It was around five o'clock by the time Lisa turned off her desktop computer and work phone. She combed her fingers across her scalp, and exhaled a weary breath. The past eight hours felt like they dragged on much longer today. They had gone by without any interruption, which was unusual because Stella often came upstairs needing something, or because Fly wanted to move to another room. Despite this, Lisa somehow felt less productive in her work. She tried to stay on task, filling out paperwork and speaking to clients over the phone, but her mind was completely elsewhere. She had a deep-seated concern, something had been nagging her since lunch, when she had her conversation with Fly.

She didn't blame him. Not one bit. In fact, her heart went out to her eldest son. More than anything, she wanted him to do the things he was once able to do. To enjoy the activities that defined the kind of child he was, an energetic, thrill-seeking boy. Lately, Lisa noticed the decline in his mood, and it softened her heart. Despite what she wanted for Fly, however, she had to focus on what he needed, and that was to keep him safe. To protect him. Something she had failed to do already. The reason he was in this situation to begin with.

Lisa instantly quelled that thought. No, she wasn't going to blame herself anymore. She already spent enough time doing that. It was nobody's fault. And it didn't matter anyway. What happened was in the past. Her attention was in the present, what she can do now for Fly. And now, she had to go downstairs and prepare dinner before Bill returned home from his job.

She also intended to talk to Fly after dinner. She wanted an honest discussion, to hear his side of the issue. To really listen. For the two of them to reach a compromise. Admittedly, she may have come across as dismissive during their last exchange, and she felt bad about it. She wanted to make things right with him this time. And though it was hard, Lisa had to be realistic. There were just some things Fly would never be able to do again, and her son had to understand that. He had to, otherwise he could never adjust. The family wouldn't be able to move forward.

The mother left her office, descended the stairs, and was met with silence. It must've been a quiet day for the kids, she thought. She strode over to the fish tank in the kitchen and was surprised to see it empty. She also noticed in front of it, a chair pulled from the dining room table and puddles of water splattered all over the floor. Stella was not supposed to move Fly on her own, mostly because she was more prone to an accident, dropping or spilling something. Maybe she moved him up to her room.

"Stella!" she called. There was no response. "Stella, sweetie!"

She went back upstairs, and headed for her daughter's bedroom. The door was wide open. She craned her head through the door frame to peek inside. It was then her heart began to race. "Stella? Fly?"

She checked every room in the house, even the ones that didn't have fish tanks. Oh no! She felt her heart rate pick up, adrenaline pumping. She was experiencing the same fear from that night over a week ago when she and Bill came home from their date. She hurried to the front door. It was unlocked. No! Not again. Please, not this again…

What was she to do? Call Bill? Call the police? She knew Bill was probably on his way home by now, and she remembered how helpful the police were last time. She wondered if she should start searching now, or wait. Wait for what, for the kids to just walk through the front door? She'd hope, anyway.

Lisa heard a vehicle pull up to the driveway. Oh thank goodness! She rushed outside to greet her husband. Bill had barely stepped out of the car when Lisa spilled out, her words mushed together, "They're gone! The kids! They're not in the house, and I've looked everywhere! Stella took Fly out of his tank, and they're not in her room, and—!"

"Hold on, Lisa, I can't understand what you're saying," said Bill. He took his wife by the arms, looked her steadily in the eyes, and waited for her breathing to slow before asking, "Now tell me what happened."

Lisa swallowed, repeating everything she had said, choking between words. Bill's reaction was borderlining panic and disbelief. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You checked everywhere?"

"Yes."

"The backyard?"

"Honey, I checked the entire house! Twice! Three times!"

Without meaning to, Bill's grip on Lisa's arms tightened. His gaze went down the street in the direction toward the ocean. "What about MacKrill's?"

Lisa wiped her eyes. "What would they be doing there?"

"I don't know, but it's worth going over. Even if we don't find them, we can still let MacKrill know what's going on."

The two parents climbed into the car, and Bill roared the engine to life almost immediately. Lisa sat in the passenger seat drying her eyes with her sleeve, hoping with all hope that her kids would at least be at the professor's lab and not out in the ocean like last time.

Her mind reeled over the possibilities. Why on earth would the kids leave the house? Whose idea was it? The answers were already obvious. Fly. He must have talked Stella into taking him outside. But where would they go? Didn't Fly realize how dangerous this was, having his four-year-old sister unaccompanied by an adult, wandering around on her own? It wasn't like Fly could do anything to protect her. She grew increasingly frustrated. Even as a small fish, Fly still had great determination. She would admire him for that, except he didn't think about the consequences of his actions. If anything were to happen to him and Stella...Lisa steered away from those thoughts, refusing to believe that anything would happen.

They arrived at the shoreline when Lisa noticed something pink parked at the end of the road. "Bill, look! Stella's tricycle!"

Bill pulled into a place to park, and the parents hurried over to the tricycle. The small wagon was attached to the back, confirming to both of them that this was how Fly was transported. Bill turned his gaze toward the cliff out in the distance, shielding his eyes from the sun hanging in the western sky. "Come on," he said, taking Lisa's hand, and the two crossed over the bridge of rocks leading to the cliff.

They took the roundabout way to get to the professor's lab, through the wide mouth of the cave that faced the choppy sea. Bill pounded on the front door. "Professor MacKrill! It's us, Bill and Lisa!" After several seconds of no answer, the parents took it upon themselves and entered the bizarre lair of aquatic wonders. Even after wandering both levels of the boat house they saw that no one was there. Lisa felt her chest grow more hollow, hoping the professor and her children would be hiding in a corner somewhere, any place they might have overlooked. Even their calls for them were left without responses, increasing their worries further.

Fortunately, as they exited the boat house and returned to the beach, Bill pointed something out in the horizon. "Over there! That's MacKrill's boat!"

Lisa looked. Indeed, moving around in the sea was MacKrill's little motorized boat, a literal bathtub powered by the strange additions that could only have been created by the eccentric professor. With a bizarre, yet very intricate multiplex of mechanics, plus a pipe acting as a vacuum that could pull up fish from beneath the water, as Bill had witnessed previously when they were searching for their kids last time. Bill and Lisa both waved their arms and called out MacKrill's name, seeming to get his attention because the boat was getting closer in view.

The boat finally arrived at the shoreline. MacKrill was manning the vehicle, a look of pity on his face as he spotted the couple on the beach. A small voice piped up. "Mommy! Daddy!"

A wave of relief washed over Lisa like the water over the sand. "Stella! Sweetheart!" She ran into the water toward the boat, not caring that her shoes and pants were now soaked. She threw her arms around her little girl, pecking her chubby cheeks with kisses. Bill soon joined in.

MacKrill watched the reunion gladly, but still wore a look of concern. Not much longer did the parents divert their attention to the professor. "Professor, tell me what's going on! Where's my son?" Bill asked.

The professor looked at Bill cautiously, as though fearful of his reaction. "Now, there's no need to worry. I've been scouring the sea, searching for him. He can't be too far–"

"You mean he is in the ocean?" asked Bill, excitement creeping into his voice.

MacKrill cringed. "More or less. Stella here came to me in my lab, and told me so."

"No!" That word burst out of Lisa, from her pounding heart through her grinding teeth. In her mind, everything escalated exponentially. Why would he do this? Why?

Bill wrapped his arms comfortingly around his wife, who huddled within them. He eyed Stella, trying to stay patient and calm. "Stella, where's your brother?"

Stella pointed down beneath the boat. "He's looking for Sasha!" she said happily, not seeming to detect the severity of the situation.

"Did he tell you to bring him here?" asked Bill.

Stella replied with a nod, "Uh-huh."

Bill lifted the girl out of the boat and handed her to Lisa. He climbed in. "You stay with Mommy. The professor and I are going to look for him."

Lisa held on to Stella tightly, and nodded in Bill's direction.

"Oh!" MacKrill dug into a pile of his things and pulled out a lantern, handing it to Lisa. "It's just in case he returns to the shore. Signal to us if you happen to see him."

"Okay," she said, taking the lantern.

MacKrill started up the boat's motor, and they took off again. Lisa watched as her husband and the professor grew distant toward the horizon. Her heart was still pounding. She returned to the sandy beach and placed Stella down, then cast her eyes into the shallow water. She watched a group of fish swim by, hoping to spot a little orange one with a brown hat.

A mix of several emotions swirled within her, but she couldn't say which one she felt the most. Anger, fear, hope, and regret all fought for dominance in her consciousness. She wanted to question why this was happening. Why all of this was happening, but she stopped herself. It didn't do any good. She'd already accepted that this was the way things were now. It was the only way she could hold herself together, and not break at the seams.

She took Stella's hand and gripped it tightly. She wasn't letting her daughter out of her sight again. Her eyes still placed intently toward the water, she wouldn't let Fly out of her sight either.

As the sun continued to burn at the horizon, all she could do now was wait, and hope for a miracle.

In the depths of the ocean, within several feet outside of Joe's makeshift city, there was a small alcove where Fly and Sasha took refuge. The two had almost been caught at least three times exiting the ship; Fly had forgotten about the patrol of crabs stationed in the corridors as well as outside the ship, and it was unlikely they were aware of the prison break. Fly was too weak to defend himself from them, so stealth was the way to go at this point. Besides, he could tell Sasha was getting tired holding onto him, guiding him where his own fins could not. The alcove would have to do for now.

Once they reached inside, Sasha released her hold on Fly, and the Californian Fly fish settled himself on the floor, feeling weary from what little travel they had accomplished thus far. Sasha squeaked her concern, nudging his cheek with her snout. Fly gave her an aside glance, smiling weakly. "I told you, I'm gonna be okay."

The seahorse swam around to examine Fly's hind fins, gently smoothing his tail with her own pectoral fins. She whined, lowering her head as though she'd tried thinking of a solution but could come up with none.

"When we get back, the professor'll have something to fix me up," assured Fly. He knew he would. Getting healed of his wounds wouldn't be a problem.

On the other hand, facing his parents would, and that reason alone would keep Fly living the rest of his life in the ocean.

Also, the fact that he didn't know how to get home from here. Wandering the sea in search of Sasha, Fly didn't keep track of what direction he was going, or what landmarks he had passed. He didn't even know how far from the shore he was, and was now relenting to the fact that maybe he wouldn't make it by dark. He worried about Stella. Sure, the professor would be there to watch over her, but the feelings remained. Part of him regretted taking Stella with him, but what choice did he have? She was his only vehicle to getting to the ocean in the first place.

Fly heaved a sigh. "That is, if we make it back."

Sasha cocked her head curiously. Fly scoffed bitterly. "We'd be wandering the entire ocean before we'd get home."

Of all the reactions Fly expected from the seahorse, a smile was not one of them. She squealed and bounced up and down, her beady eyes brightening.

Fly raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

The seahorse didn't hesitate. She grabbed one of Fly's pectoral fins with her mouth and she placed it on her back. Fly was confused for a moment, then he realized that she was motioning for him to grab onto her. He secured his only working fins on Sasha's back, and she pulled him along toward the cave's open mouth. Her little head darted around making sure the coast was clear. She sniffed the surrounding water, and once she found which direction to go, she made a beeline in that way.

The journey didn't feel like aimless wandering at all. Every turn Sasha made seemed deliberate, intentional, like she'd gone that way many times before. Every once in a while, they would hide behind a rock or a patch of seaweed to obscure themselves from the occasional crab, but most of the travel was smooth sailing once they left the vicinity of Joe's ship.

"You know where we're going?" Fly asked, still trying to hang on. He received a whinny in response, though Sasha still kept her eyes forward.

The distance between the sandy floor and the water's surface was beginning to thin. The sky above was a powerful orange at its closing stage, about to soften into dusk. It wasn't as late as Fly had assumed, and he wondered if Stella actually was at the beach waiting for him. Would she wait until literal dark? Anyhow, the look on her face when she saw Sasha was what he'd been looking forward to the most.

When they eventually reached a shallow area, Sasha slowed down, her head jolting every which way, eyes widened cautiously. Fly followed her glances, but didn't find anything that would cause concern. The seahorse relaxed with that being the case, and she looked at Fly with an eager grin.

They had stopped. Fly checked their surroundings, but wasn't sure where Sasha had taken him. "Where are we, Sasha?"

Sasha pointed above them with her snout, and Fly followed. A shadow of something large loomed over them. Through the surface of the water, Fly was beginning to make out the shape of that thing. It was pointed and somewhat jagged. It was definitely a shape he'd seen before. Fished on, even!

The rock by MacKrill's! Fly's fishing spot!

Fly's smile widened as he looked back at Sasha. "We're…we're home! Sasha, we made it!" He wrapped his fins around her neck in a celebratory hug. "But, how did you know?"

The seahorse squeaked. Her nose pointed up at the rock again, and then nudged Fly with it. She did this multiple times, like she was trying to communicate something.

"I don't know what you're saying, Sash," said Fly, bemused.

Sasha gently pushed Fly off of her so she could face him. She gestured at herself from head to tail, then directed a fin at the rock. Fly nodded. "Okay…you, the rock…" She pointed at Fly, then threw a quick hug around him. She took some swims back, gauging the orange fish for his response.

Fly was trying to piece them together in his mind. "You, the rock, me…What does that mean?" He muttered to himself.

Sasha squeaked to get his attention, and she pantomimed one last thing. She placed her fins over the sides of her head having them flow out so they looked like a pair of long ears. This confused Fly even more, until she put her fins down to her middle and twirled around like it was a skirt.

Skirt…and those weren't ears, they were pigtails!

"Stella?" Fly said.

The seahorse bobbled her head eagerly. She mimicked Stella again, pointed to Fly, and then curled her fins in circles around her eyes.

Fly snorted a laugh. "And that's Chuck!"

Clapping her fins excitedly, she did her routine again. Fly followed along, noting to himself. "You, the rock, me, Stella, and Chuck…" Sasha finished by placing her fins behind her back and pacing back and forth.

"You…the rock…and us…" Then the solution to the puzzle hit him. "You were waiting for us?"

Sasha gazed at her friend and gave a warm smile. Fly couldn't help smiling back. "You mean you hung around here all this time? Waiting for us to come back?"

Sasha nodded.

"Well I have good news for you," said Fly. "Stella's probably right there on the beach right now."

The grin on Sasha's face only lasted a second before her dotted eyes popped wide open, her jaw falling down. Urgently, she tugged at one of Fly's fins and pulled him away, finding a nearby rock.

"Hey! What's going on?" asked Fly, but his question was answered with a pair of grisly eyes making contact with his own. The crab bared its teeth and came marching toward them. Fly rolled his eyes all the way to the sky. You've got to be kidding me!

"I thought I told you this place was off limits!" the crab shouted, directing his voice at Sasha. The seahorse froze in place, seemingly forgetting what she was doing. The crab placed a claw under his lip. "Come to think of it…what are you doing here? I sent you to prison, didn't I?"

Fly shot a weary glare at the crustacean. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" the crab demanded, casting a suspicious glance at the orange fish.

Fly gave an exasperated sigh. He was so done with these guys. "That they found Joe. Duh!"

A look of surprise crossed the crab's already dumb face. "They did? Well, why didn't anyone tell me!" He muttered to himself, "I'm always the last to know these things. Pff…that's what I get for being posted way out here." Addressing Fly and Sasha once again, he shouted, "Still! You are not permitted to be here! By order of Lord Joe, I'm going to have to imprison you anyway!"

Fly was ready to fight, despite his injury. He would defend Sasha even when he would put himself at risk for further injury. He tightened his fins into fists and stared down his enemy, putting as much courage and ferocity into his eyes.

The crab suddenly jumped back with a yelp and was tripping over his own legs trying to get away, howling in panic. Fly relaxed his face. Wow, that's what got him? Fly didn't realize he had it in him to be that intimidating.

But Sasha tapped his back with her snout, and pointed behind them. Fly looked to see a pair of bare feet half buried in the sand, lightly rustling it around so that it formed brown clouds. His eyes scaled up the legs and could make out the form of a little girl in a pink jacket, her pigtails whipping in the wind.

"Stella, sweetie! Stay on the beach!" a voice called.

Mom? Fly's heart sank. He'd be facing his doom a lot sooner than he'd expected.

On the other hand, Sasha didn't hesitate at all. She shot herself upward, breaking the surface of the water. She splashed and squeaked until she got Stella to look down.

The girl blinked, staring in utter surprise at the creature in the water. It was like she was trying to figure out if what she was seeing was real. "Sasha?" she said in a small voice.

The seahorse let out a soft squeal, wagging her curly tail like a puppy. The two continued to stare at each other, letting the moment sink in. Stella's face then elated into an excited smile, filled with more joy than a child on Christmas morning. "Sasha!"

Fly watched from a close distance with satisfaction that all his hard work paid off. His sister was pointing to the water. "Mommy! Look, Sasha came back! She came back to me!" Stella left the water briefly to grab MacKrill's fish bowl, then returned. The seahorse leapt inside the bowl and stuck her pointed nose out toward her human friend. Stella, in turn, bumped her own nose against Sasha's like a little kiss. "I missed you so much, Sasha!" The seahorse squealed in agreement.

While Stella was doing this, realization seemed to strike Lisa. "Sasha?" She turned to her daughter, who was hugging the fish bowl tightly. "If that's Sasha…!"

Her head swerved immediately toward the water. "Fly?" She stepped in, the waves washing most of her legs. "Fly!" Her eyes darted around in desperate search for her son.

Fly figured it was time to reveal himself. With a great deal of effort, he dragged himself closer to the shore until part of his body was exposed to the open air. "Over here!" he shouted.

Lisa snapped her attention as soon as she heard Fly's voice, and she immediately rushed over to where he lay and knelt down beside him.

"Oh my gosh! Fly!" His mother was in tears. "Fly! Oh thank goodness, we were so worried! Fly!" She kept going on, her voice lumpy with sobs. Then she turned to her daughter. "Stella! The bowl! Can you give it to Mommy?"

Stella toddled over to her mother, handing her the bowl without question. Lisa picked up Fly with a free hand and gently set him into the glass container with Sasha. He lay on the bottom of the glass, finally feeling like he could rest. The whole ordeal was finally over. He was safe now.

"Sweetie, are you alright? Are you hurt?" Lisa had the fish bowl leveled so that mother and son were eye-to-eye.

Fly faintly grinned. "I'm fine, Mom."

"Oh good!" She let out a deep breath. "Don't ever do that again! You had me scared that you would—"

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry," Fly said. "Where's Dad?

Lisa muttered, "That reminds me." She lifted up a lantern she was carrying over her head, and beamed the light on and off repeatedly. Fly gazed out into the horizon to see a faint shape of a boat out in the water, making its way closer to shore. They waited as the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, the soft darkness of twilight setting in. The first of the stars appeared in the sky by the time the bathtub boat pushed against the sand, and MacKrill and Fly's father stepped out of it.

"You found him! Hooray!" cheered the professor, raising his hands up.

A comforted smile crossed Bill's face upon seeing the orange fish in the fish bowl. "Fly! You're all right!" He came over to bask in the celebration, throwing a hug around his wife. He then became stern as he looked into his son's face. "We're going to have a serious talk when we get home."

Uh oh. Here came the bad part. Fly swallowed.

"We can't thank you enough for your help, Professor," Lisa was saying as she handed him the lantern.

"I'm glad I could assist," said MacKrill. "And that you're safe and sound, Fly."

Yeah, but not for long, Fly thought, passing a nervous glance at his dad.

"Fly, why is your tail all ripped up?" asked Stella suddenly.

"Tail all what?" their mother gasped. Fly clenched his teeth with dreaded anticipation. He looked to his parents, who were now staring slack-jawed at their boy.

"Fly, what happened?" his father exclaimed.

"It's nothing," Fly said, hoping to dampen his parents' reactions. "I ran into a couple of crabs. It's not that bad."

Lisa looked about ready to have a panic attack. "Not that bad? Honey, your fins—look at them! They're shredded!"

Bill turned to the professor. "Do you have anything that can help him?" he asked urgently.

Professor MacKrill grabbed the fish bowl from Lisa and examined Fly's tail and dorsal fin with squinted eyes. "Fortunately, this is an easy fix. I have just the thing! Come, come with me to my lab and I'll show you!"

The family followed the scientist back to the boathouse, and climbed the spiral staircase to the top floor. It was then MacKrill pulled out a vial of blue liquid out of a cabinet. "This," he said, holding it up for Bill and Lisa to see, "is my special healing salve. This is what I've been using to speed Fly's recovery. It will reconstruct his fins in just a couple of days. It only requires a drop or two every twelve hours." He placed the vial into Bill's hand.

After thanking the professor profusely and bidding him a good night, Bill and Lisa walked back to their car, Lisa holding Stella's hand and Bill carrying Fly and Sasha's bowl. They loaded the tricycle in the back, buckled Stella in her car seat, and set the fish bowl on her lap before igniting the engine and turning toward the neighborhood.

The drive home was predictably silent, creating a heavy tension in the air that Fly could not ignore. Even though his parents were staring forward at the road ahead, he constantly felt that one of them was about to say something to him. Sasha beside him was swimming in loops entertaining Stella, the girl giggling in response. At the very least, Fly was glad he didn't return empty-handed, that his little trip had not been a fruitless endeavor. He'd be able to explain to Mom and Dad that he did what he did for Stella, and now that she had her seahorse friend back and Fly was still around to tell the tale, how could his parents stay mad at him? Surely, they'd listen to that line of logic. It was simple, really.

He decided that perhaps now was the time to make his case and to try to placate his parents before they entered full-on anger mode.

He took a deep breath before speaking. "Before you guys say anything, I already know what I did was wrong." His small voice felt more amplified among the silence. He added, "It was really stupid, and I shouldn'tve done it. I'm sorry."

It was met with more dead air. Fly exhaled again. "Look, I only wanted to help Stella, make her feel better. I thought maybe if I found Sasha, then she would…"

His sentence trailed off. Finally, after what felt like five minutes, Lisa spoke up. "I don't know what to say to you, Fly. I'm just very disappointed."

Fly pursed his mouth together. Her tone was calm with a bit of an angry edge, but what made it worse was the look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

"That you would go behind our backs, a-and put yourself and Stella in danger like that." Lisa sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know…I don't know what you were even thinking."

Fly countered, stammering. "But-but I tried to keep Stella safe. I sent her to the professor. I made sure she—"

"It was still very dangerous. What if something had happened to either one of you?" asked Lisa, her stern voice sounding shaky. "Especially Stella! What could you have done if she was in trouble?"

"But I—"

"What I don't understand," Bill put in, sounding equally as frustrated as his wife, "is why you would pull this stunt again after what happened last time. Do you even realize the seriousness of your actions?"

Fly cast his glowering eyes aside. "Yes. I do," he replied tersely.

"So then why do it?"

Fly rolled his eyes. Why do it? As though they hadn't figured it out already? "Because I have a death wish," he replied with bitter sarcasm.

"This isn't a joke, Fly," his dad said sharply.

"Why do you think? I'm practically kept in the house like a prisoner," said Fly, keeping his tone sardonic.

"Fly, I was going to talk to you about that tonight," Lisa said.

The fish gave his mother a skeptical look. Lisa continued, "Look, I know we haven't been the best at keeping our promises. I know you're really frustrated, and I totally understand that. It's just lately your father and I have had our hands full, but I promise this weekend we'll go out and do something fun. You can help us decide what we're going to do."

Fly raised a brow. "And how do I know we'll actually do it this time?"

"Honey, we will talk about it as soon as we get back. I promise, as soon as we get home. I won't flake this time."

The fish saw that his mother was looking at him intently, not breaking any eye contact. It was as though she meant it. That she was sincere. Fly could've believed that look. At least, if he had been born yesterday.

He snorted. "Gee, that sounds familiar. It's like I've heard that exact phrase three other times."

"Fly, I mean it–"

"Your promises don't mean anything," Fly retorted. "Especially since I know the real reason you won't take me out."

"What real reason?" His mother asked, confused.

"Oh, come on! You know exactly what I mean. You don't want anyone to see me…like this," he said, scanning his body up and down with his fins.

Lisa gave a sigh. "Look, I told you—"

"What? That you're gonna keep hiding me? A-a-and lie to people? Everyone we know?"

"No, that's not—"

Fly was beginning to feel his pent up frustrations boil to the forefront. "'Oh, you can't see Fly! Fly's sick!' Well, guess what? I can't be 'sick' forever. They're gonna know something's up!"

"Fly, please listen to me–"

The boy couldn't help himself. He continued, running his mouth without thinking. "And what's next? Soon you're gonna start telling everyone I'm dead so that they'll stop asking questions."

Lisa gasped. "Fly! We would never do that." She looked genuinely offended that such a thing could even be suggested.

"You might as well." Fly's voice cracked. "I'll pretty much be dead to everyone except you guys."

"Sweetheart, that's not going to happen," Lisa said with determination. "I promise you that. We're going to figure something out."

Fly roared, "Will you stop saying that?" Now he found his breath heaving as though he had to expel solid material from his lungs—or gills. The volume of his voice had exploded. "You always say that, but you never do anything! You don't really have a plan, do you? You never will! I'll just be swimming around in a tank for the rest of my life until you stop being a coward and tell people the truth!"

A foreboding pause followed. Lisa said nothing, her eyes leaking with tears. Fly was so angry that his nose flared as he breathed. Even Stella and Sasha, who seemed to be in their own world, had stopped their playing, and stared in a fearful stupor.

Bill then broke that silence, his voice severe. "Fly, you don't ever speak to your mother that way. That was out of line."

And Fly knew it. He felt tremendous guilt for lashing out at his mom, for hurting her, and making her cry. However, he wasn't sorry for what he had said. It was true, wasn't it? His parents, for whatever reason, were stalling, and he was tired of waiting around for results. Fly would take matters into his own hands if he had to. He didn't care if Mom and Dad disagreed, or told him "no".

But that attitude was what was getting him in trouble in the first place. He had done exactly that, and it almost got him killed a second time. Maybe…just maybe…would it have been better if he had? Death, or life as a fish? It was like choosing between getting stabbed with a knife or Chinese water torture.

"Fine, punish me. It's not like I have anything to lose anyway," Fly said in a low voice.

Bill sighed, his voice now sounding sad. "I don't know about that. I just want you to think about what you've done. And don't ever do it again. You understand?"

There was a short pause, then Fly grumbled, "Maybe I should've stayed in the ocean. At least I had stuff to do there."

The car had pulled up to the driveway of their home, the streetlamps illuminating the shape of the house in the darkness. Once inside, Fly was placed in the aquarium near the kitchen table while Sasha remained in the bowl. Since it was so late, and Lisa was too tired, she dialed the phone and ordered takeout. Bill squeezed a few drops of MacKrill's salve into the tank, doing so without a word. Fly didn't speak either. He was laying on his stomach at the bottom of the glass container, glaring out into the space in front of him. He barely even ate dinner once it was being served, and, speaking for the first time in hours, had insisted on being taken upstairs to his room, to which his parents obliged, again without saying much.

Fly was relieved to finally have his own space, in the darkness of his bedroom. Away from his parents, away from the crabs in the ocean, away from everything. Fly was overwhelmed with feelings of hate towards the things that were out of his control. Hate for the future that was practically nonexistent. It really burned inside of him like a pot full of sizzling oil. When he escaped that prison in Joe's ship, he wasn't really free, he was just being transferred to another cell somewhere else.

It made him wonder what became of the prisoners, his former cell mates? Were they swimming around the ocean at their leisure, going back to their normal lives? Were the crab soldiers outside giving them any trouble? Would they end up back in the prison again, undoing all of Fly and the prisoners' efforts? At this point, it was useless to speculate. He'd never go back. There was no way he could, even if he wanted to. His parents would make sure of that.

Despite his exhaustion, Fly had woken up multiple times during the night. If he had been dreaming, he certainly didn't remember. Every time his eyes opened it was like the night would never end. At some point he had awareness of the early light of dawn slipping gradually through the blinds of his window before darkness once again clouded his consciousness and took him back to the bottom of the sea.