Signal For Help: Part Five (Realizations/Epilogue)

Author's Note: Holy crap guys, the last part of "Signal for Help!" (Not the end of the story tho, just so you know) Are you ready? I'm not lol. I was going to split this into two parts because it went really long AGAIN but then I was like nah, long chapter because I said so! Plus I think it works better this way.

The inside of Rhonda was quiet now, both brothers taking a moment to collect themselves. John Dory slowly began sipping the tea Branch had made for him, breathing in the soft, herbal scent. He really wasn't that much of a tea guy, but the warmth soothed him nonetheless. He figured he should probably thank his brother for making it for him. He snuck a glance over at the younger troll, anxiety prickling across his skin.

He could tell Branch was deep in thought, his gaze unblinking as he focused on something ahead of him. He thought about asking his brother what was on his mind, but couldn't find the strength to do so. After his whole little panic episode, he could feel that familiar numbness starting to crawl back into his chest. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but at least he wasn't panicking anymore.

John Dory's ears perked up as he heard Branch take a deep breath, the younger troll flicking his gaze towards him. "Has this… ever happened before?" His brother asked hesitantly. He didn't need to say anything else, John Dory knew exactly what he was asking about.

JD's hands tightened slightly on his mug. Be honest, John, he thought, pursing his lips. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

"Once," he admitted, looking down at his slate gray skin. He could tell Branch was waiting for him to elaborate, so he swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, forcing himself to speak. "Not to this extent, but… When I returned to our pod after trollstice, when I found it empty…" He felt his jaw grow tight, the memories so sharp in his mind it almost hurt. "When I thought I'd lost you all, I didn't know what to do. You guys were my everything, and I… I didn't know who I was without you."

He could feel his body starting to become shaky, so he set his tea down before he continued. "I stayed there for days. I just couldn't bring myself to leave. I thought I'd lost everything, and it was all my fault…" He trailed off, face curling into a grimace. "All I had left was that pod, and the memories inside. I didn't want to lose them too." Ugh, his chest was feeling tight again…

John Dory closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "I really don't know how long I stayed there," he continued, his voice having grown a lot quieter. "But when I saw my colors were starting to fade, I freaked out. I grabbed as many mementos as I could, shoved them in my bag, and I ran. And it was fine. Until now."

He clenched his grayed hands, frustration building in his chest. "It doesn't make sense. I was fine for twenty years, and then, all of a sudden, I can't keep my crap together. It's never been this bad before. I don't understand why this is happening." He turned to Branch, exasperation straining his voice. "My life is literally perfect right now, I have no reason to be unhappy; there's no reason this should be happening."

"John, there's got to be a reason," Branch replied sternly. "You don't just 'go gray' for no reason. That's not how it works."

His brother's brows furrowed in concentration as he stared at the ground, and John Dory could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. Sometimes he wished he had half the brain the younger troll seemed to have. After a moment, Branch spoke up again, looking down at his hands solemnly.

"When I went gray, it felt like everything was crashing down on me all at once," he said softly, a far off look in his eyes. "I'd lost my brothers, and then I lost the only person I had left in my life, and I thought it was all my fault." John Dory could feel guilt churning in his stomach at the thought of what his little brother had to go through when he was so young.

"But I was stuck," Branch continued, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "It wasn't like I could go anywhere; there was nowhere I could go. I couldn't do anything other than stay where I was and feel… everything." Branch's face grew more serious, turning to look at his brother. "But you… you didn't do that. As soon as you started to go gray, you ran. And you never stopped. For twenty years, you never stopped running. Until now."

Branch's eyes flicked around, as if he was putting puzzle pieces together in his head. "I felt everything, all at once, but you… you've been running from these feelings your whole life. And now that you've stopped, you can't escape them anymore. It's too much." He looked back up at John Dory. "That's why this is happening. You've been quite literally avoiding this for twenty years. Now that you can't run away anymore, everything's catching up to you, all at once. Everything that happened when we were kids, everything that happened out on the Neverglade Trail, all of it. You never actually let yourself feel anything."

"That was for a good reason!" John Dory chimed in insistently. "Because when I 'feel things,' I end up like this!" He gestured to himself in disgust.

"You can't just ignore everything that happened to you," Branch shot back, eyes flashing. "That's the thing about pain and fear; you have to feel it first, so that eventually, you can let it heal. And you never let yourself do that. All the running and deflection and denial… Don't you see? Maybe this isn't a bad thing. Maybe this needed to happen, so you can finally move on."

"But what if I can't?" John Dory cried desperately, fear starting to crawl through his veins once again. "What if this is all I am? If underneath everything, I'm too broken to ever be fixed? What if I'm just stuck like this?"

"That's not how it works," Branch assured him, his voice firm. When John Dory remained quiet, he leaned forward, meeting his brother's eyes. "Trust me, John. I may be one of the only trolls who could possibly understand what you're going through right now."

Branch's mouth grew tight, sitting back and fidgeting with his hands. "Look, it's not… It's not black and white, y'know, it's… Well, it's gray. And it fluctuates. You're gray right now because you're in a really bad mental place. But that doesn't mean you can never get better." He looked down at his hands, caressing them gently. "I'm not as bright as I once was, but then again, I'm not the same troll I once was. But I'm also proof that no matter how hopeless you're feeling right now, this doesn't mean you failed. It just means you hit a rough spot, and that's ok."

He blinked a few times quickly, clearing his throat. "And you know, you've got us so, we can help you. You don't have to do this alone. It's too much to handle on your own."

"Branch–"

"That's not up for debate," Branch interrupted, gaze intense. "You did the right thing, you asked for help. And we're going to help you, ok?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Starting by making you go back to therapy."

"What?! Absolutely not!" John Dory retorted, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Therapy's what started this whole stupid thing in the first place!"

"That's… actually not surprising," Branch replied, shaking his head. "What did he say to you?"

Do you want to be happy? Or do you just want to keep pretending that you are?

Dr. Reed's voice rang out in his head, and John Dory felt his body deflate a bit, his ears drooping back down. "He asked me if I wanted to be happy," he replied slowly. "Which is a stupid question. Of course I want to be happy." He clenched his jaw, throat growing tight. "I just… can't."

Branch hummed in response, looking down at the ground. "Well, maybe you can't right now," he said, glancing back up at John Dory. "But that doesn't mean you never will be."

Silence fell across Rhonda once again. Despite Branch's comforting words, John Dory still felt that heavy feeling in his gut. He wanted to believe him, he really did. But everything just felt so… hopeless right now. He let out an exasperated groan, pulling his knees to his chest and massaging his forehead. His head was pounding.

"What made you want to build a home here?"

John Dory turned towards his brother's voice, blinking in surprise at the random question. Branch had a stoic look on his face, but JD could see by the way his fingers twitched that nervousness was coursing through him. He sat back a bit, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, I figured if I was going to be living in Pop Village, I should have a home here, right?" he said, feeling nervousness growing in himself as well. His heart ached a bit as he thought about the beautiful pod his brother had built him, and the complete mess he'd made of it already. Did Branch know he'd been avoiding it? Was that why he was asking? He felt shame wash over him. He'd let his brother down again…

"I just don't understand," Branch replied, looking confused. "I mean, it was a good idea, building a home and all, and I want you to be comfortable living here, but…" He paused for a moment, as if struggling to find the words. "It just seems like you're rushing it. Like you're forcing yourself to do something you're not ready for." Branch frowned, setting his jaw tightly as he stared at John Dory. "And I want to know why."

John Dory looked back down at the floor, ears burning. But then, he slowly reached into his front pocket, pulling out the small piece of weathered paper tucked inside. He unfolded it, letting his eyes trace up and down the familiar words. Memories of the past few days flashed through his head, and suddenly, it held heavy in his hands. He took a deep breath, then handed it over to Branch without another word.

Branch took it hesitantly, giving John Dory an apprehensive look before turning his attention down towards the page. His eyes flicked back and forth as he read through it, his face wrinkling with confusion. "John, what is this?" he asked, bringing his attention back up to his older brother.

John Dory's ears drooped further, the thoughts of his failed attempts at fixing himself heavy in his mind. Everything else was out in the open, so he supposed this should be too.

"It's my routine," he said slowly, rubbing absently at his glove. "The therapist told me to follow a routine so… That's what I tried to do." He could feel his jaw growing tight, but he forced himself to keep talking. "It's from a survival book Dad gave me, before he… Well, before Mom died. And it had always worked before, so I tried to follow it here, y'know?" He curled in on himself slightly, biting his cheek. "Lotta good that did me."

Branch blinked, looking back down at the sheet and reading through it again. "Find Shelter, Build a Fire…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head in bewilderment. "This is what you were doing? Following some weird survivalist routine?"

"Hey, it's not weird! It works!" John Dory insisted before turning his gaze away again. "At least, it used to… But this time, I just couldn't seem to do anything right." He sat back against the wall in frustration. "It was supposed to help me be better, but I just kept failing, at every single step. And things kept getting worse. I kept getting worse." He resisted the urge to reach up and grab his hair, grabbing onto his pants instead. "I'm supposed to be a survivalist, but I can't even do that right anymore."

Branch peeked down at the page again, before looking back at John Dory with narrowed eyes. "So you're telling me you thought following this list was going to fix all your problems?"

"Uh, well…" John Dory stammered, his face flushed.

"You thought you could heal a lifetime's worth of trauma in what, four days?" Branch continued sharply. "Of course it didn't work."

"It's all I know, ok?!" John Dory shot back defensively. "And it's always worked before!"

Branch drew himself back a bit, looking as if he'd been slapped. He blinked a few times before turning his gaze back down to the page, once again in deep thought as he rubbed his thumb over the weathered corner. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. "You've been trying to survive for a long time, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low.

Now it was JD's turn to be confused. "Well, yeah, I think we've established that," he said, letting out a dry laugh. "I lived out in the woods for twenty years."

"No, longer than that," Branch replied quietly. "You've been trying to survive ever since we were kids. Ever since Dad left. It's all you've ever known…" Branch's voice was barely above a whisper now.

A chill seemed to leech through John Dory's veins, without him even really knowing why. He wanted to say something, but the words had died in his throat.

Branch's mouth tightened into a grimace, closing his eyes for just a second, before slowly folding up the page and holding it back out towards John Dory. JD hesitated for a moment before taking it from him, tucking it back safely in his jacket.

"I think you need a new routine," Branch said finally, his voice firm. "You don't need to just try to survive anymore. I think you need to try to live."

John Dory blinked, confused again. "...Aren't those the same thing?" he asked with a nervous chuckle.

Branch smiled back softly, a knowing look in his eyes. "You'd be surprised."

Suddenly, both their ears pricked up at the sound of noise outside. Footsteps. John Dory immediately felt his heart skip a beat. His brothers… his brothers were back.

His entire body went tense, hair starting to bristle again. No, they couldn't see him like this, he wasn't ready yet. It was one thing to be like this in front of Branch, but it was a whole other thing for him to be this pathetic in front of his other brothers. The last time he'd seen any of them, things had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He felt his breaths quicken, his chest growing tight…

What if they were still upset with him? What if they hated him? What if they wanted him to leave…

"John."

John Dory pried his gaze away from the door and back towards his little brother. Branch reached out, setting a firm hand on his shoulder. "It's ok," he said, staring into John Dory's wide eyes. "Just talk to them. Talk to them, like you talked to me. Or at the very least let them in." He gave a reassuring smile. "Trust me. It's going to be ok."

"How do you know?" John Dory asked, hating how shaky his voice sounded.

"Because they love you," Branch replied simply. "We all do. And we're not going to leave you, so you might as well get used to it."

John Dory turned his gaze back towards the door, the footsteps getting closer. "I can't do this," he practically whimpered, grabbing at his hair. "I can't, Branch, I've proven time and time again I can't, I just, I can't do this for you."

Branch moved to the front of him, grabbing his hand and gently pulling it away from where it was clutched in his hair. "I don't want you to do this for me," he replied, eyes flashing with intensity. "I want you to do this for you."

For me…? John Dory thought, eyes locked on the door as he sucked in air through his clenched teeth. He wanted this, right? He didn't want to be alone anymore, he wanted to be happy… And in order to do that, Branch was right. He had to let them in. He had to trust him.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. John Dory stiffened, fear shooting through him, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, albeit with great difficulty. "Ok, ok…" he said breathily, trying to drum up as much confidence as he could. "Ok."

Branch smiled, squeezing his shoulders. JD swallowed nervously, trying to keep his body from shaking and failing miserably. "Can you at least help me stand up?" he asked quietly. He hated sitting on the ground like this; it made him feel weak.

"No," Branch replied sternly, climbing to his feet. Yeah, that was probably for the best, considering how shaky JD felt and the dizziness still present in his mind. "Just sit tight, alright? It's going to be fine." He walked over to the door, giving John Dory one last reassuring look before swinging it open. There were a few sounds of muffled conversation before Branch stepped aside. And his brothers filed in.

Floyd stepped in first, a box of first-aid supplies in his hands, followed by Bruce, who was carrying a large pot filled with what looked like… soup? Finally, Clay stepped inside as well, a collection of pillows and blankets in his arms. They paused just inside the doorway, turning their attention down towards John Dory as Branch closed the hatch behind them. They just… looked at him, and he looked at them, the silence absolutely deafening.

John Dory had never felt smaller than he did in that moment.

He could feel their eyes tracing up and down his pale body, and for a moment, he almost wished he had that stupid hat. Anything so his brothers didn't have to see him like this. But he couldn't hide it anymore. He just had to hope they wouldn't hate him for it.

It was Floyd who finally broke the silence, sucking in a sharp breath. The younger troll took a few stumbling steps forward, dropping the box in his hands to the side, before practically falling into John Dory, wrapping his arms around his neck. He buried his face in JD's shoulder, hot tears streaming down his face.

"Woah, woah, easy Floyd..." John Dory said quickly, wrapping his arms around his little brother's shaky body. "It's ok, I'm–" he was going to say 'ok,' but felt the word catch in his throat. Because he wasn't ok, was he? If he was going to do this, he was going to have to start being more honest. To his brothers, and to himself. He leaned down, nuzzling his face into Floyd's side, squeezing his brother slightly. "I'm here."

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Floyd said through gritted teeth, his hands clenched on the back of John Dory's coat.

John Dory just held him tighter, guilt churning in his stomach. He watched as Clay set down the massive pile of pillows and blankets, slowly walking over as well. The wiry troll was trembling, his hands held nervously in front of his chest. It looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, something uncommon for the well-articulated young troll. He knelt by John Dory's side, scanning his body up and down, a look of despair on his face.

John Dory felt his older brother instinct flick on, and he wanted to reach out, wanted to comfort him. But he wasn't sure if Clay was still mad at him or not. Before he could make up his mind, however, Clay leaned in, resting his forehead on John Dory's shoulder, eyes squeezed tight. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice heavy. JD wasn't sure what he was talking about, but he immediately wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders, holding him close.

Bruce set down the pot of soup, making his way in front of John Dory and kneeling down as well, his face fraught with worry. "You scared the crap out of me," he said softly, the slightest hint of a tremor in his voice. "Are you ok? What happened?"

John Dory's ears drooped, shame washing over him. Right, he had to talk to them. They deserved an explanation for all this nonsense. He owed it to them.

"I…" he started, feeling his throat begin to close up. He tried to ignore it, pushing himself to speak. "I just… I couldn't… I mean, I can't…" he managed to choke out before letting out a frustrated growl. Why couldn't he speak? He couldn't get himself to shut up before! But now, it felt like the lump in his throat was too large. He just couldn't do it.

Bruce seemed to pick up on this, understanding flashing in his eyes. "It's ok, you don't have to talk to us now. We can talk later, or tomorrow, or whenever, ok? Just…" He took a deep breath, setting his jaw tightly as he rested a hand on John Dory's knee. "Let us take care of you tonight? Please."

Clay and Floyd pulled away from his grasp, sitting back by Bruce and waiting for his answer. John Dory's eyes flicked between them. He couldn't do this… could he? He nervously glanced up at Branch, who was standing a few feet back, leaning up against a wall. The younger troll nodded encouragingly, gesturing down towards his older brothers. John Dory let out a shaky sigh, before turning back towards them. "Ok…" he replied, barely above a whisper.

Floyd smiled softly, reaching out to squeeze John Dory's hand lightly before walking over to grab the first-aid kit he'd dropped. Clay shakily climbed to his feet and made his way over to the stove, setting the soup on a burner. Bruce smiled at him as well, looking relieved. He turned around and started to spread out a few pillows and blankets.

John Dory silently watched them, feeling completely on edge. This felt too good to be true. He felt like at any moment, they were going to whip around and give him what he deserved. Turn around and scream at him, tell him what a terrible brother he was, and demand he leave before he causes anymore damage. They couldn't just be okay with this, right? He could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, his body shaking so violently his muscles began to ache. He was actually surprised his teeth weren't chattering. He hugged his arms closer to himself to try and quell it a little bit, but it didn't seem to help.

Bruce turned back towards him, having spread the blankets and pillows out around them. His face fell as he looked at John Dory, concern heavy in his eyes.

"Are you cold?" he asked gently, moving a bit closer to his brother.

"No…" John Dory replied through gritted teeth, his hands clenched tight on his arms.

Bruce nodded in understanding, shifting so he could sit next to John Dory. He threw an arm over his shaking shoulders, pulling him in close. And weirdly enough, it seemed to help a bit. The icy chill spreading through his veins seemed to lessen, ever so slightly. He forced himself to take a few slow breaths, reveling in his brother's warmth.

Bruce peered at him worriedly, before turning his gaze up towards JD's hair. He frowned, a stormy look in his eyes. "I'm going to take these off," he said, tapping at the goggles resting on John Dory's head. JD just nodded, too tired to really care at this point. His brother gently pulled them off, setting them to the side before leaning in closer to John Dory. For some reason, JD felt as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Floyd walked over, holding a damp rag and the first-aid kit in his arms. He slowly began to clean and bandage the cuts on John Dory's knees and feet, courtesy of that stupid mirror he tripped on earlier. He hadn't realized how many there were, a few of them still oozing bright red blood.

It felt… weird, being doted on like this. John Dory was no stranger to cuts and bruises, but he'd always managed to fix them up himself. It was strange, having someone else do it for him. But he was grateful. He wasn't sure he could hold his hands steady enough to bandage them right now anyway.

When Floyd finally moved to John Dory's shaky hands, he paused for a moment, mouth curling up into a worried grimace. John Dory realized with a sinking feeling his brother was staring at his glove. "I think we should take this off," Floyd said quietly, looking back up at him. Unfortunately, John Dory had to agree with him. His glove had dried blood in different spots along the fingers, and mud smeared on it from when he'd tried to wash the blood off. But truly the last thing he wanted to see right now was his broken, gnarled hand. However, Floyd had a point, so he just nodded slowly, turning his gaze away so he didn't have to look at it.

He felt Floyd undo the clasp, pulling the glove off gently. John Dory didn't miss the way Bruce's body stiffened next to his. However, instead of pulling away, Bruce just held him tighter. He felt Floyd slowly begin bandaging the nicks on his fingers, his touch so soft JD could barely feel it, but it was still enough to send a small shiver up his spine.

John Dory finally turned his attention over to Clay, who was stirring the soup as it warmed on the stove. He seemed lost in thought, his lips pursed into a tight line as he stared unseeing into the pot. He was still trembling slightly. Branch walked over to him, murmuring to him softly. For a moment, John Dory worried his brother was still angry, but quickly realized that no, he wasn't. In fact, none of his brothers were.

John Dory blinked in surprise, a flurry of emotions racing through his head. They… weren't angry at him. They were worried. They were helping him. But, did that mean…

John Dory nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt something touch his hair. However he quickly realized it was just Bruce, slowly combing his fingers through it, smoothing down the anxious bristles. John Dory just sat, bewildered, the feeling strange, but comforting. Gosh, he couldn't remember the last time someone had done this… Grandma maybe? Or maybe even his Mom…

He peered around at his brothers, completely dumbstruck. This wasn't right, was it? They weren't supposed to be taking care of him, he was supposed to be taking care of them. Heck, they were supposed to be angry with him. That's what he deserved, right? But as he looked at them, the true realization finally struck him.

They… they wanted him to stay. Even after everything he did, after everything he put them through, after seeing him completely gray and broken, they still wanted him to stay. That realization brought with it such deep and overwhelming relief it was almost dizzying.

He saw Branch glance over at him before doing a double take, his face becoming worried. "John…" he said quietly, eyes wide.

John Dory was confused for a moment, but then he noticed how blurred his vision had gotten. He reached up quickly, touching his cheeks and bringing his hand away wet, feeling warm tears starting to stream down his face. He was crying.

"Argh, no!" he exclaimed, wiping his eyes desperately. This wasn't supposed to happen. But the more he tried to wipe them away, the more they seemed to spill down his cheeks, and he could feel a sob building in his chest. "No no no…"

"Easy, it's ok," Bruce said, his voice low and soothing. John Dory saw that Floyd and Clay had come back over too, their eyes shimmering with worry. Great, now they all were seeing him break down. He squeezed his eyes tight, wishing he could disappear. "It's ok, John," Bruce repeated, still tracing his fingers through his hair.

"It's not!" John Dory choked, that sob finally escaping his chest. "It's not ok, I'm not–" He sobbed again, burying his face in Bruce's chest. He couldn't stop it anymore. All the pain, the frustration, the anger, the fear, the relief… It was too much for him.

He felt his other brothers gather around him, hugging him close. They were crying too. He hated how familiar this felt. He hated that he was breaking down in front of his brothers, again. He hated how weak and utterly out of control he felt. He hated crying. But he couldn't help it. He'd been so scared, for so long… And knowing that his brothers wanted him to stay, knowing that they wanted him in their lives, was such an absolute relief.

"I'm sorry…" he cried out through the sobs. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Bruce shushed him, kissing him gently on the forehead before pulling his head in tighter. "We know, man. We know."

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that, wrapped in his brothers' arms. But eventually his aching sobs turned into gentle sniffles, then into quiet, shaky breaths. And by the time his brothers finally pulled away from him, giving him a moment to collect himself, his muscles were stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. He allowed himself to relax into his brothers' touch, Bruce murmuring assurances to him as Floyd traced soothing circles on his hand, his head resting on his shoulder.

Clay and Branch brought them each a bowl of soup, and John Dory felt his stomach turn at the thought of eating it. However, he could tell by the look on his youngest brother's face that this was not a fight he would win. So he hesitantly grabbed the bowl, slowly spooning the warm broth into his mouth. As soon as it hit his tongue, it was like a switch flipped, and he suddenly realized how absolutely starving he was. Within minutes, the soup was completely gone.

His brothers continued to talk quietly amongst themselves, sitting on the blankets and pillows Bruce had set out. John Dory didn't contribute to the conversation, and they didn't ask him to. Bruce continued to slowly play with his hair, the comforting motion lulling him into a deep state of exhaustion.

He couldn't help but let his eyes droop close, the sounds of his brother's voices becoming muffled. He was just so tired. He tried to fight to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. He was so completely and utterly drained now, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

His brothers wanted him to stay, he didn't have to leave. He didn't feel like he had to run away anymore. He was so, so tired of running…

He could feel himself beginning to drift into unconsciousness. Sitting here, with all his brothers, knowing that they wanted him around despite everything… It meant the world to him. He hadn't known how badly he needed that reassurance until now.

He felt his head fall against Bruce's side, finally giving in to his exhaustion.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, he truly felt safe.

Signal for Help: Success

Author's Note: Ok ok, I just wanted to mention this cause it's important to me. John Dory's goggles are symbolism for him having to step up and fill the role his dad left for him. It's quite literally a "having big shoes to fill" type situation, as well as "JD being a father figure" and I love it. JD loves this role, he does; he loves being this caretaker for his brothers. But it's also a lot that was put on him, from a very young age. That's why when he's freaking out and stuff, he has a tendency to throw them off, because he feels he's failing at this role. But he always panics when he does that too, because again, he loves being this strong person for his brothers, and it scares him that he might not be. So when Bruce takes off his goggles, it's almost like he's saying "You don't have to be this person for us right now. Just be our brother" (I mean, none of them are really aware of this, but subconsciously, y'know?)

(Also, don't worry, John Dory is due for some BIG chats with his other brothers. But right now, he just needs rest. All things in good time ;)