𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 4 "Plankton, please," Karen pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "Let's ta—" But Plankton's eye starts to glaze over, his body trembling on his bed. Karen knew another seizure's coming on now. "Dad?" Chip's voice was filled with fear and confusion. "I'm here," Karen assured. She rushed to his side. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're safe, Plankton." She knew this was part of the process, that his mind was trying to recalibrate, yet it never got easier to watch. The room grew dimmer as Plankton's seizure took hold, his body stiffening, his eye rolling back. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched his silent struggle. "It's okay, baby," she whispered. Chip stood there, his hands balled into fists at his sides, feeling helpless. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable before. The man he knew was always in control, always the smartest in the room, was now at the mercy of his own brain's whims. It was something that his parents had dealt with for years, something that he had only just become a witness to. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton's contorted face as the seizure's grip began to loosen, his body twitching slightly. As the seizure subsided, he's falling into a semiconscious postictal state. "Dad?" Chip's voice's filled with fear. Karen nodded, her gaze still fixed on her husband. "It's okay." Plankton's antennae twitched erratically, his body moving in jerky motions. It looked like his mind was trying to regain control of his physical form. He began to crawl on the bed. His eye's unfocused. "Hummus," Plankton babbled. Karen's heart ached as she watched his regression. Plankton's autism had always been a part of their lives, but these moments, where he slipped into his own world, were the hardest to bear. She knew he was in there, somewhere, fighting to come back. Plankton's eye darted around the room without really seeing. "Tos, sub." Karen's heart broke a little more as she witnessed her husband's descent into the child-like state that often followed his seizures. She knew it was temporary, yet the sight of this strong man reduced to such vulnerability was always jarring. "Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice quivering with fear and confusion. He had never seen his dad like this before—so lost, so dependent. Karen's eyes remained glued to Plankton's face, silently willing him to come back to them. "It's ok, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton's movements were like those of a baby discovering the world anew, his hands playing with the blankets as if they were a toy. "Hamv," he murmured. Karen's heart ached, but she knew from experience that this was a phase that would pass. She talked to him softly, her voice soothing and familiar, like a lullaby. "You're safe, Plankton," she whispered. She got a plush stuffed bear handing it to Chip. "Try to get him to interact by this," she suggests. Chip took the bear tentatively, his hands shaking slightly. He approached the bed, his dad's eyes still unfocused. "Dad?" he whispered, shaking the toy slightly. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flitting towards the bear. "Look, it's a toy," Chip said, his voice quivering. "Do you like it?" Plankton's hand reached out, his movements sluggish as if swatting the bear, his fingers exploring its soft fur. "Tibble," he murmured. Karen watched, her heart swelling with hope. This was the first step back to reality. "Good job," she said to both of them. "Keep it up, Chip. Keep talking, with the bear." Chip nodded, his voice steadier now. "It's a bear, Dad," he said, his tone gentle. "See? It's got a cute little nose. Do you want to hold it?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, and his hand reached out slowly, his fingers wrapping around the plush toy. "Sav," he says, his voice a little stronger. Karen's eyes lit up with hope. "That's it, sweetheart," she said, encouraging Chip. "Keep going." Chip held the bear closer to Plankton's face. "Look, Dad," he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear still lingering in his heart. "It's smiling at you. It's happy to see you. It wants you to be happy too. Do you want to play?" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye focusing on the toy for a moment. He reached out again, his hand shaking slightly, and touched the bear's snout. "Ivh," he murmured, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips, resulting in drool. Encouraged, Chip continued. "It's smiling because it loves you, Dad," he said, his voice cracking. "See, it's happy because you're holding it. Can you make it dance?" "Da-dance," he managed to say, his smile broadening. Karen watched, her eyes brimming with tears of hope. "That's it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Keep going." Chip nodded, his fingers gently moving the bear's arms and legs in a makeshift dance. "Look, Dad, the bear is dancing just for you," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. Plankton's eye followed the toy's movements. Plankton's hand twitched, his antennae perking up slightly. "Dibble," he murmured, a spark of understanding in his eye. He reached out to mimic Chip's movements, his hand shaking as he tried to make the bear dance too. Chip's heart swelled with pride and love for his dad. He had never seen this vulnerable side of him before, but in this moment, he knew his father was still there, fighting to reconnect.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 2 Plankton, still in his sensory-induced giggle fit, notices Chip's approach. Chip sits carefully beside his father, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. He reaches out a hand, slow and steady, and touches the fuzzy toy. Plankton stops strobing it and instead hands it to Chip. "Yi," he says. Chip takes the toy, unsure what to do, but his dad's calm demeanor reassures him. He runs his thumb over the soft fur, feeling the tiny fibers tickle his skin. Plankton watches with a gentle smile. "Spin?" he asks, his voice a gentle rasp. Chip nods and starts to rotate the toy. Plankton's eye follows the motion, a look of contentment washing over his face. It was strange to see his dad like this, so... vulnerable. But Chip felt his own heart swell with love. As the toy spins, the colors blur into a mesmerizing whirl. Chip feels the tension in the room ease slightly. He's never seen his dad so open, so unguarded. It's like getting a glimpse into a part of Plankton that's been locked away. Yet Karen knows Plankton's not gonna be pleased when he comes out of it to see his son interacting with him and his sensory items! Plankton's giggles continue to fill the room as Chip spins the fuzzy toy, matching his dad's earlier rhythm. The colors swirl into a hypnotic dance, and for a moment, it's as if the world outside their bubble doesn't exist. Chip feels a strange connection forming, a bond born from this shared experience. Slowly, Plankton's laughter fades into quietude, his eye blinking rapidly as he begins to emerge from the loop. Karen watches closely, ready to step in if needed. But then Plankton's gaze meets Chip's. The boy's eyes are wide with understanding and concern. Plankton feels a sudden wave of self-consciousness sweep over him, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. He hadn't meant for Chip to see him like this, so exposed. The silence is thick with emotion as Plankton tries to piece together what happened. He knows he had a seizure, but his memories are hazy, like fragments of a forgotten dream. "Chip," Plankton starts, his voice gruff and defensive. "What are you doing here?" Chip jumps back. "I-I was just looking for you," he stammers. "But then I saw..." His voice trails off. Plankton snatches the toy away, his movements quick and jerky. "These are mine," he snaps. "Not for you." Chip's eyes water, the sudden anger from his dad catching him off-guard. He hadn't meant to intrude, but now he felt like he'd broken something fragile. "But Dad," Chip stammers, his voice quivering. "I didn't know. I ju—" "You shouldn't have been snooping!" Plankton snaps, trying to shield himself from his son's innocent curiosity. Karen sighs. The room is suddenly charged with tension. Chip's heart sinks. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his eyes glistening. "I didn't mean to—" "Out!" Plankton yells, his voice echoing sharply in the small space, cutting off Chip's apology. The boy jumps up from the bed, dropping the fuzzy toy, and runs out of the room. Karen sighs, exasperated. "Sheldon, that wasn't fair," she scolds, using his full name to convey her seriousness. Plankton's shoulders slump. "I just...I can't have him seeing me like this," he mutters, his voice tight. "Unfair is the fact that I have to deal with this, myself. Why did he have to find out like that?" Karen sits beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to be upset, Plankton," she says, her tone kind but firm. "But you can't hide from Chip forever. You're his father, and he loves you. He's going to have questions." Plankton turns away, his eye misty. "I don't know how to explain it to him," he murmurs. "What if he thinks I'm weak?" Karen's hand tightens on his shoulder. "You're not weak," she says firmly. "You're strong, and you're brave. And autism is just a part of what makes you, you." Plankton nods slowly, his shoulders still tense. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. "Okay," he finally says, turning back to face her. "But what do I tell him?" Karen squeezes his hand. "You tell him the truth," she says gently. "You tell him that autism is just a part of who you are, and that you have good days and bad days, just like everyone else." Plankton nods slowly, taking another deep breath. He's always been good at hiding his condition, blending in with the rest of the world. But from the moment Chip was born, he knew he had to be a strong, stoic figure for his son. Yet now, with his secret out in the open, he feels exposed. He squeezes Karen's hand back, feeling a mix of fear and relief. "What if he's scared of me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Karen shakes her head firmly. "He's not going to be scared, Plankton. He's going to be curious. And he'll love you just as much, if not more, for being honest with him." With a heavy sigh, Plankton nods. He knows his wife is right. It's time for Chip to understand his father's world, a place filled with sensory overload and silent battles. He finds Chip in his bedroom, curled up on the bed with a favorite book. The room is quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of pages turning. Plankton's heart clenches at the sight of his son's sadness. "Chip," he calls, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip looks up, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He sees his dad standing there, looking so small and vulnerable, and his own walls crumble. He jumps up, running into Plankton's arms. "I'm sorry," he sobs, burying his face in Plankton's chest. But Plankton's body stiffens. He's not used to this kind of contact, especially when he's fresh from a seizure. The sensation of Chip's arms wrapped around him is too much, and he feels the beginnings of a meltdown brewing. He doesn't know how to tell his son that he needs space, that touch isn't always comforting. Gritting his teeth, Plankton endures the embrace for a moment longer before gently pushing Chip away. "Not now," he says, his voice strained. "I need...I don't need touch." Chip's eyes widen in regret. He steps back, his arms dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice small. "I didn't know."