A/N: I don't even know what to say, except that if you're reading this you rock for having so much faith in this story when it's been almost two years since my last update. I apologize for this chapter's messiness, but it's been sitting on my desktop for over a year and at this point I just want to get something out there for you guys. One of my resolutions for 2019 is to be more consistent with posting, which means getting over my impossible-to-please-perfectionism when it comes to my own writing. That being said, constructive criticism is truly appreciated, as I can't grow as a writer without honest feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you to new and old readers alike. Enjoy a whole lot of rambling :)

Sam Fraser: Yes, that is the art I was inspired by! Also, my feelings about A Bug's Life as a film have not changed in the wake of the allegations made against Hopper's voice actor. I still adore the movie and I still think he did a phenomenal job voicing Hopper. I don't want to get into it too much, but in a way writing this story has been a form of therapy for me as I've processed the news about an actor and human that I very much admired.

J: I'm so glad to hear you loved this story more the second time around! I actually do have an ao3 account and have considered posting this story there. The ABL fandom on that site is quite pitiful, but maybe we can help change that. ;)

Happy new year, bugaboos~

Dot

"Where are your friends?" Dot heard Hopper mutter, echoing the question in her own mind.

She didn't know how long they had been in the tree, waiting for Flik to rally the troops and come after them. She had called his name out of instinct as Hopper carried her away from the anthill, the same way she had when the wind carried her dandelion seed away from the island.

But even from a distance she had been able to tell that every movement Flik made hurt him, and she remembered how weak Atta had looked after the raindrop hit them, her body pinned down by the water's weight. If her sister and Flik were both down for the count, who would come after Hopper?

Of course Dot knew the circus bugs would do anything to help — they had worked together to save her and Francis from the bird, after all — but everything had turned to madness after the rain started falling. It was possible they hadn't even seen what happened.

For the first time since Hopper had taken her, Dot felt her heart twinge with doubt.

What if no one is looking for us?

She snuck a glance up at Hopper, who had landed on one of the thin upper branches and was now pacing back and forth, his good eye roaming the darkness beneath them. Dot had learned in history class that it was his grandfather who struck a bargain with the colony in the first place, and Mother always said she remembered him as a kind grasshopper who loved spending time with the young ants when he came to collect the offering.

On the other hand, Hopper was a bully to everyone around him, even his own brother. Dot couldn't help but wonder what could have happened in his life to make him so mean.

The storm was growing stronger and stronger. Raindrops struck the branch they were on and made it shake so hard she was sure Hopper would lose his grip on her. She didn't trust her newly grown in wings to carry her all the way back down to earth, especially since they still felt heavy with water.

A burst of lightning was followed by a sudden clap of thunder that rocked the entire tree. Dot screamed and covered her eyes. A few seconds later she felt the deep thrum of a heartbeat beneath her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see the dark speckles of Hopper's chest only centimeters from her nose. One of the hands that wasn't holding her was cupped behind her head, not quite touching it but close enough to make her feel protected.

Dot glanced up again. Hopper's gaze was fixed straight ahead, the same focused scowl on his face. Maybe he didn't even realize what he had done, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden softness somewhere inside the grasshopper. Her bold words from before had only made him madder, but maybe she could find a way to trigger a different emotion. She took a deep breath.

"What happened to your mom?"

Hopper froze in his tracks and looked sharply down at her. It took all of Dot's courage not to shrink from that gaze, and even more to say what she said next. "I heard you tell your brother that you promised your mother you wouldn't kill him before she died."

He blinked twice and cocked his head. Dot imagined he was debating whether throwing her from the tree would be better than waiting any longer with the tension hanging between them. "That's none of your business, Princess," he finally snapped.

Indignation rose in Dot's chest. "Well, you were going to kill my mom, weren't you?"

Her hands flew to her mouth as though she could shove the words back down her throat. He was definitely going to throw her now.

There was a beat, and then Hopper threw his head back with laughter. It sounded harsh and raspy, like he hadn't had much practice. "I guess that's fair," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his glistening left eye. "You're something else, kid."

His expression became serious again, but this time Dot couldn't tell if it was anger or sadness in his eyes."She died protecting us from a bird. We tried to get her help, but it was too late."

Dot's mouth dropped open. No wonder he was so afraid of them. "Is that when it tried to eat you?"

Hopper grimaced and motioned to his scarred right eye. "No, this happened much later in life. I was probably your age when it killed my mother." He cocked his head. "What are you, four seasons?"

Dot crossed her arms over her chest. "Six, actually."

That made him laugh again. "Forgive me, sweetheart. I don't spend much time with pupa."

Sweetheart. Hopper had called Atta that word while he was trying to get her to spill the beans about who came up with the bird. It sounded creepy then, but hearing it now reminded Dot of Francis, who was always using pet names like that with her. Francis was scary at first, too, but eventually she and the Blueberries wore him down.

Another crack of thunder shook the tree to its roots. Hopper leaped back just in time to avoid a shower of twigs from the branches above, again pressing Dot to his chest. She leaned into it now, the warmth comforting even if it belonged to someone who had once — twice — tried to feed her to another grasshopper. It gave her the nerve to ask another question.

"What about your dad?"

Hopper's eyes flashed. This time he didn't look down when he spoke. "What about him?"

"What was he like?"

He was silent for so long that Dot nearly gave up on getting an answer. And then…

"Worse than me, kid, I'll tell you that." A pause, and then a mumble so soft she almost didn't catch it. "And good riddance."

That was all Dot needed. She squinted up at the grasshopper even as he avoided her gaze. Bugs don't go bad for no reason, Dr. Cornelius had informed her class during the lesson on bullies. Usually there's something behind it. Usually there's something they're hiding.

"You could just go home, you know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. His antennae twitched, and she knew he was listening even though he wouldn't look at her. "You can take me back to the anthill and then go home with your brother. Your dad isn't there."

Hopper was quiet again. When he finally spoke it was in a gruff voice laced with sadness. "It's too late for that, Princess."

Hopper

Pull it together, Hop. The brat is tugging on your damn heartstrings.

Hopper tightened his hold on the tiny ant even as he heard his father's voice scolding him. He couldn't help it, though. As much as Dot was a pain in thorax, even the most hardened insect had to admit she was… cute. In that little kid kinda way. Those damn freckles.

He had to admit he enjoyed the brat's spunk. Even his closest gang members knew not to broach the subject of Hopper's parents if they valued their lives, yet Dot had flat out asked him about them. He had no idea what compelled him to answer her truthfully when he could easily have told her he murdered his mother in cold blood or something, just to shut her up. But there was something about the innocent curiosity of Dot's questions that touched a part of Hopper that had been forgotten, or lost, or buried long ago under his father's insults and backhands.

Ah, Dad. If only you could see me now, holding a child hostage while I wait for her best friend to come to her rescue so I can kill him. Wouldn't you be proud?

Hopper's original plan had been to make an example out of the rebellion inciter himself, but then the colony revolted. If he had had his way he would have crushed both Flik and Atta beneath his foot and then left the island to enjoy what was left of their grain supply until next season, but taking the baby of the royal family was the next best thing.

The aforementioned baby had surprised him on more than one occasion. If they stood side by side the curl of Dot's antennae would barely brush Hopper's kneecaps, yet in all their brief encounters she had shown more bravery than any others of her kind save for Flik. Even now as he clutched her in his lower arm, knowing full well that she was powerless to escape by her own strength, she maintained a stubbornly regal air that was almost endearing.

She was still frightened, of course. He could see it in her eyes, the way she wrung her hands, the nervous flicker of her young wings… and yet, she had the audacity to to suggest he return her to her colony and forget about the whole thing. What surprised him most was that it almost sounded like a plea not for her sake, but for his.

You could just go home.

The sincerity of the statement almost persuaded him to do it. His time on Ant Island had lasted much longer than he anticipated, and the rage that had fueled his adrenaline was beginning to ebb into exhaustion. It would be so easy to fly down and drop her off on a low branch, then find shelter somewhere far from the anthill to wait until the storm had subsided enough for him to return to the sombrero. In fact, Hopper had been on the verge of executing this plan when Dot's earlier words stopped him short.

We won't pick food for you anymore, she had declared, in a smug little voice that reminded him of Flik's. We know better.

We know better. So they did, she and the rest of Hopper's audience that had watched, captivated, as one of their own members figuratively spat at Hopper's feet and rubbed his foot in it.

Ants don't serve grasshoppers. It's YOU who need US.

Oh, how correct Flik was, and how Hopper hated him for it. Flik had been spared both from being mauled to death by Thumper and from being squashed underfoot, and Hopper needed to find another way to make him suffer. But how?

His good eye shifted again to the princess in his hand. The older one, Atta, had an awkward friendship bordering on romance with the bumbling inventor — that much was certain from the little he had observed them. But Flik and Dot had something else, a deeper bond, something like a brother-sister relationship. The closest Hopper had to it was his relationship with Molt, and that paled in comparison.

Hopper knew he was hard on Molt, hard to the point of abusive, but Molt had an innate sensitivity that scared him. The only reason their father left him alone was because he was clearly their mother's favorite, so as long as her cherished son was safe she could turn a blind eye to the sufferings of the elder one.

But their father recognized Molt's weakness, and he pointed it out to Hopper the same day he left to look for another colony of ants to enslave.

"Your brother has a soft heart. Too soft," he had warned while loading supplies for his journey into a dry leaf satchel attached to a cactus needle. "He's not cut out to lead this gang like you are. Your mother coddles him too much. When she goes, you need to squash it out of him like rotten fruit."

That was the last day Hopper ever saw him. Rumor had it his father had gotten drunk on a fermented pomegranate and flew right into a black widow's web. Molt cried buckets, but Hopper hadn't shed a tear. A few years later their mother died, and it was then that Hopper took it upon himself to inflict upon Molt the verbal equivalent of the physical punishment he had endured his entire life. It didn't make Molt any tougher, but it did establish Hopper's rightful place as leader in the eyes of the gang members.

Even so, Hopper knew that when push came to shove, he would do anything to protect his little brother. Threatening him in front of the colony had merely been a show of power, retaliation for the humiliation Molt had caused him by telling the bird story. A story that had come back to bite them all.

Fury flared in Hopper's chest again as he remembered how Flik had boldly taken credit for the pathetic attempt to scare him off the island. It may have backfired, but that didn't negate the necessity of consequence. Flik had to pay for his actions.

A spear of lightning split the sky above them, and Hopper felt Dot curl into his chest as she braced herself for the inevitable clap of thunder to follow. He shielded her antennae with one of his free hands to muffle the sound, then mentally cursed himself. That was another thing the brat did — she awoke a sense of protectiveness inside of him, like the one he had felt for Molt when they were kids.

The funny thing was, Hopper should have been protecting her from himself.