Signal for Help: Part One (The Breaking Point)

Author's Note: Strap in guys, got a LONG one for you. I'm honestly proud of how this one turned out! I won't say anything else, ok, just enjoy!

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

The song ended, John Dory panting with exertion as he struck a pose. His brothers did the same, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the dance studio. After a brief moment, John Dory turned around, his eyes narrowed in irritation.

"Spruce, you were too slow on the slide again!" he chastised, his brother letting out a huff and rolling his eyes at him. "And Clay, you're too tight! You have to loosen up! Floyd, you have to center yourself more, or you're going to throw off the balance."

He turned towards the mirror with a glare. And you… he thought, his mouth curling into a snarl. Do better.

He shook his head, trying to sound more upbeat as he continued. "Ok guys, let's run it back. This time, can we try to focus please?"

"John, we've been at this for hours," Floyd said breathlessly, hands on his knees. "The reason we're messing up so much is because we're exhausted."

Hours? Had it really been hours? It didn't feel like that long…

"We need a break," Spruce added, his eyes narrowed. "Bitty B's nearly falling over."

"I'm ok!" Branch piped up, his little body shaking.

"Guys, the show is tomorrow!" John Dory exclaimed frantically, feeling his heart skip a beat. "We can't stop now! We have to hit the perfect family harmony!"

"Then why haven't we hit it yet?" Clay asked angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. "Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe we can't do it?"

A jolt of panic shot through John Dory's chest as he whipped around. "We can do it, Clay," he insisted wildly. "We have to; this has to be perfect!"

"We have to?" Spruce jumped in, walking to Clay's side. "Or you have to? Because this sounds a lot more like a you problem."

John Dory let out a frustrated growl, Spruce's words cutting through him like a knife. Because he was right. The problem wasn't any of his brothers. It was him.

BroZone had been doing amazing; they were now the most popular band in the Troll Tree. The band had practically taken over their lives. A performance every week, sometimes twice a week. Record deals, sponsors, merch sales, it was crazy. You couldn't find a magazine nowadays that didn't have some sort of article about them. And now, they were just about to start their "tour," to promote all their new songs. It was amazing…

And absolutely terrifying.

John Dory spent hours everyday writing new songs, making sure the music and lyrics were perfect. He and Clay had been cranking out more and more choreography, each more complex than the last. Every waking moment was spent on BroZone, on perfecting it, on making it better. Because it had to be.

John Dory had gotten into a bit of a bad habit recently. He would collect magazines, every one he could find, and scour them for mentions of BroZone. Performance reviews, news articles, even just pictures from their shows. He needed to know if they were doing good or not, so if something was wrong, he could fix it. So he could make them better. There were plenty of articles throwing praise their way, but John Dory could only focus on a select few…

"Is BroZone Losing Their Touch?"

"The Rise and Fall of BroZone: Nearing the End of an Era"

"Is This the End of Troll Tree's Favorite Boy Band?"

He couldn't get those words out of his head. They swirled around him, taunting him, fueling his fear with a vengeance. Everything he was doing, all the time he put in, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough. He needed to be better, he couldn't let this fall apart.

That's why he'd come up with the idea of them hitting the perfect family harmony. Something so powerful, so mind-blowing, it would blow the socks of those critics. And there's no way they shouldn't be able to hit it. His family was perfect, so it should be easy, right?

But there was a problem there too. Things had started to become… shaky between him and his brothers to say the least. The more he threw himself into the band, the more his brothers seemed to push back on him. He was fighting with Spruce and Clay a lot more, even Floyd sometimes, the rift between them growing deeper and deeper. They just didn't seem to understand what was at stake. Didn't they realize how important this was? That he was doing this for them? That this whole life he'd built for his family, everything they'd worked for, could all come crashing down if he let himself falter for even just a second?

Between the arguing and all of JD's time being put into BroZone, he noticed that baby Branch was clinging to Floyd a lot more. Which was totally fine, and definitely didn't break his heart or anything.

But Spruce was right about one thing: they hadn't hit the perfect family harmony yet, and it was John Dory's fault. Clay had added a complicated dance move into their choreography, and no matter how hard John Dory tried, he just couldn't seem to get it right. He was sure that was the reason why this wasn't working. As much as he was nitpicking his brothers, they were doing everything flawlessly. They were perfect. It was John Dory who kept messing it all up.

He looked between each of his brothers, their eyes locked on him with mixed expressions. They looked tired. He had been working them hard, and it wasn't their fault he couldn't do this. He let out a sigh, massaging his forehead.

"Alright, alright, why don't you guys take five, ok?" he said, trying not to let his frustration show through. "Just a quick break, and then we get back to it."

"Pft, finally," Clay grumbled, shooting glare over his shoulder as he and Spruce stalked out the door. Floyd let out a sigh of relief, picking up a yawning Branch and carrying him out as well, leaving John Dory to himself. The silence was deafening. John Dory took a breath before turning back towards the front of the studio to keep practicing. He couldn't take a break, not yet. He hadn't earned it yet.

John Dory stared into the mirror, his jaw clenched. Alright, he could do this. He just needed to stop messing around and do this right. He walked over to the stereo, flipping on the tape and beginning to run through the familiar moves.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

No, he was sloppy. He was landing too far to the right. It was unacceptable. He needed to try harder. He raced back to the stereo, rewinding it and starting again.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

No no no, now he was too far to the left. They'd see that, they'd all see it, and they'd know he was the weak link. They'd know he was falling apart. It was fine, he'd just try again.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

He was getting more and more frustrated. If he couldn't hit this move, he knew something bad was going to happen. He didn't know what, but he was sure of it. He had to do this. Failure wasn't an option. Again.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

He stumbled this time, nearly twisting his ankle. He let out a growl, stalking back over to the stereo. Again. And again. And again.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

If it wasn't perfect, everything would fall apart.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

If it wasn't perfect, he'd fall apart.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

If he wasn't perfect, he was nothing.

"Perfect perfect perfect!"

If he wasn't perfect, he was NOTHING.

John Dory stumbled again, and this time, rage flared to life so violently in his chest he thought he might explode. He ripped the goggles from his head, a desperate, angry snarl escaping his throat.

"I hate this, I hate this!" he shouted, his voice raw and breaking as he reeled his arm back. "I hate this stupid song!" Without a second thought, he flung his goggles away from him, hitting them into the large floor to ceiling mirror. It shattered instantly.

John Dory quickly covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as glass rained down around him. The anger in his chest seemed to dissipate as icy panic surged through his veins. He opened his eyes wide with a gasp, desperately stumbling towards his goggles, which lay limp amongst the shattered pieces on the floor. He fell to his knees, grabbing them and brushing the jagged shards off of them. He hardly noticed the small nicks on his hands as he scanned his goggles up and down, looking for any cracks. Thankfully, they were fine. They were fine.

He heard fast footsteps approaching, and within moments, the door to the studio flew open. He didn't have to turn around to know it was his brothers. He threw up one of his hands, letting out a sharp, "Don't!" When he was met with silence, he brought his hand back down to his goggles, ears drooping. "There's glass everywhere; you're going to get hurt."

"What happened?" He heard Spruce ask, his brother's voice no longer angry, but confused and concerned.

"It broke," John Dory replied quietly, his hands tightening around his goggles. He could feel himself shaking, but he tried to keep his voice level as he continued. "Just… go home, guys. No more practice today."

"But, John…" He heard Floyd begin to protest, but John Dory cut him off, his voice stern.

"Go home," he repeated, looking down at his goggles. His reflection stared up at him, lips quivering, tears starting to stream down his face. His mouth curled up in disgust. "I have to clean up this mess."

Things were quiet for a moment, but then he slowly heard his brothers turn away, their footsteps receding down the hallway. Good. The last thing he wanted was for them to get hurt.

"But what about D?" He heard Branch's voice echo down the hall, small and confused.

"He'll be ok, Branch," Floyd reassured him, sounding troubled. "He'll be home soon."

That's right; he was ok. He's John Dory. He could handle it. He always did. He'd be home soon. He just needed to fix this first. If he could just fix this…

John Dory didn't move, except for the shivers traveling up and down his body. If he still couldn't hit this move tomorrow, he'd just have to change it to something else. His brothers would follow his lead, and it would be fine. It had to be fine.

But it wasn't fine, was it?

John Dory looked up, startled. He blinked his teary eyes in confusion. The mirror… the mirror was fixed. It stood in front of him, flawlessly, like nothing had ever happened. But… that wasn't right… John Dory looked around frantically. He wasn't in the studio anymore. It was dark, too dark to see anything but the large mirror in front of him. He climbed to his feet, fear beginning to prickle up his spine. And that's when he noticed his reflection.

He was glaring at him, eyes burning with such anger that JD could practically feel the flames. You're a liar, the other him seemed to hiss, his hands curled into tight fists.

John Dory felt his own eyes narrow, taking a step back. He wasn't a kid anymore. He strapped his goggles back on his head, turning away from the mirror and stubbornly choosing to ignore it. He was over this whole thing. He had just started to walk away when he felt something wrap around his leg. He looked down with a start to see what looked like dark, gray hair, snaking up his leg and pulling him back. He whipped around, the younger version of him in the mirror now pale and colorless, his hair somehow reaching out past the glass and grabbing John Dory. The color was gone, but his eyes burned with hatred all the same.

LOOK AT ME! The reflection screamed, yanking John Dory back towards the mirror. He fell to the ground, scrabbling desperately at the smooth floor, trying to push himself away. He could see the gray permeating out from the hair wrapped tightly around him, traveling up his skin.

"Let go!" John Dory shouted back in a panic, but another tendril of hair snuck out, wrapping around his other leg. He flipped around to his stomach, trying to crawl away, when he heard a familiar voice.

"John!?"

Branch… his brothers… had they come back for him? Were they going to save him? He looked up to see Branch standing over him, hand outstretched. At least, he thought it was Branch. It kept shifting. Sometimes it was Bruce, or Clay, or Floyd. But his eyes locked on that hand, reaching out for him. He started to reach out for it as well, just seconds from grabbing it, when his now gray hand seemed to crack, before shattering into a million pieces.

His brother… brothers?... reeled back, letting out a cry of pain as pieces of jagged glass embedded in their hand. John Dory felt his heart drop into his stomach, his eyes wide. "No no, I'm sorry!" he cried, feeling his body begin to crack more and more.

They can't help you, he heard his voice snarl from behind him, continuing to pull him back. You're broken. And you're only going to hurt them more.

"I'm sorry!" John Dory cried again, feeling himself breaking, pieces shattering on the floor. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

You should be

For the first time in a long, long time, John Dory didn't watch the sunrise.

He lay where he had flopped down last night, not wanting to move. He just… didn't have it in him. Most of the night he'd spent just staring off into space, drifting off every so often only to wake up in a cold sweat, some horrific nightmare forcing him back into reality. By the time Rhonda had come to a stop, light had started to stream in through the windows. But he couldn't be bothered to get up.

Considering the amount of time Rhonda had been running and the familiar twists and turns she took, he assumed they were back in Pop Village. To be fair, he did tell her to take them home. He didn't get up to check though, instead just flipping over, facing away from the growing light. He had a pounding headache.

He felt terrible, both physically and mentally. He couldn't believe he managed to mess up this bad in just a few days. Everything that happened seemed to weigh heavily on him, pushing him further into the floor. It felt better here. Safer. If he just stayed in here, if he didn't move, then he couldn't make anything worse. He just needed time to think…

Quite literally, the worst thing a troll can possibly do is isolate themselves.

John Dory grimaced, curling up a bit tighter. Just be quiet… he thought back, pulling his pillow up and covering his ears, as if it might block out the noise in his head. It did not. He continued to lay there, mind swirling.

Usually when he got like this, he'd look through his old photo albums. They always provided him with a sense of comfort. But now, they felt tainted by the fact that apparently, he wasn't even remembering them right. What once might have brought him some solace now filled his stomach with dread. And besides, he couldn't have looked at them if he wanted to, the boxes all sitting untouched in his perfect pod outside.

"Ugh, what am I doing?" he mumbled to himself, holding the pillow tighter around his head. Talking to himself, apparently. That seemed like a good sign. Very healthy.

Why was he acting like this? He should be better than this. It wasn't like he was some wounded child; he was a frickin' grown man. Clay was right. He needed to get over himself. He needed to grow up.

John Dory had to fix all this, that much he knew. But how? He'd exhausted all of his ideas, every one ending in devastating failure. He'd run out time. He was almost completely gray, and his brothers…

John Dory grimaced, shame settling in his stomach. He'd fought with Bruce, ruined Floyd's important day, nearly killed Clay in his own selfish distraction, and Branch… John Dory felt his eyes start to burn, squeezing them tight.

He'd broken his promise to Branch. He promised his brother he'd try to be more honest, to stop running away, and he broke it. He couldn't even deny it anymore. All he'd been doing this week was lying and running away. Just the same old John Dory, making the same old mistakes. Because it was stupid to think he could ever possibly change, no matter how much he wanted to. If Branch didn't hate him for that, then he'd certainly hate him as soon as he saw what he'd become.

John Dory stared down at his almost completely gray hands in despair. Why can't I do this? he thought, his stomach churning with guilt. This was pathetic. He had no right to pretend that his problems were this bad, especially when Branch went through so much worse because of him. He gripped his hand into a fist, pulling it in towards his chest. Why can't I just be fine? Why can't I do this?

John Dory was rattled from his thoughts as Rhonda shook herself, his hair bristling at the sudden movement. After a moment of stillness, he let out a huff, smoothing down his hair. Maybe a leaf fell on her or something. He was just about to lay back down when she shook again, a bit more violently this time. Ok, two shakes probably meant she wanted him to get out. Figures.

He let out a heavy sigh, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He stumbled over to the door, cracking it open and wincing as bright light shone in through it, his head pounding in protest. He stepped outside, blinking rapidly so his eyes could adjust. Yep, he'd been right, they were back in Pop Village. His eyes caught and lingered on his pod, which stood brilliantly in the afternoon light. His ears drooped, pulling his gaze away from it as he quickly made his way around to the front of Rhonda, giving her an irritated look.

"Can't you just let me rot in peace?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

She blinked at him, letting out a soft rumble. He sighed again, petting her face. Poor girl; she was probably hungry, considering John Dory had made her run through the night again. He had no idea why she put up with his nonsense.

"You hungry, girl?" he asked, starting to walk to her side to get her food. But she shifted her body away from him, letting out a sneeze. He looked back at her, confused. "So, not hungry then?"

She let out another rumble, nudging him slightly before staring off into the woods. John Dory followed her line of sight towards a small dirt path. The one he took to get to Branch's bunker. John Dory felt his shoulders tense, an icy chill spreading through his body.

"No, Rhonda, I'm not going to talk to Branch," he said, shaking his head. "I have to fix all…" He gestured vaguely towards his gray self. "...this first." His jaw grew tight. "I just need some time to think, ok? So if you're not hungry…" He moved back around to her side, reaching for the hatch. Just as he did, however, Rhonda danced away from him, letting out a more insistent rumble.

"Wha…" he stammered, shocked, before he smiled tightly at her. "C'mon, girl, I'm… I'm not in the mood. Just let me–" He reached for the hatch, and once again, Rhonda shifted away, letting out a small huff. "Rhonda…" he whined, letting out a disgruntled groan. "Please."

Rhonda looked back towards the path, letting out a louder coo. John Dory felt fear shoot through him, and he quickly shushed her. He didn't want Branch to know he was here, not yet anyways. He still needed a plan. However, while she was distracted… John Dory crept around to her side, reaching slowly for the hatch. He was so close to grabbing it when Rhonda spotted him. He quickly lunged forward, but before he could grab it, Rhonda scampered away again, shooting him a smug look.

"Ok, ok, fine!" he said with a dry laugh, irritation flashing through him. "That's fine. I can just rot out here. I don't care." He turned around, flopping onto the hard ground with a huff.

He listened as Rhonda strode over, sniffing him up and down. He purposely ignored her, pouting as he curled his body into a tight ball. However, he felt his irritation ebb a bit as Rhonda settled down next to him, her body pressed against his. He felt his tenseness ease, just a little bit.

That is, until he heard her start licking her paws.

"Ugh!" John Dory groaned, covering up his ears, the slurping sound enough to make his skin crawl. She knew he hated that sound. She was just being difficult now.

"Rhonda!" He spun around, giving the large creature a glare. She blinked at him innocently, tongue hanging out of her mouth. "I know what you're doing," he said, eyes narrowed. "And it's not going to work. I just need some time, ok?"

He flopped back down, his mind swirling again. He reached into his jacket pocket, avoiding the weathered list that lay in there and instead grabbing the picture Bruce had given him, the one of him and his brothers all curled up in his bed. He gazed at it sadly, gently rubbing his thumb across the smooth surface.

I really messed up… he thought, ears drooping. What if this was his one chance to make things right with them? His one shot to fix all the crappy things he did in the past, and he blew it. He looked at his hand, even more pale in the bright sunlight. Maybe after they saw him like this, they'd want him to leave. Maybe it would just be better that way.

John Dory wasn't able to linger on this, however, because at that moment, Rhonda began licking her paws again, causing him to leap to his feet, rubbing at his ears in disgust. "This is just cruel, you know that?" he said, his voice low and shaky. Rhonda just blinked at him again. Fine, if he couldn't lay here in peace, then he'd…

His eyes fell on his pod sitting near them. He felt his heart lurch slightly. He couldn't stay there, no, but suddenly, he desperately wanted those photo albums. They were the only thing he could think of that might give him a sliver of comfort, even if they were slightly tainted now. He peeked down at the photo in his hand before gingerly tucking it away, setting his jaw tightly. He just wanted to see his brothers happy again. He'd just go in there quickly, grab the box, then dip out.

He found himself walking over, his steps soft and hesitant. He knew it was his pod, but it almost felt like he was breaking and entering into a place he didn't belong in. He set his hand on the doorknob, before slowly pushing it open.

It was just as perfect as when he'd left it; quiet, still, and absolutely beautiful. Except, of course, for the mess he'd left on the floor. But he didn't even look at that. Instead, he focused his sight on the cardboard box, sitting on the end of the couch. That was his target. Without thinking twice, he stumbled inside, making a beeline through the pod. Within seconds, he had the box in hand.

He immediately turned around, eyes locked on the door as he tried to leave as fast as he could. But he only made it a few steps before his foot caught on something, sending him crashing to the hard floor, the photos and albums flying into the air

"Dang it!" he cursed, pictures floating down around him. He let out a hiss of frustration. What had he tripped on? He looked down at his feet to see the mirror, the one he'd dropped when he originally scuffed up the pod. Mirrors… What was it with him and stupid mirrors?

John Dory looked around at the scattered photos helplessly, despair starting to build in his chest. No, these were precious… They were the only pictures he had from when they were kids. He wanted to grab them, but they were everywhere. There were too many, and they were all scattered around him, mixed with the broken glass from that stupid, stupid mirror…

Oh right, he broke the mirror too. Pieces of it lay on the floor, next to his brothers' smiling faces. His attention was drawn to one picture in particular, sitting next to his knee. Not necessarily to what was in the picture, but what was on it…

Blood, his blood, seeping out from a small cut on his knee onto the photo, dark red oozing across the cheerful scene. Ruining it. He couldn't move, that numb chill spreading through his body once again.

His eyes shifted to the side. One jagged piece of glass in particular lay beneath him, just large enough that he could make out his haunted expression.

And he quite literally watched as the last bit of color drained from his face.

Suddenly, he felt something warm on his cheeks. He reached up slowly, touching his face ever so slightly, and drawing his hand away to see it was wet. He was crying.

He didn't remember standing up. He didn't remember walking out past Rhonda, deaf to her concerned coos. He didn't remember walking into the woods. But that's where he found himself. He wasn't sure where he was going exactly, but then again, did it really matter?

He'd finally broke.