” Marcy says, even as her stomach shifts in unease. She doesn’t like thinking about King Andrias. It makes her feel sick to her stomach, the way she had been so easily played. She had latched onto the first person that seemed to connect to her, and isn’t that just so sad? “But unless the palace is, like, miles and miles high, or hovering over another city, it’s grounded. We’d see it from here, I think.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense!” Sprig smiles, bouncing around from one end of the seat to the other. His energy had been quickly restored after nibbling on the food that Daisy and Hibiscus had provided them; he now stretches and jumps around, loose and free in a way that makes Marcy’s heart leap. 

He’s not hurt. She succeeded. 

“If the castle isn’t flying, Anne had to have won! Or she has the box! And that means things will be okay!” Sprig leaps to the other side of the seat and then sits down abruptly, his hands tapping together. It’s painfully familiar, like looking in a mirror. “Things are gonna be okay, I just know it!” 

Marcy wishes she could have his optimism. As it is, there’s a sinking pit in her stomach, one only accented by the twinges of pain that spike through her chest every time she breathes; one that feels vaguely green in a way she can’t quite explain. There’s no guarantee that Anne has the box, or if she’s even alive after the way she had taken power from her gem in a surge of blue so strong, Marcy wishes she would have studied it. It’s entirely possible that Sasha has the box, or that the box is with Andrias in another world, or some other horrible fate. 

Oh well. She’s not going to rain on his parade with her own realism. She can’t bring herself to say anything that might make him sad, not after her own actions had practically lead to the situation they now find themselves in. This really is the least she can do for him, for now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, as the woods come alive and the setting suns bring a steady chill, Marcy tugs Sprig close to her, wrapping her arms around his chest despite the twang of pain in her own. 

They’ve taken to cuddling together every night. It’s the best they can do; Marcy had packed many rations and other supplies inside of Joe’s saddlebags, but not a blanket, and frogs need warmth to survive. Sprig never really seemed to mind, not after the first day, when the tension between them had been thick, so thick, and Marcy hadn’t known why. 

“Hey Marcy?” 

Sprig’s voice is quiet, too quiet. It has none of the energy he’s regained over the past few days, none of his usual, chipper self. He sounds more like a kid at night, Marcy’s realized. She doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if they’re not there?” Sprig rests his head against Marcy’s chest, right over her heart. He must be able to hear how frantically her heart beats, but he doesn’t say a word about it, just tucks his knees upwards and nestles a bit further into Marcy’s arms. “What if we get there, and they went back to Wartwood?” Without me, goes unsaid, but Marcy hears it nonetheless. 

“I doubt it,” Marcy snorts, and she squeezes Sprig gently, as reassuring as she can manage. “Your family loves you so much, you know? I’m sure they won’t rest until they know you’re okay. That’s why we’re traveling so much to reach Newtopia.” 

“But what if-” 

“-and, if they did leave for Wartwood, that’s no problem! Joe Sparrow isn’t the only palace-trained bird in the city, you know. Once we get him to a vet, if your family isn’t there, we can take out one of the other birds, and go find them.” Marcy plasters a smile on her face, even though Sprig isn’t looking up at her. “It’s gonna be okay. We… we can fix this, I promised I would fix this, didn’t I?” 

“Some things can’t be fixed,” Sprig mutters. It stings a little, hearing him sound so bitter, but it’s probably what Marcy deserves after the disaster of the throne room. 

Still, she doesn’t know what to say to that, and the conversation fades off into awkward silence as Sprig finally dozes off, content to curl in Marcy’s arms. Even after all this time, he still trusts her to keep him safe, and Marcy would have to be a fool to betray that trust again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few more days pass like this; predictable, slow, with Sprig bouncing around the saddle more and more as his energy peaks. Marcy’s taken to keeping an arm curled around her chest, because it hurts, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe properly, and Sprig hadn’t said anything but she caught her eyes glowing a bright green in the water’s reflection one night and somehow she doesn’t think she’s really getting any better. 

Newtopia has really good doctors, she tells herself, as a week passes and they finally stand at the far end of the gates of the city. It’s been in view this entire time, but now they’re actually here, in front of the city, and it’s daunting in a way that Marcy hadn’t really envisioned. 

For one, the gates are open, though there are guards in front of them, keeping watch over the vast expanse of water bridging the gap between land and city. Marcy can’t remember a time where the gates were open for longer than the few seconds it took to let people in. 

For another, she hasn’t actually rehearsed… well. Any of what she’s going to say to Anne or Sasha, if she sees them here. Best case scenario, she can pass Sprig off to his family and then go see a doctor for her chest and pray that her friends will want to see her again, that she hasn’t messed things up beyond belief. It’s a wild hope, but it’s one she latches onto with all her heart. 

Worst case scenario… she doesn’t want to think about that. 

“Newtopia…” Sprig sighs dreamily, leaping down from Joe Sparrow’s saddle to land gracefully on his feet. “We’re finally here! I wonder how the city is holding up.” 

“It looks surprisingly structurally sound,” Marcy notes, glancing with a grimace at the lack of buildings in the horizon, the way the walls have crumbled in areas, the destruction that laid bare in the city that she had grown to love in her time in this world. 

This is my fault, she thinks, miserably, if I didn’t trust Andrias, if I had just told the girls, if we didn’t give him the box-

“That’s a good thing, right?” Sprig leaps around, and he jumps forward eagerly, only turning around to watch Marcy slide off of Joe Sparrow with another grimace, gingerly taking her pet’s reigns so she can lead him through the city. The water is just as chilling as she remembers, and Joe doesn’t like walking in it, but he can’t fly still, so they’ll have to manage. “I mean, it could be worse, right?” 

“It could be worse.” Marcy nods, and she follows Sprig through the water, all the way up to the gates. “I… don’t know what’s gonna happen from here, but I’m sure that if your family is in the city, we’ll find them, okay?” 

Of course, there’s the possibility that Andrias is still in control, that Marcy has been branded a traitor and will be hauled off for execution, that they’ll be under attack immediately, but Marcy doesn’t want to think about it. 

The guards are unfamiliar to her; she doesn’t remember seeing them around the castle. One of them immediately holds out a spear, and the other frowns as they approach. 

“Halt! State your name and business!” The first one says, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“George, are you daft?” The second one hits the other in the head, gesturing towards Marcy in a way that’s familiar the way that a childhood memory is- present and aching, but distant, like it happened years and years ago. “This is Master Marcy!” 

The back of Marcy’s ears burn, and she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “Yeah… yeah, it’s me. Do you think you could let us in? I really need to find someone.” 

“Let you in?” The second newt scoffs, “we’ll personally escort you to the council ourselves! Lady Olivia will reward us handsomely, she’s been searching for you for two weeks now.” 

Lady Olivia has been looking for me? Marcy hadn’t thought about the advisor in the entire time she’s been traveling with Sprig, far too focused on her friends and the other Plantars to even think about how Olivia would take her disappearance. Nobody had seen her dive out the window, after all, and just the thought has her stomach curling. 

“And you!” The first guard glances at Sprig now with wide eyes. “You look just like the little frog boy that Master Anne has everyone looking for! Funny, though, cause everyone says you’re supposed to be dead… but clearly not! That is you, right?” 

Sprig’s eyes go wide at the mention of Anne, and wider still at the thought of her thinking of him dead. Marcy doesn’t blame them, not when they had no confirmation that Marcy had caught Sprig, not until now. Still, it must hurt to think about, and she offers her hand to him comfortingly, allowing him to latch onto her side. 

“So you’ll take us to them?” She asks, softly, as Sprig clings to her hand, pressed against her side. “It’s important that we see them as soon as possible, but Joe Sparrow needs a vet.” And I need a doctor, she thinks, but it’s not important now, not when they’re so, so close. 

“Of course!” The second newt puffs out her chest, gesturing with a flick of her tail. “Come, Master Marcy! I will take you through the city myself.” 

The first newt, George, still looks skeptical, but he just waves them through, remaining in his post as the second newt takes off through the city. Marcy and Sprig exchange looks before following. 

The city is… a mess, to put it simply. Broken structures litter the streets, rubble and trash swept into piles so that it’s still navigable, and there’s very little hustle and bustle. It doesn’t feel like her city anymore, and the further they wander in, the more Marcy’s heart sinks.

She did this. This is directly her own fault, because if she hadn’t wanted her friends by her side at all costs, she wouldn’t have trusted Andrias so quickly, and they wouldn’t be in this situation. He never would’ve gotten the box, and her friends could be happy . 

Then again, she muses, her friends might already be home. There’s no guarantee that they’re still in Amphibia, not if they had gotten the box away from Andrias. Sure, Sasha didn’t know how to use it, but Anne had watched Marcy fiddle with the box to get the stones loose in the first place, and she’s so smart. If anyone could magically figure out how to open a portal, it would be Anne, hands down. 

“We’re here!” The guard’s voice snaps Marcy out of her thoughts, and she peers out at what used to be the castle. 

It’s in ruins. 

Entire wings of the palace have broken off, crumbling into bits. Only the main entrance seems to be standing, with tents set up sporadically around the parameter. At least it’s not flying anymore, Marcy thinks, and winces, her head pounding. 

“This is the council room,” the guard announces, leading Marcy and Sprig around the edges of the palace, closer to where the libraries once were. “With luck, Lady Olivia will be here. As will Master Anne and Master Sasha; Master Sasha hardly leaves the council, and Master Anne will eagerly await any news regarding the little pink one.” 

So they are here. Some of Marcy’s worries alleviate, though her heart is pounding so fast she can hardly hear anything over the rush in her ears. Add that to the way her vision still blurs and spins when she moves too quickly, and nausea starts settling in, her senses overwhelmed. 

Nonetheless, she offers Sprig her most reassuring smile, squeezing his little hand as tight as she can muster as the guard pushes the door open. 

“What is it?” A voice snaps. Not just any voice, that’s Anne’s voice, she’s actually here, Marcy presses a hand against her chest as her vision goes dizzy and blurry once again. 

“Master Anne,” the guard bows, and then steps aside, away from the doorway, “you have visitors.” 

Sprig releases Marcy’s hand then, darting forwards in a room that Marcy can only just barely make out, towards a blob that might be Anne. “Anne!” He calls out, excitedly, running with his arms all stretched out, practically leaping into her arms. 

“Sprig? Sprig!” Anne’s voice cracks, and Marcy rubs at her eyes, squinting forwards to catch a glimpse at what is surely a tearful reunion. Her vision doesn’t clear up much, but it’s enough to see the tears in Anne’s eyes, the way she catches Sprig easily, swinging him around with a hysterical laugh. 

“Oh my frog, you’re alive, you’re alive!” Anne’s voice is so happy, and despite it all, Marcy can’t help but smile. At least she was able to do this much, give Anne some semblance of happiness after her betrayal. 

She fully intends on watching the reunion for awhile longer before making her own presence known, but someone else steps from around Anne, eyes glowing pink as she glowers in Marcy’s direction. 

Sasha. 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Sasha sneers, sauntering forwards. She’s cut her hair in the time Marcy’s been away, the strands now barely reaching her chin and curling outwards. It gives her a more badass appearance, though Marcy can hardly appreciate it, not when the full force of Sasha’s ire is focused on her. 

“Sasha-” 

“No, Marcy, I don’t want to hear it.” Sasha takes another step forwards, and her voice raises in volume, attracting the attention of both Sprig and Anne. Marcy chances a glance at her other friend; Anne is staring at her, eyes wide and ringed with blue. There are still tears falling, but she doesn’t look surprised to see Marcy, just… disappointed. 

Which, fair. Marcy is disappointed in herself too. 

“What, did you really think you could just… skip town? Things didn’t go to your precious plan, so you ditched us the first chance you got?” The pink in Sasha’s eyes glows a little stronger with her anger, and Marcy takes a step backwards instinctively, her hands coming out pleadingly in front of her. 

“Sasha, it wasn’t like that-” she tries to plead, although her own voice sounds weak, pathetic. She glances frantically at Anne, eyes wide and pleading, but Anne just looks… indifferent. There is no love in her eyes, and something inside of Marcy dies, her chest going cold. 

Frog, everything hurts. It’s so overwhelming, this isn’t what Marcy had envisioned this meeting going like at all, and yet somehow it hurts even more than her nightmares of Anne and Sasha leaving her behind in Amphibia, or being imprisoned by Andrias. 

Her vision starts to blur again, her head ringing. She thinks she might pass out soon. 

“Just shut up!” Sasha lunges forward, a fury in her eyes that Marcy’s never seen before. “How dare you come back like this, when I’ve done so much to fix your mistakes! You should’ve been here! Why weren’t you here ?” 

At her last punctuated sentence, Sasha lashes out. Her fist, tinged pink, catches Marcy’s lower abdomen. 

And everything burns. 

Marcy coughs, and coughs, and coughs, her chest heaving as her breaths quicken, each inhale more pained than the last, frog she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, her vision is spiraling and her head feels so foggy and Sasha didn’t even hit her, not hard enough to matter, but the touch left a burning ache in her chest, one that just gets more and more intense. 

“Marcy!” Sprig cries out, and he darts out of Anne’s grasp, lunging towards her. Marcy wants to reassure him, to tell him that it’s okay, she did her job, she got him to Newtopia, to his family, she doesn’t matter anymore, this is fine, everything is fine, she just needs a doctor- 

Everything is not fine. 

Sasha’s expression morphs from the furious rage she had been in seconds prior to something akin to concern, to an uncharacteristic worry, the pink in her eyes dying down to just a ring of color in her eyes and nothing more. She opens her mouth and says… something, but Marcy can’t hear her, not over the ringing in her ears, the pounding of her heart as she lifts her hands to her face, frowns at the speckles of red from her coughs. 

“-cy! Mar-” 

Her vision spirals, and then goes completely dark, and Marcy collapses to the ground. 

Chapter Text

The hospital machines are loud. 

Anne hadn’t seen the Newtopian hospital before. There was never a reason for her to go; her first stay in the city wasn’t long enough to warrant medical attention, and in the aftermath of the floating castle, she never needed an actual in-person visit, just lots of rest. There’s… a surprising amount of technology here, more than she thought there’d be, even with the revelations of ancient factories and robots and tech long buried. 

But it’s loud. Moreso than any hospital machinery she’s ever heard in her life. 

Sprig - who is alive, he’s alive, Anne still can’t believe it - sits on the edge of the bed, staring worriedly at the figure tucked away under the thin blankets. 

Marcy. 

Anne truly didn’t think she’d ever see Marcy again, let alone like this; unconscious, attached to various wires to monitor her vitals, recovering after a frantically rushed surgery to fix the internal bleeding she had suffered. Her ribs are broken, one doctor had informed them, in several places. One of them punctured a lung, another one of her arteries… I’m surprised she lasted this long. 

Anne doesn’t know what to think about that. 

“Marcy saved me,” Sprig says, quietly. After the terror of Marcy’s collapse in the council room, the way their reunion had been pushed aside in the wake of something more important, he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk much about how he had survived the fall out of the window, or how Marcy had ended up with him. 

Anne makes a non-committal hum in the back of her throat, staring down at Marcy from her spot in one of the hospital chairs. 

“She jumped out of the window to catch me,” he continues, once realizing that Anne wasn’t going to say anything. “Was gonna bring me back to the palace, I think, but Joe Sparrow got hit, and we went down. Hard. I think the only reason I didn’t end up injured was because she was holding me. I woke up in her arms.” 

“That’s where she went?” Anne inhales, and then releases a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. “This whole time, Sasha and I thought…” 

Sprig just nods, very solemnly. “It was rough the first week,” he admits, finally glancing up at Anne. “I… I knew she was hurt, but I didn’t know it was this bad, Anne, I swear I didn’t know.” 

“It’s okay, Sprig, I believe you.” 

“She didn’t remember anything at first, not about the palace. Not until halfway through, and after that, she kept insisting that she was gonna bring me here no matter what, that I’d see you again.” Sprig sniffs, and he looks back down at the unconscious Marcy. “It was really scary, but she did it. I just didn’t think it’d be… like this.” 

A hard lump forms in Anne’s throat. She swallows it down for now. 

“We didn’t know,” she says, quietly, standing from her chair to come sit next to Sprig on the edge of the bed instead. “I’m sure she’ll be okay, though. She’s just gotta be.” 

Sprig nods, and he turns his head to press against Anne’s side, sniffling again. “I missed you,” he says, quietly. 

Anne’s arms instinctively wrap around him, and she squeezes her own eyes shut. Like this, she’s almost able to pretend that it’s a normal day, that her best friend - her brother - hasn’t been missing and assumed dead for two weeks, that one of her best friends isn’t laying comatose in a hospital bed, that things are okay. 

But the machinery keeps beeping. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lady Olivia seems to be much lighter nowadays. 

Before, interacting with her had been like pulling teeth. Anne didn’t quite understand it, but she also knew very little about the newt, other than how strict she was, how she watched over Marcy like an overprotective nanny. Still, it was annoying that this was the only person in the remains of the palace that could help her get home, and yet, Olivia didn’t like talking with her… like, at all. 

Now, though, she meets Anne in the library, a giant stack of unfamiliar books lining the table they’ve been using for research. 

“I have finally located the books that the king had found during your last stay in Newtopia,” Olivia says by means of introduction, taking a seat. Anne follows her to the table awkwardly, feeling… strangely out of place.  

Normally, Sasha is also here, awkwardly helping dig through shelves and shelves of old books. Some sort of misplaced guilt, Anne hopes. Maybe it’s silly to think about Sasha feeling guilty for destroying the box, but Anne can’t bear to think otherwise. That both of her best friends wanted to stay in Amphibia forever, with no consideration to how much Anne misses her family. 

It hurts. 

But Anne hasn’t seen Sasha since the day Marcy and Sprig returned to Newtopia. Not since Marcy had collapsed onto the ground after coughing up blood, her body tinged green and glowing. Not since Sasha had backed off, eyes wide in worry and guilt and regret, and then turned, snapping something about going to fetch a doctor. 

Sprig’s presence would be a welcome gift, Anne thinks miserably, taking a seat at the table. However, Sprig is spending the entire day with Hop Pop and Polly - both of whom had cried so hard upon seeing him again - and Anne would be with them if she hadn’t promised to meet Olivia at the library today. 

Let’s just get this over with. 

“You sure you just found these?” Anne pokes at the cover of one of the books; they’re not dusty like the rest of the books in this library. “Why would they be hidden?” 

“The quarters that formerly hosted many of the bedrooms in the castle are collapsed,” Olivia states, matter-of-factly, and she flips one of the books open. There’s a slip of parchment next to her, one that has translations for the Newtopian alphabet; the same sort of translation that Marcy had provided in the temples. The idea that not even Olivia had the same knowledge in linguistics makes something inside of Anne ache. 

“Getting to them was… a challenge, one that requires many days of work. So yes; I did just find these. Now, please, if you’re going to help, make yourself useful already. I copied another translation key for you to use.” Olivia gestures at the parchment, and she digs through her bag, pulling out another one just like it. 

Anne sighs hard, but she thumbs open a book, the key at her side as she begins to read. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She finds Sasha in the training yards. 

The practice dummies that most Newtopian soldiers used lay littered across the sides of the yard, torn to pieces. Sasha’s sword is glowing pink just like her eyes are, and she leaps and spins and lunges, her body a whirlwind of movement. 

It’s unfair, how safe Anne feels here, watching Sasha train. No matter how conflicted she still feels about the past, this is Sasha, someone she’s known since she was five. Sasha can hurt her - has hurt her, through words and actions alike - but that’s never diminished the feeling of being protected in her vicinity. 

“Sasha,” she finally calls, announcing her presence. 

Sasha stops mid-turn, very slowly turning to look at Anne. There’s something weary in her gaze, but Anne ignores it because she knows that she must look the same. She feels like she’s aged two years in two weeks. 

“Do you need something?” 

“You didn’t come to the library last night,” Anne frowns, crossing her arms. “So I wanted to come find you. You’re not backing out, are you?” 

“Of course not, Anne,” Sasha swings at an invisible enemy, her teeth gritted. “But I’ve been slacking on my training. Obviously. I really should get back to that now, so you should go back to… whatever it is you were doing.” 

“Why do you need to train still?” Anne’s frown only deepens, and the lingering anger she feels towards the other - the anger that’s really been on the backburner due to lingering grief and pain - intensifies, her eyes burning blue. “It’s… it’s over, we’re done fighting, do you really-” 

“-it’s not over!” Sasha makes another desperate swing, but then her sword clatters to the ground and she spins to face Anne. Her eyes, too, are burning pink, the tips of her hair tinged in the color as well. There’s a wildness to her face, the likes of which Anne has never seen before. It scares her, this version of Sasha. 

And yet… 

“Sasha, talk to me,” Anne insists, and she takes a hesitant step forwards, hands outstretched. “Please. I want things to be better between us, but I can’t be putting in all the work. What’s going on?” 

Sasha stares at her for a few moments, the silence between them hanging like fog on a particularly rainy day. Finally, she gives a hard sigh, sitting down on the dusty floor of the training grounds with a huff. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” she says, bitterly, her hands dragging into her hair. “Really, Anne, it’s fine. You can go right back to ignoring me, and, and… and Marcy’s gonna hate me when she wakes up, if she even wakes up, and honestly she’d have every reason to, I wouldn’t even blame her! I certainly don’t blame you.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Anne says, and she hesitates, and then commits, stepping forwards to drop herself right next to her friend. “I’m furious with you, but I don’t think I could ever actually hate you.” 

“You should,” Sasha grumbles, and she buries her head in her hands, her shoulders trembling. “God, I’ve been an asshole to you. And Marcy too; the way she looked at me when I was screaming at her? It felt so right in the moment, but I didn’t even let her explain herself. And now she’s in a coma, and I’m just…” she trails off, and her voice hitches; Anne thinks she might be crying. 

“You have been an asshole,” Anne nods, very matter-of-factly, and the shock of hearing her repeat the words has Sasha glancing up from between her hands, eyes wide in surprise. “And I’m a little tired of asking you to make better choices, but we have to work together to get home. You… do want to go back, right? We can’t be stuck here forever.” 

Sasha makes a little noise in her throat, and she looks away. “There’s nothing left for me back home,” she admits, in a strange moment of vulnerability. “But if you want to go back… okay. Fine.” 

Anne smiles, and she stands, offering her hand to Sasha. “Come on. Let’s go visit Marmar. I think it’ll make you feel better.” 

Sasha sniffs, but she takes Anne’s hand, allowing Anne to hoist her to her feet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’re not the only ones in the hospital room when they get there. 

Sprig, who was supposed to be spending time with his family, now sits at Marcy’s side, feet kicking against the frame of the hospital bed. Hop Pop and Polly are both here too, but sitting in one of the chairs off to the side. Olivia flits across the room, rearranging gifts- of which there are many, flowers and plushies line the shelves. Yunan sits on the bed as well, perched at the head of the bed with a book in her hands. She’s reading something very dramatically, and everyone else seems to be hanging on her every word. 

“Are we interrupting something?” Anne asks awkwardly, and she feels Sasha’s hand tense in her own. 

“We’re reading to Marcy,” Sprig informs her, and he’s smiling. Anne’s heart does a little leap at seeing him, because it’s only been a few hours since they saw each other last but the indescribable pain of losing him has carried over, and seeing him smiling and happy and alive just makes her happy, too. “The doctor said it would help her wake up.” 

“That’s so sweet, you guys.” Anne drags Sasha forwards, and they both sit next to Sprig at the edge of the bed as Yunan continues reading. Marcy’s frame is pale and small, and there’s a tube in her chest, and her hair is tipped with green even as she slumbers on. 

Sprig leans against her, and Sasha releases her hand to lean forwards, a troubled look in her eyes, and Anne feels strangely at home in this room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week passes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcy wakes up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Anne, Anne, Anne, come on!” 

Sprig drags Anne down the hospital’s hallway and into the familiar room. He’s hardly waiting for her, although Anne is running as fast as she can to keep up with him and his hopping. 

In the room, Marcy’s sitting up. Her face is twisted in pain, but she’s smiling softly at the sight of Sprig hopping to her side. She doesn’t seem to notice Anne right away, but her eyes are also all squinty, just like they were when she first arrived in Newtopia. 

“Marcy, Marcy, Marcy!” Sprig exclaims, landing on the side of the bed he’s been perched on more often than not. 

“Sprig, Sprig, Sprig,” Marcy echoes, and her voice is weak and raspy but she sounds so much like herself. 

Anne’s missed her so much. 

“You’re awake! Thank frog, we were all really worried about you.” Sprig gestures vaguely in Anne’s direction, and Marcy looks up, but she still doesn’t seem to… notice that Anne’s standing frozen in the doorway. 

“I’m awake,” Marcy agrees, tiredly, and she looks back at Sprig, still squinting. The glow in her eyes is really strong, a bright green illuminating the entire room. For a moment, Anne misses the natural shade of her eyes; the brown had been comforting, safe. 

“How are you feeling? Does it still hurt a lot?” Sprig frets, and it’s… surprising, how much he seems to care. What did they go through in the two weeks they were together? 

“‘m okay, I think. Fuzzy, mostly.” Marcy grimaces, and she presses a hand against her chest. “Is… is that a tube? Oh, when the doctor comes back I’m gonna have to ask what they did. And what was wrong! I was thinking I had a few broken ribs…” 

Sprig is snickering now, and Anne smiles herself, because no matter how worried she is, that kind of rambling is so unbelievably Marcy it sends a warm tingle through her. 

“You really worried us,” she finally speaks up, crossing the room to sit next to Sprig. Sprig gives her a warm smile, and Anne smiles back, glancing down at Marcy fondly. “Are you okay, Marmar?” 

Marcy finally looks at her, then, her eyes still all squinty like she can’t see anything properly. “Anne?” She questions, and there’s something so hesitant and fragile in her voice. “You’re… here?” 

“Of course I’m here,” Anne says, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. She was angry, so angry, at Marcy before, but that was when she thought that Marcy had dropped the weight of the world onto Anne’s shoulders and then ran away from her problems. 

Marcy didn’t run away from her problems, though, she never has. She’s always been so good at admitting when she’s wrong and brushing off the dirt and making things right, and Anne should’ve realized sooner what it meant that she disappeared when Sprig did. 

“You promised I wouldn’t lose you, remember?” She reaches out, takes one of Marcy’s hands in her own, and squeezes gently. 

Marcy makes a small noise in the back of her throat, and her gaze keeps flickering between her hand and Anne’s eyes. Sprig is looking at them too, clearly worried. 

“I hurt you,” she finally says, and it comes out as a strangled whisper. “Anne… I’m so sorry. I was so selfish, and I hurt you and Sasha both so much, and you have every reason to be angry with me-” 

“-I’m not mad anymore, Marmar,” Anne interjects, and she squeezes Marcy’s hand again. “I was angry at you for awhile, but… but you did so much to make up for it. We didn’t think you’d wake up at first, you know? And when you collapsed in the meeting room after coughing up blood… it was really scary. I realized that no matter how angry I was at you, I still didn’t want to lose you.” 

Marcy sniffs, and there are tears in her eyes now. She gives Sprig an unreadable look, and when Anne glances over at her friend, he’s glowing with pride. 

“For now, you can make things right with me by having a good recovery, okay?” Anne rubs her thumb over Marcy’s hand, marvelling at how smooth the skin there is. “And then telling us everything you know about the box. Sasha, uh, broke it, in the throne room that day. We’ve been trying to find a way to get home without it, or at least rebuild it, ever since.” 

Marcy blinks, and then squints up into Anne’s bright blue eyes. “Huh. That makes a lot of sense now, actually. Okay, yeah, yeah, I can… I can do that.” 

Her head falls against her pillow now, and she blinks again, a drowsy look on her face. 

“Get some rest, Marmar,” Anne squeezes her hand one last time and then pulls away, tugging at Sprig’s arm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-so, when the box broke, the power probably transferred into us directly. It needed a place to go with the gems rendered useless! That would explain our newfound glowing, and also accelerated healing; I doubt I would’ve lasted two weeks with post-concussion syndrome and broken ribs and internal bleeding and a collapsed lung and anything else the fall gave me.” 

Anne frowns, and Sprig looks vaguely uncomfortable at the glare she gives him. “That’s a lot of injuries, Marmar.” 

Marcy grins sheepishly. 

She’s still in the hospital, but doing much better. Currently, she’s wearing a pair of glasses the newts hand-crafted for her; something about the concussion permanently messing up her vision, leaving her ridiculously near-sighted. She’s adorable in glasses, looking much more like the nerdy geek that Anne knew back home. 

Sasha still hasn’t come back to visit, but Anne hadn’t expected her to. She still has… a lot to work out, and she’s been so busy with council work recently… Anne will drag her here if she has to, but she’ll wait a bit first. 

“Marcy was really hurt when we first landed,” Sprig says, and he looks just as sheepish, glancing between Anne and Marcy nervously. “The first day really scared me, she was so out of it. Everything she said was all blended together.” 

Marcy winces. “Yeah, definitely a concussion.” 

“Marcy!” Anne scolds. 

“In my defense, I didn’t think that the robots were aerial!” Marcy throws her hands in the air, sitting upright in her hospital bed. She’s mostly recovered at this point, but she has another surgery scheduled in a few days to take out the tube in her chest, so she hasn’t been allowed to leave. “And when Joe fell, I was mostly just thinking about protecting Sprig.” 

Sprig flushes, and Anne can’t help the fond smile on her face. 

“Oh, shoot, Joe! Is he okay?” Marcy’s gaze snaps back onto Anne, looking frantic and worried. “His wing was pretty badly hurt, and I haven’t seen him since the gates!” 

“He’s fine,” Sprig says, casually, even though Anne herself had no clue. “I went back to check on him a little while ago; the castle vets survived and they were taking care of him.” 

Marcy releases a sigh of relief, and she slumps back in the bed. “Oh good. We would’ve been goners without him; I highly doubt I could’ve made the trip back to Newtopia otherwise.” 

The more Anne hears about the journey her two closest friends had, the more something pangs in her chest, something ugly and protective and desperate. She wants to wrap them both in a blanket and keep them both tucked against her chest. 

“Anyways,” she says, to distract herself from that guttural feeling, “Marbles, you were saying? About the box?” 

“Oh, right!” Marcy inhales sharply, her breath coming out wheezy and pained. “So since the gem magic is in us now, I bet that we can open a portal ourselves! I have no idea how; we’ll probably have to channel the gem magic and unlock it first. That’s what happened to you in the throne room, right? I didn’t get to see much of it, but that’s what it looked like.” 

“I think so,” Anne nods, thinking back to the way everything had just gone blue in a way she’d never felt before. 

“There’s some ancient prophecy regarding us, too, something about us defeating an ancient being?” Marcy frowns, then, and then shrugs. “But I don’t know much about that. I think An… I think the king hid a lot of stuff from me on purpose, so that I wouldn’t question it.” She stares at the floor, her gaze going cloudy. “It worked. Obviously.”  

“The king is an abusive piece of shit,” Anne says, bluntly, and it startles Marcy enough to make her glance upwards, eyes wide. “Forget this. Olivia’s working on finding a way for us to get home, and I just know we’re gonna succeed. I know we are.” 

Marcy smiles, and it’s a shy little smile, one that Anne is determined to cherish. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sasha does visit, it ends in both girls crying as they embrace. 

Anne supervises, because she remembers all too well the feeling of watching Sasha scream at Marcy, shoving a finger into her chest and glowing pink, and then watching Marcy cough up blood and collapse to the floor. It had been terrifying, how apathetic she had felt in the moment, and she never wants to feel like that again, but she also has to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again. 

So here she is. 

Marcy apologizes, and then Sasha apologizes, and then Marcy opens her arms for a hug and Sasha leans in to take it, arms wrapping around Marcy’s torso carefully. They whisper to each other, too quiet for Anne to make out. 

And then Sasha turns her head, and she and Marcy are both staring at Anne with the same exact look. I’m sorry, that look reads, you mean the world to me. Do you forgive me? Can things be okay between us again? 

And maybe she shouldn’t take that chance. But Sprig had trusted Marcy, and she had brought him home, and Sasha has respected her boundaries and done her best to rebuild Newtopia and all of Amphibia, and they’re just teenagers, they have all the time in the world to become better. 

Anne thinks she wants to change right alongside them, this time. 

So she lunges forwards, sits on Sasha’s other side to wrap arms around her girls. Sasha’s crying, and Marcy’s crying, and Anne’s gonna start crying too if this keeps up, but she can’t help it, she just feels so safe here. 

The blue she feels melts into something more. A rainbow of colors, of pink and green and every shade in between. It’s overwhelming, so much so that her hair starts glowing, and Sasha’s hair is glowing too, and the tips of Marcy’s have been green since she landed in the hospital but it’s so much brighter now. 

“Are we okay?” Marcy asks in a shaky whisper. 

“No,” Anne answers, truthfully, “but we will be. Together, right?” 

“Together,” Sasha echoes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(And Sprig watches from the corridor, peeking his head into the hospital room. It’s so touching, he can’t bring himself to interrupt. 

And maybe he should feel guilty for spying, but he can’t help it. Anne is his sister! And Marcy has become another sisterly figure to him in the month since the events of the throne room. And Sasha… well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever really like her, but he thinks he can learn to tolerate her. For Anne and Marcy’s sake. 

And if they’re stuck in Amphibia for a little while longer… well, he’s not really complaining. It’ll be nice to spend time with them all in the same place. 

The future, for once, looks bright.) 

END OF STORY