Fly opened his eyes. It was dark. Everything was murky. His side ached. His head was throbbing. He saw spots appear and disappear frantically.

Where am I?

The last thing he remembered was being thrusted by the current of the water. He remembered the antidote being within his grasp. It was right in front of him, but he was pulled away before he could get a taste of it.

Chuck…Stella…They got the antidote. They made it out okay…right? Were they human again?

Am I?

Fly attempted to lift his leg–or fin, or whatever. The water surrounding him felt cold. His movements were feeble. The effort was like trying to move a boulder. It was incredible that he was even alive at this point. Or at least, it felt like he was. Maybe he was dead, he couldn't be sure.

Then he heard a sound. It was muffled, coming from above the water. From what Fly could tell, it was a voice, shouting. It sounded like Chuck. Relief swept over him. Chuck was alive at least.

The words got clearer. Fly listened in.

"–turn back the clock before the sun sets!"

He heard other voices, but they were too soft to understand.

"No! No! It's not too late!"

Fly wasn't sure what happened next, but he could swear it sounded like shattering glass.

"Fly!" He heard Chuck scream. "Are you okay?"

Fly perked slightly at the sound of his name. "I'm right here." His voice came out a mumble. "Chuck…I'm here…here…" Every word that left his mouth, his voice got softer.

Soon, a cry of anguish ripped through the air. Chuck's voice, broken and cracking, reverberated throughout Fly's little sphere of, wherever he was. His cousin's screams and sobs were surrounded by the other soft voices that sounded equally in pain.

Fly wanted to call out to them. To Chuck. He wanted to let them know that he was alive. Whether he was okay was a different matter, but at least alive.

"You killed him! You killed him! How could you let him slip–!" Chuck sounded hysterical. "If I…I should've stopped him…it's all my fault!"

Fly mustered as much energy as he could. "Chuck…Chuck…CHUCK!"

But nothing. Silence followed. Then the voices continued where Fly could just barely hear.

"If that's not Fly…where is he?"

Fly both heard and felt the clamoring of feet stomping around.

"Fly!"

"Fly!"

"Can you hear us, Fly?"

"Yeah…" Fly replied in a softened shout. "Can you hear me?"

Apparently not, because Fly kept hearing his name being called. What was the use? Would they ever find him?

Fly willed his eyes to look up. It was too dark to see, and even if there was light, would Fly be able to see past the spots?

"I found him! Mommy! Daddy! Look, there's Fly!"

It was Stella. Her voice was as loud and clear as though she were right next to him. Stella! She was okay, too. And Mom and Dad were here!

Footsteps herded to where Stella was. "Oh thank goodness!" Fly recognized that as his mother. There was a residue of sobs traced in her voice.

Fly felt something surrounding him. Skin. Fingers. He was moving upward, breaking from the surface of the water. Instincts kicking in, Fly flopped his entire body. A surge of panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see anything.

"Hurry! Get him in water! A tank!" His father ordered frantically.

"Over here! Follow me!" That was Professor MacKrill. So he had survived that storm.

"Is there anything you can do, Professor?" Chuck asked. "He's lost a lot of blood. He's badly hurt."

"I'll see what I can do." MacKrill said.

Everything was a blur from that moment until Fly felt himself break through the surface of water and slowly drift toward the bottom.

The spots were getting worse. He could make out the familiar figures of his family in front of him. He was in a glass container. One of MacKrill's fish tanks, hopefully lacking piranhas.

Eventually, the black fog in his vision overtook his eyes and head entirely. Fly felt the sensation of spinning, his consciousness thrusted into an otherworldly realm. His family's voices reduced to a hum, and then to nothing.

Then he was transported to a familiar place. Metallic, rusty, green with algae, tight and compact. While Fly tried to put his finger on where he was exactly, he felt unsettled, like he knew subconsciously what was coming next.

When a certain figure appeared, he remembered immediately and was filled with absolute dread.

Before him was Joe's torn, bulgy, fleshy, mangled, pseudo-human form. His eyes were wide, his mouth gasping hollowly. The abomination floated silently away down the pipe. The feelings of terror that gripped Fly were still as fresh as when he witnessed it the first time.

But unlike the first time, Fly willed himself to follow. He didn't think about why, he swam quickly down the pipe, making all the sharp turns and dodging the blades of the fans. It felt like an endless labyrinth. It was going on a lot longer than Fly remembered.

Then he felt a tight grip around where his neck would be. Fly panicked and struggled to get free. Then his eyes met with those that belonged to a malformed human-like being. Eyes rolled to the back of his head, but still burning with hatred.

"You seem to like trivia questions," the thing garbled, bubbles erupting from his mouth. "Here's one for you. What happens to fish when they leave the water?"

The answer was obvious. It needed no explanation. But Fly couldn't answer anyway. Joe's grip was too tight, closing off any oxygen to get through.

Not that Joe was willing to wait. The water got shallower, thinning between the sand beneath them and the sky above. Somehow the both of them got near the shore.

The thing made the most contorted, twisted facial expression Fly could barely make out as a grin, the eyes still rolled back. How was the guy even still alive?

Then Joe outstretched a pale arm above the surface. Fly flopped violently, either from the lack of oxygen or struggling to get free.

Help…

HELP!

Fly's eyes shot open and saw light. The soft gentle light of the morning sun. Adrenaline was still pumping through him. Once Fly's mind was able to adjust to his awakened reality, he calmed down. More than ever, his brain felt light. Clear. It felt…good.

He got a better look at his surroundings now. He was in a fish tank, all alone. No other fish in here with him. He realized he'd been floating in the middle of the water. He tried to twist his body, but it felt stiff. His body was encased in something, almost like a cast.

Then he saw his reflection on the glass walls. Yup, he was still a fish. The Californian Fly Fish if he recalled correctly. And to confirm his assumptions, around his torso was some odd looking brace that had an arched tube, making it appear as though Fly had a handle on his back. It was a weird contraption he'd never seen before, but he guessed that was what was keeping him afloat.

Beyond the walls was an empty lab. The professor was nowhere to be seen. In fact, it was devoid of any living creatures save the fish in the other tanks.

But Fly heard something. Singing? Was someone here? Fly was desperate to talk to someone, anyone. Ask questions, and get some answers.

Then a lanky figure walked into view, in his lab coat, dancing with every step. Fly recognized the song he was muttering as his "fish potion song". Admittedly a very catchy one.

The professor was coming his way. When MacKrill noticed Fly, his face elated. "Oh, good! You're awake! Hehe, splendid!" he said in a celebratory tone. "Now what was I going to do…?"

As the professor started on his muttered rambling, Fly swam closer to the front wall of the tank. He shouted "Professor!" to divert the man's attention back on him.

"Yes? Oh, goodness! Look at me. Getting lost in my thoughts there. Fly, it's good to see you doing well, my friend. The salve I concocted is working as it should! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess," Fly said.

MacKrill clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Now the healing process should take but a few more days. Try not to move a lot in the meantime."

Fly motioned his head around the fish tank. That won't be too hard. It wasn't like the brace allowed for much movement anyway.

"Professor? Where's Chuck? And Stella–?"

"Chuck…Stella…Ah, yes! Them!" the professor said cheerfully. "They'll be here quite soon. In fact, they've been coming to see you twice every day!"

"Wait, so…how long was I out for?"

MacKrill wrinkled his brow. "Let's see…how long has it been?" He counted on his fingers. "...yesterday…that was about two days, no…did the last checkup eight hours ago…or was it…?"

Fly shook his head with an amused smile.

"But nevermind that," said MacKrill. Held in the professor's fingers was a Pasteur pipette full of light blue liquid. "Now, I'm going to apply your dosage for today." He squeezed the rubber top of the pipette, the medicine dripping a little at a time into the tank. The liquid dissolved instantly in the water.

"Now, now…you must be hungry. When have you last eaten?" MacKrill asked.

Fly tried to jog his memory. Gosh…it must have been at least two days ago. Or however long it was since passing out. Fly remembered having lunch the afternoon before Aunt Anna and Chuck came over. But after that…

"I dunno. Too long ago," said Fly. Now those double cheeseburgers were starting to sound really good.

"Let's see what I have here." The professor dug through a drawer, and pulled out a small bag. "Ah, this will do for now."

He walked back to the tank and opened the bag. Once Fly got a good look at the bag's label, he grimaced. "Fish food? I mean, I may look like a fish, but it doesn't mean I'll eat like one."

"Forgive me, Fly, but I haven't tested out what foods will digest well in your new body. First and foremost, we must fill your stomach and give your body nutrients."

Fly wanted to argue further, but decided against it. He was the professor after all. And besides, given how famished he was, he was willing to eat the dirt off his own shoes.

The pellets floated along the surface of the water. Fly made the attempt to swim up, but found it difficult to do so. When they eventually sank down to the bottom, the boy tapped his nose against one of them. It smelled fishy. Like, too fishy. Under any other circumstance, Fly wouldn't have been able to stomach something like this.

He flicked the pellet into his mouth with his tongue, and chewed cautiously. Well, it could've been worse, if he was going to be honest. It didn't taste terrible, but on the other hand it wasn't a cheeseburger.

"Professor MacKrill! We're back!"

The professor turned his attention to the voice. "You're just in time, Professor Chuck!" He rushed out of Fly's sight. Fly listened in on the conversation.

"Is Fly okay?" Stella's sweet voice asked.

"He is, my dear!" MacKrill said. "Come! He is awake right at this moment!"

"So he's alive?" There was awe and relief in Chuck's tone.

Professor MacKrill returned with the two children by his side. Once Chuck and Stella made eye contact with their cousin and brother, they stared speechless. Fly noticed there were deep purple bags under Chuck's bespectacled eyes.

"Wow, Chuck. You look pretty terrible. And that's coming from me," Fly said, attempting humor.

"Fly!"

Stella let out an excited squeal, and pressed her nose against the glass. Fly, as much as he was able, swam closer to his sister. It was the widest he had ever seen the girl smile, and that lifted his spirits immensely.

"Glad to see you're okay," he said. "You and Chuck managed to get the antidote, huh?"

"I miss you, Fly. When are you coming home?" the girl asked.

That was a good question. And better yet, how was he going to go home? "I don't know, Stella."

"Are you going to be a person again? Like us?"

Now that question pierced right through him. If what the professor had said was true…about the forty-eight hour time limit…

Chuck was now at Stella's side, a hand on her shoulder. "The professor is figuring something out. Give it time," he assured her. He gave a halfhearted smile, one where Fly could tell that even he wasn't convinced of his own words.

Chuck looked up at his cousin. "Hey, Fly."

"Hey," the fish replied. "You…okay?"

The boy shrugged. "I'm fine."

"That's good."

A few seconds of silence followed. Chuck kept averting his eyes, taking deep breaths.

Fly scowled. "Oh, come on, Chuck! I haven't seen you in days, and that's all you're gonna say?"

"Sorry." Chuck adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "I'm just…well…You have no idea…" He stopped to compose himself. "I'm just glad you're okay. That's all."

"Yeah, me too." As okay as he was going to be, anyway. Compared to how he was days ago.

Chuck turned to MacKrill. "By the way, Professor. There's something I wanted to discuss with you. I stayed up all night last night going over your formula."

"My formula? Yes! Yes, please do! Excuse us, Fly. Stella. You stay put where you are. We'll be right back." He and Chuck walked together into another room.

"That was weird," said Fly, watching them depart. He asked Stella, "Is Chuck really okay?"

"He looks sad," Stella said. "He doesn't talk very much."

"Or sleep, for that matter," Fly said with a humorless chuckle.

"Fly, I've been having nightmares," Stella said. "Do you get nightmares too?"

Fly was then reminded of his last dream. He tried not to make his shudder visible to his sister. "Are they about fish?"

"Mm-hm."

He sighed. "Yeah. So are mine."

"Do you get chased by sharks and crabs? Like they're gonna eat you?"

Oh, if only you knew, Stella.

"Pretty much." He placed a gentle fin on the glass where Stella's cheek was. "But you don't have to worry, they're only dreams. They can't hurt you. Besides, if any sharks or crabs were to attack us, this is what I'd do to them." He curled his fins like they were fists and punched the water in front of him. That made Stella giggle.

"Would you punch that one stupid fish too?" Stella said.

"What stupid fish?"

"The one that took our potion."

There was no hesitation. "Of course I would," said Fly, although his confident tone belied his actual thoughts. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't know what to do if he encountered Joe again. Not that he had to worry. He was dead, Fly had made sure of it.

That's what bothered him the most.

"So would I!" declared Stella. She threw her own fists through the air. "I would punch him until he'd go away and leave us alone!"

Now it was Fly's turn to chuckle. "I'm glad you have our backs, Stella."

Now if only she could get rid of that stupid fish from his dreams.